Why Syria's new alcohol ban is about much more than beer

This week, municipal authorities in Damascus banned the sale of alcohol in most of the city. Bars and restaurants that have served alcohol there for decades will no longer be allowed to, and it will only be possible to buy alcohol in closed bottles in a handful of Christian-majority neighborhoods, to take away.

This isn't all that unusual in the Middle East — practicing Muslims are not supposed to imbibe "intoxicating" substances while individuals of the Christian faith may. That is why liquor stores and bars, if there are any, are often found in traditionally Christian neighborhoods around the region.

However, such a ban is atypical for Damascus. The Syrian capital has had alcohol sales regulations for years but didn't fully police them, partially because the country's rulers until late 2024, the authoritarian Assad family, prioritized nationalism and secularism over religious rules.

This is why the alcohol ban in Damascus is causing so much debate among Syrians.

"The news was both surprising and upsetting," said Angela Alsahwi, a Damascene who works as a media producer. "Damascus has historically been a city that embraces everyone and diversity is its true identity. This decision makes us feel like we're losing a part of the city's open spirit. It's not just about the drink itself," she told DW, "but about freedom of choice."

A sectarian rule

There are other arguments against the ban too. Syria's economy is in terrible shape and the closure of bars and restaurants will result in hundreds of lost jobs. Tourism is also needed, and critics believe the ban could discourage foreign visitors.

The fact that sales are restricted to Christian areas is also seen as problematic because it encourages a kind of sectarianism, others argue.

"Those who drafted, signed and discussed this decision clearly do not understand the social fabric of Syria," argued Roba Hanna, a pro-democracy activist who fled to Canada during the country's 14-year civil war and recently returned. "Not all Christians drink — many don't touch alcohol at all — while some Muslims do. Discriminating against areas with a Christian majority is wrong. By linking alcohol consumption to violating public morals, you have essentially stigmatized some of your own citizens as indecent. It's disgraceful."

On Friday, Social Affairs Minister Hind Kabawat Hind Kabawat, a Christian, posted a similar message on Facebook in support of the Christian community. "Our neighborhoods are not places for alcohol, but the heart of Damascus," she argued. 

Damascus authorities explained the ban was necessary because of complaints by residents. But as Alsahwi points out, most of the bars in question have actually been there for decades.

Of course, there are also plenty of Syrians who support the ban. "We are a country with a Muslim majority," one local wrote on social media. "It is not suitable for us to sell liquor on our streets. The decision protects our children and their future."

Some Syrians also believe the ban helps protect their own culture from "corrupting" Western influences.

And finally, there are also many who believe the whole debate is frivolous in the country's difficult, postwar circumstances.

"Engaging in debates over alcohol only shows your disconnect from reality," claimed Mahmoud al-Khatab, a jeweler originally from Aleppo. "It's the class that thrived under the previous regime that's worried about this. But those who endured the horrors of war, they don't care. They are worried about how to feed their families."

Cause for concern

But in fact, observers warn, there are other reasons to be worried about the alcohol ban beyond immediate impacts.

"The alcohol debate [...] is not merely about a beverage or lifestyle. It symbolizes deeper questions about governance, societal values and the balance between religious and secular ideologies," Ammar Abdulhamid, a Syrian pro-democracy activist now based in the US, previously wrote in an op-ed for the online magazine, Newlines when an alcohol ban was first discussed in 2024.

Now the same questions are being asked again — mainly because Damascus' alcohol ban is the latest in a growing number of restrictions grounded in ideas about "public morality."

Last summer, the Syrian government issued an advisory saying men and women should wear modest swimwear at public beaches and pools.

In January, a municipality in southwestern Syria, Wadi Barada, said local restaurants could no longer host mixed-gender groups. The same month, al-Tal, a town near Damascus, banned men from working in stores selling womenswear to "uphold public decency."

In February, local authorities in Latakia made international headlines when they banned female civil servants from wearing makeup at work.

"On its own, the policy might seem trivial — a minor administrative rule governing workplace conduct — but taken in context, it is anything but," Haid Haid, a consulting fellow with UK think tank, Chatham House, wrote about the makeup ban for online magazine, Al Majalla. "Read alongside a series of recent measures, the ban reflects worrying signs of a growing tendency for state officials to intervene in personal life."

Most of these controversial decisions are also being made at the municipal level even while the national government has promised to respect personal freedoms.

"There must be clarity regarding the powers of a governor so citizens know their rights," Damascus activist Hanna argued. "We're not against regulation. But a mature, adult Syrian citizen doesn't need guardianship."

Promises on personal freedom

Most of the members of Syria's interim government, including Prime Minister Ahmad al-Sharaa, were previously in power in the northern Syrian region of Idlib.

Idlib was controlled by Hayat Tahrir al-Sham, or HTS, the rebel group led by al-Sharaa, which toppled the Assad regime in late 2024. Although HTS did moderate its policies, it was very conservative for years and formerly allied with extremist Islamist groups.

For example, Idlib had several versions of a religious, or morality, policing unit, which controlled women's clothing and the sale of cigarettes or musical instruments, among other things. But the unit's work was phased out by 2023, partially because locals opposed it.

In late 2024, al-Sharaa told the BBC that Syria was not about to become Afghanistan under the Taliban. His government wouldn't impose Islamic law on minorities, he stated, although he wouldn't say whether alcohol would be banned.

Will all of Syria be run like Idlib?

This is why some Syrians are so worried that the alcohol ban is a sign of more restrictions to come.

It may be, said Rahaf Aldoughli, a lecturer in Middle East and North African studies at the UK's Lancaster University.

"The alcohol ban is not just about alcohol," Aldoughli told DW. "Ultimately, the ban is more about how authority is being constructed, through the regulation of everyday life and through the ongoing struggle to define what Syria should become."

It also signals "a particular vision of what the new Syrian state should look like," to al-Sharaa's hard-line allies, she pointed out. "After the fall of the regime, Sunni actors are no longer unified by opposition. Instead they are competing over authenticity, authority and the right to define social norms."

Critics of Damascus' alcohol ban hope it might still be reversed. There have even been calls for the governor's resignation.

"Firstly, I expect the officials who issued this arbitrary measure to offer a clear and official apology," said pro-democracy activist Hana. "Secondly, this decision must be permanently suspended until a provincial council is elected. Today I add my voice to everyone demanding civil action against the interference in public liberties and the individual freedoms of Syrians."

Edited by: Andreas Illmer