What began as a local criminal dispute has now escalated into a multi-layered confrontation involving sectarian militias, Syrian government forces, Israeli airstrikes, and competing Druze factions.

Over five days of relentless violence, more than 100 have been killed and hundreds more injured. Yet, beneath the fog of war, a clearer pattern is emerging—one that reflects the geopolitical fault lines running through Syria and the region at large.

A Spark That Ignited a Firestorm

The violence erupted on July 11, when Bedouin gunmen ambushed a vegetable truck on the Damascus–Suwayda highway, assaulting the Druze driver and stealing his goods. The following day, Druze militias retaliated by kidnapping eight Bedouins, triggering a tit-for-tat spiral of abductions that quickly deteriorated into full-blown armed clashes.

Although such conflicts between Bedouin clans and Druze militias have simmered for years—largely over control of drug trafficking routes, weapons smuggling corridors, and disputed lands—this incident unleashed an unusually brutal wave of violence.

By July 13, mediation efforts by local notables collapsed. Armed clashes intensified in western rural Suwayda and in the provincial capital. In just 24 hours, over 30 were killed and nearly 100 injured. Bedouin areas were besieged while Druze villages were shelled in retaliation.

Until this flare-up, the Syrian government had largely kept its forces out of Suwayda, honoring an uneasy power-sharing arrangement with local Druze leaders. But as lawlessness spiraled, Damascus deployed military and Interior Ministry units to reassert control.

The response from Druze militias was swift and brutal: ten government soldiers were ambushed and executed, while eight others were paraded in humiliation before reportedly being killed.

That move triggered direct Israeli involvement. On July 14, Israeli drones began striking Syrian military convoys—first armored vehicles, then Interior Ministry trucks. The strikes coincided with the Syrian army’s ground operations in Druze-dominated areas and appeared to provide air cover for anti-government Druze factions.

As fighting intensified, a ceasefire was declared by Suwayda’s Druze, Christian, and civil council leaders. But within half an hour, Hikmat al-Hijri, a powerful Druze cleric, rejected the agreement and called for renewed fighting. Almost immediately, Israeli airstrikes resumed—this time across Suwayda city and beyond.

Power Struggles, Foreign Backers, and the Drug Trade

At the heart of this crisis lies Hikmat al-Hijri, spiritual leader of the Suwayda Military Council (SMC)—a faction founded after Assad’s weakening in 2012 and composed of former regime generals. The SMC has long been suspected of controlling large segments of Syria’s Captagon, heroin, and crystal meth trade, which serves as a lucrative shadow economy for armed groups.

Hijri’s repeated rejection of ceasefire efforts has angered rival Druze leaders. Sheikh Yousef al-Jarbou accused him of seeking to monopolize Druze leadership, while Laith al-Balous condemned him for destabilizing Suwayda under the influence of “subversive elements.”

The extent of Israeli coordination with Hijri’s faction is significant. Israel has traditionally struck targets in Syria to counter Iranian and Hezbollah entrenchment near its northern borders. However, its active support of a local militia implicated in narcotics and rebellion raises questions about Tel Aviv’s evolving strategy. Rather than merely deterring Iran, Israel now appears to be empowering anti-Assad factions that could help divide and destabilize southern Syria—a dangerous gamble that risks dragging the region into deeper chaos.

By July 16, Syrian government forces managed to take control of Suwayda city and Qanawat, Hijri’s stronghold. In retaliation, Israeli airstrikes expanded to Damascus, even hitting areas near the Presidential Palace and Syria’s Defense Ministry, killing at least three.

Meanwhile, the United States began mediating what became the third ceasefire attempt in 36 hours. The framework remains largely unchanged: government forces withdraw, local Druze security handle internal policing, and the Interior Ministry maintains nominal authority. Still, Hijri rejected it again, and Israeli strikes followed almost instantly.

The timing of these airstrikes—immediately after each ceasefire rejection—points toward a troubling synergy between Hijri’s tactical decisions and Israel’s military actions, amplifying the conflict and weakening Syria’s transitional government.

Beyond Suwayda: A Microcosm of Syria’s Collapse

While the Suwayda conflict is often described as sectarian—Druze versus Bedouin, or Druze versus Sunni Arab communities—it is just as much about economics and influence. The province is located on key southern smuggling routes leading into Jordan, Iraq, and the Gulf, and control over these routes is a high-stakes game. Notably, on July 15, the Jordanian military clashed twice with drug smugglers crossing over from Suwayda, reflecting the conflict’s transnational dimensions.

