Syria does not need a ‘handshake litmus test’

On January 3rd, German Foreign Minister Annalena Baerbock and French Foreign Minister Jean-Noël Barrot traveled to Damascus to meet with Syria's interim leader, Ahmed Shala. This visit occurred less than a month after the sudden collapse of the Ba'ath Party dictatorship of President Bashar al-Assad, one of the Arab world's most violent regimes.

Numerous issues are on the agenda for Syria-Europe relations, including regional stability, economic recovery, post-war justice and reconciliation, and the refugee crisis. However, Western media chose to focus on Shala's gesture of nodding and smiling instead of shaking hands with Baerbock, in observance of Muslim religious norms. Western media commentators described this incident as a "scandal" and a "snub."

One editorial in Politico even suggested that trivial matters like handshakes should become the new "litmus test" for determining whether Muslim leaders are "moderate." Politico's article, in the name of inclusivity, implied that devout male Muslim leaders like Shala should be forced to shake hands with women—regardless of their religious dictates—or else the West should sound the "alarm bells." The old adage of "when in Rome, do as the Romans do" has been twisted into "in Syria, do as the Germans and French do."

As a Syrian-American whose father was exiled from Syria 46 years ago, and whose family and friends have suffered torture and killings at the hands of the Assad regime, I find the West's "litmus tests" for Arab leaders contradictory and frankly, offensive. I wonder, where was the media outrage when Prince Edward of the British Royal Family explained that he preferred non-physical contact with ordinary British people who attempted to greet him? Should we be tolerant when the motivation is personal preference, but enraged when the motivation is religious belief?

It is not surprising that Western media attempts to impose Western cultural values as a new litmus test for measuring the "moderation" of Muslim Arab leaders. They have been doing so for decades. As anthropologist Lila Abu-Lughod argued in her book, "Do Muslim Women Need Saving?", there is an assumption in the West that "liberal culture is the uncultured norm that should be the universal standard by which societies are measured. Those who do not conform are barbarians at the gate..."

Describing Muslim religious norms as "extreme" is itself a symptom of a hegemonic discourse in which Western norms are disguised as universal norms. The bad news for those who hold this view is that Western cultural values are not as dominant as they imagine. Muslims and Arabs also have agency—they have the right to choose to adhere to their religious values even if they defy Western mainstream cultural expectations—though, as we have seen in cases involving the British Royal Family, or concerns over the spread of Covid, they are also willing to bend those expectations.

The media's hyper-focus on trivialities—like Shala's attire or personal mannerisms—seems insignificant in the context of the 61 years of brutal oppression that the Syrian people have suffered under the Ba'athist authoritarian regime. Syrians have their own "litmus tests" for evaluating their new leaders, such as whether the government can achieve democracy and freedom, restore and improve civilian infrastructure, unify Syrians, and protect constitutional rights, not whether male government members shake hands with women. Most pressingly, Syrians care whether their new leaders have the ability to lead the nation toward peace, prosperity, and stability.

Currently, half of Syria's population is displaced, and over 90% of those within Syria live below the poverty line. Food, water, and electricity are in desperately short supply. Unemployment is rampant, and the economy is in shambles. Additionally, there is the trauma of a 13-year civil war and 61 years of authoritarian rule. There is not a single Syrian family I know that has not lost a family member or friend to Assad's brutal regime of repression. My childhood friends lost their father, Majed Kamelmaz, a psychotherapist and US citizen, in 2017 when they went to Syria to offer condolences to their mother-in-law. A relative from Aleppo has two teenage brothers who died after being tortured in Assad's notorious dungeons. My cousin was imprisoned in an underground jail for a month during the civil war for distributing bread in an impoverished neighborhood in Damascus. My family and friends—like Haiba Dabbagh, who spent nine years in Syrian prisons in the 1980s because the regime couldn't find her brother—share horrific stories of torture.

After decades of suffering under one of the world's most brutal dictatorships, Syrians yearn for a new beginning and cling to fragments of hope. They may have faced unimaginable horrors—mass killings, torture, systematic rape, repression, and displacement—but they are by no means helpless victims. They have a clear vision for the future they want. If Western media wants to understand Syria correctly, it needs to reflect and recognize that its discourse and expectations may be influenced by decades of hegemonic bias. Instead of imposing Western "litmus tests" on Arab leaders, perhaps ask Syrians what they want in their leaders.