When the empire says they want to bring you democracy, count your limbs before you thank them.

I sometimes imagine the world as one big geopolitical lab experiment — a place where men in suits, far from any frontline, play with lives the way a child plays with matches. Syria was one of those experiments. And, as with all experiments designed by foreign policy geniuses, it ended exactly as you'd expect: in fire, ruin, and endless press releases about "democracy."

In the past decade, Western governments and their enthusiastic apprentices in the Middle East tried to convince the Syrian people to take up arms against their own national army. It sounded heroic on paper: a revolution for freedom, dignity, and Netflix subscriptions. Only one small problem: many Syrians didn't want to die in someone else's ideological war for "democracy". They wanted economic prosperity, job opportunities, and a life.

When the slogans failed to ignite, the powers behind this war found a better formula. Don't convince people; just import zealots. So they opened the floodgates for every radical, disillusioned, and semi-brainwashed Takfiri who could spell "jihad" in broken Arabic. Thousands — tens of thousands — poured in from all over the world, the West included.

They didn't just join ISIS; many went to the al-Nusra Front, al-Qaeda's local branch, which — irony of ironies — now rules Syria with the same cruelty once condemned by the very governments that enabled it.

It's almost poetic.

For years before the regime change fantasy took hold, Damascus warned the world: you're cultivating a monster. "Let's fight these extremists together," the Syrian government said. "No," replied the West, "we prefer our extremists export-only."

They wouldn't even take their own citizens back. French, British, German, Kazakh, Belgian, Swedish — you name it — everyone wanted to outsource their Takfiri jihadists. It was a perfect system: dump the radicals in Syria, watch the chaos from afar, and then give yourself awards for humanitarian concern.

Fast forward a decade. The "regime" is gone. Meanwhile, Abu Muhammad al-Julani, the former al-Qaeda man, now rules Syria, complete with PR makeovers and televised interviews that make him look like a start-up founder pitching "Moderate Islam Inc."

And guess what? Some Western governments are suddenly uncomfortable. Their project worked too well. The radicals they helped unleash may now turn against their own proxy, Julani, who is — how shall I put this — suddenly very cooperative with Western and regional powers.

So now the same countries that once refused to take their "citizens" back are politely suggesting Julani do it for them. Deport the French ones, please. The Brits next. The Germans, maybe next quarter. It's a Kafkaesque recycling program: "Return your jihadists for a cleaner, greener Idlib."

Of course, the Takfiris aren't taking it well. Julani's attempt to capture and send back the French Legion of Idlib sparked open fighting. Other factions joined in — not out of solidarity, but out of fear that they'll be next on the export list. The multiethnic jihadist utopia is now turning on itself.

And as I watch this grotesque theater unfold, I can't help but think: this was all avoidable.

If only the "friends of Syria" had thought about the actual Syrians. Instead, they thought about pipelines, geopolitical chessboards, and the tantalizing idea of turning a defiant state into a playground for foreign corporations. Destroy the country, rebuild it with Western and Gulf money, and call it a "success story." It's a neo-colonialism: less about troops, more about contracts.

That's the genius of modern empire: you don't need to occupy a country anymore. You just break it economically and then offer loans, consultants, and fast food chains to "help it recover." It's cheaper, cleaner, and easier to sell to voters.

But for those of us who live with the consequences, there's nothing clean about it. The rubble isn't metaphorical. The pain isn't theoretical. Every destroyed street in Aleppo, every refugee camp in Idlib, is a monument to someone's "strategic calculation."

And so, as I write this from the safe distance of time but not memory, I find myself oscillating between rage and dark laughter. Because what else can you do? Crying is too exhausting; humor, at least, gives you oxygen.

Yes, Syria has hydrocarbons and a "strategic location." Yes, we are the land bridge between empires. But we are also people. And somewhere between the boardrooms of Washington, Ankara, and Brussels, that small detail got lost.

What happened in Syria wasn't a revolution that went wrong. It was a foreign policy experiment that went exactly as planned.

If there's any lesson left in this chaos, it's a simple one: when the empire says they want to bring you democracy, count your limbs before you thank them.

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