The Latakia makeup ban is a bad omen for Syria

The backlash against the makeup ban is not about cosmetics; it's about how far the state can go in regulating everyday life

The Latakia makeup ban is a bad omen for Syria

When the decision to ban makeup for female employees in Latakia’s public institutions drew criticism, officials moved quickly to contain the backlash. The measure, they insisted, had been misunderstood. It was not about restricting personal freedom, but about “regulating professional appearance” and curbing excess. Public anger was acknowledged. The ban itself, however, remained firmly in place.

On its own, the policy might seem trivial—a minor administrative rule governing workplace conduct, but taken in context, it is anything but. Read alongside a series of recent measures, the ban reflects worrying signs of a growing tendency for state officials to intervene in personal life, with women’s appearance and behaviour increasingly treated as matters for regulation.

The ban was issued on 26 January by the governor of Latakia. It imposed a blanket prohibition on women using makeup in state institutions during working hours, enforced by the threat of legal accountability. Initially, it attracted little attention. Many assumed the order was a hoax, especially as it emerged amid heightened tensions between Damascus and Kurdish forces in northeast Syria.

That changed once the governorate’s public relations office issued a clarification confirming the decision. The explanation provoked more outrage than the original order. Officials argued that the measure did not target women specifically and did not infringe on personal freedom. It was merely intended to prevent “excessive” makeup and uphold professional standards.

The problem is that the policy defines neither “excess” nor professionalism. It offers no criteria, no proportionality, and no discretion. If moderation were truly the objective, clear guidance would have sufficed. What was imposed instead was an absolute rule, enforced through coercion rather than trust.

The makeup ban casts the state as an arbiter of personal expression—in a distinctly gendered way

Illogical explanation

More fundamentally, the logic does not withstand scrutiny. Makeup has no bearing on an employee's ability to do their job, and regulating it does nothing to improve efficiency or the quality of public services. What it does do is cast the state as an arbiter of personal expression—in a distinctly gendered way. Men, by contrast, face no comparable restrictions on appearance, despite the equally subjective nature of what is considered "professional".

Crucially, the makeup ban isn't an isolated incident. Earlier this month, the head of the Wadi Barada municipality issued a circular banning restaurants from hosting mixed groups that dance or socialise, citing religious ethics as justification. Last year, authorities issued guidance on "modest" swimwear at public beaches and pools, imposing specific restrictions on women's dress while allowing exemptions in private or high-end venues.

Like the makeup ban, these measures were framed as matters of public decency and cultural norms. In practice, they extend state authority into areas of personal choice that bear little relation to public safety or order. This is particularly striking in a country where public spaces—including beaches—have long accommodated different preferences, allowing people to choose accordingly.

Alongside these formal measures, informal practices have deepened concern. Over the past year, reports have emerged of security personnel enforcing gender segregation on public buses or in public spaces in some areas. These actions are not grounded in law, nor clearly mandated by official policy. Yet the absence of accountability or explicit condemnation allows them to persist, creating an environment in which personal freedoms are shaped by discretionary power rather than law.

The Wadi Barada municipality banned restaurants from hosting mixed groups that dance or socialise, citing religious ethics as justification

Worrying pattern

Individually, each of these developments can be dismissed as limited or exceptional. Taken together, they form a worrying pattern. Appearance, dress, and gendered behaviour are increasingly treated as matters for regulation, justified through elastic concepts such as professionalism, morality, or social order. Once normalised, such justifications can be easily expanded and applied far more widely.

This matters not because Syria is on the brink of enforcing a comprehensive morality code, but because precedents are being quietly established. Administrative decisions can harden into expectations. Informal practices, when tolerated, can become routine. In a society emerging from prolonged conflict, where trust in institutions is already fragile, these shifts carry real consequences. When the state intrudes into personal life without clear necessity, trust erodes further, and fear grows among those most affected.

The backlash against the makeup ban is not about cosmetics. It is about who defines professionalism, whose freedoms are considered negotiable, and how far the state can go in regulating everyday life. These questions resonate far beyond Latakia. They speak directly to the kind of post-war order Syria is becoming.

If professionalism and public decency are to retain any meaning, they cannot be reduced to instruments of social control. Otherwise, administrative measures risk becoming tools of quiet coercion—cloaked in bureaucratic language, enforced through ambiguity, and felt most acutely by those with the least power to resist.

As such, the makeup ban is not a minor policy misstep. It is a warning sign. And it should be treated as one.

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