At the same time, the information war around Suwayda has become as intense as the conflict itself. Social media has been flooded with sensationalist claims—massacres, organ mutilation, women and children burned alive—all of which independent monitors like SOHR and other long-standing observers have debunked. Verified casualty figures suggest that combatants make up over 75% of the dead, with 6–8% being women and children.

What could have been resolved diplomatically has instead become a case study in how local power struggles, war economies, and foreign interventions intersect. A ceasefire brokered 48 hours ago might have prevented much of the bloodshed. But Hijri’s rejectionism and Israel’s airstrikes have thrown fuel on a tinderbox.

As of now, Suwayda’s future remains uncertain. If the ceasefire holds, the province may cautiously rejoin Syria’s transitional framework. But if Hijri continues to resist and foreign powers persist in exploiting local divisions, Suwayda risks becoming a permanently destabilized zone, threatening Jordan’s security and complicating Syria’s fragile peace process.

Ultimately, Suwayda illustrates the broader tragedy of post-war Syria: a nation where governance has eroded, warlords thrive, and every local conflict becomes a proxy battlefield for regional powers. Peace here won’t be achieved by airstrikes or militias. It requires a new social contract—rooted in accountability, disarmament, and regional diplomacy—to prevent yet another province from sinking into permanent instability.

The crisis in Suwayda is not about religion—it’s about power, control, and the future of a nation struggling to unify.

As Syria attempts to rebuild after over a decade of civil war, a new and unexpected front of unrest has emerged—not from Sunni rebels or Kurdish militias, but from within the traditionally neutral Druze community in the southern Suwayda governorate. The recent escalation shatters the myth of Druze unity and exposes deep divisions fueled by opportunism, external manipulation, and conflicting visions for Syria’s future.

The Druze, an esoteric religious minority that emerged from Shia Ismailism in the 11th century, have historically preferred isolation and neutrality in regional conflicts. In Syria, their base is Suwayda, a mountainous and relatively quiet region that largely remained detached during the peak of the war. Today, however, Suwayda is fractured between three competing power centers led by prominent sheikhs: Sheikh Al-Hinawi, Sheikh Laith Al-Balaous, and Sheikh Hikmat Al-Hijri.

Al-Hinawi and Al-Balaous have aligned with Syria’s new government under Ahmed Al-Sharaa and pledged to reintegrate the Druze region into the national framework. Meanwhile, Al-Hijri—once a loyalist of Bashar al-Assad—has rejected the new order. Seeking to control Suwayda as an autonomous stronghold, his militia has resisted disarmament and openly attacked government forces, plunging the region into renewed conflict.

Tensions surged after a clear message from Washington that Syria will not be divided into ethnic or sectarian enclaves. The statement triggered a realignment among Suwayda’s factions. Militias under Al-Hinawi and Al-Balaous agreed to disarm, signaling a desire to return to national unity. But Al-Hijri doubled down on defiance—launching violent attacks, desecrating corpses, and distributing sectarian propaganda against Syria’s Sunni majority.

His forces also began targeting nearby Arab Bedouin tribes, sparking widespread outrage. Kidnappings, shelling of villages, and acts of lawlessness plunged Suwayda into chaos. Amid the growing instability, Israel intervened militarily, claiming to protect Druze interests. Israeli airstrikes targeted Syrian army positions, killing soldiers and escalating regional tensions.

Observers note that Israel has long viewed the Druze near the Golan Heights—especially in Hadar and Quneitra—as buffers against Hezbollah and Iranian proxies. Supporting the Druze also allows Israel to highlight its internal diversity and counter accusations of regional oppression. But when that support leads to bloodshed in Syria, the moral narrative becomes increasingly complex and politically fraught.

Turning Point: National Unity vs. Sectarian Warlordism

On July 15, a landmark statement was issued jointly by Sheikh Al-Hinawi, Sheikh Laith Al-Balaous, and Druze tribal elders. It declared full support for reintroducing Syrian state institutions in Suwayda, rejected separatism, and welcomed the Syrian army’s return. The agreement was endorsed by Christian, Sunni, and Druze representatives, marking a broad consensus toward restoring peace and normalcy.

But just hours later, Sheikh Al-Hijri rejected the accord. In a televised address, he denounced the Syrian government, called for tribal mobilization, and invited international intervention. Almost immediately, Israeli airstrikes resumed, fueling fears of a wider proxy conflict.

Al-Hijri’s rebellion is not rooted in religious ideology—it’s a calculated power grab. By portraying himself as a protector of the Druze against a Sunni-dominated state, he seeks total control over Suwayda, regardless of the cost. His campaign has already resulted in hundreds of deaths, severe economic decline, and regional instability. Worse still, it risks painting the entire Druze population as complicit, despite growing internal opposition to his actions.

