What Israel Owes the Druze

Sarah N. Stern

Looking out over the Druze military cemetery in Shefa-Amr, Israel, an Arab city in northern Israel, one sees row after row of graves — each a silent testament to extraordinary courage. Buried there are brave soldiers who did not hesitate for a moment to make the ultimate sacrifice for the state of Israel.

The Druze community, a small but fiercely loyal religious minority in Israel, has stood shoulder to shoulder with Jewish Israelis in defending the modern-day nation since its founding in 1948. Though they represent a little more than 1% of Israel’s population, Druze men have proudly served in the Israel Defense Forces in disproportionately high numbers. Many have risen to positions of command. Far too many have fallen in battle.

What makes this loyalty so remarkable is that the Druze are Arab, not Jewish. They are an ethnoreligious group with their own unique faith (a secretive offshoot of Islam), and their own language and culture. They have no historical claim to Zionism, nor any requirement to serve in the Israeli military. Yet by choice and conviction, they have thrown their lot in with the Jewish state.

This alliance is not merely symbolic. It is written in blood.

One cannot forget the heroism of soldiers like Col. Kamal Kheir a-Din, who served with distinction in elite combat units and whose funeral drew thousands of mourners from all sectors of Israeli society. Or border police officer Amir Khoury, a Christian Arab who died while stopping a terror attack in Bnei Brak in 2022. Though not Druze, his sacrifice mirrors the shared sense of duty found among Israel’s loyal minorities.

Today, as Israel faces threats on multiple fronts — from Hezbollah in the north, Hamas in the south, the Houthis in Yemen, and Iranian proxies embedded across the region — the contribution of the Druze community has become even more critical. During the ongoing war on multiple fronts, Druze soldiers have continued to serve, and the community has once again borne tragic losses.

The feeling of blood brotherhood of the Israeli Druze to their brethren in Sweida is almost palpable. What began as an ethnic dispute between Bedouin tribes in the Druze-dominated center has resulted in more than 1,100 fatalities. Women were taken hostage and raped. Babies were slaughtered, dropped into vats of boiling water. Men were humiliated, having had their mustaches — a sign of honor among Druze men — shaven off. Many were abused and murdered. Some 1,000 Israeli Druze crossed the border into Syria to assist their Druze brothers.

This was their Oct. 7. Their loyalty is not born of compulsion, but of a deep, mutual sense of destiny woven over decades of shared struggle. In villages nestled among the hills of the Galilee and the slopes of Mount Carmel, Druze families raise children with the expectation of service — not only to their own people but to the country as a whole. Tales of bravery and solidarity are passed down from generation to generation, forming the backbone of an Israeli identity that transcends faith or ancestry.

The relationship between the Druze and the state of Israel, however, is not without its tensions. The pride felt in military uniforms is sometimes shadowed by frustration as promises of equality remain somewhat unfulfilled and recognition lags behind sacrifice. The Druze know the price of loyalty and pay it willingly, but their commitment demands a reciprocal respect — a covenant that goes beyond ceremony and commemoration.

In 2018, the passage of the controversial Nation-State Law, which defines Israel as the national homeland of the Jewish people, sparked deep hurt and feelings of marginalization among Druze Israelis. They felt, understandably, that a nation they had fought and died for was telling them they would never be truly equal.

To be clear: Israel is, and must remain, the national home of the Jewish people. But it can and must also be a state that honors and uplifts those who defend it, regardless of religion or ethnicity. That is not only a moral imperative; it is a matter of national unity and survival.

Former Israeli President Reuven Rivlin once described Israel as a “shared home” for four tribes: secular Jews, religious Jews, ultra-Orthodox Jews and Arabs. The Druze, he has always said, are the glue — binding together the complex mosaic of Israeli society with their service, loyalty and quiet dignity.

Israel owes the Druze more than gratitude. It owes them policies that reflect their contribution: equal funding for Druze municipalities; expanded access to quality education; full recognition of their villages and land rights; and a greater role in national decision-making.

To walk through the rows of graves in Shefa-Amr is to walk among heroes. Their sacrifice demands not only remembrance but justice. Israel has many allies, but few as devoted, brave and steadfast as the Druze. We must honor that loyalty — not just in words, but in deeds.

Sarah N. Stern is the founder and president of the Endowment for Middle East Truth (EMET), a think tank that specializes in the Middle East.