Syria’s Streisand effect

On September 30, Syria’s Ministry of Higher Education and Scientific Research published its university admissions announcement for the 2026–27 academic year. Several programmes were marked “males only”, ranging from security and military fields to oil and gas, railways, radio and television directing and – more controversially – legal and social sciences. The published criteria provided no general explanation for the gender restrictions.

The decision quickly produced a backlash across Syrian social media and coverage by Arab media outlets. Public figures including Nawwar Jabbour and a creator known online as Rama_thoughts criticised the restrictions on TikTok, Facebook and Instagram. Some reactions were particularly fierce: “Afghanistan 2.0”, read one comment. Another argued that the decision required “another revolution”, while others saw it as evidence of the Islamist character of Syria’s new authorities. There were also those who defended the ministry, pointing to admission procedures in which particular fields had previously been reserved for women and arguing that these had not produced the same outcry.

The interesting paradox is that the restrictive policy towards women has simultaneously given new prominence to the question of women’s rights. In that sense, the decision may have achieved something close to the opposite of its practical effect. The new admissions criteria exclude women from certain programmes, but the exclusion itself put their place in Syria’s universities – and, more broadly, in post-Assad Syria – under considerably greater public scrutiny.

Yet the backlash is not only about women’s rights. It also says something about what some Syrians increasingly expect from their government. What is noteworthy today is not that Syrians have suddenly discovered dissent, but the possibility that some increasingly treat criticism of government decisions as an ordinary entitlement rather than an extraordinary act of resistance. Publicly criticizing the ministry’s decision and demanding a justification communicates an expectation that has gone unmet: the government should be able to explain why it has made a decision that affects people’s lives. When Syrians question such decisions, criticise them and demand justification, they make a claim about the relationship they expect to have with those in authority - and, implicitly, about what kind of political subjects they believe themselves to be.

There is already reason to believe that public pressure can occasionally produce results. After Syrian authorities banned alcohol from restaurants and bars in Damascus on 17 March, demonstrators took to the streets to protest a measure they regarded as discriminatory against Syria’s Christian minority. The authorities subsequently softened the ban. This and other similar episodes created precedents: government decisions are not necessarily final, and pressure from below can actually be successful. When such expectations are met with justification or even a reversal, it also sends a message about what Syrians can expect from their government.

The current university controversy is another test of that expectation, and the fact that a government decision is being publicly challenged, debated and subjected to demands for justification is itself significant. Whether those speaking out genuinely expect their voices to be heard cannot be known from the backlash alone, but what is significant is that they voice these expectations publicly regardless.

This should not be mistaken for democratic accountability. Nor does it mean that Syrians suddenly enjoy an unrestricted ability to dissent. But the backlash suggests that at least some Syrians increasingly feel entitled to question those in authority – and perhaps increasingly believe that doing so can matter. Yet this pressure may not be directed solely at Syrian authorities. For some critics, particularly those with audiences abroad, social media also offers a means of drawing international attention to domestic decisions. If Syria’s new authorities are concerned with gaining international legitimacy, criticism reaching Western audiences may carry additional weight. The backlash may reflect not only an expectation of being heard by the government, but also an awareness that external scrutiny could make it more difficult for the authorities to ignore public demands.

The controversy therefore raises two questions at once. One concerns women’s access to education and whether gender-based restrictions will become a feature of the new Syria. The other concerns the relationship between citizens and the state. Will Syria’s new authorities institutionalise an expectation that government decisions can be questioned and potentially reversed, or teach citizens that their voices carry little consequence?