A Middle Eastern lifeline built on family, faith and fear

YULIS, Israel – Situated in a quiet corner of a quaint village in northern Israel, the building is, at first glance, an elegant conference room with giant chandeliers, ornate but uncomfortable chairs and trays of sweets.

But behind a makeshift plywood partition and a stern assistant who applies stickers to smartphone cameras, sits a team of volunteers working among large screens and laptops: the nerve center of a massive humanitarian operation to help Syria's Druze religious minority.

Druze in Israel have long sent donations to their coreligionists in the southwestern Syrian province of Suwayda, but since July, when about 1,000 Druze civilians were killed in sectarian murder — a complex operation arose to help tens of thousands of people more than 40 miles from hostile territory.

“What were we supposed to do? Watch them get killed and remain silent?” said Muwaffaq Tarif, spiritual leader of the 150,000-strong Druze community in Israel.

Drawing on family ties in Syria and ties to the Israeli military and government, the operation, headquartered in Salon, now provides funds, humanitarian and medical assistance, as well as logistics and intelligence support – all despite a months-long blockade of Suwayda by Syrian troops.

The aid has become part of the province's lifeline and has given strength to Druze militias and spiritual leaders calling for separation from Syria and union with Israel.

The needs are huge. As Tarif sat with the volunteers in the salon, his phones received calls and messages—the vast majority from Druze in Syria.

“500, 800, sometimes even a thousand people come to me every day. They all need my help. It makes me cry,” Tariff said.

The Druze, a sect that combines elements of Islam and other religious traditions, number 1 million worldwide; Syria is home to about 500,000 people, or approximately 3% of the population. Hardline Muslims consider them infidels.

During Syria's 14-year civil war, dictatorial President Bashar al-Assad allowed them to set up their own militias in Suwayda and run affairs in the Druze-majority province, as long as they did not fight government forces or allow opposition rebels to enter the country. But they had little love for Assad or the Islamist-dominated opposition.

Following the fall of the much-reviled Assad regime last December, the new president Ahmed al-Sharaa, tried to allay concerns about the new government's jihadist roots; Al-Sharaa was once an al-Qaeda-linked rebel leader but abandoned the group years ago.

Al-Sharaa has vowed to protect Syria's minorities and exclude extremists from his allies. That won him support from the United States, Europe and his Arab neighbors, but Israel took a hostile stance, occupying parts of southern Syria and launching thousands of airstrikes to destroy the fallen government's arsenal.

Meanwhile, al-Sharaa called on the Druze leadership to disband its militias and surrender their weapons. Some wanted to cooperate, but Syria's top Druze cleric Hikmat al-Hijri refused, saying his groups would disarm only when al-Shara'a formed an inclusive government.

Syria is home to a wide range of religions, and sectarian unrest broke out as the new government sought to establish itself. In March, government-linked militants killed about 1500 people, mostly Alawites. In May, clashes broke out in Druze-majority areas near Damascus.

This was followed by massacres in Suwayda.

They began in early July as mutual kidnappings between Druze militias and Bedouin tribes, but soon escalated into street fighting. The government negotiated a ceasefire and sent security personnel, but instead of restoring order, they joined the Bedouins in a bloody rampage.

They systematically burned and plundered some 32 villages, executed civilians, then mutilated their bodies and abused men by cutting off their mustaches, which among the Druze is considered a sign of spiritual maturity. And they filmed it, proudly posting trophy videos on social media.

By the end of the unrest, almost 200,000 people had been forced to flee their homes. More than 100 women and girls were kidnapped. Dozens are missing.

Al-Hijri called on President Trump and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to save Suwayda, adding that “we can no longer coexist with a regime that knows only iron and fire.”

As soon as word of what had happened reached Tarif, he rushed into action.

“We called everyone, [Israeli] army, government, prime minister, defense minister, chief of staff to stop the massacre. The Syrian government entered with tanks, drones and artillery. It was an army against civilians with a pistol or a rifle,” Tarif said.

