25-07-2025
Call It What It Is—Pogroms and Attempts at Ethno-Religious Cleansing of the Druze in Syria
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"We heard gunfire outside; we heard them calling out all the Druze. The neighbors. They killed them. We heard it," Angela—a pseudonym to protect her identity—told me over the phone.
Angela recently described what happened to her family in Suwayda, southern Syria. They lived in what's called a Byut Arabi—a stately house with a courtyard. Her family and her uncle's family had gathered in one room.
"Then they came to us. They said they wouldn't hurt anyone. They demanded all the money and gold. With weapons pointed at us, they told the women and girls to go upstairs."
Her voice trembled. They killed all the women and girls. Angela was shot in the leg and fell. She lay among the corpses, and didn't move a muscle—her relatives' blood pooling over her.
"I lay there for hours; I lost track of time. Some were screaming on the street. They said they were Druze and had come to help."
Women mourners from the Druze minority attend a funeral on April 17, 2025, in Suwayda, Syria.
Women mourners from the Druze minority attend a funeral on April 17, 2025, in Suwayda, didn't know if the murderers were returning. She heard a familiar voice, went downstairs. There lay the rest of her family—the men and boys.
As I scroll through social media, many human rights groups, lawmakers, influencers, and celebrities are silent about what's happening in Syria.
The Druze, a religious minority comprising about 3 percent of Syria's population, are facing systematic persecution in Suwayda. Today, some 30,000 Druze and Christians are besieged—without water, electricity, food, or medicine.
I received a link to a Swedish news article. Druze in Sweden have begun speaking to the press about threats against them. I messaged Sarah Al Reem, a Swedish Druze activist whose two brothers have been killed in Syria.
"We must be brave, even though we're threatened. How could we live with ourselves if we stayed silent? What would we tell our children in the future—that we did nothing?" Al Reem said.
Outside Sweden's Parliament in Stockholm on July 22, the Druze held a spontaneous demonstration. Every person I met told me about murdered or kidnapped relatives. One of the demonstrators showed me videos of relatives—birthdays, weddings—and then newly recorded horror.
"I've lost 27 family members. Please, look at this," he said. His words drowned in tears.
Another man showed me videos of kidnapped Druze women being used as trophies—four were his relatives. Demonstrators, Druze, Alawites, Sunnis, and Christians embraced, crying. Several demonstrators said they cannot eat or sleep.
The propaganda machine claims this is a dispute between the Druze and Bedouins, neighbors for centuries. The Syrian regime allegedly intervened to protect Bedouins from Druze violence.
But the timeline tells another story. Hatred, threats, and murders of the Druze began in December 2024. In April, earlier this year, 13 people were killed in clashes in Damascus.
I recently spoke with a colleague from my organization, the human rights advocacy group ADFA. We've gathered information daily since July 10. She said things are starting to shift—major media outlets like the BBC are now reporting from the hospital in Suwayda where patients, staff, doctors, and cleaners were brutally murdered.
When we first received reports about the hospital massacre, we hoped survivors' minds had imagined it—trauma playing tricks. We thought the same about the pastor and his 11 family members who were slaughtered. When we saw the video of the American killed on camera with his relatives, we hoped it was fake.
We are aware of brutality shown by the Druze against Bedouins. That, too, is horrific. We understand the geopolitical game. The U.S., Israel, Saudi Arabia, Iran, Russia, and Turkey all have stakes in what's happening in Syria. But most Syrians—regardless of religion or ethnicity—just want peace and to live as neighbors. These outside interests make that nearly impossible.
That's why we need more accuracy and responsibility from those who report—from journalists, analysts, and influencers. Those who claim to champion human rights should speak up for Syria's vulnerable indigenous communities.
What some news outlets call "clashes" or "conflicts between groups" should be labeled what they are: the Druze pogroms and attempts at ethno-religious cleansing. This follows a pattern of attacks against Syria's indigenous peoples—like the massacre of Alawites in March and the suicide bombing that killed Christians in a Damascus church last month—all crimes against humanity.
We are seeing some progress. In the United States, a resolution has been introduced to block lifting sanctions on Syria unless the interim government can end the violence against indigenous minorities. A similar resolution passed the European Parliament. In Germany, a political party, Die Linke, organized a press conference urging their government to investigate the massacres in Suwayda.
We can only hope the words of lawmakers do not remain as only ink on paper—but lead to concrete action.
As Al Reem said, how can we tell our children that we watched horrors unfold in Syria and didn't do anything to help?
Nuri Kino is an independent investigative multi-award-winning reporter and minority rights expert.
The views expressed in this article are the writer's own.
