The Arab Spring’s Unfinished Chapter: Freedom, Identity and the Press

By Fawaz Almotlak

With the fall of the Assad regime, the picture of what was once called the Arab Spring, which began in 2010, becomes complete—drawing the curtain on a dark era in several Arab countries. New political systems have started to emerge, forming a presence that paves the way for the next phase. Notably, Yemen, where the regime was overthrown several years ago, remains mired in ongoing internal conflict.

Numerous media studies reflect a deep thirst among Arabs—especially the younger generation—for broadening democratic foundations and drawing on Western experiences in progress, all while maintaining alignment with the nature, identity, and distinctiveness of Arab societies. Arabs aspire to engage with the world and contribute to the international community, which raises the most urgent question at this historic turning point: will the people of the region learn from the setbacks that have hindered their integration into the modern world? Especially now, as the media has turned the world into an open book, allowing societies and their inspiring experiences to promote economic or political models that are widely known.

The challenges facing Arab countries at this stage are immense, and there is clear confusion in the search for a new identity suited to the future. It seems as though the Arab world only gained its independence from colonialism in this past decade—after the Arab Spring. That’s because the regimes that ruled since the mid-20th century, during what was called the independence era, were more focused on consolidating their own power than on enabling or developing their nations. This has now become glaringly obvious: as ruling systems change, these states are exposed politically, economically, and even militarily—despite vast expenditures on weapons and military equipment.

In this volatile and transformative climate, I’ve never felt that journalism was more important—or more dangerous—than it is today. The Arab Spring didn’t just shake political structures; it dismantled long-standing taboos around public discourse and access to information.

 As a journalist who was once tightly controlled by state apparatuses, I suddenly found myself at the forefront of this societal awakening. For me, the media became both a tool for change and a mirror reflecting my hopes, fears, and the contradictions around me.

The uprisings marked a turning point in my career. The traditional role of the journalist—as a mere transmitter of official narratives—was no longer acceptable or sufficient. The public demanded more: accountability, transparency, and above all, truth. In some cases, new avenues opened for independent journalism, investigative reporting, and citizen media. In others, I faced threats and obstacles from regimes unwilling to relinquish their control over information.

The digital revolution, fueled by the spirit of the Arab Spring, redefined my profession. Social media became a tool of resistance and alternative storytelling, allowing me to bypass censorship and speak directly to the audience. But this new freedom came with real risks: harassment, potential imprisonment, exile, and even threats to my life. I have witnessed colleagues pay the ultimate price for their commitment to truth, and their memory lives on within me.

Today, I navigate a media landscape that is both more open and more dangerous. I am no longer just a witness to history—I am part of shaping it. This reality demands a new kind of professionalism from me: one rooted in ethical responsibility, critical thinking, and the courage to challenge dominant narratives. It also calls on me to build solidarity with fellow media professionals across borders, to defend freedom of expression and the public’s right to know.

I fully recognize the weight of the role I carry during this transitional period. In countries emerging from revolution or conflict, journalists like me have a dual responsibility: to hold power to account and to contribute constructively to national dialogue and reconciliation. I understand that irresponsible reporting, sensationalism, or ideological partisanship can deepen divisions and inflame tensions. That’s why I believe my role is to inform, not incite; to educate, not indoctrinate.

The legacy of the Arab Spring, for me as a journalist, is still unfolding. But one thing is certain: I can no longer retreat into silence or neutrality in the face of oppression or corruption. The responsibility I bear is heavy, but so too is the opportunity—to help build a more just, open, and democratic Arab world. And perhaps this is the greatest test of my career—and the greatest contribution I can offer.

- What is stated in this article solely represents the opinion of the author and not the organisation where he works. The organisation is in no way obligated to adhere to this opinion.