Israel, which had made an offer to the Syrian Druze, mobilized. Netanyahu ordered an airstrike of Syrian troops rushing through the provincial capital Suwayda, as well as the Syrian army headquarters in Damascus and the presidential palace.

Al-Sharaa accused Israel of fomenting internal divisions and said Al-Hijri's call for international intervention was unacceptable. He formed a committee to investigate atrocities against the Druze and others. swore in his speech at the UN General Assembly in September “to hold accountable every hand stained with the blood of innocent people.”

Al-Hijri and many Druze, previously conciliatory towards Al-Sharaa, were not convinced and demanded secession.

At the same time, a tense standoff ensued, with Syrian government forces encircling the province, ostensibly to separate the Bedouins and Druze, although critics accused them of repeating Assad's “surrender or starve” tactics to force Sweida to submit.

Many of the Israeli Druze wanted to help.

“The world ignored what happened, so we have to do it. Our women sold their gold, people sold property, others took loans to raise money,” Tarif said, adding that about $2.5 million had been raised.

No land connections between Suwayda and areas of Israel. occupied southern Syria, the only way to deliver aid was through the Israeli Air Force. But the amounts turned out to be insufficient. This was the impetus for the creation of the operating room.

Standing among dozens of workstations, the volunteer explained how his team identified sympathizers who bought medicine and food in Damascus, as well as middlemen who bribed goods passing through government checkpoints in Suwayda. They also smuggled equipment and paid workers to rebuild water and electricity infrastructure. According to Tarif, some of the convoys arrived with the Syrian Red Crescent with the knowledge of Damascus.

“If we spend $10,000 here, it's nothing. But in Syria they go far and buy a lot of supplies,” the volunteer said.

The center financed the transformation of the Judiciary building in Suwayda into a center for displaced people, housing 130 families, with a workshop where women could make clothes, including uniforms for the Druze militias.

Other volunteers put their specialties to use: as Suwayda's medical facilities were destroyed, the center operated four hospitals in the province.

Programmers created an app-based humanitarian ecosystem that allowed Sweda residents to register for medical care, and doctors used WhatsApp messages to consult with specialists in Israel and other countries.

Other programs coordinated requests and delivery of aid or helped residents document atrocities.

“We used our skills to protect ourselves,” said one 28-year-old activist on the operations team's tech team, pulling out his phone to show off some apps. One, designed for medical procedures, included a drop-down menu and a simple interface, and he said thousands of people used it.

Some help came down to reconnaissance. With Suwayda still under threat, the group, some of whose members had retired from military service, monitored events on the ground. They deployed bots to monitor social media posts that could indicate an attack, hacked the phones of commanders in the area and passed information to the Israeli military and Druze militias.

Meanwhile, the Israeli military has supplied the militia with limited weapons and ammunition, activists in Suweida say, and is monitoring the area with drones.

All this made Sweida's militia more effective. But it also strengthened al-Hijri's plan to secede and annex the province, which is about 60 miles southeast of Damascus, into Israel. In recent speeches, he refers to Suwayda as Bashan, its biblical Hebrew name, and forces under his control have raised the Israeli flag alongside the Druze banner. Last week, forces affiliated with Al-Hijri unveiled new uniforms and logos that critics say feature the Star of David in their designs.

For his part, Tariff, who says he is in daily contact with Al-Hijri as well as Al-Sharaa's intermediaries, insists that “the ball is in Jolani's court,” using the pseudonym Al-Sharaa.

“Do it tomorrow. Open the international humanitarian corridor to Suweida. Return the people to their homes. Return the abducted. Simple,” Tarif said.

At the same time, local opposition to Al-Hijri is growing after his forces tortured and killed two Druze clerics whom he accused of “treason” for contacting government authorities.

“He gathers thugs around him, silencing any voice seeking a solution with the state,” said one activist in Suweida, who declined to give his name for fear of reprisals. Many in Sweida feel trapped between al-Hijri and the government in Damascus, which they have learned to fear.

“As a Druze, if I want to speak out against Al-Hijri and his gangs, who can I turn to?” – asked the activist. “A state that massacred my people? How can we trust it?”