By: Dr. Adnan Bozan

It is no longer possible to understand what is happening in the Middle East as a collection of separate wars and crises. Gaza is not an isolated issue, Lebanon cannot be separated from Syria, and Syria cannot be detached from Iraq, Iran, and Turkey. Likewise, the Israeli war against Iran and the escalating conflict between Turkey and Israel over the future of Syria and the region extend far beyond the boundaries of a bilateral confrontation. We are facing a phase in which geography intersects with war, demography with security, energy with corridors, and borders with influence, suggesting that the regional order that emerged after the First World War and was consolidated by the settlements of the twentieth century is approaching a profound stage of restructuring. From this perspective, the current wars do not appear to be merely struggles over power or borders; rather, they are part of a broader struggle over the shape of the Middle East to come, over which states will remain unified, which will become fragile entities, and which will see their sovereignty distributed among multiple regional and international powers.

At the heart of these transformations stands Israel as a regional power seeking to rebuild its security and strategic sphere in a manner that extends beyond its internationally recognized borders. Israel, which for decades was surrounded by centralized Arab states and conventional armies, now finds itself facing a Syria that has lost a significant part of its central capacity, an exhausted Lebanon, a devastated Gaza, an Iran engaged in direct war with the United States and Israel, an Iraq characterized by multiple centers of power, and a Turkey moving to consolidate its influence in Syria and Iraq while friction between Ankara and Tel Aviv continues to intensify. The fundamental question, therefore, is no longer simply: What is Israel doing in Gaza, southern Lebanon, or southern Syria? The broader question is: What kind of Middle East could emerge from all these wars?

In Gaza, the war has gone beyond a purely military confrontation to become intertwined with the future of territory, population, authority, and borders. In southern Lebanon, the conflict has become connected to the future of the security environment along the border and to the balance involving Hezbollah and Iranian influence. In Syria, meanwhile, Israel has moved from the reality of occupying the Golan Heights since 1967 toward expanding its military presence in the separation zone and around Quneitra and southern Syria, with deployments and positions in the Mount Hermon area, thereby gaining a new strategic depth in relation to Syria and Lebanon. This is where geography becomes crucial. Mount Hermon is not merely a mountain massif; it is a strategic point overlooking extensive areas of Syria, Lebanon, and Palestine. Whoever possesses control or military superiority in this area has greater capacity for surveillance, early warning, pressure, and the imposition of new security equations. Consequently, threatening Damascus does not necessarily require Israeli forces to enter the capital. Once the capital is exposed to Israeli air and missile superiority, and the areas surrounding it become vulnerable to strikes and pressure, geography itself becomes a means of strategic control without direct occupation. This is one of the defining characteristics of modern warfare: it is not necessary to occupy a capital in order to compel the authority governing it to recalculate its position on the basis of the power capable of reaching it.

Syria: The Central Link in the New Map

Syria is the heart of the Levant, and therefore reshaping Syria necessarily means reshaping a large part of the surrounding region. The fall of Bashar al-Assad's regime did not merely bring about a change of power in Damascus; it opened the way for regional and international powers to redefine their influence and interests inside the country. In this context came the rapid rise of Ahmed al-Sharaa, following his transition from leading Hay'at Tahrir al-Sham to becoming the head of authority in Damascus, at a moment of profound regional transformation. This transition cannot be understood separately from the collapse of the balances that had governed Syria throughout the years of war, the decline of Iranian and Russian influence, the changing American approach, the expansion of Turkey's role, and the emergence of Israel as a more direct power in southern Syria.

At the same time, the Kurds found themselves facing a major strategic transformation. For years, the Syrian Democratic Forces had been the United States' principal military partner in the fight against ISIS and had succeeded in establishing broad influence across northern and eastern Syria. But the balance of power subsequently changed, and the confrontation between Damascus and the SDF ended in a ceasefire and a process of gradual integration into the institutions of the Syrian state. The agreement provided for the incorporation of SDF formations into the Syrian military structure, the deployment of Interior Ministry forces in Kurdish cities, and the integration of civilian institutions established by the Kurdish administration into state institutions, while retaining certain arrangements for shared administration. The U.S. envoy described the agreement as a historic milestone in the process of reunifying Syria.

The question, therefore, becomes larger than the SDF itself: Why did Washington move from relying on the Kurdish force as its principal partner in the war against ISIS to supporting its integration into Damascus? The answer lies in the reordering of American and regional priorities. The war against ISIS is no longer the central issue, while maintaining Syria's unity, preventing its complete collapse, and managing Turkish, Israeli, and Iranian competition have become part of a new equation. The Kurds have thus once again found themselves confronted with a harsh historical political equation: international powers may give a cause considerable space when they need it, but they reorder its position when their interests and the balance of power change. The integration of the SDF into the Syrian state therefore does not necessarily mean the end of the Kurdish question; rather, it marks its transition from a phase of military power and autonomous administration into a more complex phase involving the constitution, rights, identity, geography, and the future shape of the Syrian state.

