By: Shaza Michel Kilo
Legal practitioner; Former Public Prosecution judge and member of Huquqyat’s Network
The recent decision by the Ministry of Higher Education and Scientific Research to restrict admission to certain university specialisations at specific faculties and institutes to males for the 2026-2027 academic year has raised serious questions about equal opportunities in higher education. However, the concern is not about the decision alone; it extends to the broader approach the transitional authority has taken towards women since it came to power. When decisions, statements, and practices affecting women’s rights and choices accumulate, it becomes difficult to treat each of them as a stand-alone measure, isolated from its wider implications.
Fundamentally, a narrative is being promoted—whether explicitly or implicitly—that the fall of the former regime requires returning society to what the new authority deems “correct”, as if Syrian society had not, before this authority came to power, accumulated social, rights-related and intellectual gains worth preserving.
Crucially, these gains were not the creation of the former regime, nor were they a gift from it. Rather, they were the culmination of transformations of Syrian society and of struggles waged by its men and women, each in their own field. Women were at the heart of this process, through their pursuit of education, work, and participation in public life, and their struggle to claim their rights and expand their presence in society. These achievements were forged by the efforts of generations of women and men, and they cannot be reduced to the era of any particular authority or attributed to it. Condemning the crimes of the former regime does not mean denying the history of Syrian society and its gains, nor does it grant any subsequent authority the right to diminish them or to redefine them according to its own ideological views.
This principle also applies to the diversity of Syrian society, where women have never conformed to a singular model of religiosity, attire or way of life. Varying degrees of conservatism and openness have coexisted, women’s choices have remained varied, and this pluralism has never been a deviation in need of correction. Therefore, what is deeply concerning today is the mounting evidence of an attempt to impose a specific image of the Syrian woman. In this emerging model, limits are drawn in advance around what a woman may study, the sectors where she may work, and her broader societal role—extending all the way down to her physical appearance and the attire she is expected to appear in.
These indicators are evident in statements that divide roles between women and men based on preconceived notions of their inherent nature, as well as in the restrictions imposed on women’s opportunities in certain university specialisations. They also appear in campaigns directing how women dress, including the “Sheikh al-Dhahabi” campaign, which has reached Syrian universities. In one such instance, the campaign organized a religious outreach (da‘wa) gathering held at the university’s Faculty of Dentistry on 17 June 2026. The group later published video clips of the event on its social media platforms as part of an active push to promote the khimar and what it defines as sharia-compliant dress.
This event raised questions about holding religious outreach activities within an educational institution—a space fundamentally intended for knowledge, critical thinking, and diversity. Following the circulation of these video clips and the ensuing controversy, Damascus University announced that all campus events now require prior official approval, warning that violators will face legal and administrative accountability.
This,in turn, raises questions not about dress itself, but about freedom of choice. Why are universities being transformed into arenas for promoting a singular model of dress and identity? How can such practices be tolerated within educational institutions without first guaranteeing these institutions’ independence, their neutrality towards personal choices, and their respect for the right of male and female students to be different? Furthermore, where does the State’s responsibility begin in protecting freedom of choice, safeguarding social diversity, and ensuring that educational institutions are not co-opted as tools to impose specific ideological conceptions on women?
The issue at hand is not the hijab, the khimar or the niqab, nor is it a woman’s decision not to wear any of them; these are personal choices, and the freedom to exercise them must be protected. The danger arises when one of these choices is presented as the “correct” or authentic representation of the Syrian woman—when a personal conviction is transformed into a standard imposed on her, whether directly or indirectly.
These interventions do not stop at education and attire; they extend to the details of social life, from segregating men and women in some places, to local decisions restricting the groom’s entry into women’s halls at wedding celebrations, to issuing official circulars that dictate the appearance of female employees. In January 2026, a circular bearing a signature attributed to the Governor of Latakia sparked widespread controversy by stipulating that female employees in public institutions and their affiliated companies were prohibited from wearing make-up during official working hours, under threat of disciplinary action. The “Verify-Sy (منصة تَأكّدْ)” platform confirmed the circular’s authenticity, citing an official source within the governorate. Subsequently, the Latakia Media Directorate issued a clarification, stating that the intention was merely to regulate professional appearance and curb the excessive use of cosmetics, rather than to restrict personal freedoms. This clarification, however, fails to dispel the fundamental question: what are the limits of state interference in the personal appearance of its female workforce, and upon what criteria does it rely to define what is “acceptable” versus “excessive”?
