Inside Syria's Largest Oilfield After The Battle For Control
Abu Aicha patrols the desert in northeastern Syria by car and on foot, an armed man permanently at his side. Around him stretches an apocalyptic landscape: rusted pipelines, shredded buildings, scorched earth and the traces of explosions.
“This is more important to protect than a bank. Oil is what brings money into a bank,” Abu Aicha tells Middle East Eye on 23 January. A former head of banking security in Deir Ezzor, Abu Aicha has been urgently reassigned to secure al-Omar, Syria’s largest oilfield – recently reclaimed by Syrian government forces after nearly a decade under Kurdish-led control.
His words reflect the strategic value long attached to al-Omar, a site that has repeatedly funded competing authorities throughout Syria’s war. For more than 10 years, al-Omar, located in the Deir Ezzor province east of the Euphrates River, formed a part of the economic backbone of northeastern Syria.
It was first seized by armed opposition groups, then transformed into a pillar of the Islamic State’s war economy, before falling under the control of the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) in 2017.
It even supplied oil back to Damascus across front lines. Today, it is once again under state control – a battlefield where oil has repeatedly reshaped Syria’s balance of power.
On 18 January, under pressure from advancing government troops, SDF commander Mazloum Abdi signed an agreement with Damascus that formally ended the Kurdish autonomous administration in the northeast and transferred control of oil and gas fields back to the Syrian state.
Fighting around al-Omar lasted nearly two hours the day before. Abu Taim, a soldier from the internal security forces who took part in the clashes, recalls the urgency of the operation.
“It was very important to take control of this place,” he says. “Before, we were forced to buy oil from them. These are resources that belong to the country. Now they benefit the whole country.”
Among the soldiers deployed that day, many were from the region itself – Syria’s Jazira. “I lived on the other side of the line,” says Omar, 23. “I felt my land had been colonised by the SDF. Everything was transported to Hasakah. Deir Ezzor suffered economically from losing access to its own resources.”
Another soldier, Mohamed Othman, 25, from Shahee in Deir Ezzor, sums up the moment: “It’s as if we were born again. It’s important because the resources belong to all of Syria, not just one group.” For some, the return carried a deeply personal meaning. “I hadn’t been here in 14 years,” says Abu Soeb Achjel quietly.
Oil transport resumed just five days after the site was retaken. Abdel-Karim Haluch, a truck driver wearing a red and white turban, prepares to head west. “I’m happy to help the country,” he says.
Dozens of trucks like his – each carrying up to 40,000 litres of crude oil – now travel daily from al-Omar toward refineries in Baniyas in the west and Homs in central Syria.
Yet securing the field remains a daily struggle. Al-Omar spans a vast expanse of desert, where opportunistic looters still attempt to siphon oil.
Abu Aicha gestures toward the sand, where motorcycle tracks cut across the site. “Each motorcycle can take up to 300 litres in five minutes,” he says, pointing to shallow pools of oil formed near damaged infrastructure. At night, patrols intensify. Vehicles suspected of theft are stopped, and sand barriers are erected around sensitive areas. “This is what preserves the future of the state,” Abu Aicha repeats.
Al-Omar today is a site held together by improvisation.Raed al-Sadoun, an engineer working on the field, describes the scale of destruction as overwhelming.
“The field requires complete rehabilitation – from the wells at the source to the destroyed secondary and main stations, all the way to the transfer points,” he explains. “Each well needs to be studied individually.”
The damage, he says, exceeds 90 percent. “We hope to reach more than 30,000 barrels per day from al-Omar alone,” he adds.
“But the timeline depends on who carries out the work. With foreign companies operating under international standards, it would take at least a year. "With local companies, everything depends on financing and equipment – and it could take even longer.” Artificial lifting systems remain largely inoperative, leaving only a handful of wells capable of natural production.
The last guy who was supposed to be on trial in Iraq became "President" of Syria.
— Kevork Almassian (@KevorkAlmassian) January 24, 2026
We’ve seen this movie. https://t.co/fRbrVSt7qC
Al-Omar’s importance goes far beyond symbolism. According to Benjamin Fève, an economist specializing in Syria at the consultancy Karam Shaar Advisory, oil revenues were decisive for the survival of Kurdish self-rule.
“In the first half of 2025, the Autonomous Administration of North and East Syria generated $542m in revenues,” Fève explains. Some $416m came from oil, accounting for nearly 77 percent of total revenues, he says. "These revenues financed military spending and public salaries, allowing the administration to function with around 220,000 employees and an armed force of roughly 85,000 fighters.”
Without oil rent, he adds, Kurdish autonomy would not have been financially viable – just as the Islamic State’s territorial project had once depended on oil revenues.
Today, Al-Omar remains a strategic asset for Damascus. “It is Syria’s largest oilfield, with recoverable reserves estimated at around 520 million barrels,” Fève says.
“Despite more than $1bn in damage, production was still around 14,000 barrels per day at the end of 2025. Its light crude is crucial because it is compatible with the Baniyas refinery.”
In the short term, Fève cautions, al-Omar will not dramatically boost Syria’s budget. “But in the medium term, it is the key asset to reduce imports and partially relaunch national production,” he says.
For Fève, the battle for northeastern Syria’s oilfields has been a structuring factor of the conflict. “Oil did not trigger the Syrian conflict, but it financed its prolongation,” he says. “Control over oilfields allowed armed actors to capture hundreds of millions of dollars annually and build rival systems of governance.”
That dynamic, he argues, made the recapture of al-Omar and other fields like Conoco, a major gas installation in Deir Ezzor province, economically decisive for Damascus in early 2026.
As dusk settles over the desert, trucks continue to roll westward, soldiers tighten their patrols, and engineers work amid ruins. Even in devastation, al-Omar remains a strategic prize.