Shatha Abbas is a pseudonym for a researcher focusing on the Middle East. They have decided to use a pseudonym to protect their safety.
A short video published on Aug. 6 featured major Omani religious figure and activist Talal al-Salmani thanking those who freed him from detention in the country. Then, quietly—deliberately—the video omitted the name of Oman's Sultan Haitham bin Tariq. In the Gulf, it is customary to bow and whisper gratitude to the rulers in such situations, regardless of the injustices often associated with the sultan.
But not this time. Not him.
Back in May, the Muscat Court of Appeal upheld the conviction of al-Salmani. The conviction would be comical if not infuriating. For the audacity of breathing too freely—for the crime of assembling, inciting and speaking words the state deemed dangerous—the court consolidated his sentence to three months in prison and an OMR 500 (USD $1,300) fine.
He was first arrested on April 8, 2025, one day after peacefully demonstrating at Muscat's Sultan Qaboos Mosque in solidarity with Gaza. During the demonstration, al-Salmani barked into the silence, denouncing the Omani security forces' restrictive measures, including unreasonable searches and a keffiyeh ban. He also rejected calls by some attendees to thank the security forces, pointedly asking, "What should we thank the security forces for?"
He continued, lashing out at Arab governments he described as "normalizing" with Israel while closing their eyes to Gaza's suffering. The Omani government's silence on Gaza did not escape his criticism. He was swiftly sentenced at his first hearing on April 10, 2025. It was not his first arrest. In September 2023, he was detained for daring to speak against the Omani government.
The Omani authorities, like their neighboring Gulf states, have learned to twist the law like a blade, sharpening it against anyone who dares to gather, speak or breathe freely. As such, Muscat has only reinforced a climate of political repression in recent years.
Take al-Salmani's case: His arrest and conviction fall under several legal provisions the Omani authorities regularly use to suppress dissent—most notably Article 121 of the new Penal Code, which criminalizes participation in unauthorized assemblies. That article includes other broadly-worded charges like "incitement to illegal gathering" and "disseminating news prejudicial to public order," as documented by Human Rights Watch.
The Omani authorities, like their neighboring Gulf states, have learned to twist the law like a blade, sharpening it against anyone who dares to gather, speak or breathe freely. As such, Muscat has only reinforced a climate of political repression in recent years.
- Shatha Abbas
Peaceful assembly in Oman, in theory, exists. On paper, it is a right. But in practice, it is forbidden due to strict legal restrictions and obstructive—and required—government approval. After al-Salmani's arrest, the message was clear: An unofficial ban on pro-Palestine voices and protests was in effect.
Some call Oman the Switzerland of the Middle East, the great mediator and the peacemaker. Abroad, it wears the mask of diplomacy. But the truth is starker: Oman is a country that crushes its voice. Dissent is not just silenced but outlawed. Gatherings are forbidden before they can thrive. Critics vanish into exile or are dragged through the mud.
Oman preaches peace to the world but builds its peace on silence at home, locking mouths and shackling hands. Omani human rights groups and activists report on increasing detentions while Omani media refuses. Still, civil society paints a clear picture: The dragnet is tightening.
Consider the case of Salem bin Salam al-Salti, detained since Aug. 8. Unemployed, al-Salti demanded structural solutions to unemployment and accountability for corruption. Amid increasing joblessness among Omanis, al-Salti is one of many who turn to social media regarding their joblessness ordeal. As a result, al-Salti was held incommunicado, without access to legal counsel or disclosure of his whereabouts.
Similarly, Manal Hamza, a social media activist, was detained for a mere photograph. Standing next to a monument in Muscat, she held a scrap of paper that read, "I am not a job seeker; I'm out of a job." For that simple rejection of joblessness, the authorities took her away. Ultimately, for Omani authorities, the words on her paper are more dangerous than knives.
Other recent examples abound. Omani writer Mohammed Ali al-Barami was handed a four-year prison sentence, a heavy fine and a social media ban on July 28, 2025, for a tweet criticizing corruption. In the case of exiled researcher and writer Fahad al Thani, the Omani authorities abducted his wife and children from the United Kingdom and forcibly returned them to Oman. There is no indication that al Thani faces any charges connected to any specific criminal offenses in Oman. However, it is likely that Fahad's "offense," in the eyes of the Omani authorities, is publishing research and political commentary critical of the regime.
These examples constitute the known names. Others vanish into silence. For families gagged by fear and pressed under the heel of retaliation, their stories go unspoken.
Public criticism has increasingly focused on Oman's worsening economy—particularly the unemployment crisis. According to Younis Al-Mandhari, Chair of the Youth and Human Resources Committee in Oman's Shura Council, it is a crisis growing teeth. He says that Oman has around 17,000 laid-off workers.
Triggered by COVID-19, regional conflicts and global slowdowns, layoffs have surged due to the country's reliance on volatile oil revenues. The public sector continues to downsize as the private sector seeks cheap, foreign labor that is exploitable. Combined with skills mismatches, slow economic diversification and recurring economic shocks, these factors have left many Omanis unemployed or underemployed, fueling widespread frustration and social discontent.
Given restrictions around protests, public grievances are increasingly voiced on social media. Omani dissidents like Hani Al Sarhani, Aflah, Ali Hooti and others forced into political exile share information on corruption cases in Oman—often provided by whistleblowers within the country—and circulate calls for demonstrations by unemployed citizens.
- Shatha Abbas
Many have called for protests—most notably young job seekers frustrated by their bleak prospects. Those who first dared to show their faces were snatched away. But the noise continues.
This dynamic underscores the stark disparity between policy rhetoric and ground realities. Oman has undertaken significant fiscal and structural reforms, including cutting public spending, reducing debt, expanding non-oil sectors, investing in renewable energy and modernizing labor policies. These measures are often cited as stabilizing the economy and paving the way for diversification.
Yet, for ordinary citizens and small businesses pressed under the boot of austerity, the benefits remain largely intangible. Unpaid utility bills accumulate and debts rise as customers struggle to pay and many businesses teeter on the edge of collapse. Experts believe these hardships are part of a difficult but necessary transition to building a more sustainable, post-oil future for Oman.
Given restrictions around protests, public grievances are increasingly voiced on social media. Omani dissidents like Hani Al Sarhani, Aflah, Ali Hooti and others forced into political exile share information on corruption cases in Oman—often provided by whistleblowers within the country—and circulate calls for demonstrations by unemployed citizens. Their social media platforms are filled with content exploring how Oman spent a quarter of the nation's budget on defense last year or how Omani elites own U.K. properties worth approximately £80 million.
Dissidents argue that such extravagance is unjust, especially as the economic situation deteriorates. Rather than listen, the Omani government launches counter-media campaigns against dissidents, aiming to discredit them and tarnish their image. Military personnel produce media content that counters dissident narratives. While direct documentation is limited, a senior Omani military official with knowledge of the matter confirmed these efforts to this author.
The impact of these campaigns is evident across dozens of social media accounts, including pro-government users who consistently praise the authorities. These accounts utilize the same national symbols for avatars, attacking exiles and critics relentlessly. This dynamic reflects the pervasive reach and intensity of state-backed messaging.
Whenever a voice rises against Oman, pro-authority individuals often frame it as part of a coordinated campaign by foreign hands—merely sinister plots. This response underscores a broader issue: Oman's public and political spaces have little tolerance for dissent, reflecting a deeply constrained environment for free speech and critical thinking, even amid worsening hardship and demands for responsive governance.