Further illustrating this intrusion into daily life, a controversial directive issued by the Executive Office of the Douma City Council on 22 September 2026, explicitly banned grooms from entering women’s wedding celebrations at local venues. According to “Verify-Sy (منصة تَأكّدْ)”, the council published the decision on its official page before quietly deleting the post, though the Executive Office of the Serghaya Town Council soon issued a nearly identical mandate. These incidents highlight an issue that extends far beyond the logistics of wedding celebrations; they expose the alarming extent to which local administrations feel empowered to dictate the private and social lives of individuals and families.
Nor is the trend confined to decisions issued by official bodies. Equally concerning is the apparent drift of some institutions towards adopting conservative social norms, in an effort to align themselves with the new authority or to preemptively appease it. One example is the decision by the administration of the Al-Hurriya Institute—historically and popularly known as the “Laïque” school—to segregate male and female students. Starting in the 2026–2027 academic year, the school will enforce separate classrooms and playgrounds for the preparatory and secondary stages, exempting only the primary level.
The decision prompted debate regarding its true motives and the forces driving it. In a statement to “Verify-Sy (منصة تَأكّدْ)”, the Institute’s administration said that the decision was made independently, denying any link to directives from official bodies. They justified it on educational and behavioural grounds, citing observed issues within the learning environment and parental objections to mixed-gender schooling. Yet, regardless of their validity, the administration’s justifications do little to quell the debate over the timing of this shift and the motives behind it, and whether this policy is grounded in genuine educational necessities or merely reflects the social and ideological conceptions that are increasingly imposing themselves on society.
The impact of these practices is not limited to restricting individual freedoms or altering daily routines; they actively shape society’s fundamental perception of gender relations. When segregation is repeatedly enforced in educational institutions, workplaces and public spaces—and mixed-gender environments are framed as a threat requiring strict prohibition—women are gradually recast as a source of societal friction, or as a demographic whose presence must be managed and contained, rather than as autonomous citizens with full legal capacity who have the right to exist and participate on an equal footing with men. Consequently, this is no longer a mere collection of isolated administrative measures. It has become part of a broader process that reshapes society’s view of women, and of the nature of the relationship that should bring them together with men, instead of allowing this relationship to develop naturally, within a framework of mutual respect and equal human interaction. Ultimately, this raises a question that goes beyond women’s rights and strikes at the very nature of the State: Is public life governed by transparent institutions and the rule of law? Or is it left to the conceptions of multiple actors, official and unofficial—united by an ideological affinity with the transitional authority—who interfere in people’s choices and curtail their freedoms, amid what appears to be implicit, if unannounced, tolerance from the highest levels of the authority?
Even as these interventions reflect a growing fixation on women’s appearance and behaviour, ongoing abductions of women and girls remain a source of serious concern for their safety and their ability to live securely. The primary responsibility of the State is to protect its citizens—women and men alike—by investigating crimes, holding perpetrators accountable, safeguarding rights and freedoms, and working to address livelihood crises and improve people’s living conditions.It should not be distracted from this by imposing, or permitting others to impose, rules that actively curtail these very freedoms. In addition, the marginal representation of women in decision-making roles raises serious questions about their actual participation in shaping policies and determining the country’s future. The mere presence of women in a handful of positions is a hollow gesture if their actual influence on policy remains negligible.
Therefore, concern about decisions affecting women’s rights and freedoms is neither an exaggeration nor an attack on religion or on conservative society. Rather, as evidence shows, it is a justified concern and a legitimate defensive stance in the face of the authority’s interference in personal, social, and intellectual rights and freedoms. It is a necessary pushback against replacing one form of guardianship with another, or substituting one system of domination for a new one. We therefore have the right to question the criteria and safeguards governing the decisions and measures taken by various bodies and officials dictating what is “suitable” for women, in the absence of a clear reference framework to regulate these interventions and curb arbitrary decisions. We must also question the State’s duty to confront these practices and establish firm boundaries against institutional and official overreach into women’s private and social lives rather than turning a blind eye. Are these practices consistent with the State’s mandate to protect the rights of its citizens—women and men alike—or do they pave the way to entrenching rigid ideological frameworks at the expense of freedom of choice and social diversity?
We do not want an authority composed of men who share a singular ideological orientation, dictating on women’s behalf what they may wear, where they study, which professions suit them, and which roles they should occupy. A woman pursuing a degree in engineering or media, or a career in security or administration, should be assessed according to her competence and the objective requirements of the profession—never by her gender. Whether she chooses to be a mother, an employee, a researcher, a film director or a pilot—or to combine any of these roles—is entirely her prerogative. She, and she alone, is entitled to choose the path that suits her.
It is not the State’s mandate to mold women in its own image; its duty is to guarantee their freedom, dignity and equal opportunities, while protecting their right to self-determination. The Syrian woman is a citizen endowed with full rights. She is neither a rehabilitation project nor a blank slate on which the authority may draft her identity and dictate how she must live.