Latest news with #Daral-Fikr
Yahoo
28-04-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Banned books, hidden art reemerge in Syria's cautious cultural spring
"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.


The Guardian
27-01-2025
- Politics
- The Guardian
‘We were raided regularly': with Assad gone, banned books return to Syria's shelves
To print a book in the days of the Bashar al-Assad regime, one first had to think of the censors. Was the book political in nature? Off to the ministry of information. Religious? To the ministry of religious affairs (awqaf). Literature? To the Union of Arab Books. All were a front for the Syrian security services, who would pore over the suggested titles, and in the best-case scenario, approve the book with exhaustive line-by-line corrections, or in the worst-case scenario, reject the book in its entirety. Even with approval, a book's shelf life could be short. Syria's relations with Iraq had worsened: security services would visit stores and order them to remove any books that spoke highly of the Iraqi government. An author had declared his opposition to the Assad regime: a knock on the door – get rid of this one too. 'We were raided regularly, so we couldn't publish anything without approval, as both us and the author would be punished,' said Wahid Taja, an employee of Dar al-Fikr, one of Damascus's most prominent publishing houses, established in 1957. Over the course of his 25-year career at Dar al-Fikr, the number of banned books in his warehouse grew. The Assad regime was fickle, so his employees were constantly pulling books from the store and packing them away in storage. When the former Syrian president was toppled in a lightning 11-day offensive in early December, Taja immediately thought of those books gathering dust, unread for years. One by one, he opened boxes of books whose contents were supposedly dangerous and placed them back on Dar al-Fikr's shelves. Adham Sharqawi, whose writings on Islam were considered controversial; Burhan Ghalioun, a Syrian-French intellectual and longtime critic of the Assad regime; Patrick Seale, a prominent British journalist who wrote – not disapprovingly – of the Assad family; their books can once again be found in the aisles of Damascene bookshops. Those books that existed in the grey zone, that were neither banned nor approved and had to be requested by name from behind the counter, were also brought forward. Among them were the novels of Khaled Khalifa, an author who lived in Damascus until his death in 2023, whose stories – printed in Beirut and brought to Damascus – were unusually bold in their thinly veiled criticism of the Assad regime. One book that was never banned was George Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four, despite the glaring parallels with the Assad regime's totalitarian security apparatus. Taja's own theory as to why the novel was allowed to be sold was simple: 'They wanted us to imagine that they had the same capabilities, to watch us wherever we went.' With the Assad regime gone, Orwell's book seemed less like a threat and now merely a reminder of what once was. 'There is freedom now, we don't have fear any more. It's completely different, everyone is more comfortable,' Taja said. It is not only banned books that have returned to Damascus. Taxi drivers now complain of the capital's worsening traffic, as cars sporting Idlib license plates clog the streets of the city from which they had been exiled for well over a decade. Friends chart out the future of the country over cups of coffee in elevated voices in the historic home of Damascus's intelligentsia, al-Rawda cafe, free of the watchful eyes of Syria's omniscient informants. In ExLibris, a 23-year old English-language bookshop located in an upscale neighbourhood of Damascus, the shop's extensive collection still bore the marks of the Assad regime's controls. The prices of the imported books were all scratched out – to avoid suspicion of dealing in foreign currencies, a potential jail sentence a little over a month ago. The bookshop had not received any new books since 2019, sustained by a massive shipment brought in by its owner, Rima Semmakie Hadaya, during the country's last international book fair. Syrian authorities were more lenient with allowing in books during its international books fairs, to accommodate foreign publishing houses. All of the titles on ExLibris's shelves – ranging from Harry Potter to Noam Chomsky – were approved by the previous administration. Hadaya did not want to expose herself or her employees to danger. 'Now that we feel that we can breathe, we're not worried that they will come in and notice maybe one book with a pound or dollar sign we forgot to erase,' she said. The shop owner is still waiting for guidance from the new authorities before importing more books. The now ruling Syrian rebels, who have said their once extremist version of Islam has moderated, have issued no instructions to publishing houses or bookshops. Western sanctions are also an obstacle for book importers, still active on Syria despite the fall of the Assad regime they purported to punish. Damascus's bookshops and printing presses hope that this period of freedom lasts, and is not just a repeat of the Damascus Spring in 2001, when newly installed Assad allowed his people a brief taste of freedom before shutting the door once again. 'I'm still watching from the sidelines. I have hope, but I need to see what they do next,' Hadaya said.