'Syria has regained its voice': One year after Assad's fall, public life and creativity flourish after a decade of fear

Syria's liberation was more than a political shift last December — for many Syrians, it was a breath of fresh air after years of suffocating control under the brutal Assad regime. 

Cities once silenced are now finding their voices, streets welcome life again, and public squares have become spaces for connection, not caution.

Slowly, the nation is learning to speak, to gather, and to reclaim the rhythms of daily life it lost for so long.

In central Aleppo, journalist Omar Mustafa now carries his camera without hesitation. He said reporting before the political transition "felt like walking through a narrow corridor, where censorship shaped every story and key details were removed before publication."

"The fear was constant," he told The New Arab.

"We worked under surveillance in newsrooms and in the streets. We were always anxious about any sudden knocks after midnight. Publishing a full story as it happened simply wasn't possible."

The new environment allows reporters to move freely, document events and speak to residents without worrying that a single phrase could provoke retaliation, he added. 

"Journalism has returned to a truly professional practice, where telling stories as they are, is now a duty and not a risk," Omar said. 

To him, the most significant change is the ability to work as a journalist "with a sense of legitimacy", rather than someone "trying to survive the job".

Art, festivals, and the pulse of a freed city

The transformation has not only been limited to journalism.

Artists whose work was once censored or banned are now stepping into the public eye. Theatres that once operated under the cover of night are drawing larger audiences, staging bold satirical plays on corruption, security forces, war, and authority — performances that would have been considered reckless before liberation.

Independent film festivals are also making a comeback, screening stories of detainees, survivors, refugees, and the women who endured the conflict's heaviest toll.

The first summer after liberation saw the cities and squares of Damascus, Homs, and Hama come alive with festivals and celebrations that had been absent for years.

In Al-Assi Square, where the lights shone brighter than ever, Youssef Al-Abdullah, a 50-year-old Hama resident, watched the festival stage as if it were a scene he had never imagined. 

"The city lived for so long under the shadow of fear," Youssef told The New Arab, "and the idea of holding a large festival after liberation initially seemed more like a collective dream than a feasible project."

For Youssef, this year's festival was more than a series of artistic events — it was a statement that the city had reclaimed part of its spirit.

Families, children, students, and vendors filled the square, their presence a celebration in itself. Youssef noted that for the first time since the war began, the stage was lit at night, local bands performed openly, and poets recited without a list of "permitted and prohibited" words.

"Children running near the river, women applauding the closing performance, and the relaxed faces strolling leisurely — all these were silent messages," Youssef reflected.

"Post-liberation is not just stability; it is the long-awaited return of normal life. What struck me most was the sense of reassurance — the knowledge that thousands could gather in one place without fear, censorship, or the anxiety of sudden disruption. The festival wasn't just seasonal entertainment; it was a sign that the city was beginning to pulse again."

Despite the celebrations the city experienced this year, Ibrahim al-Bakour, in his sixties, gestures subtly toward the old neighbourhoods, saying that the town "carries a heavy memory," referring to the events of the 1980s that left a deep wound in the social fabric.

The Hama massacre of the 1980s was not just a fleeting moment of violence, but a turning point that altered people's relationship with public spaces for generations.

He adds that those years instilled a culture of silence, and that fear became part of daily life.

"People avoid discussions, children grow up seeing adults whispering, and public events are held cautiously. This heavy legacy is what makes this year's festival a different event. Just seeing the squares filled with people and music playing again was enough for many to feel that the city was taking a belated but courageous step in confronting its history,"  Ibrahim tells The New Arab.

Rebuilding trust and community

Civil society organisations have played a pivotal role in rebuilding efforts.

Local groups led by cultural figures, activists and young journalists have raised funds from inside Syria and from expatriates to repair villages, schools and infrastructure.

Across the country, informal gatherings have become routine.

Families from cities and rural areas are reconnecting after years of separation, weddings and social events have grown larger and less restrained, and family gatherings and social events have become open spaces for discussion rather than formality.

Furthermore, a new generation is speaking more freely about politics, identity and social norms. 

Salma Hajjar, a university student who returned to her village in rural Damascus after years in Turkey, said people "are finally speaking openly" and there is greater acceptance of women, returnees and differing opinions.

"Coming back wasn't just returning to a place; it was returning to a community that is changing," she added. 

Social counsellor Samia Alloun said the most profound shift is in how people relate to one another.

"The idea that every word is monitored has faded, and people are now rebuilding trust, which is more important than rebuilding stone," she told The New Arab.

She described the moment as a collective return to public space. "People want to tell their stories again, turning them into a shared memory," she said.

"Daily life is reshaping, cautiously at times, but with growing openness, and speaking openly is no longer risky, honesty is no longer a luxury, and gathering has become part of a long collective healing process. Syria has regained its voice." 

Hadia Al Mansour is a freelance journalist from Syria who has written for Asharq Al-Awsat, Al-Monitor, SyriaUntold, and Rising for Freedom Magazine