When a Druze merchant was kidnapped at a checkpoint in southern Syria, the response was swift and familiar: retaliatory abductions and local clashes.
What followed, however, was anything but: a chain of events calling into question the ability of the government in Damascus to keep the state from fracturing.
The violence between Druze and Bedouin communities escalated rapidly into a national and regional crisis. Pro-government forces poured into southern Suwayda province. Israeli airstrikes followed, hitting the Ministry of Defense in Damascus and underscoring the rising stakes.
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The eruption of violence in the majority-Druze Syrian province of Suwayda, the second-worst outbreak of intercommunal strife since the fall of the Assad regime, drew in Israel and challenged the delicate balance Damascus is trying to maintain.
Days later, Syria’s nascent general security forces formally began withdrawing from Suwayda, though there were reports that nonuniformed government fighters, some in tribal garb, flowed into the troubled province, along with looters.
“Most Syrian Druze today will say that Israel proved it can protect us,” says Nawras Husein Aziz, a France-based Syrian Druze analyst. “This became clear when it struck Damascus. Israel, Jordan, America – they [the Druze] don’t care who gives it. They want protection.”
Bodies laid outside Suwayda’s main hospital point to the intensity of the violence that drew in fighters from across Syria and claimed hundreds of lives. Analysts warn this kind of strife could push Syria toward fragmentation and derail peace efforts.
“This recent chapter has opened a hornet’s nest,” warned Charles Lister, director of the Syria Initiative at the Middle East Institute in Washington. “Syria’s decades-old, deeply ingrained grievances … are all at risk of detonating.”
Druze tensions with Damascus
Suwayda, a predominantly Druze province, has long stood at a geopolitical and spiritual crossroads. The Druze, an ethnoreligious minority also present in Israel and Lebanon, have historically sought autonomy and maintained skepticism toward Damascus.
The community largely stayed out of the 2011 uprising and civil war. Unlike their Syrian Kurd counterparts in the country’s north, Druze leaders haven’t forged lasting deals with Damascus. Security remains a central tension between the new government of President Ahmed al-Sharaa – still known by his nom de guerre, al-Jolani – and a community that feels threatened.
“There’s a very small segment of Druze society that still supports talks with the government,” says Mr. Aziz. “But the vast majority want no ties with Damascus. They see it as the regime of al-Jolani – the terrorist.”
President Sharaa promised to govern for all Syrians after his forces routed former Syrian President Bashar al-Assad last December. Despite past Al Qaeda links, he secured international recognition, met foreign dignitaries, lifted sanctions, and drew investment.
But many minorities remain uneasy. They view the new government’s power as rooted in jihadist forces. Though overall violence has declined, lawlessness and sectarian killings have fueled distrust.
So did a rushed political process after nearly 14 years of civil war. Syria’s post-Assad national dialogue, critics say, was “shorter than a wedding.” Its outcome – a Sunni-majority, male-dominated government – did little to ease fears of exclusion.
While Damascus said its Suwayda intervention aimed to restore order, many Druze saw it as a move to crush their autonomy. They cite tanks and armored vehicles as signs of darker motives.
The Alawite example
For a community whose beliefs diverge from orthodox Islam, the threat felt existential. Recent massacres of Alawites during crackdowns on pro-Assad insurgents in northwest Syria were fresh in the Druze collective memory. That chapter left 1,426 people dead – mostly civilians, including 90 women – according to a government commission.
“There’s no difference between what happened on the Alawite coast and what’s happening now in Suwayda,” says Mr. Aziz. “The only difference is Suwayda hasn’t fallen, so the perpetrators can’t hide the crime scenes.”
Sources, including footage posted by attackers, point to atrocities: at least three beheadings and more than 400 bodies at Suwayda’s hospital. Entire villages – 31 by one count – were razed.
Local accounts indicate Bedouin communities were likewise attacked and displaced.
The Monitor reviewed videos circulating on WhatsApp and Telegram, many using inflammatory sectarian language. Some show corpses, others, people thrown from buildings.
In multiple clips, Druze men are seen having their mustaches forcibly cut – a ritual humiliation. “For Druze men, it’s an affront to spiritual identity and manhood,” Mr. Aziz says.
He warns of a slow effort to reshape Syria’s demographics, driven by sectarian engineering.
Faisal, a Suwayda native who asked to withhold his full name, says the turning point in the province came on July 15. Until then, local leaders were open to mediation and disarmament.
“But then 50 civilians were killed in three hours,” he recounts. “That’s when people lost their minds. They did the math – this is the ratio of the new regime.”
Faisal says the teenage daughter of his friend was fatally shot as they fled. Civilian casualties also included 13 members of the expanded Radwan family, killed together, according to several sources.
Impact of Israeli strikes
Israeli airstrikes targeting Damascus-aligned convoys en route to Suwayda further complicated matters.
Though Israel said the strikes were aimed at deterring killings, some argue they facilitated atrocities and stoked sectarian narratives when the core conflict wasn’t sectarian.
According to that viewpoint, the real fault line is loyalty to Damascus versus opposition to central rule. Syrian Druze have long been politically fragmented – some favor Damascus, others Israel.
But as threats grew, the community united militarily, with regular citizens taking up arms to join the fight or simply guard their home. Contradictory messages by military and spiritual leaders complicated ceasefire efforts.
At Suwayda’s hospital, the chaos was acute. Control of the facility changed four times in 24 hours. Wounded civilians and medical volunteers allegedly were victims of field executions.
Conflicting testimonies and destroyed CCTV cameras point to efforts to obscure the truth. A Syrian analyst reported bullet holes in emergency room walls. Footage shows tank tracks on nearby streets.
Turning hospitals into military sites violates international law. Each side blames the other for the high toll and atrocities.
Peace is distant
As of Friday, a ceasefire held, but peace is distant. Local Druze forces control security, and Damascus has stepped back. “No more armored vehicles are entering – Israel’s drones will instantly strike,” says Baha, a former university student in Suwayda.
Conditions in the city remains dire, with many services cut.
“We’re back to preconflict status,” says Moaz al-Abdullah, Middle East research manager at the nonprofit organization Armed Conflict Location and Event Data. “Any serious event could escalate things again. The ceasefire is super fragile. … Trust between the Druze and the government is fundamentally broken.”
The Druze note that Suwayda gave Syria one of its founding fathers – Sultan al-Atrash, leader of the 1925 revolt against French colonialism. But a century later, even post-Assad, his vision of unity remains elusive.
How events unfold may determine whether Damascus responds to pressure for inclusivity. Any sustainable peace will likely require shared governance and localized security for Druze regions. Mr. Abdullah recommends greater transparency in negotiations.
The future of Suwayda may hinge on regional diplomacy – including U.S. mediation and emerging Syria-Israel talks – but it also requires internal reconciliation.
“We need a real national dialogue in Syria,” says Mr. Abdullah. “It can happen if both sides choose peace over conflict.”
