The tranquil hills around Kafr Maris, a Druze village in northern Idlib province, have been shattered by violence once again. On Tuesday evening, October 21, 2025, three members of the small Druze community were killed in an apparently targeted shooting, reigniting fears among a population already battered by years of conflict and sectarian strife. The attack, which took place as the victims were returning from a dentist appointment in a neighboring town, has left the community reeling and searching for answers.
According to the Associated Press, unidentified gunmen on motorcycles opened fire on a van near Kafr Maris, killing two women and a man. No group has claimed responsibility for the attack, fueling speculation and anxiety among the Druze, who have faced increasing threats in recent months. The incident comes on the heels of previous clashes targeting Druze communities elsewhere in Syria and amid rising sectarian tensions and calls by some Druze groups for secession.
At the funeral held the following day, grief mingled with frustration. Rafiq Ahmad, the uncle of the victims, voiced the concerns of many in his community. He explained that the Druze in Idlib have recently faced false accusations of being affiliated with Sheikh Hikmat al-Hijri, a prominent Druze spiritual and political leader from the southern Sweida province. Al-Hijri's affiliated militias have clashed with pro-government forces, and the suspicion has spilled over onto innocent families far from the conflict's epicenter.
"If they had wanted to rob the van they would have made a checkpoint and stopped it to rob it, but they intended to kill and to intimidate and scare the people here and maybe to make them leave this country," Ahmad said at the funeral, as reported by AP. The sense of being deliberately targeted is palpable among the Druze, who now worry not only about their safety but also about their future in a region where they have lived for generations.
Recent incidents of robbery and intimidation have only heightened these fears. Olive farmers in the area are now afraid to tend their orchards, a telling sign of the anxiety gripping the community. Ahmad called on the state to arrest the killers and to establish more checkpoints around Druze villages to ensure their protection.
Local authorities appear to be responding to these concerns. Abdelrahman Ghazal, a local government official, told reporters that authorities are "taking the necessary procedures" to identify and prosecute those responsible for the deadly shooting. He added that more checkpoints and security cameras are being installed in the area. "As we all know, the purpose of this wicked criminal act is to undermine civil peace in the region," Ghazal said, underscoring the attack's broader implications for stability in Idlib.
This is not the first time the Druze community in Idlib has been targeted. During the civil war, the province—home to a Sunni majority and the birthplace of the Islamist insurgent group Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS)—witnessed a 2015 attack by militants from al-Nusra Front, HTS's predecessor. At least 20 Druze villagers were killed, and hundreds were forced to convert to Sunni Islam. Such attacks have left deep scars, and while tensions had calmed in recent years, they have flared up again since the ouster of Syria's longtime autocratic leader, Bashar Assad. Notably, former HTS leader Ahmad al-Sharaa is now serving as Syria's interim president, a dramatic shift in the country's political landscape.
The roots of the current crisis go beyond the recent shooting. In July 2025, armed groups affiliated with Sheikh Hikmat al-Hijri clashed with local Bedouin clans in Sweida province. Government forces intervened, siding with the Bedouins, and the violence spiraled out of control. Hundreds of civilians, mostly Druze, were killed—many at the hands of government fighters. The conflict drew in outside powers as well: Israel, which has a significant Druze minority, launched airstrikes on Syrian government forces in support of the Druze. This intervention further inflamed sectarian tensions, with many Sunnis accusing the Druze of being traitors.
The Druze are a 10th-century offshoot of Shiite Islam and made up about 5 percent of Syria's prewar population of 23 million. Before the 2011 uprising-turned-civil war, Idlib province had around 30,000 Druze spread over several villages. That number is now believed to have dropped by as much as two-thirds, a stark reflection of the insecurity and displacement wrought by years of conflict.
Despite these challenges, the Druze have a history of coexistence with their neighbors. During the worst years of the civil war, Ahmad recounted, "when Syrian and Russian military planes would strike neighboring Sunni villages affiliated with the opposition to Assad, we used to open up our houses and welcome them and their wives and children." This spirit of solidarity, however, is now threatened by a climate of suspicion and violence.
At the funeral, Ahmad expressed a longing for a return to normalcy and peaceful coexistence. "We hope that the state will control these matters so we can all live as family and brothers with no one saying, 'This one is a Muslim, this one is Druze, this one is Shiite, this one is Armenian,'" he said. "Our ancestors have lived here for a long time." His words capture both the resilience of the Druze community and their deep sense of belonging to Syria, despite the mounting pressures to leave.
The sectarian tensions that have gripped Idlib and other parts of Syria are not new, but they have become more acute as power dynamics shift and old alliances break down. The fall of Assad, the rise of new political actors like Ahmad al-Sharaa, and the intervention of foreign powers have all contributed to an environment where minorities like the Druze feel increasingly vulnerable.
Authorities in Idlib are now under pressure to deliver on their promises of security. The installation of checkpoints and cameras is a start, but many in the Druze community remain skeptical. The memory of past atrocities—including the 2015 massacre and forced conversions—looms large. The fear is that without decisive action, the cycle of violence and retribution will continue, pushing more families to abandon their ancestral homes.
As Syria continues to grapple with the aftermath of civil war and ongoing instability, the plight of the Druze in Idlib serves as a stark reminder of the broader challenges facing the country. The hope, expressed so poignantly by Ahmad and echoed by many in the community, is that Syria can once again become a place where people of different religions and ethnicities live together in peace. For now, however, the road to that future looks uncertain, and the wounds of this latest attack are still raw.