This is where the Turkish-Israeli struggle over Syria begins. Turkey seeks to consolidate its political, security, and military influence inside Syria and prevent the emergence of an independent Kurdish military structure along its border, while Israel views Turkey's expanding presence inside Syrian territory as a direct challenge to the strategic sphere it seeks to construct in the new Syria. The dispute between Ankara and Tel Aviv, therefore, should not be understood merely as a struggle over influence; it is also a struggle over the shape of the future Syrian state, the distribution of power, corridors, borders, and the balance of power in the Levant.

Nevertheless, the Turkish-Israeli conflict does not necessarily mean that the two sides have no areas of convergence. One fundamental point on which their interests could intersect is preventing the emergence of an independent Kurdish entity geographically connected from Iraq, through northern Syria, to the Mediterranean Sea. This is why areas such as Latakia and Jabal al-Akrad carry significance extending beyond their local boundaries. If the Kurds were to gain access to the Mediterranean, the geopolitical equation of the Kurdish question would change radically. Consequently, cutting this connection could become a strategic objective for Turkey and potentially part of future understandings with Israel, even if the two sides remain divided over the scale of influence each should possess inside Syria. States may compete over a particular territory while simultaneously agreeing on the need to prevent the emergence of a new geographic reality that threatens their shared interests.

As for Iran, the war it is waging with the United States and Israel cannot be reduced to the nuclear issue alone. Over decades, Iran built a network of influence extending from Iraq to Syria and Lebanon, and this network became one of the principal components of its regional power. Weakening Iran therefore simultaneously means attempting to dismantle the link connecting Tehran with Baghdad, Damascus, and Beirut. Since the beginning of the U.S.-Israeli war against Iran in February 2026, Iran's nuclear, military, and economic infrastructure has been subjected to extensive strikes, while the confrontation has continued for months and the Gulf's straits and energy routes have become a direct part of the war. From this perspective, the broader objective of the war is not merely to prevent Iran from acquiring nuclear capabilities, but to redefine its regional position and end its ability to maintain the bridge extending from Tehran to the Mediterranean. If that bridge is severed or weakened, Iraq, Syria, and Lebanon will all enter an entirely new balance of power.

It is from here that the idea of the “David Corridor” emerges as a geopolitical conception through which the relationship between southern Syria, eastern Syria, and Iraq can be interpreted. In the conceptions surrounding it, the corridor does not represent merely a geographical route, but rather a network of influence extending from the Golan Heights and southern Syria through the Badia, al-Tanf, and eastern Syria toward Deir ez-Zor, al-Bukamal, and Iraq. If we read the map in this way, the Golan, Quneitra, Daraa, Sweida, al-Tanf, the Badia, Deir ez-Zor, and al-Bukamal cease to be separate areas and become links within a single strategic geography. Whoever possesses the ability to control this chain possesses the ability to control the route, and in the Middle East the route can sometimes be more important than the border itself, because it determines the movement of forces, energy, trade, influence, and connectivity between regions.

After Syria comes Iraq as the link capable of connecting the Syrian map to the Iranian, Turkish, and Gulf maps. Kirkuk is not merely an oil-producing city; it is a geopolitical, economic, and national crossroads. Therefore, the struggle over it extends beyond oil to the future relationship between Baghdad and Erbil and the regional powers surrounding them. Sinjar, meanwhile, occupies another critical position on the Syrian-Iraqi border. Its Yazidi composition and its complex relationships among Baghdad, Erbil, Turkey, and the various forces present in the area make it part of the broader struggle over corridors, borders, and influence. Iraq can therefore remain a single state legally while power and influence become increasingly dispersed within it, making the federal state more pluralistic and less capable of monopolizing decision-making. Modern partition does not always require the declaration of new states; it can occur through the distribution of effective sovereignty among different regions and centers of power.

Deir ez-Zor and al-Bukamal acquire particular significance because of their location along the route between Syria and Iraq. If eastern Syria becomes more deeply connected to Iraq economically and militarily, the borders drawn by twentieth-century arrangements will lose part of their practical meaning, even if they remain legally intact. A connected Sunni sphere could emerge between eastern Syria and western Iraq, while a Shiite sphere remains concentrated in southern Iraq, and the Kurdistan Region in the north remains within a highly sensitive geographic, political, and economic environment vis-à-vis Turkey, Iran, and Baghdad. Thus, the Iraqi and Syrian maps become more interconnected than ever, and the future of one becomes part of the future of the other.

