EVERY Arabic-speaking country has its own lively dialect, each one a world away from the classical Arabic of the Koran and the modern, sterile-sounding version used by pan-Arab channels such as Al-Jazeera. Some have much in common; the Levantine tongues of Syria, Lebanon, Jordan and Palestine, for example. Those of Morocco and the rest of the Maghreb are gobbledygook to many Arabs. Fast-paced Egyptian, with its abundance of jokes and puns, is the cockney of the Arab world.

Egypt has long dominated the Arab film industry and with it, the world of dubbing. But thanks to the increasing popularity of Syrian musalsalaat, or soap operas, filmed on location rather than in studios, the Syrian vernacular with its soft lilting tones is on the up. It is used in everything from "Bab al-Hara", a saga about a Damascene neighbourhood under the French mandate to programmes dealing with Islamic extremism and adultery. Even Turkish soap operas such as Gümüs—Nour in Arabic—have been been dubbed into Syrian. The Syrians have been faster on their feet commercially when it comes to dubbing, and have offered cheaper rates than the Egyptians, where much television output is still in the hands of lumbering state broadcasters. Many also think that Syrian Arabic is closer in sound to classical Arabic, so more appropriate to a pan-Arab audience.

By contrast, the voiceovers in dramas from India and its neighbours tend to use gruff Gulf Arabic, most often heard on the music channels playing monotonously in up-market cafés all over the region. "The choice of dialect in dubbing is based on various factors, including the closeness of traditions—Syrians have much in common with the Turks and Kuwaitis rub shoulders with the Indians—and how widely understood the language is," says Ramez Maluf, a media professor at the Lebanese American University in Beirut.

Politics plays its part, too. Iran operates an Arabic satellite channel and makes use of its allies, Syria and Hizbullah, to do much of the translation. This is another way for Iran to subsidise them. Arabic students are usually interested in the region's politics and Syria's regional clout has led to a rise in demand for lessons in Levantine Arabic, says a language tutor in Damascus's Old City. More likely, however, language students like Damascus because it is cheap and easier to manage than Cairo (the Old City of Damascus has turned into a virtual campus for language students, full of bars and cheap eats). But most important, in Damascus, unlike in Beirut, Cairo or Tunis, you really do need to speak Arabic to get by.

As the Arab spring rumbles on, with two dictators toppled, another on his death bed in Saudi Arabia, and more under threat, the popularity of the different dialects may shift again. Post-revolutionary Cairo may flourish as the cultural and intellectual hub it once was and with it colloquial Egyptian. Particularly since Damascus, Sana'a and Tripoli look less appealing to students at the moment.