Banned books, hidden art reemerge in Syria's cautious cultural spring

Yahoo

28-04-2025

"Over 53 years I kept this story in my head," novelist Nisar Abasa, 80, told dpa. "I just knew that one day before I die I can publish it."
He spent decades keeping many of his ideas to himself, fearing otherwise, even just thoughts seen as disloyal could land him in one of Syria's many prisons, facing torture.
"I kept them in my heart. They describe what I and so many Syrians had to go through every day. Now they can finally be made public," he says.
Long-time ruler Bashar al-Assad was toppled in December after nearly 14 years of brutal civil war in which hundreds of thousands of people died.
Under his rule, Syrian publishers say hundreds, even thousands of books were censored, removed from sale or banned, in the regime's attempt to stifle disloyalty.
An Islamist-led government is now in power, following more than 50 years of rule by the al-Assad family.
Books seen as in any way threatening or questioning the authoritarian rule of the government, or espousing a different ideology, were particularly dangerous, says Wahid Taja, press officer of the Dar al-Fikr publishing house in Damascus.
Dar al-Fikr means "House of Ideas" in Arabic, a name that inherently contradicted the government's policies.
"We were under tremendous stress during the rule of Bashar al-Assad, he used to send his men to check on our books," Taja says.
Often, the authorities were arbitrary, disagreeing among themselves about what should and should not be allowed on the market. "They had mood swings," Taja says.
A book that was permitted today could be banned tomorrow – depending on the political climate.
The Ministry of Information regularly issued lists specifying what should be prohibited.
"If they found books that weren't allowed during their visits, they were burned," he says. Critical books went underground. Some were hidden wherever seemed safest, even in sewer pipes.
"I hid many books, guarded like treasure," Taja says. He put them in different places, from friends' houses to basements.
When al-Assad was overthrown, he "wiped the dust off their pages" and returned them to the light of day. "It was a day of liberation – also for Syria's literature," the publisher says.
Today, there are no longer lists of prohibitions. However, Dar al-Fikr is hesitant to publish books critical of religion in light of the new Islamist-led government in Damascus, even though there has never been a concrete announcement about this.
"They didn't want education," says Adham Ajamye, referring to the al-Assad government. "They didn't allow us to think."
He spent the past decade selling works at the open-air book market under what is now known as the Freedom Bridge in Damascus.
Once, he recalls, they came with bulldozers to destroy all the stalls. Trigger words like "revolution" in a title were reason enough to withdraw books from the market.
Ajamye says he always believed al-Assad would disappear one day and education would return. But for years, he sold the many books that were banned in secret. Now they are openly on display.
Numerous libraries and book stores throughout the country were converted into simple stationery stores.
Now, Abdallah Hamdan, who sells religious literature at the neighbouring stall, is concerned after an encounter with supporters of the new Syrian leadership.
After the fall of al-Assad, some came to him, criticized books that depicted Christian symbols or inscriptions and asked him to burn them.
"Don't make the same mistakes as the old regime," he said.
"We all wanted freedom, education and literature means freedom," says Hamdan - though he had to burn the books.
Other cultural sectors in the country are doubtful about the changes in the country, even as watchers abroad greet the transition with high hopes.
"What we are experiencing now is copy and paste," says Rola Sleiman, co-founder of the Zawaya art gallery in a Christian neighbourhood of Damascus.
Previously, there was a security state — that is, a state based on controlling secret services, police, and military. Today, the transitional government relies on a religious system. "There is no freedom in either," says Sleiman.
At the beginning of December, rebels led by the Islamist group Hayat Tahrir al-Sham advanced at lightning speed toward Damascus in a bid to overthrow al-Assad.
"When they were close to Damascus, I packed up all the art from our gallery and hid it in my home," Sleiman says. It wasn't until three weeks after the fall that she dared to return the art works.
A supposed member of the new transitional government called her exhibited sculptures "haram," or sinful, during a visit to the gallery.
But sculpture is one of Syria's oldest arts, Sleiman emphasizes.
"I'm afraid because we really don't need a rebirth of the old regime," she says.