Syrian women are not political décor

When the former regime collapsed and a new political phase began, a familiar question resurfaced in an unfamiliar landscape: Where are the women?

While public debate fixated on security, the economy, and reconstruction, women’s political participation was left hovering in the margins; acknowledged rhetorically, but lacking any strategic vision.

For decades, the Assad regime claimed to champion women’s rights. In reality, it used women’s visibility as political décor for foreign consumption. Their presence in the People’s Assembly or select ministries rarely translated into influence. Real authority remained locked within a hyper-patriarchal security establishment, while women were relegated to symbolic roles that affirmed the regime’s “modern” image. Even its most prominent female faces — such as presidential adviser Bouthaina Shaaban — were loudspeakers for the regime, not decision-makers.

After 2011, this façade cracked. Women emerged as organisers, journalists, negotiators, documenters of war crimes, and leaders of local councils. For the first time in decades, they operated in a public sphere not mediated by the state. But as the uprising militarised, women’s public roles shrank again. They were pushed out by extremists and traditional social conventions.

Outside Syria, donors and international mediators imposed “women’s quotas” on opposition institutions. But quotas did not alter power dynamics. Women were offered deputy roles or put in charge of “the women’s file” — essentially symbolic positions without institutional weight. Figures like Suheir al-Atassi and Ruba Haboush paid the price of pushing back against these constraints: smear campaigns, political isolation, and personal targeting.

The UN’s Women’s Advisory Board provided a degree of protection and a channel into diplomatic processes, but with no real negotiations ever taking place, its role was never meaningfully tested.

When the transitional government formed under President Ahmad al-Sharaa, many expected a break with old habits. Instead, the first cabinet included only one woman: Hind Kabawat, presented simultaneously as “the woman” and “the representative of a religious minority”.

Kabawat attempted to expand women’s access inside the system, appointing female administrators in several provinces. But entrenched social structures were often stronger than ministerial authority. The case of Salam al-Ghadir in Deir Ezzor — forced to resign under tribal pressure — revealed the limits of appointment without community backing. Meanwhile, many of the most seasoned women activists declined positions altogether, unwilling to risk renewed vilification or to serve as political cover.

In an attempt to reassure women, the transitional government created a Women’s Office headed by Aisha al-Dibs. But it quickly drifted from empowerment to gatekeeping, operating on the logic that “those who resemble us belong to us”. It was eventually shut down after failing to deliver, replaced by a Damascus Development Office — as though the issue was a matter of services rather than political agency.

The parliamentary elections deepened the setback. Women secured only 6 seats out of 119 — barely 4 per cent. Major cities such as Damascus, Aleppo, Homs, and Deir Ezzor elected not a single woman, despite credible female candidates. Once again, society itself acted as the enforcer of exclusion. The task now falls to the one-third of parliament to be appointed by al-Sharaa, who is expected to address this gap.

If Syria is to avoid reproducing the past with new actors, reforms must be structural:

The revolution proved what was always true: Syrian women are capable of shaping their country’s political future. But they cannot do so if they continue to be summoned merely to beautify the picture or make up the numbers. A democratic transition is not measured by ballot boxes alone. It is measured by whether every part of society can take part in shaping collective decisions.

If Syria’s new era is to rest on stability and fairness, it must recognise that half of society is not a political margin but a founding partner in decision-making. Otherwise we risk recreating the past with new tools and at an even higher cost.