Israel courts Druze in Syria as a new ally

Just about a week ago, a group of Syrian citizens crossed the UN-monitored buffer zone between Syria and Israel in the Golan Heights and walked into Israel, the first such crossing in 50 years. Normally, they would have been arrested by the Israeli army, instead, they were welcomed into Israel. The contingent consisted of religious leaders from Syria’s Druze minority, who made the trip to visit Druze religious sites and communities in Israel.

Following the fall of the Bashar al-Assad regime in Syria in December, Israel has taken a far more active role in Syria, taking over the buffer zone in the Golan Heights established under the ceasefire after the Yom Kippur War (1973), deploying troops and erecting nine military outposts, including on Mount Hermon, the highest point in the Golan Heights, and taking a serious interest in Syria’s Druze minority.

The Druze are a distinctive ethno-religious minority, which have carved out a unique existence across the Middle East. Their identity has been shaped by their faith that combines Ismaili Shia tradition with Greek philosophy and Gnosticism. Emerging in 11th-century Egypt, the Druze faith found a foothold in the mountainous terrains of Syria, Lebanon and Israel. In Syria, they number around seven lakh, living in the southwestern Jabal al-Druze region and southern provinces near the Golan Heights under Israeli occupation. Fiercely protective of their traditions, the Druze clashed with external forces to preserve their way of life. Under the Assads—first Hafez and then Bashar—the Ba’ath Party integrated minorities into the state, recruiting the martial-minded Druze into the military. Yet, their loyalty was pragmatic, not ideological, a stance that shaped their response to the Syrian Civil War beginning in 2011.

The civil war splintered Syria along sectarian lines, thrusting the Druze into a delicate position. Unlike the Alawite-dominated regime or the Sunni-led opposition, the Druze sought neutrality, avoiding entanglement with either the regime or rebel factions like Islamic State and Jabhat al-Nusra. This strategy, born of self-preservation, faltered in 2015 when their villages were ravaged by Islamic State. With the weakened Assad regime offering no real protection, the Druze formed militias to defend themselves. Their proximity to the Golan Heights introduced Israel into the mix.

Israel’s relationship with the Druze is complicated, rooted in geography and shared history. Nearly 25,000 Druze live in the Golan Heights, annexed by Israel in 1981. Most of them retain their Syrian identity although some of them have accepted Israeli citizenship. Within Israel, 1.5 lakh Druze serve in the army, a rarity among Arab citizens. It has clearly influenced Israel’s policies towards the Druze in Syria. For instance, during the Syrian civil war, Israel took an active role, especially as the conflict progressed, offering medical care, food and supplies to Syrian Druze villages and treating thousands in its hospitals. This aid, while lifesaving, doubled as a strategic move to counter jihadist threats near the Golan.

The fall of Bashar al-Assad in December marked a turning point. Defence Minister Yisrael Katz has declared an “indefinite” presence, while incursions reached 15km into southern Syria, accompanied by airstrikes targeting 40 sites in a single night to destroy weapons caches. Meanwhile, receiving a Druze contingent from Syria highlights Israel’s shifting strategy amid Syria’s transition under interim president Ahmed al-Sharaa.

Israel positions the Druze as a buffer against Iran-backed militias, leveraging their martial reputation to stabilise its northern border. After clashes in Jaramana, a Druze suburb south of Damascus, in early March, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and Katz vowed to defend the Druze, warning Sharaa’s government of retaliation if they were harmed. Israel ties this pledge to its own Druze citizens, framing Sharaa’s regime—rooted in the Al-Qaeda-linked Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS)—as an “extremist Islamic terrorist threat.” Yet, scepticism persists. Many Druze activists in Syria say border security, not their welfare, drives Israel’s actions.

The Syrian Druze face a multifaceted dilemma. Historically, they balanced cooperation with Assad’s regime—serving in its forces—against preserving their identity. The civil war forced self-reliance, and now, post-Assad, they weigh Israel’s overtures against Sharaa’s promises. Sharaa, whose Golan roots resonate with the community, offers limited autonomy in a 12-point plan, a gesture welcomed by some Druze leaders. However, his Al-Qaeda past fuels unease, prompting a significant section of the Druze to seriously consider Israel’s protection offers.

Beyond the Druze, Israel envisions a demilitarised zone across southern Syria, potentially its most significant territorial drive since 1948. It has started putting pressure on the Trump administration to wield sanctions against Sharaa, accusing him of shedding moderation for jihadism—evidenced by the recent massacre of the Alawites. Israel’s belligerence could destabilise Syria, pushing Sharaa towards Turkey or enabling Iran and others to exploit the chaos. Sharaa, condemning Israel’s “hostile expansionism,” seeks minority reconciliation, signing deals with Kurds and negotiating with the Druze.

For the Druze in the Golan, nearly 60 years under Israeli rule prompt introspection. Sharaa demands Israel’s withdrawal from the buffer zone, but tends to ignore the annexation of the Golan Heights, focusing instead on consolidating his power in Damascus. Israel’s indefinite presence and minority outreach—extending to Kurds—could alienate these groups in a Syria hostile to foreign meddling, echoing its divisive tactics in Lebanon.