Manufacturing Legitimacy: Caught Between Theology, Power and Global Acceptance
Ahmad Al Shari’—better known as Abu Muhammad Al Joulani—has taken on several identities over the 15 years of the Syrian conflict, to pursue power. For Al Joulani, power and legitimacy have always been the end goal. Since early in his career, Al Joulani has depended on the credibility of other, more established organizations, personalities, and ideologies. His journey from an Islamic State emissary to Syria to the now president of the country had several transformations - all intended to expand his own authority over Syria’s armed groups. He latched onto other established groups to climb up ranks, unite allies, fight, and ultimately take over the country’s armed groups scene. However, the strategy that served him in the past may be the same one that seals his fate.
From Emissary to Emir
The Syrian revolution's descent into chaos was an excellent opportunity for multiple groups to recruit and expand. The Islamic State of Iraq was not an exception. Among its foot soldiers was Abu Muhammad al-Joulani, who pitched the idea of a "Syrian Front," persuading ISI leadership to grant him a small cadre of fighters, a cache of weapons, and a temporary stream of financial support. The fact that ISI, weakened and financially strained at that time, was willing to part with these resources speaks to the strength of Joulani’s sales pitch—and the strategic opportunity Syria presented. Al Joulani found addictive success in the beginning. With each victory, his sense of autonomy grew. Internal communications from the period reveal his increasing reluctance to report back to ISI leadership, instead maneuvering to establish an identity of his own. Al Joulani wanted to create an Islamic State in Syria, similar to the one in Iraq but independent in leadership, strategy and goals.
His defiance was evident in his alliances. While ISI denounced factions like the Free Syrian Army (FSA) as ideologically impure, Joulani was pragmatic, forging temporary partnerships with groups the Islamic State would have otherwise targeted. His willingness to cooperate with non-Salafi jihadist forces signaled that he was not merely a loyal extension of ISI, but a leader carving his own path.
ISI leadership took notice. Reports trickled in from Joulani’s own fighters, alarmed that their commander was straying from the strict doctrine they had sworn to uphold. Sensing a fracture, Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi dispatched his trusted deputy, Abu Ali al-Anbari, to assess the situation. What he found confirmed the worst suspicions. In his report back to ISI, Anbari dismissed Joulani as an attention-seeker, a man who "rejoices like a child" at the mere mention of his name on television.That assessment sealed Joulani’s fate. Baghdadi, unwilling to tolerate the budding split-off, declared the dissolution of Jabhat al-Nusra and attempted to fold it back into the Islamic State. Joulani's fledgling jihadist empire was on the brink of collapse.
But again, he adapted. Rather than submit to Baghdadi’s authority, he pivoted toward Al-Qaeda, the decaying parent from which ISI had originally emerged. By rebranding under its banner, he salvaged his movement and ensured his own continued survival. It was a defining moment—one that would shape his decade-long pursuit of power. Yet even as he maneuvered between allegiances, one challenge remained: his struggle to forge a distinct and lasting legacy of his own.
Al Joulani’s embrace of Al Qaeda, which led to a bloody battle among the two groups, did not last long. The pragmatist in him knew that he could not achieve the power he wanted while weighed down by the legacy of Al Qaeda. Associating with Al Qaeda helped him gain legitimacy, though a few of the hardliners among his men remained with ISIS. Ultimately Joulani kept influence, a financial network and most importantly his reputation in jihadi circles - one that guaranteed him a flow of Syrian and foreign fighters. But soon he realized, the weight of his Al Qaeda legacy was outweighing its benefits, especially with the threat of sanctions and the global war on terror. It was time for a change and Al Joulani had once again found himself without a brand of his own.
Transition to Localized Jihad
Abu Muhammad al-Joulani’s departure from Al-Qaeda’s global strategy required a new ideological foundation. Additionally, he needed a strong local base from which to consolidate power. Moving from a transnational focus to a localized insurgency meant crafting alliances rooted in jihadi jurisprudence so as to not alienate his core group of devotees This ultimately led him to Ahrar al-Sham. This group was formed at the onset of the Syrian revolution, mostly consisting of former Salafi Jihadis who had been imprisoned by the Assad regime and later set free in 2011. Its founders were Hassan Aboud and Abu Yazan Al Shami, though some sources cite that the group was co-founded by Abu Khalid al-Suri - important if true because of the intellectual influences.. Abu Khalid Al Suri (Mohammad Bahaya) was a hardened Salafi Jihadi who spent his life travelling between Europe, Afghanistan, and Pakistan shadowing the infamous Jihadi philosopher Abu Musab Al Suri (Mustafa Sitt Mariam). Abu Khalid’s close relationship to the Jihadi philosopher deeply influenced his thought. Abu Musab’s main work Call for a Global Islamic Resistance was often misinterpreted as a blueprint for global jihad. In reality, Abu Musab al-Suri diverged from strict Salafi-Jihadi doctrine, identifying three main strands of jihad—Salafi Jihad, Armed Jihad, and Jihadist groups—and advocated for a broader, revolutionary model that rejected takfiri practices and promoted a more lenient approach toward society.
