At his home in Buqa'ata in the Golan Heights, Anan Amasha was furious when he watched the news and realized that Hamas was continuing to trick us with the prisoner deal. "It infuriates me that they dictate the whole thing. The scum of man, the terrorists who murdered our children," he said as he briefly averted his eyes from the screen.
The Druze in the Golan Heights. "The Israelis give the world technology and knowledge, and what does the Palestinian give? Death", Photo: Moshe Shai
"A few days ago I wrote on Facebook, 'Let them all be brought back.' Every morning I try to pick myself up again and hope they will return, but not before we destroy the Nazi threat of Hamas and Hezbollah. Every Israeli citizen must live quietly. Together we will rise up and win and show the world that we are one great power."
A young Israeli generation at the foot of Mount Hermon
You have probably heard similar statements in recent weeks, also from the Druze members of Amasha's community. But unlike fighters who live in the Galilee and Carmel, he comes from the northern Golan Heights, which for years refused to identify with the state and continued to dream of the Syrian homeland, which they left after the Six-Day War. Amasha symbolizes a growing trend in the area at the foot of Mount Hermon – and represents a young generation that feels like an Israeli citizen.
"In recent years, there has been a significant change here," admits Amasha, a Hebrew teacher at a high school in Buqa'ata. "Today, about 50 percent of the residents of the Golan Heights have a blue ID card, an Israeli passport and Israeli citizenship. If you go house-to-house, everyone will say, 'We love Israel and are loyal to the country,' but it's still hard for some to talk about it publicly. They ask, 'Aren't you afraid of the extremists who will see that you're an Israeli patriot?' – and I say no. And this will only continue to change in the younger generation that wants to be part of the country. I hope that when my child grows up, he will be able to represent the country wherever he wants."
Your community lost many fighters in battle.
"There is talk of a Basic Law: The Druze Community, which will grant the community a special status. Everyone knows that we have a special class, patriots who defend the homeland with their own blood and the blood of their sons, the first on the front. I saw the story of Salman Habka z"l and choked on tears. This is today's Israeli Druze."
The change in Buqa'ata, which lies between Mount Hermonit and Mount Verde, can already be seen at the head of the local council, Abbas Abu Awad. For years, Druze communities in the Golan refrained from participating in local council elections so as not to participate in the Israeli establishment. In the elections held five years ago, several candidates ran. Due to social and religious pressures, most of them quit, except for Abu Awad, who was declared head of the council. Four years ago, when the communities near the Gaza Strip were shelled, he sent letters to the President and Prime Minister offering to host 40 families in his community.
"I don't ignore the fact that half of my family lives in Syria, but we live here and must build our future only here," Abu Awad says.
Lovingly hosting the soldiers
Since the beginning of the war, quite a few forces have poured into Buqa'ata to secure the area close to both the Syrian and Lebanese borders. The head of the council said that people went out of their way to host the soldiers. "They took care of their food, washed their clothes, brought mattresses," he says. "Someone came with 500 kilograms of apples and put a container next to the residence. Another came and made them knafeh on the spot. There are bed and breakfasts and a motel that gave the soldiers to stay with them for free. They found a listening ear in us."
Signs of the Period: Druze Preparedness Squad
Another new phenomenon in Druze communities is an alert squad - a squad that operates as a military unit with a personal number and uniforms. "It's an alert squad made up of 15 soldiers from the community, who trained with long weapons and guard us 24/7. This is a precedent that says the perception has changed," explains the head of the council. "The religious-social boycott that used to almost evaporate. There are a few who still voice their opinions. We respect them, but they can no longer influence the rest."
Golan Heights. The Druze are "patriots who defend the homeland with their own blood and the blood of their sons," Photo: Moshe Shai
Druze in the Golan Heights. "We live here and must build our future only here," Photo: Moshe Shai
Amasha says there are many Druze today who think like him, but are afraid to express their opinions. In Majdal Shams, we met Ranem Kahloni, 67. "This war is not good for both peoples, neither Israelis nor Palestinians," he said diplomatically. "It takes us back 40 years. We haven't been working for a month and a half. War is killing people and the economy, it doesn't do the math."
Amer Abu Saleh, a clothing importer and amateur photographer from Majdal Shams, represents the conflict of the Druze in the Golan. He said that the day before he went out to photograph birds, which he loves so much. In order to get close to them, he wore the camouflage clothes he had in his car, but the army warned him that the next time he came to the area like this, he might pay with his life.
"My wife and I argue all the time," Abu Saleh says. "She's Israeli in every respect, while I'm still in conflict over whether to be Israeli or not. There is no third option. I am neither Syrian nor Palestinian, I have no nationality. I am against anyone who kills another no matter who they are. In general, I am with those who protect me. So if you compare the Israeli and the Palestinian, the Israeli is constantly giving the world technology and knowledge. And what did the Palestinians give? Death. We sanctify life, and they sanctify death."
"People are issuing gun licenses"
The Golan Heights is a place that the Israeli tourist loves, certainly during the winter months when Mount Hermon wears white and the ski season begins, but the locals know that this year will be difficult. "I'm 50 years old and I can't remember a time like this, even during Corona it was easier," says Khaled Shaher, owner of the restaurant's Al Sultan restaurant. "There is no movement, but I leave open just in case. It's hard for us, but we won't starve."
"The token has fallen for us, only God and Israel will protect us." The Druze in northern Israel, photo: Moshe Shai
In the streets of the northern highlands, you can see more and more Israeli flags, alongside those of the Druze community. These express a feeling of shared destiny, not of temporary guests who will soon leave. "I feel a kind of fear in the eyes of my students," admits Amasha of Buqa'ata. "This is the first time they are afraid that, God forbid, we will have terrorist infiltration. People in the community started issuing gun licenses to protect themselves. So I speak to the hearts of the students and explain that we are returning to normal, stronger than ever and nothing will break us. From this disaster we will rise up and continue, because this is our way."
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