'I don't know who to trust anymore': Druze worry about being left behind in post-war Syria

In April, sectarian violence claimed the lives of more than 100 people in a suburb south of Damascus. When the gunfire started outside her home in the Damascus suburb of Ashrafiyat Sahnaya, Lama al-Hassanieh grabbed her phone and locked herself in her bathroom.

 She hid in fear for several hours as fighters in desert camouflage and military-style uniforms walked the neighborhood's streets. A military vehicle had a heavy machine gun mounted just below her balcony window. The men were yelling, "Jihad against the Druze" and "We are going to kill you, Druze." The message was clear: she was not safe as a Druze, regardless of who the men were—extremists, government security forces, or someone else entirely. The Druze, a faith that originated as an offshoot of Shia Islam and has its own distinct practices and beliefs, have historically held a precarious position in Syria's political order. During the 13-year civil war in Syria, many Druze remained silently loyal to the state under former President Bashar al-Assad, hoping that joining the state would shield them from sectarian violence. Many Druze took to the streets during the uprising, especially in the latter years.  However, Assad avoided using the same kind of iron first against Druze protesters as he did in other cities that revolted against his rule in an effort to portray himself as defending Syria's minorities against Islamist extremism. While pro-Assad forces left them alone, they ran their own militia, which protected their areas from attacks by Sunni Muslim extremist groups that considered Druze to be heretics. But with Assad toppled by Sunni Islamist-led rebels who have formed the interim government, that unspoken pact has frayed, and Druze are now worried about being isolated and targeted in post-war Syria.

 Recent attacks on Druze communities by Islamist militias loosely affiliated with the government in Damascus have fuelled growing distrust towards the state.

 A woman with shoulder length brown hair and in a white shirt looks to camera with a book case behind her

 Lama was present when Druze were brutally attacked in Ashrafiyat Sahnaya.

 It started in late April with a leaked audio recording that allegedly featured a Druze religious leader insulting the Prophet Muhammad.  The harm had already been done, even though the leader denied that it was his voice and the interior ministry of Syria later confirmed that the recording was fake. A student at the University of Homs in central Syria posted a video that went viral. In it, he called on Muslims to immediately take vengeance on Druze, which sparked sectarian violence in communities all over the country. At least 137 people, including 17 civilians, 89 Druze fighters, and 32 security forces, were killed in several days of fighting in Ashrafiyat Sahnaya, a southern Damascus suburb of Jaramana, and in an ambush on the Suweida-Damascus highway, according to the Syrian Observatory for Human Rights, a UK monitoring group. The Syrian government said the security forces' operation in Ashrafiyat Sahnaya was carried out to restore security and stability, and that it was in response to attacks on its own personnel where 16 of them were killed.

 Lama Zahereddine, a pharmacy student at Damascus University, was just weeks away from completing her degree when the violence reached her village.  Her neighborhood was ripped apart by gunfire, mortar fire, and chaos in what began as distant shelling. Her uncle arrived in a small bus, urging the women and children to flee under fire while the men stayed behind with nothing more than light arms.  "The attackers had heavy machine guns and mortars," Lama recalled.  "Our men had nothing to match that."

 The violence did not stop at her village.  At Lama's university, dorm rooms were stormed and students were beaten with chains.

 In one case, a student was stabbed after simply being asked if he was Druze.

 A young woman in her 20s with long brown hair and wearing a peach top sits on a sofa against a wall

 This university student, also named Lama, says her dorms were stormed and Druze students were beaten

 "They [the instigators] told us we left our universities by choice," she said.  "But how could I stay?  I was five classes and one graduation project away from my degree.  Why would I abandon that if it wasn't serious?"

 Like many Druze, Lama's fear is not just of physical attacks – it is of what she sees as a state that has failed to offer protection.

 "The government says these were unaffiliated outlaws.  Fine.  But when are they going to be held accountable?"  She inquired. Her trust was further shaken by classmates who mocked her plight, including one who replied with a laughing emoji to her post about fleeing her village.

 She said quietly, "You never know how people really see you." "I don't know who to trust anymore."

 Getty Images Three men in military camouflage outfits carrying gun walk one after the other under some trees as several people watch on from the other side of the streetGetty Images

 During the attacks, Druze volunteers were recruited to assist in protecting their community. While no-one is sure who the attackers pledged their allegiance to, one thing is clear: many Druze are worried that Syria is drifting toward an intolerant Sunni-dominated order with little space for religious minorities like themselves.

 "We don't feel safe with these people," Hadi Abou Hassoun told the BBC.

 On the day Lama was hiding in her bathroom, he was one of the Druze men from Suweida called in to protect Ashrafiyat Sahnaya. His convoy was ambushed by armed groups using mortars and drones.  Hadi was shot in the back, piercing his lung and breaking several ribs.

 It's a far cry from the inclusive Syria he had in mind under new leadership.

 "Their ideology is religious, not based on law or the state.  And when someone acts out of religious or sectarian hate, they don't represent us," Hadi said.

 "What represents us is the law and the state.  The law is what protects everyone…I want protection from the law."

 The Syrian government has repeatedly stressed the sovereignty and unity of all Syrian territories and denominations of Syrian society, including the Druze.

 A man in his 40s with a greying beard and short dark hair looks directly at the camera 

 Hadi's lung was pierced by a bullet fired by an armed group that ambushed his volunteer group

 Though clashes and attacks have since subsided, faith in the government's ability to protect minorities has diminished.

 During the days of the fighting, Israel carried out air strikes around the Ashrafiyat Sahnaya, claiming it was targeting "operatives" attacking Druze to protect the minority group.

 It also struck an area near the Syrian presidential palace, saying that it would "not allow the deployment of forces south of Damascus or any threat to the Druze community".  Israel itself has a large number of Druze citizens in the country and living in the Israeli-occupied Syrian Golan Heights.

 Back in Ashrafiyat Sahnaya, Lama al-Hassanieh said the atmosphere had shifted - it was "calmer, but cautious".

 She sees neighbours again, but wariness lingers.

 "Trust has been broken.  There are people in the town now who don't belong, who came during the war.  It's hard to know who's who anymore."

 The public's faith in the government is still low. "They claim that they are working to safeguard all Syrians. But where are the real steps?  "Where is the law?" Lama asked.

 "I don't want to be called a minority.  We are Syrians.  All we ask for is the same rights - and for those who attacked us to be held accountable."