Harassment in the Workplace: The Culture of Silencing Women

By Mariam Dahdouh

About four years ago, during my final days at work after submitting my resignation, I received an unexpected call from a colleague. With hesitation in her voice, she asked: “Is the reason you resigned the same as what happened to me?” Then she said something I will never forget: “The manager harassed me when I was alone in the office.”

The first emotion that consumed me was guilt because I didn’t know how to respond, how to protect her, or whether I should ask for details or simply listen in silence so as not to deepen her pain.

The very next day, when I returned to the office, I began to hear whispers questioning her credibility, even from colleagues who were well aware that the manager’s “moves” were far from innocent. What I witnessed was a workplace that allowed perpetrators to walk free, justified those in positions of authority, and forced survivors to pay the price twice over.

This was not an isolated incident. According to a 2024 study by the Samir Kassir Foundation, 70% of women journalists in Lebanon have faced harassment or abuse at work. In an economy that ties financial security to male authority, the real numbers remain buried behind walls of fear and silence.

Today, a young woman’s testimony on social media brought me back to that experience and once again highlighted the absence of clear workplace policies and accountability mechanisms. The 2020 harassment law, riddled with structural loopholes, remains ineffective. This raises an urgent question: What legal and social reforms are needed to ensure the protection of women in the workplace?

He who holds power becomes Sultan

Samara (a pseudonym), an employee whose story is marked by fear and guilt after her manager violated her personal space, recounted to Sharika Wa Laken what happened:

“I was working in a company with open offices, and one day, while I was busy at my desk, I felt hands on my shoulders. He began massaging them, and within seconds I realized it was my manager. He leaned toward my ear and whispered: ‘Let me help you relax.’

I froze. My heart was racing. After a few moments, I pushed his shoulders back and said, ‘That’s enough, please.’ He responded by kissing my head and saying, ‘You’re like my little sister.’

I didn’t react outwardly, but inside I was screaming: ‘No, I am not your sister.’”

This incident is not merely personal, it is political. Abusers are shielded by legal privileges and patriarchal structures, while women are left without effective protection, making justice a privilege reserved only for those in power.

In this context, lawyer Mariana Berro told Sharika Wa Laken:
“The protection of women in the workplace remains limited due to clear legal and institutional loopholes. The definition of harassment in the 2020 Sexual Harassment Prevention Law, which relies on the vague term ‘inappropriate behavior,’ leaves room for interpretation that may ultimately work in the perpetrator’s favor.”

Samara continued, recalling that this was the first time she had spoken about the issue in front of someone else:

“I was torn. Should I file a complaint? Should I quit? Should I confide in colleagues? I was terrified no one would believe me, or worse, that they would think I was exaggerating. So instead, I moved my desk closer to the air conditioner, making sure a wall was behind me so my back would be protected. Eventually, when I found a new job opportunity, I left without hesitation.”

According to Berro, one of the greatest barriers survivors face is the legal requirement to prove criminal intent in order to classify an act as harassment. This standard places the entire burden of proof on the survivor.

In practice, this prevents many women from reporting, especially in the absence of direct evidence or witnesses, leaving them trapped in cycles of fear, guilt, and silence.

The dominance of a patriarchal mindset within legislation exposes the lack of genuine protection. Unregulated workplaces become spaces where violence is reproduced, while survivors are blamed instead of supported.

Berro emphasized:

“There is no provision in the law requiring institutions or companies to adopt anti-harassment policies or establish internal oversight mechanisms. This renders the law empty of effective tools for prevention and protection. Moreover, it fails to acknowledge the professional relationship of subordination between employee and employer.”

Despite its flaws, Berro underscores that reporting remains essential:

“Reporting is a necessary step to hold perpetrators accountable, raise legal awareness, and promote gender justice in the workplace.”

Lawyer Mariana Berro

Human Rights Watch has also criticized Lebanon’s sexual harassment law for falling short of international standards. The law reduces the issue to criminal punishment while neglecting essential elements such as preventive measures, labor law reforms, civil oversight, and effective redress mechanisms.

From a procedural perspective, lawyer Mariana Berro advises survivors to preserve every possible form of documentation: messages, recordings, or testimonies, and to file a formal request that ensures confidentiality of the investigation before the judge. While the process is often daunting, Berro stresses that reporting remains a crucial step in holding perpetrators accountable, raising legal awareness, and advancing gender justice in the workplace.

Real protection, however, demands more than piecemeal measures. It requires a comprehensive approach to workplace harassment, beginning with Lebanon’s ratification of the International Labor Organization’s Convention on the Elimination of Violence and Harassment, and its proper implementation to secure a safe and equitable work environment.

Safeguarding women employees from harassment goes beyond obliging institutions to adopt reporting procedures and internal investigation policies—though these are undeniably important. The danger is magnified when the abuser is the manager himself, leaving survivors silenced by fear of retaliation or job loss in an economy dominated by power and money. In such an environment, perpetrators are shielded by legal privileges and patriarchal structures, while women are left without meaningful protection. Justice, in effect, becomes a privilege reserved for those who already hold “power.”

How does fear prevent women from reporting?

Reem (a pseudonym) experienced a situation similar to Serena’s, whose story went viral on social media. But unlike many, Reem was “lucky to have a manager who respects women.”

After being repeatedly harassed by a new colleague, Reem confided in her coworkers, only to be met with patriarchal justifications, even from women: “Come on, he’s just joking.” “He didn’t mean it.” “It’s wrong to ruin his livelihood.” Shocked by this dismissal, Reem decided to confront her manager.

His response was unusual. Without demanding evidence or launching a formal investigation, he believed her. He immediately dismissed the colleague, saying: “This young man was on probation, and he failed,” stressing that women’s safety in the workplace was a company priority.

While Reem’s case had a positive outcome, it remains an exception. Abeer Shbaro, a gender expert, explained to Sharika Wa Laken that most institutions in Lebanon do not recognize sexual harassment as a gender-based crime requiring legal action. Instead, they reduce it to an “administrative issue” to be handled internally, an approach that shields perpetrators and entrenches impunity.

Research underscores the systemic silencing of survivors. A study by Abaad revealed that 63% of survivors did not report assaults due to fears about “honor and reputation,” while 53.5% were prevented by their families for the same reason. Another 42% chose silence because they did not expect to be believed. These figures expose an integrated system of stigma, economic dependence, and weak laws that compels women into silence.

The consequences extend beyond silence. “Many women are forced to leave their jobs to escape toxic environments,” Shbaro noted, “deepening the gender gap in the labor market.” Fear of retaliation, breaches of confidentiality, or misuse of information further discourages reporting.

For Shbaro, dismantling this culture requires parallel strategies. First, reforming socialization by teaching children, girls and boys alike, the meaning of consent, personal boundaries, and the rejection of victim-blaming. Second, enforcing strict laws and ensuring accountability for perpetrators. She emphasized that change cannot rely on awareness campaigns alone; it demands legal enforcement, institutional training, and cultural transformation, including employers, judges, and lawyers, so harassment is understood as both a barrier to equality and a form of sexual coercion.

Women have the right to work in environments free of harassment and violence. Achieving this requires more than superficial measures. The state must adopt policies grounded in a structural feminist approach that addresses the roots of patriarchy and gender discrimination. Lebanon also needs a dedicated workplace harassment law that explicitly recognizes women’s financial and professional dependence within a neoliberal economy, ensuring workplaces that are safe, dignified, and genuinely equitable.