Abu Khalid’s influence on Ahrar Al Sham was clear. The group which started out as just another Salafi Jihadi armed group started showing more ideological flexibility, more moderate outreach, adopting Al Suri’s approach to a more revolutionary stance away from the strict Salafi doctrine, working more on creating a popular incubator for the group and helping them prioritize the fight against Assad. In multiple writings, Abu Musab references Rad Al-Sael- or legitimate self defense - allowing for a justified approach to defend a community against aggression as opposed to the more offensive jihad. His clear distinction between Jihad and Rad Al Sael is important because it allowed more flexibility with alliances, less rigidity in practice and ultimately wider acceptance and support among the local population - which is exactly what Ahrar Al Sham with Abu Khalid’s direct guidance achieved. While the concept of Rad Al Sael was introduced and used by many Salafi Jihad theologians to justify expanding the use of violence - Abu Musab used it to expand on alliances and liberate groups from rigid Salafi doctrine, in his writing Abu Musab argues for expanding coalitions with non-Muslims if the aim is to defend against a common enemy. While Al-Qaeda usually focused on external enemies, Abu Musab al-Suri went further, rejecting takfiris entirely and advocating mass mobilization instead of reliance on small, elite cells. His writings also emphasized pragmatic alliances—including with non-Muslims—when the strategic goal was to overthrow or resist oppressive regimes. These principles defined Ahrar al-Sham’s doctrine, positioning it as a powerful alternative to both ISIS and Al-Qaeda, and attracting regional support, notably from Qatar. We can see the clear influence of his teachings in works and speeches of Ahrar’s main theologian Abu Yazan Al Shami.
In addition to Ahrar’s new lenient and successful model, they also emphasized their victories in governance. While different groups only focused on territory victories and land grab, Ahrar Al Sham was actively establishing local government bodies, providing services, outreach and citizen inclusion.
For Joulani, Ahrar al-Sham presented both a model and an opportunity. Its political space allowed him to maintain hardliner support while simultaneously reshaping his public image, both locally and abroad. By aligning with a group that combined ideological purity with strategic pragmatism, he sought to strike a balance—keeping jihadist factions in line while expanding his influence in Syria’s ever changing realities. Prompting him again to adopt a ready made platform, recreating it on a larger scale in Idlib.
While Abu Muhammad al-Joulani successfully consolidated various armed factions under his control—particularly in Idlib, his self-styled emirate—he ultimately failed to craft a distinct ideological doctrine of his own. His military force leaned heavily on established theologians, rather than a unified vision of governance or jihad. A task that can only be accomplished by the backing of well established figures in the Jihadi sphere. A senior HTS commander I spoke to in Damascus revealed the deep influence of figures like Abu Qatada Al Falistini, whose theological weight Joulani strategically wielded to legitimize his authority and maintain cohesion among his fighters and allied groups. Rather than striving for a formal state, Joulani envisioned a "Sunni Revolutionary Entity" designed to oppose both the Assad regime and Iranian-backed militias—a structure rooted in perpetual confrontation rather than durable governance.
The Three Constituencies
The rapid collapse of Assad’s forces on December 8, 2024 presented Abu Muhammad al-Joulani with an unprecedented challenge—transforming from a militant leader into a statesman. Now tasked with governing, he must navigate the complexities of state-building, forging diplomatic relationships with neighboring countries that have long viewed him as a terrorist, and securing international recognition to lift sanctions and facilitate Syria’s reconstruction.
To achieve this, Joulani is carefully crafting the image of a pragmatic leader focused on stability. Yet this calculated shift stands in direct contradiction to the Islamist narrative he has cultivated for years, particularly among his core base of hardline fighters. Balancing these competing identities—between revolutionary jihadist and political leader—will determine whether he can consolidate power or risk alienating the factions that once fueled his rise.
While Al Joulani is becoming less rigid in his public political and religious rhetoric, Al Joulani’s core fighters remain committed to a militant Salafi-Jihadi worldview. They look to veteran Islamist leaders for religious guidance and strategic directives - making their loyalty conditional on adherence to the strict parameters of jihad. Should Al Joulani become too politically flexible, he risks alienating the very force that underwrites his authority on the ground.
