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3. Aramaic Has Not Yet Uttered Its Final Word

From Berlin, 28-year-old Jarjoura logs into his Aramaic class every week. “It’s the language my grandparents spoke in Maaloula, but my parents stopped using it after moving to Germany. Thanks to the Yawna association, I’m reconnecting with my roots,” he says.

Founded by linguist Rimon Wehbi, the program offers structured lessons in Western Aramaic, combining grammar, vocabulary and oral tradition. Jarjoura belongs to a generation scattered across continents, determined not to let this ancient language slip into oblivion.

A Grassroots Revival in Maaloula

Nestled in the mountains of Syria, Maaloula is not merely a relic of the past or a museum piece, it’s a living memory, albeit a fragile one. 

Despite the devastation wrought by civil war, rural exodus and political marginalization, residents remain determined to preserve their language—their last marker of identity.

Through evening classes, biblical hymns and calligraphy workshops, elders patiently pass their heritage on to younger generations. “After school, we start teaching Aramaic to the little ones,” explains Sarks, a local teacher. “It’s our way of passing this legacy on.”

Since 2006, the Greek-Melkite association Les Amis de Maaloula has launched several initiatives: installing Aramaic signage in public spaces, placing explanatory plaques on historical monuments and establishing a language center affiliated with Damascus University.

Classes, led by elder villagers, rely primarily on oral teaching, which is a necessity after many manuscripts were lost during the conflicts.

Through these efforts, Maaloula is not merely preserving a language, it is asserting its presence, its continuity and its quiet resistance to extinction.

Technology and Youth: Bridging Generations

But Maaloula alone can no longer safeguard the survival of Aramaic. Fewer than 20% of residents speak it fluently, and most of them are over 60. That’s why many initiatives are turning to digital platforms, aiming to reach young people where they already are: online.

Mobile apps like Learn Aramaic, developed by Benny Betyadgar, offer interactive lessons. YouTube channels share subtitled classes, songs and everyday expressions, while Instagram accounts such as @wca_youth_academy post poetry, recipes and cultural snapshots, thus fostering an engaged online community.

Through these platforms, the World Council of Arameans (WCA) organizes an annual nine-day trip to Turkey’s Tur Abdin region for young Arameans from Europe. The program seeks to reconnect the diaspora with its cultural and linguistic roots, promoting both language learning and heritage discovery.

 “Social media is a powerful tool for raising young people’s awareness of their heritage,” says Élias, a history teacher in Damascus. “It creates a link between tradition and modernity.”

This digital approach also bridges both the geographic dispersal of the Aramean community and the generational divide: behind the screen, an ancient language comes alive once again.

The Diaspora: A Global Web for Language Preservation

The Aramean diaspora plays a crucial role in revitalizing the language and culture. Each year on October 1, organizations like the WCA celebrate Aram Day, a global tribute to Aramean identity.

“Taking part in Aram Day helps me reconnect with my roots and feel part of a global community,” says Jarjoura. “It motivates me to keep learning.”

On Facebook, groups like “World’s Arameans” and “Assyrian Social Network” foster the exchange of resources, videos and personal stories, bridging distances and strengthening intergenerational ties.

At the same time, international conferences—often organized by institutions such as the International Aramaic Institute or the University of California—bring together researchers, artists and activists. These gatherings offer platforms to develop concrete strategies for integrating Aramaic into the education systems of host countries and advancing its instruction.

But the diaspora’s role goes beyond cultural celebrations. Across the globe, symbolic gatherings have called for official recognition of Aramaic by the United Nations and for stronger protections of cultural rights for Aramean communities in Syria and Iraq. Backed by several NGOs, these mobilizations send a clear message: Aramaic must be recognized as a protected minority language.

 “I attend gatherings whenever I can,” says David, one of the protesters. “It’s important to show that we exist and that our rights matter.”

On the international stage, Arameans have become an active political force, intensifying efforts with the UN and the Council of Europe to defend their linguistic and cultural rights, secure funding to rebuild destroyed cultural centers and integrate the language into local school curricula. “Our fight is political because language lies at the core of our identity and collective survival,” David stresses.

To support these initiatives, crowdfunding campaigns have raised tens of thousands of dollars. They funded the production of bilingual Aramaic-English textbooks and the creation of free online courses.

The Aramean Identity: Scarred Yet Reinforced

Sociologist André Bourgeot calls this phenomenon a “reinforced identity:” the farther individuals move from their homeland, the stronger their attachment to their culture grows.

Tshakla, originally from Maaloula and now living abroad, says, “Learning Aramaic has become more important to me than when I lived in the village. This language is the link that reminds me where I come from.”

This dynamic unfolds against the backdrop of a dominant “other:” Arabic, the centralized Syrian state and the complex geopolitical tensions of the Middle East. Norwegian sociologist Fredrik Barth, an expert on identity boundaries, emphasizes that groups build and reinforce their identity through the recognition of otherness. Today, Arameans are reclaiming these imposed boundaries to assert their distinctiveness. 

“Our efforts to teach Aramaic, organize events and demand official recognition are acts of pride and resilience,” says Rena, a committed resident of Maaloula. These actions go beyond preserving language and culture, they represent a deliberate strategy of identity.

By harnessing digital tools, social networks, cultural events and political advocacy, the Arameans are forging a cultural counter-hegemony that empowers them to resist extinction and rebuild their collective presence, both locally and globally.

In Maaloula and across the diaspora, Aramaic is more than a language to preserve, it is a foundation of identity waiting to be reawakened. In response to its decline, a collective transnational movement is emerging, firmly focused on the future. From the Syrian mountains to screens worldwide, one determination resounds: Aramaic has not yet uttered its final word.