The Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF), those plucky, overachieving sub-contractors of the American military-industrial complex, have finally received their termination notice. It wasn't delivered via a dignified diplomatic cable or a handshake in a secure bunker. No, it was delivered in the traditional American fashion: a cold, calculated pivot toward the 'new' management in Damascus. For years, the SDF was the darling of the Western press—the 'democratic' alternative to the various flavors of authoritarianism and religious fanaticism rotting the Levant. They were the boots on the ground that kept American socks clean. But as it turns out, in the high-stakes poker game of global hegemony, the Kurds were never the players; they were just the chips.

The U.S. shift toward backing the country's new leaders in Damascus is a masterclass in geopolitical gaslighting. One day, you’re the indispensable partner in the fight against the caliphate; the next, you’re a line item being deleted to make room for a 'fresh start' with a different set of thugs. The irony is so thick it could be exported as a crude oil substitute. The SDF, who believed the whispered sweet nothings of State Department bureaucrats, now find themselves holding a bag filled with nothing but empty shell casings and 'thoughts and prayers' from the international community. It is a spectacle of perfidy that would make Machiavelli blush, assuming he could stop laughing long enough to catch his breath.

On the Left, we see the usual performative hand-wringing. The same people who decry 'imperialism' on Mondays are suddenly heartbroken that the U.S. isn't staying indefinitely to protect their favorite militia on Tuesdays. They weep for the 'Kurdish experiment' while completely ignoring the fact that their own tax dollars are currently being diverted to the new, equally questionable regime in Damascus. It’s a boutique form of grief, designed for social media consumption rather than actual policy influence. On the Right, the response is a chorus of moronic grunts about 'ending forever wars,' a phrase they use only when it doesn't involve a country with a vibrant oil market. They ignore the reality that 'ending' a war in Washington-speak usually just means subcontracting the violence to a different group of people who are slightly more willing to sign a favorable trade deal.

The 'new leaders' in Damascus are already being fitted for the 'reformer' label—a garment so frequently laundered in the blood of previous incumbents that it’s a miracle it hasn't disintegrated. We are expected to believe that this new guard will be a stable, reliable partner, unlike the last stable, reliable partner, or the one before that. It’s the cycle of the 'Moderate Rebel,' a mythical creature that exists only in the fever dreams of think-tank analysts and CIA briefings. In reality, we are just swapping one set of opportunistic grifters for another, because the current administration finds the paperwork for the old ones too tedious to manage. It is a carousel of failure, and the only thing that changes is the music.

Deeply analyzed, this shift reveals the utter hollowness of the word 'partnership' in the American lexicon. To Washington, a partner is simply a disposable asset with a shorter shelf life than an un-refrigerated shrimp cocktail. The SDF’s fall from power isn't a tragic accident of history; it’s the intended outcome of a foreign policy built on the foundations of a goldfish’s memory. We spend billions to arm a group, call them heroes, and then act surprised when we abandon them for a shinier, newer toy in the capital city. It is a pathology of boredom. The American empire doesn't leave because it has won or lost; it leaves because it’s bored and wants to see what the other guys are doing.

This latest betrayal is just another chapter in the interminable book of Western meddling, a volume written in the ink of mendacity and bound in the skin of those naive enough to believe in 'values.' There are no values here, only interests. And currently, the interest is in pretending that the new Damascus regime is somehow a victory for 'stability.' It’s the stability of a graveyard, perhaps, but in the eyes of a career politician, a quiet cemetery is much easier to manage than a loud democracy. The Kurds were simply too loud, too demanding, and too reminders of a previous administration’s mess. So, out they go, into the dustbin of history, while the new occupants of the presidential palace in Damascus prepare their inaugural banquet, likely catered by the very people who were bombing them a year ago.