Within this map, the Kurds occupy an exceptionally sensitive position. They are present in Iraq, Syria, Turkey, and Iran, and no restructuring of the Middle East can ignore their existence. Yet the paradox is that the Kurds may be among the peoples most likely to benefit from the collapse of the old regional order while simultaneously being among those most exposed to the danger that this collapse could be rearranged against them. In Iraq there is the Kurdistan Region; in Syria a broad Kurdish political and military experience has emerged; while millions of Kurds live within Turkey and Iran. Consequently, the establishment of a unified Kurdish entity with geographic continuity and access to the Mediterranean would radically alter the regional balance, which makes regional powers more determined to prevent such connectivity. If the Kurdistan Region becomes more deeply integrated economically and militarily with Turkey, and if Ankara succeeds in expanding its influence toward the Syrian coast and Jabal al-Akrad, the geographic space capable of connecting Kurdistan to the Mediterranean will become even narrower. The Kurdish project would then find itself facing a geography enclosed by four states, without access to the sea.

As for Palestine, its future cannot be separated from the future of Jordan and the region as a whole. The war in Gaza is no longer linked solely to the fate of Hamas or military control of the Strip; it has become connected to the future of the population, borders, Palestinian authority, and the possibility of reshaping the region's demographic geography. If the displacement or geographic redistribution of Palestinians becomes part of future arrangements, Jordan will inevitably find itself at the heart of this equation. The Palestinian question would then shift from a conflict over a defined territory into a question involving the reshaping of the human and political geography extending from Gaza to the West Bank and Jordan.

From this perspective, the concept of “Greater Israel” becomes more complex than merely discussing the annexation of additional territories. Greater Israel may not necessarily be a map that Israel formally declares overnight. It could instead become a strategic reality in which Israel becomes the power capable of influencing the surrounding strategic sphere: Gaza to the south, Lebanon to the north, Syria to the east, Iran in the regional depth, and the land, air, and maritime corridors across the broader region. When the states surrounding Israel are compelled to take Israeli power into account before making major decisions, Israel has expanded its strategic sphere even without expanding its legal borders. In this sense, Greater Israel may be a project of influence as much as it is a project of territory.

As for Syria, the continuation of these transformations could lead to a stage in which partition becomes a political and security reality even if the state remains legally unified. The south would remain under growing Israeli pressure, the north linked to Turkish influence, the east connected to Iraq, the northeast gradually reintegrated into state institutions, and the coast retain exceptional importance in the regional and international struggle, while Damascus remains the formal center of the state but with varying capacity to control its peripheries. The partition of Syria, therefore, may not take the form of declaring five independent states. Instead, it may take the form of a single state with five maps of influence: one state in law, but multiple realities in security, politics, economics, and decision-making. This is the most complex form of partition because it preserves international borders while redistributing effective sovereignty within them.

When all these links are placed on a single map, the emerging image of the new Middle East becomes more interconnected: Israel is rebuilding its strategic depth from Gaza to Lebanon and from the Golan Heights into southern Syria; Iran is facing a war threatening its ability to maintain its influence extending toward the Mediterranean; Turkey is entering an increasingly intense struggle with Israel over the Syrian arena; the SDF is moving from an independent military force with a semi-autonomous administration toward integration into the Syrian state; the Kurds are entering a new phase in which the future of their rights is increasingly linked to the Syrian constitution and the form of the state; Iraq is moving toward greater de facto federalization and multiple centers of power; Deir ez-Zor and al-Bukamal are becoming a strategic junction between Syria and Iraq; Kirkuk remains a key to oil, geography, and identity; Sinjar remains a sensitive point in the balance among Baghdad, Erbil, Turkey, and Syria; Palestine is entering a highly sensitive phase in which the future of territory, population, and authority is being redefined; while Jordan becomes an essential part of the new geopolitical calculations.

Thus, the Middle East does not necessarily appear to be heading toward a simple division into new states, but rather toward a more complex order characterized by multiple zones, armies, corridors, and centers of decision-making. The old state names may remain on the map while the boundaries of influence within them change. Syria may remain Syria, Iraq may remain Iraq, and Lebanon may remain Lebanon, but effective sovereignty and centers of power will be different. The fundamental question, therefore, is not whether “Greater Israel” will appear tomorrow in the form of new borders, but whether Israel is gradually transforming from a state surrounded by a turbulent region into the power that plays a decisive role in determining the shape of that turbulent region itself.

What we are witnessing, according to this reading, is not the end of a single war but the beginning of a redrawing of the map: a map that begins in Gaza, extends through southern Lebanon, rises to the Golan Heights, Mount Hermon, Quneitra, Daraa, and Sweida, then moves toward the Badia, Deir ez-Zor, and al-Bukamal before crossing into Iraq, Kirkuk, and Sinjar, while Turkey moves from the north, the powers compete over corridors, resources, and borders, and Iran remains at the center of an attempt to rebuild a new regional balance. The region is thus entering a phase in which it is not territory alone that is being divided, but influence, decision-making, corridors, resources, and identities are also being redistributed. If the agreements of the twentieth century drew the borders of states, the current wars may be in the process of drawing something deeper: the boundaries of power within states themselves.

In the end, the real question may not be who will draw the new Sykes-Picot, but who will possess the ability to write the map that comes after it. Great maps do not change only when wars end; they begin to change from the moment the old borders become incapable of explaining the new balance of power.