Reports indicate that Al-Hijri’s fighters have stockpiled advanced weapons, some allegedly supplied via covert external channels. His propaganda claims the Syrian state is failing to protect minorities, but his own forces have been implicated in abductions, illegal checkpoints, and smuggling operations. Locals say his militias extort money, confiscate land, and obstruct humanitarian aid.

While Syria’s central government appears determined to avoid full-scale confrontation, it has quietly mobilized elite units near Suwayda. The aim is to isolate Al-Hijri without sparking a broader Druze backlash. Intelligence sources confirm that talks are ongoing with moderate Druze leaders to ensure a peaceful handover of power and weapons in exchange for local autonomy under state supervision.

A Community’s Plea for Peace

In a rare interview with Al Jazeera, the Druze spiritual leader Sheikh Yusuf Jarbou made it clear that the majority of the community opposes Al-Hijri’s actions.

“Any aggression against the Syrian state is an aggression against us. We are part of Syria,” he said. “Exploiting the Druze for political gain brings us no benefit.”

“The ceasefire agreement had full public support and interfaith representation,” he added.

As the government, now backed by Druze leadership, regains control of Suwayda, large weapon caches have been discovered—proving that Al-Hijri’s uprising was long in the making. The government has vowed to disarm all militias, arrest rogue actors, and fully restore rule of law.

Yet external actors, such as the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF), view Al-Hijri’s rebellion as a last line of resistance against a unified Syrian state. Their support further complicates the situation, revealing how local unrest is often amplified by broader geopolitical agendas.

Moreover, there are concerns that foreign media and Western think tanks may attempt to frame the Suwayda conflict as an “ethnic persecution” narrative to further isolate the Assad government. This risks ignoring the complex local dynamics and empowering the most destabilizing factions.

Inside Israel, the Druze community—many of whom serve in the Israeli army—have openly expressed solidarity with Syrian Druze. This provides Tel Aviv a diplomatic card to play, showcasing its support for minority rights. However, critics argue that such gestures are part of a broader strategy to legitimize Israeli presence in the occupied Golan Heights and undermine Iranian entrenchment near the border.

Meanwhile, Syria’s new President Ahmed Al-Sharaa has called for national reconciliation and vowed to restore Suwayda through political dialogue, not military conquest. His government has proposed a regional council of Druze elders, clergy, and civil leaders to mediate the crisis and draft a roadmap for full reintegration.

Whether this plan succeeds will depend on international will to restrain spoilers and respect Syria’s sovereignty. It also hinges on the Druze community reclaiming its historic legacy as a force for stability rather than a pawn in foreign agendas.

Beyond the Crisis

The crisis in Suwayda is not about religion—it’s about power, control, and the future of a nation struggling to unify. The majority of Syria’s Druze community stands for peace and national unity. But one warlord, emboldened by foreign support, threatens to undo years of fragile progress.

The world must recognize: Sheikh Al-Hijri does not speak for the Druze. And Suwayda is not a bargaining chip for regional interests. If Syria is to emerge from its long night of war, it must do so as one nation—with all its communities moving forward together.

Regimes that prioritize power over people will eventually crumble, no matter how long they hold on.

On December 8, 2024, millions of Syrians across cities and villages celebrated what many believed was an impossible dream—the end of Bashar al-Assad’s brutal regime. For over five decades, the Assad family ruled Syria with an iron fist. But to understand how this ruthless dynasty rose—and how it ultimately fell—we must rewind the clock to the early post-colonial years of Arab nationalism and military coups.

This analysis is based on the research of Nikolaos van Dam, former Dutch ambassador and Special Envoy for Syria, as outlined in his work for The Rights Forum. As a seasoned diplomat who served in Lebanon, Jordan, the Palestinian territories, Libya, Iraq, Egypt, Turkey, and beyond, van Dam’s insights provide a rare, first-hand account of Syria’s internal transformation over six decades.

The Birth of Ba’athist Idealism

In the late 1940s, a young Alawite military officer named Hafiz al-Assad joined the Arab Socialist Ba’th Party. The party’s platform—built on secular Arab nationalism and socialist ideals—promised equality among Arabs regardless of sect or religion. This secular vision, crafted in part by Michel ‘Aflaq, a Greek Orthodox Christian from Damascus, appealed strongly to religious minorities and economically disadvantaged rural populations.

For Alawites, Druze, Isma’ilis, and Christian Arabs—communities historically marginalized in Sunni-dominated political circles—Ba’thism offered both inclusion and upward mobility. But this idealism would soon be manipulated into a tool of power centralization and authoritarian control.

