In 2007, Salah Shehadeh set out to find The Shell, a narrative nonfiction book by Mustafa Khalifa that had gained recognition for its brutal depiction of life in Syria’s prisons under Hafez al-Assad.
Although Salah had heard much about the book from various people, he searched bookstores throughout Damascus but was met with wary looks and silent refusals. One shopkeeper bluntly told him, “That book is banned.”
Worried that his curiosity might attract the attention of the regime’s intelligence services, Salah decided to stop his search. “Looking for it could have gotten me into trouble, so I stopped,” he told The New Arab.
This experience was not uncommon under the Assad regime. It was the reality for countless Syrians navigating a world where intellectual curiosity was often criminalised. Censorship extended far beyond political texts to include religious works, literary novels, and even historical accounts. Books became contraband — smuggled, photocopied, or hidden in plain sight — while those working in the literary sphere lived under constant threat.
Today, as Syria begins to rebuild following Bashar al-Assad’s fall, books that were once hidden away are returning to Damascus libraries and bookstores. However, decades of repression have left lasting scars, and booksellers and readers continue to feel their impact.
Reading in the shadows
For many in Assad’s Syria, obtaining a banned book was risky. Ahmed al-Tabl, a cultural researcher, recalls how his connections with bookstore owners in the al-Halbouni neighbourhood of Damascus helped him find banned books, often smuggled from Lebanon.
“I never asked questions when they handed me the books; I knew the risks,” he said, explaining how the books were often wrapped in state-run newspapers to avoid detection. Sometimes, Ahmed would even carry the books across the border himself after a visit to Beirut — though only after learning the tricks to evade scrutiny.
Yet, even with these precautions, the efforts were still dangerous. Security forces closely monitored the movement of books, targeting anything deemed subversive.
In 2013, Ahmed founded the Damascus Reading Club, creating a space for literary enthusiasts to discuss banned works. But even here, caution was essential. “I was sure there were informants at every event,” Ahmed said.
In 2021, the Ministry of Culture shut down one of Ahmed’s initiatives — an event celebrating Syrian short story writers — because it featured opposition authors.
Control of intellectual life
While people like Ahmed found ways to access banned books, booksellers had to follow a maze of unclear rules, always nervous about which books could get them in trouble due to the constant fear of random confiscation or arrest.
Alaa El-Sayed, a lawyer turned bookseller who runs The House of Historical Documents in Aleppo, was aware of the regime’s harsh punishments and sought a complete list of prohibited titles when he first opened his store.
Alaa told The New Arab, “It was then that I found out there was no official list,” adding that security services kept the list secret and trying to obtain it was dangerous.
In saying this, Alaa added that the secrecy was part of the regime’s broader strategy to control intellectual life, where, while the Ministry of Information imposed formal censorship, the lack of transparency and the constant threat of arrest or worse created an atmosphere of fear and distrust.
After much effort, Alaa managed to obtain a copy of the list, which included books by Islamist thinkers like Yusuf al-Qaradawi and Ibn Taymiyyah.
Despite his caution, Alaa’s bookstore became a target. “Customs officers would visit frequently, searching for these books,” he recalled, noting that they were especially on the lookout for Salafist books printed in Saudi Arabia.
“They would warn me that if they found any, they would turn me in,” Alaa added.
The politics of publishing
Haitham al-Hafez, a publisher and head of the Syrian Publishers Union, describes a similar reality.
Under the Assad regime, publishing was tightly controlled by the Ministry of Information, making the process a delicate political balancing act rather than a straightforward one.
“Publishers had to get approval from the ministry, but it wasn’t really about evaluating books. It was about censorship. Security personnel would frequently visit to ensure everything had been approved. If not, they would confiscate the books,” Haitham explained.
The most heavily censored works were those that addressed religious or political issues, particularly anything critical of the regime.
One of the most controversial banned books was Asad: The Struggle for the Middle East, a biography by renowned British journalist Patrick Seale, which has been secretly read by millions.
Originally published with Hafez al-Assad’s approval, the book became a target after including analysis that the regime deemed insulting.
Additionally, even novels that tackled sensitive topics like sex or depictions of Syrian reality risked being banned. “The regime was obsessed with control, even over fiction,” Haitham said. “Publishers knew that circulating these books meant risking everything — arrest, business closure, even worse.”
The personal toll was severe. Booksellers lived under the constant threat of arrest, while intellectuals and readers had to weigh the consequences of their curiosity.
“Security forces would patrol the streets,” Alaa added. “They knew which bookshops were known for smuggling banned works. If you were unlucky, they’d come and confiscate everything.”
Banned books now a part of newly liberated Syria
The fall of Bashar al-Assad’s regime in December 2024 brought new hope for Syria’s intellectuals. Once-banned books, including The Shell, are no longer hidden away in secret corners of libraries. They are openly displayed in shops.
Works by previously censored authors — whether political figures or religious scholars — are being republished, and readers are reclaiming a space for intellectual exchange that was long stifled by years of repression.
Yet, the scars of censorship remain. Despite the change in government, the fear of surveillance still lingers for some. For those who grew up under the shadow of the regime’s restrictions, the idea of an open, free exchange of ideas still feels like a distant dream.
Haitham remains hopeful that Syria will regain its position as the heart of Arab publishing, where diverse ideas can be exchanged freely and all viewpoints can circulate without restriction.
“The books we were once forced to hide will now be part of a new, free Syria. The intellectual space will grow once again, and voices that were silenced will be heard,” he concluded.
Mawada Bahah is an independent Syrian journalist with bylines in local, regional and international outlets
Follow her on X: @MawadaBahah
This piece was published in collaboration with Egab
