Reporting from the Golan Heights, on the day Assad was overthrown

The small hill of Tel Saki was littered on Sunday with the debris of previous wars. A tank is perched near the hilltop, and there are concrete steps and entrances to an old Israeli bunker. This was the site of a difficult battle during the Yom Kippur War in 1973.

Yesterday, it was quiet, yet the fort stands overlooking the Syrian border, witness to momentous events. On Sunday, the Assad regime fell from power, while across the border from Tel Saki, sporadic gunfire could be heard – Syrians shooting in the air in celebration.

On Saturday night, this area saw dramatic developments: an attack on a UN post and growing concerns that the rapid changes in Syria may spill over into a threat against Israel.

Syrian rebel groups took control of areas across from Israel in the Golan, while Israel’s other enemies await there: Iranian-backed militias and Hezbollah.

In the past, before the Syrian regime’s return to the Golan border, ISIS members were present in an area of Syria near the southern Golan. As I stood on Tel Saki surveying the Syrian villages, I reflected on how it was these villages that an ISIS affiliate once occupied before 2018.

The question of Syria’s future currently remains unknown. An optimistic scenario could see the Syrian government become more inclusive, with rebel groups transforming the country into something new and better.

Some of the rebel groups in the south once had amicable ties with Israel, while Jerusalem provided humanitarian support during the Syrian Civil War. However, it is unclear what kind of relationship would be possible today.

I drove up to the border along Highway 98, which runs along the Syrian border. Across open ground and old anti-tank ditches from the 1970s, there lies a fence and some UN posts, and beyond that, the Syrian side of the Golan.

The buffer zone that separates Israel from Syria is restricted by two lines on a map – the Bravo line, where the Syrian regime once held power, and the Alpha line, where Israeli forces are present. Looking out at this flat landscape, one couldn’t tell where the lines were.

Far in the distance, a mosque in a Syrian village is visible, and somewhere in the middle is the buffer zone. Except for distant gunfire, it is quiet.

Remnants of the regime

Further north, the buffer zone widens, and into view comes a deserted town, Quneitra, an area that was once home to a diverse population of Circassians and Christians; the old church and a few other buildings can be seen, along with a large old Syrian hospital complex.

Far in the distance, the hazy Sunday morning revealed a small border post with the Syrian flag, still flying, alongside a UN compound. A sign on the road warns people not to make the mistake of driving down to the border – “Official vehicles only.” Further along the border, the signs get progressively sharper: “Mortal danger.”

The buffer zone is about 401 sq.km. long in total, with around 72 km. along the Golan border; posts of the United Nations Disengagement Observer Force (UNDOF) sit in positions along the border.

On Sunday, the sun, somewhat obscured, rose over the Jordan Valley at around 6:30 a.m. The border was still quiet at the time, but Israel was already rapidly making situational assessments about what might happen.

The IDF said on Sunday that it deployed forces in the buffer zone in several spots; it was not clear, driving along the border, where exactly these places were.

What was clear was that in contrast to concerns raised over the past days about potential clashes, Sunday appeared quiet.

Yet, the IDF said that “in accordance with the situational assessment in the Northern Command, it was determined that schools will carry out educational activity online in four Druze communities in the northern Golan Heights (Buq’ata, Ein Qiniye, Mas’ade, and Majdal Shams).

Kindergartens will continue educational activity as usual. Educational activity in the rest of the Golan Heights remains unchanged.”

From up close, this is how it felt on the ground. In Majdal Shams, people went about their daily lives. Near Elrom, one of the Jewish communities close to the border, the wind turbines that now dot the Golan continued to slowly turn.

At an observation post near Quneitra, some people gathered to see if the Syrian regime flag would be removed by Syrian rebels – from the border post. It wasn’t, and it seemed, from that vantage point, that the Syrians did not intend to approach the border.

MANY FOLKS here recall the changing dynamics of this particular border. During the civil war that began in 2011, there were periods of intense fighting between Syrian rebels and the regime. Residents were threatened by errant mortar shells that flew over the border.

At night, explosions could be heard, along with bombings and artillery. After 2018, the Syrian regime returned to the border and removed the ISIS affiliate group that took power here, thanks to Russia’s help. All seemed quiet, but Israel had to be vigilant to remove threats from Iranian-backed militias.

The road from the Syrian Golan now stretched, via Damascus, to Palmyra in the Syrian desert, and then down the Euphrates River to Iraq. From there, it reached Iran, allowing for weapons to flow to Hezbollah, an easy route to threaten Israel.

Residents got used to the Iranian threat, just like they got used to having Syrian rebels and even ISIS on the border, so close to their homes. They moved on.

But, by 2023, the reality shifted with October 7 and the ensuing Israel-Hamas War. Now, threats emerged from Hezbollah, including nonstop drone and rocket attacks. Twelve teens and children were killed in Majdal Shams.The security teams of the communities trained and prepared for possible attacks by Iranian-backed militias.

Then, on Saturday, the Syrian regime disappeared, and, seemingly, with it, the Iranian threat. Residents remain wary and concerned about the future, though; will chaos lead to more threats, or will the border return to quiet?

These are concerns that the IDF says it is taking seriously. Israel has lived with the Assad regime since the 1970s; it is an enemy that Jerusalem knows. It was Bashar Assad’s father, Hafez Assad, who sent tanks to attack Tel Saki and overwhelm Israel’s defenses in the southern Golan.

Today, the whole Golan is festooned with old tanks and armored vehicles from the Yom Kippur War. Famous battles such as the Valley of Tears and a site dedicated to the 188th Armored Brigade are also found on the rolling hills, a reminder that the Assad regime once threatened this area with legions of tanks and infantry; even the Iraqis tried to send forces here to help the Syrians in 1973.

Now, Iraq and Syria are much weaker, and the Assad regime is gone. As I stood there surveying the buffer zone, one man told me he’d lived here for 40 years. Like all of us, he had no idea what might come next.