Golan Druze Live in ‘Syria’—and in Denial

MASAADE, Golan Heights – Though you didn’t cross a border or get your passport stamped, many people in this Druze village on the northern Golan Heights will insist you are in Syria, not Israel.

It takes awhile to get into their thinking, but the answers are simple: Why do you not take Israeli citizenship? Because we’re Syrian. Why do you not serve in the Israeli army or permit anyone from your community to do so? Because we’re Syrian. Why are the Druze in the Haifa area pro-Israel and you are opposed to the state? Because they are Israeli; we are Syrian.

The Druze, a tight-knit religious sect based on a form of Islam, populate many Middle Eastern countries and are loyal to the nation in which they live. The community is usually closed but friendly and the men fight on behalf of their nation. It gets a little confusing in Israel though. In such a young state, borders are not what they used to be; and the Golan was in Syrian hands until 1967 when Israel seized the strategic plateau in the Six Day War. Syria failed to regain control of the Golan during the Yom Kippur War in 1973.

Israel and Syria have no diplomatic relations, but instead a tenuous quiet on the border interrupted by occasional threats and military buildups, and now talks of trading the Golan for peace. Unlike with Jordan and Egypt, with whom Israel has peace treaties, Israelis and anyone with an Israeli stamp on his passport are prohibited from traveling to Syria.

Many Druze in the northern Golan were born in Syria, held Syrian passports and all of them have family on the other side of the border. The culture is extremely land-oriented, however, and therefore the questions get confusing.

“All of the air of the Golan Heights is Syria,” said Ghassan Sabra, who owns a shop in the town. “The residents of the Golan Heights are Syrian. That’s it. Maybe during the day you can be confused, but at night you remember where you live.”

Sabra, who moved with his family from Syria to present-day Israel when he was one, said he doesn’t encourage his five children to integrate into Israeli society because they don’t actually live in Israel—so they don’t need to.

These sentiments run wide in the community, enforced through religious rulings prohibiting taking Israeli citizenship and joining the army, the latter an offense punishable by death. Integration is not only unnecessary, but also amounts to treason. 

Israelis in the area are concerned about giving back the Golan, but the majority of the Druze look forward to the possibility and even expect it. 

“It is 1,000 percent certain that Syria will return,” Sabra said.

Despite their dislike of the Israeli government, the Druze here are friendly with Israelis and have no animosity toward anyone who visits their villages. Druze and Israelis attend each other’s weddings and funerals, play soccer and work together. There is no intermarriage but there is peace.

Peace on a wider scale, between Israel and Syria, is also expected one day. Sabra said he wants to travel freely between Damascus and Haifa. He insists Syria wants peace as much as Israel.

Hassan Jawad Batheesh, an imam and elder in the community, was more pragmatic. 

“Masaade is my homeland,” he said. Life was good under Syria, Batheesh insisted, and it is fine now under Israel, but, “As an Arab I would like Syria to come back to govern the Golan Heights.” 

And if there’s no peace between Syria and Israel? 

“That’s not my problem,” he said.