Moreover, unlike other groups with deeper institutional roots such as Egypt’s Muslim Brotherhood, Al Joulani lacks a robust political infrastructure. His base has been molded through military struggle, not through years of political engagement. Consequently, he must continue to rely on external theologians and preachers to supply the ideological motivation that his own movement cannot. Should they turn against him, they hold the power to discredit his leadership.
In the world of post-Assad politics and diplomacy, Al Joulani’s political survival depends on reconciling three major constituencies. First, there are regional and international powers whose recognition he needs for economic relief and a possible lifting of sanctions. Second is the Syrian people, whose diverse backgrounds and demands make a unified political agenda nearly impossible. And third is his Salafi-Jihadi base, the military backbone that insists on preserving a conservative Islamist identity and the spirit of jihad.
Each of the three groups has differing priorities. The foreign powers favor development and stability; average Syrians seek inclusion and services; and the jihadist core remains fixated on its ideological mission. Al Joulani’s immediate approach seems to delegate ideology to outside scholars while he maneuvers politically. Yet this only magnifies his vulnerability: any fracture in his alliance with these theologians could trigger a crisis of legitimacy he cannot contain.
From his days as an IS emissary to his later alignment with Al-Qaeda and later alliances with more localized Islamist groups, Al Joulani has navigated a changing environment of ideology and politics. Time and again, he has relied on other established actors to lend him the legitimacy he lacks. As the conflict enters a new phase—one less defined by the sole objective of toppling Assad—Al Joulani faces a difficult dilemma.
Without a unifying external enemy (Assad), his justification for radical militancy no longer holds as firmly. Yet any pivot toward inclusive governance will alienate the fighters who secured his rise in the first place. In trying to satisfy these conflicting demands, Al Joulani risks becoming the ultimate casualty of his own balancing act. Creating a stable, authoritative identity—one not borrowed from others—is a challenge he has yet to overcome.
During my time in Syria, prominent Salafi-Jihadi theologians shared with me the firm “red lines” they refused to cross. Secular rule was a clear red line, they also will not admit non-Sunni Muslims or non-Muslims into the military, nor will they accept a Kurdish entity under the Syrian Democratic Forces. These absolute conditions constrain Al Joulani’s political manoeuvres.
By abolishing the mandatory draft, Al Shara eliminated the possibility of non-Sunni Muslims serving or joining the state military. Previously, all non-Sunni, specifically Alawites, could serve in the military. The postponed constitution shows a more complex balancing act. Theologians within HTS suggest that Al-Shari’ skillfully leveraged prominent Salafi sheikhs to issue tailored fatwas—religious edicts that bought him time with hardliners while crafting a façade of inclusivity and progress for external audiences. One example was the use of democracy as opposed to Islamic rule. The religious edict Joulani obtained allowed democracy to be used as a tool to elect leaders but not to elect or vote on laws - which should primarily stem from Islamic Sharia. This maneuver allowed Al-Shari’ to co-opt democratic language without compromising Islamist rule.
He is also still drawing from Abu Musab Al-Suri’s teachings D’awa or Islamic missionary work in societies that do not adhere to Islamic principles by dispatching preachers across Syria to instill Sunni Islamist values, particularly among youth. His vision extends beyond controlling existing Sunni factions to influencing Sufi orders, Alawites, and other groups, seeking not merely political dominance but ideological conformity. By allowing these missionary activities, Al-Shari again maintained his claim to strict Islamism while simultaneously projecting an image of modernization and inclusivity. This delicate balance between appeasing his core ideological base and shaping a new Syria—one distanced just enough from their rigid doctrines—defines his rule. For Joulani to unite his power, he needs a doctrine, a theological vision which defines the moral shape of the nation, provides morale boosting for the state, and psychological warfare to his foes. Egypt under Morsi had this - a cadre of theologians who could combine Islamic law with the realities of state building. Joulani does not yet have this and needs to settle on a brand and build it. So far, Joulani has found a balance between state identity and his core group - by allowing them to move and preach freely while he consolidates power and designs the new Syria away from them. This miscalculation by Al-Joulani is evident in the recent vicious attacks against minority communities in Syria, where over a 1000 civilians have been killed by the new government’s armed groups. I have followed the work of his preachers and their edicts and fatwas permitting violence against these minorities. Friday’s call for national mobilization towards jihad has activated these mini-followings of preachers, rather than create the single unified group which he wished for. Joulani did not achieve the inclusive coalition Abu Musab called for in order to consolidate power. Joulani did not get his monopoly over weapons and violence, but he did get the violence.