The earthquake that struck Syria and Türkiye in February 2023 did not arrive into a neutral humanitarian vacuum. It landed on a country already configured as an instrument of state survival. In the immediate aftermath, nearly nine million Syrians were identified as affected and the United Nations launched a multi‑hundred million dollar appeal. Those figures and the early diplomatic choreography framed the crisis as both a relief emergency and a geopolitical opening.
Operational control over crossings and approvals turned out to be the first lever of power. For more than a decade the UN cross‑border mechanism had been contested by Russia and China and narrowed in practice to a single major conduit into northwest Syria. Damascus retained the authority to allow additional routes and it used that authority to time and shape the international response. The regime only approved extra crossings more than a week after the quake, a delay with fatal consequences for search and rescue and for the timely delivery of life saving supplies.
Those access decisions were not an accident. They sat on top of longstanding, documented practices by state institutions to centralize and redirect humanitarian flows inside regime territory. Syrian government policies, including forced partner selection and urban planning laws passed during the war, create structural pathways for aid and reconstruction money to be captured by state actors and their networks. Human rights monitors warned long before the quake that reconstruction and humanitarian programs risked empowering abusive institutions unless donors imposed robust safeguards.
Independent investigations and rights organizations reported that, in the quake aftermath, aid was obstructed, delayed or diverted by multiple actors. Amnesty International documented episodes in which convoys were blocked or compelled to hand over cargo, and where armed groups and pro‑regime forces prioritized relatives and constituencies in distributions. Other local watchdogs and field reports corroborated patterns of obstruction and diversion across lines of control. These actions look less like chaotic breakdown and more like tactical allocation of scarce resources to reinforce loyalty and to punish opposition communities.
Two strategic logics explain the pattern. The first is immediate regime consolidation. Controlling who receives tents, fuel and medical supplies lets an embattled capital shore up patronage networks, reward militias and civilian allies, and shape public narratives about who is ‘‘helping’’ and who is not. The second logic is political normalization. The earthquake offered Damascus diplomatic cover to broaden ties with regional states and donors. That diplomacy created openings for the regime to argue that its institutions can be the primary interlocutor for reconstruction, a framing that would, if unchecked, translate lifesaving assistance into de facto international legitimization. Evidence from the early months after the quake shows both dynamics in play.
Financial mechanics amplified these political choices. Where international transfers and procurement are mediated through government approved entities, exchange rate controls, fees and mandated local partners can materially shrink the value of aid reaching beneficiaries. This creates opportunities for rent extraction and for funnelling resources into reconstruction contracts that prioritize loyalists. Donor relaxations of some sanctions to expedite humanitarian transactions were necessary in humanitarian terms. But absent strict transparency and vetting, those relaxations also expanded the pool of funds the regime could leverage for political ends.
The long term costs of that trajectory are strategic. Reconstruction under conditions of concentrated control can reshape demographics, property rights and urban governance in ways that entrench the regime and make political reintegration of large displaced populations more difficult. Laws and decrees that streamline redevelopment are not neutral if they are executed through opaque processes that advantage connected contractors and empower security services. The result is a post‑disaster recovery that substitutes political consolidation for social reconstruction.
What should the international community do to prevent humanitarian assistance from becoming an instrument of survival for the very actors many donors profess to constrain? First, sustain and protect independent delivery routes and local responder capacities. Local civil society and community networks proved during the quake that they often get assistance to people faster and with greater cost effectiveness than larger agencies constrained by politics. Second, attach reconstruction finance to rigorous due diligence mechanisms. Human rights organisations have proposed donor clearinghouses and screening criteria that condition access to reconstruction funds on independent needs assessments, protection guarantees and transparent procurement. Third, keep cross‑line and cross‑border modalities and oversight separate. One size of policy for all Syrian territory invites capture. Fourth, invest in technological transparency where appropriate. Digital beneficiary registries, auditable procurement ledgers and satellite monitoring can reduce opportunities for diversion when combined with robust privacy and protection safeguards.
The strategic point is blunt. If aid and rebuilding become the reward for political alignment rather than the remedy for suffering, donors will have conceded both humanitarian principles and leverage. That concession will reverberate beyond Syria, altering regional incentives for deference and normalization and making the conflict?s unresolved political questions more durable. The way the earthquake response was managed offers a case study in how humanitarian necessity can be converted into political advantage. Preventing that conversion requires persistent policy attention, coordinated donor discipline and investment in local actors who preserve the operational neutrality necessary for aid to save lives rather than to secure power.