The speeches delivered by Syria’s Ministers of Culture and Education during the announcement of the new government formation revealed no discernible shift in the state’s stance toward cultural diversity. Rather than signaling openness to the country’s rich tapestry of languages and communities, the Minister of Culture recited a poem invoking eternal ownership of Damascus—“until the Day of Judgment,” as he phrased it. A moment that might have marked a break from past exclusions became, instead, a reaffirmation of exclusivist symbolism.
In the 1980s, a man entered the Ministry of Culture building in Damascus carrying a manuscript he had translated from Arabic into Kurdish. He submitted a formal request for it to be published at the ministry’s expense.
That man was Rashid Hamo (1925–2010), a Kurdish political figure from Afrin. The manuscript in question was a lengthy presidential oath delivered by then-President Hafez al-Assad. Hamo’s intention was not to praise Assad—whose policies of denial he strongly opposed—but to compel the Syrian state to formally recognize the Kurdish language, even if only by publishing a translation of its own official discourse. The response was unambiguous: the ministry rejected the request outright. Even in what was then called the “Republic of Silence,” Assad’s words, it seemed, could not be uttered in Kurdish.
That episode came to mind as Syria declared its “New Republic.” If any institutions can reflect a real shift in attitude toward the country’s non-Arab communities, it is the Ministries of Culture and Education. One might even speak of them as Syria’s “sovereign non-Arab ministries.” It is through their policies that Kurds and others will discern whether the state has truly begun to acknowledge its own cultural and linguistic diversity.
Yet if the recent speeches are any indication, such a transformation remains elusive. Instead of announcing an inclusive agenda, the Minister of Culture opted to recite poetry celebrating Arab permanence and the eternal dominion of Damascus. This is not about political demands—it is about cultural rights that, under the transitional framework, are supposed to be guaranteed.
Fueling scepticism are resurfaced remarks by the Minister of Culture, in which he reportedly dismissed Syriac as merely a dialect of Arabic. The claim not only lacks linguistic merit but reveals a persistent failure to grasp the depth of Syria’s civilizational complexity. It is precisely this diversity that his ministry is now obligated to acknowledge after decades of systematically excluding non-Arab expression from official institutions.
The Minister of Education, despite his Kurdish background, has not publicly addressed the long-standing Kurdish demand for mother-tongue education. This is not a symbolic issue. For decades, thousands of Kurdish students were effectively barred from higher education—not due to lack of ability, but because Arabic, which many spoke only minimally, was used as a gatekeeping tool. This practice began in the early days of the Syrian Republic and only began to ease in the 1980s and 1990s.
A personal anecdote underscores the generational impact. In the late 1950s, an Arabic-language teacher from the Syrian coast arrived in the author’s grandfather’s village in Afrin. In a gesture of respect, the grandfather named his son—later the author’s father—after the teacher. Yet despite this symbolic gesture, the son would go on to fail the Arabic-language baccalaureate three times.
In a televised interview with a Kurdish-language outlet, the current Minister of Education attempted to address Kurdish viewers in their own language. Speaking in Kurdish, he promised to “find a solution to all the Pizikan.” He intended to say Pirsgirêk (problems), but instead used a word that means “boils”—an unfortunate linguistic misstep that may reveal more than it conceals. It was, notably, his first public appearance speaking Kurdish.
The distinction between the two words is not trivial. One refers to structural social and educational challenges. The other, to painful swellings of the skin. And so one is left to ask: is the minister committed to solving Syria’s educational dilemmas—or merely treating its festering wounds?
Syria’s Future Demands Recognition of Minority Rights
In this context, Syrian journalist Shevan Ibrahim wrote in Al-Araby Al-Jadeed that in Syria, calls by national minorities for recognition and rights are often dismissed by elites as Western plots to divide the country. Yet these accusations ignore a fundamental reality: the absence of constitutional protections for minorities is a root cause of instability, not a byproduct of foreign interference.
History offers a clear lesson. The repression of minorities fuelled devastation across Europe, and the post-World War settlements recognised minority rights as a legitimate international concern. Today, the international system regards minority rights not as a concession, but as a cornerstone of legitimate, modern governance.
Syria has never been a state of one nation or one religion. Since the Ba’ath Party seized power, successive governments deepened divisions, institutionalising discrimination against Kurds and other minorities: stripping citizenship, suppressing languages, altering place names, and limiting access to political power. Yet despite decades of marginalisation, Syria’s minorities have not disappeared, nor surrendered their cultural identities or aspirations for equality.
Globally, the trajectory has been clear. After World War II, the emphasis on universal human rights temporarily eclipsed specific minority protections. But by the 1980s and 1990s, this approach evolved. Minority rights re-emerged as essential to genuine pluralism and stability, affirmed through UN declarations and European frameworks that linked minority protection to democratic legitimacy.
In Syria, the denial of minority rights remains a ticking time bomb. Three fundamental problems persist: first, the tension between imposing uniform standards and recognising the country’s ethnic, linguistic, and religious diversity; second, the incompatibility of Syria’s political system with the demands of democratic pluralism; and third, the historic refusal to treat minorities as equal partners in national life.
The way forward is clear. Syrians must confront the reality that preserving a centralised, exclusionary model will only breed deeper divisions and recurring crises. True national stability requires constitutional guarantees for minority rights—not as charity, but as a foundation for coexistence. Recognising the Kurds, Assyrians, Circassians, Armenians, and others as integral components of Syria’s national fabric is both a moral imperative and a pragmatic necessity.
Claims that minority rights are foreign impositions ring hollow. They are, in fact, overdue acknowledgements of Syria’s own demographic and historical reality. Failure to adapt will not only perpetuate internal conflict but isolate Syria from a global order increasingly sympathetic to minority struggles.
The future of Syria lies not in forced assimilation but in embracing its rich, pluralistic identity. Building a modern, inclusive state means abandoning the myths of homogeneity and affirming that justice for minorities is justice for all Syrians.
This article was translated and edited by The Syrian Observer. The Syrian Observer has not verified the content of this story. Responsibility for the information and views set out in this article lies entirely with the author.