The 1963 Ba’thist Coup: From Ideals to Authoritarianism

Syria’s brief experiment with Arab unity reached its climax in 1958 when it merged with Egypt to form the United Arab Republic (UAR). But the union quickly disillusioned many Syrians. Under Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser, Syrian officials were reduced to subordinate roles, sparking resentment.

By 1961, the union collapsed following a coup staged by Syrian officers, leading to the brief “Separatist Period,” a return to parliamentary governance and conservative elites. However, in the background, socialist military factions, particularly from the Ba’th Party, were organizing for a comeback.

On March 8, 1963, Ba’thist officers seized power, marking the beginning of one-party rule. Political pluralism was dismantled, and only parties loyal to Ba’thist ideology were allowed under tight control. Syria’s multiparty democracy was officially dead.

The Rise of the Secret Military Committee

Ironically, many of the Ba’thist officers who masterminded the 1963 coup had been exiled to Egypt during the short-lived UAR period. There, they formed a clandestine “Military Committee” with one purpose: to take over Syria upon their return.

This committee was dominated by three Alawite officers—Muhammad ‘Umran, Salah Jadid, and Hafiz al-Assad. While other minorities such as the Druze, Isma’ilis, and Sunnis were represented, none held top leadership roles. What began as a coalition soon turned into a brutal contest for power.

Through successive purges, each rival was systematically removed until Hafiz al-Assad emerged as Syria’s uncontested ruler in 1970. The original Ba’thist vision of collective leadership was discarded in favor of personalized autocracy—ushering in what would become known as Asadism.

Asadism: The Cult of Personality

Under Hafiz al-Assad, a robust cult of personality developed. State media praised his every move, and over a hundred books were published in his honor. This phenomenon wasn’t unique to Syria; authoritarian regimes across the Arab world used leader-worship as a means to legitimize their rule.

What set Syria apart was the depth of sectarian entrenchment, particularly the favor shown to Assad’s Alawite sect. The military and civilian bureaucracy were filled with relatives and loyalists from his coastal hometown and surrounding villages.

Sectarian identity was not the regime’s stated ideology, but it became its operational strategy. Trust was reserved for those from Assad’s own background, feeding a system of clientelism, cronyism, and corruption.

A System Built on Loyalty, Not Merit

Following the 1963 coup, Assad and his allies purged the military of Sunni officers and replaced them with Alawites and other loyalists. This was not about ideology—it was about trust and control. The same pattern extended into civilian ministries, universities, and state-owned enterprises.

In his memoirs, prominent Ba’thist Sami al-Jundi described how rural villagers, many from Alawite and Druze regions, began flooding into Damascus. The linguistic marker “Qaf,” characteristic of mountain dialects, began dominating public discourse in government halls and tea shops alike.

Traditional Sunni elites, particularly urban merchants and landowners, were systematically replaced by newcomers from lower social strata. But while this shift appeared revolutionary, it merely exchanged one elite for another—this time bonded by kinship and loyalty rather than class or religious dominance.

Unequal Gains: Alawite Power, Rural Neglect

Despite Alawites’ dominance in government and military structures, the majority of Alawites in rural regions remained impoverished. This paradox highlighted the selective nature of regime patronage. Privilege was not granted on the basis of sect alone, but on one’s proximity to the power core—both geographically and personally.

This imbalance created growing resentment, not just among urban Sunnis but even among marginalized Alawite communities who felt betrayed by a system that bore their name but delivered no benefits.

The Final Years: Bashar’s Inheritance and Ruin

When Hafiz al-Assad died in 2000, his son Bashar—a British-educated ophthalmologist—was hastily installed as Syria’s president. Hopes for reform quickly evaporated. Bashar’s reign saw a doubling down on authoritarianism, culminating in a brutal crackdown on peaceful protests in 2011. What followed was a catastrophic civil war that fractured Syria into fiefdoms and killed over 500,000 people.

The war exposed the hollowness of the Ba’thist state. Military power was no longer sufficient to maintain legitimacy. Iran and Russia stepped in to preserve Assad’s grip, but at the cost of Syria’s sovereignty.

The End of the Asad Era

By late 2024, Assad’s isolation was complete. With dwindling Russian support, growing international sanctions, and internal dissent, the regime finally collapsed on December 8. What comes next remains uncertain, but Syrians have a rare opportunity to rebuild their nation from the ashes of dictatorship.

The fall of the Assad regime is more than a political event—it is the closing chapter of a failed 61-year experiment in authoritarian Arab nationalism, sectarian favoritism, and personal rule. The lesson is clear: regimes that prioritize power over people will eventually crumble, no matter how long they hold on.