A Syrian pilot defected to Jordan on Thursday in a Soviet-era MiG fighter. The defection of a single pilot would not mean much under normal circumstances, but this case carries both symbolic and practical weight. Hafez al Assad, commander of the Syrian air force in 1970 — the year he staged a coup that created the contemporary regime — is the founder of the Syrian regime and the father of Syrian President Bashar al Assad. Since the coup, Syria's air force has formed the core of support of the Syrian regime.
Until now, the air force had not suffered pilot defections; its trustworthiness has never been brought into question. Thursday's defection, therefore, stands as a symbolic warning to the regime and offers hope for the opposition. In practical terms, the defection also alerts security forces to the need for increased vigilance in the air force. Those forces will conduct an intensive review. They will ask how the pilot's commanding officers could have been taken by surprise and will hold interrogations to determine whether anyone else was involved.
The interrogations might contain the situation. The defector may in fact have operated alone and his actions may not be indicative of a larger phenomenon. However, the intense investigation could convince other pilots that they are under suspicion and create weaknesses in the air force that weren't there before the defection. Even if the investigation doesn't intimidate other pilots, it could very well alienate them.
The Syrian military guarantees the survival of the regime. The opposition will not be able to overthrow the Assads so long as the military remains cohesive and loyal. The opposition is too divided and too poorly armed and trained to engage and defeat the military in the short term. Even if the united Syrian military fails to crush the insurrection, it will be able to keep the regime from being destroyed.
The loyalty of the air force is partly based on religion. The Assads come from the Alawite sect, which makes up most of the military (most pilots are Sunni). Alawites have an inherent interest in the regime's survival as their well-being depends on it. But the military does not consist solely of Alawites; other religious and ethnic groups are represented in the officer corps, and more so in the enlisted ranks. For enlisted non-Alawites, the military provides security and a degree of wealth. They remain loyal because their position would probably decline considerably under a new regime, and because they do not expect the insurgency to prevail.
Thursday's defection does not redefine this calculus, but it shifts it slightly. The single defector could have been simply disgruntled. He might have been bribed by a foreign intelligence agency, or perhaps he feared that a relative's membership in the insurgency might cast suspicion on him. The possibilities are endless. But just as the defection causes the security services to question whether deeper dissent exists in the air force, the same could be true for other members of the military and the opposition.
However powerful the military, it has not been able to crush the insurgency. If air force pilots are defecting, perhaps the regime is weaker than it appears. Life for most members of the Assad regime would be worse under the insurgents, but not necessarily for those who decide early to defect or switch sides — they could be viewed as heroes by the new regime. Those who hold out will face an unknown fate if the military cracks and the regime is overthrown.
The defection of a Syrian air force pilot is important because it raises this question: If the air force has defectors, what can be correctly assumed about the military? Of course that question dissolves if nothing further happens for a month or two. But if there are more defections, the balance in Syria might shift. Revolution and counter-revolution is dicey business, and when the core of a regime develops a crack, however minor, the calculations can change.
