Hanna Diyab, born in Aleppo in the late 17th century, was a Syrian storyteller whose imagination shaped some of the most famous tales in world literature—including Aladdin and Ali Baba. Yet for centuries, his name was erased from these stories. When Diyab recounted his tales to the French orientalist Antoine Galland in Paris, they were published as part of Les Mille et Une Nuits (One Thousand and One Nights)—but without crediting him. His life reflects a larger story: how the West often consumed and reshaped Eastern stories through an exoticizing lens, turning complex local narratives into simplified “Oriental fantasies”. Reclaiming Diyab’s story is not just about giving credit—it’s about re-centering voices, challenging orientalist storytelling, and understanding what it means when your story is told for you, rather than by you.

Once the guardian of Palmyra’s majestic ruins, Khaled Al-Asaad paid the ultimate price for refusing to betray the ancient city he loved. A towering figure in Syrian archaeology, Al-Asaad spent over 40 years unearthing Palmyra’s secrets, bringing global recognition to its history through his mastery of ancient languages and collaboration with international scholars. When ISIS overran the city in 2015, he hoped his presence might shield its soul. Instead, he was tortured and executed, a martyr to cultural memory. His story is a stark reminder that, in Syria, history itself has become a battleground. Amid ongoing looting and destruction, preserving heritage is no longer symbolic; it is survival.

The truth is: most of us know nothing about each other, even though we are of one country, speak one dialect, and share the same food—and even the same sorrow. We don’t know how people from other regions grow up, nor which religions and sects represent them. Years of fear and isolation have planted distance between us and turned us into strangers to one another. In the end, ignorance became a form of protection, and estrangement the natural result of distance. Yet, this might be a new beginning—a chance to understand ourselves and one another. Despite the pain of conflict, it is not always the end. The sociologist Lewis Coser sees that conflict can be a chance to break down walls and face each other with honesty. When we ask the hard question about identity, belonging, injustice, and oppression, we begin to reopen the book of Syria, page by page. The new Syria should recognize all of its narratives and components, rather than a duplicated version of the past. True understanding is not a luxury but a necessity to proceed, and diversity is not a burden but the wealth that could build a homeland that embraces everyone.

Syria’s economy lies in ruins, and Turkey has stepped in—but is it to rebuild or to dominate? With Turkish goods flooding Syrian markets, local industries are struggling, and key resources are flowing north. Is this recovery or economic capture?

Syrian dubbing wasn’t just a tool for dialogue, but an entire art that added a new soul for international works. Due to the professional acting, the fluent Arabic spoken, and the careful attention to lip syncing and cultural adaptation, Syrian dubbing became an identifying feature of the Arab entertainment industry. Its voices are still ingrained in the memories of generations, bearing witness to a golden age of creativity in vocal works.

“Any event [no matter its nature] is simultaneously an opportunity and a threat,” said a Syrian professor a few years ago. To seize the opportunity presented by the events of December 8, we should first recognize the accompanying threat and understand its facets. And before we extensively engage in political discussions and jostle to impose our opinions with respect to the structure of the upcoming political regime, we must ponder and address the societal issues that, if ignored, will impede building our country, especially in the midst of the “creative chaos” that we now live in. So, what threat are we exactly facing? And what opportunity lies ahead? How can past mistakes be avoided? What is the most appropriate discourse style? This post seeks to address several issues that are directly related to ongoing social movement in Syria, in the hope of establishing a common ground on which everyone, as Syrians, can stand to engage in a meaningful discussion.

Information that we hope is spread far and wide, as we witness the wildfire spread of false and even dangerous ideas about secularism within Syrian society. Awareness is the most important step and even a weapon. With the rapid changes we witness as Syrians, we must work together to reject exclusionary speech and which may even foster and support eventual violence against a segment(s) of society through misinformation and lack of dialogue. We must work together to build safe spaces that foster dialogue and which altogether eliminate the concept of “majority/minority groups”, working together as Syrians equally with all our differences across social standing, religion, and ethnic backgrounds.

In the middle of all of these overwhelming feelings of hope, disappointment, uncertainty, and fear, I remember the voice of my father saying, “All people have the government they deserve.” I became furious every time he said this. In his statement, I saw blaming the victim and undeniable accusation towards people living under some kind of political regime, as if they have brought it to themselves! But now, I say it with him and see hope, promise, and recognition that the actions of individuals can determine the destiny of all. So, what threat are we exactly facing? And what opportunity lies ahead? How can past mistakes be avoided? What is the most appropriate discourse style? This post seeks to address several issues that are directly related to ongoing social movement in Syria, in the hope of establishing a common ground on which everyone, as Syrians, can stand to engage in a meaningful discussion.

The Baron Hotel has long been one of the most cherished sights in Aleppo. It is a window into the past and a gallery of the city's culture and history. Since its establishment a little over a century ago, it has mirrored the highs and lows of Aleppo. But sadly, this iconic hotel officially closed down earlier this year. In this post, we pay tribute to the incredible history of this Aleppan landmark.

Though 9 points or one post is far from enough to summarize the frustrations of 3.6 million Syrians, this post aims to shed light and debunk a few stereotypes they are dealing with. It is important to note that the intent is not to generalize all Turks but to shed light on the experiences and struggles many Syrians face in the country.

Over the past decade, a lot of attention has been directed towards Syria, the beating heart of the Middle East, which embodies a complex human story as it fights to maintain its identity in the face of conflict and political and social transformations. In this part of the world, life used to overflow with colors and holidays were filled with joy and brotherhood. However, things are different today, where holidays are looked upon with nostalgia and patience. Perhaps the deeper meaning of holidays in Syria is the hope for reunion, unity and peace, with every passing holiday serving as a reminder that light is still shining through the darkness, and that life still goes on in the face of adversity.

Discover the majesty of Khan Asaad Pasha, the largest caravanserai in Old Damascus. Built in 1751 and declared a historical landmark in 1973, this architectural marvel has undergone significant reconstruction, holding centuries of history within its walls. Today, the Khan serves as a vibrant cultural center in Damascus. Visitors are invited to explore its historical significance, peruse traditional crafts, and revel in cultural performances. The Khan provides an immersive experience where visitors can deeply connect with the rich heritage of Damascus and Syria.