Why Did Iran Target the Tanf US Base in Syria?

Members of Syrian opposition factions at the al-Tanf base. (Maghaweir al-Thowra)
Members of Syrian opposition factions at the al-Tanf base. (Maghaweir al-Thowra)
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Why Did Iran Target the Tanf US Base in Syria?

Members of Syrian opposition factions at the al-Tanf base. (Maghaweir al-Thowra)
Members of Syrian opposition factions at the al-Tanf base. (Maghaweir al-Thowra)

Israel struck an “Iranian position” near a Russian base in western Syria. Drones, believed to be Iranian, retaliated by attacking an area close to the al-Tanf US base in eastern Syria without any Russia objection.

The developments, which took place hours from each other, are another example of the complex scene between regional and international parties in Syria and the impact of the war on Ukraine.

To decode these strikes and interventions one must go a few years back.

The United States decided to set up a base on the Syrian-Iraqi-Jordanian border. Its declared purpose was to provide direct support to Syrian opposition factions in their fight against the ISIS terror group.

The other reason was geopolitical: Capturing the al-Tanf, a main gateway in the land route that connects Tehran to Baghdad, then Damascus and that ends in Beirut.

Indeed, Washington has over the years fortified this base with a rocket system, ammunition, and training to Syrian factions, including the Maghaweir al-Thowra, but not Damascus’ forces.

This fortress of a base also has another purpose: Providing intelligence support to Israeli jets in their attacks against “Iranian targets” in implementation of Tel Aviv’s vow to prevent Iran from crossing “red lines” in Syria, namely preventing it from setting up drone and long-range ballistic missile factories and preventing weapons and rockets from being smuggled to Hezbollah in neighboring Lebanon.

The al-Tanf base has also provided military support to Jordan in cracking down on drug and arms smuggling networks in southeastern Syria.

How has Iran responded?

It saw how the international anti-ISIS coalition, led by the US, expanded its control over the regions east of the Euphrates River. It witnessed how it set up military bases along the Iraqi-Syrian border. So, slain commander of the Iranian Revolutionary Guards’ Quds Force Qassem Soleimani waged battles to expel ISIS from Syria’s Deir Ezzor province.

But more importantly, Iran established an alternate route, which passes through Alboukamal north towards the Syrian-Iraqi-Turkish border.

As Washington, Moscow, Amman and Tel Aviv intensified their efforts to keep Iran out of southern Syria, Soleimani shifted his attention towards expanding Iran’s military influence in Alboukamal and Deir Ezzor. He recruited militants, established rocket factories, deployed launchpads and set up underground arms caches.

Soleimani was killed in a US drone strike near Baghdad airport in January 2020.

Seeing Iran’s expansion, Israel and the US intensified their raids, including the “mysterious” ones, against “Iranian positions” in the Deir Ezzor countryside to prevent Tehran’s military entrenchment. Reports emerged of how Syria and Iraq became connected in terms of raids and retaliatory attacks being carried out. Washington and Tehran’s allies traded attacks along the sides of the Euphrates.

How did Iran respond?

It is now shut out of southern Syria by raids and settlements and its land routes through both al-Tanf and Alboukamal are effectively blocked. So, it shifted its focus towards the Mediterranean. Tehran was already vying for influence there against Russia.

Syria’s Tartus and Latakia ports have been claimed by Moscow. Tehran attempted to seize Latakia port, but that led to intensified Israeli strikes that almost led to a crisis between Tel Aviv and Moscow. Russia took advantage of Israel’s pressure on Iran and claimed the port to itself.

The latest developments in the “shadow war” between Israel and Iran in Syria is the intensification of Tehran’s arms supplies to Hezbollah and Tel Aviv’s strikes on the Tartus countryside where the Russian Hmeimim base is located.

Evidently, Israel wants to cut a new supply route, but this also reflects rising tensions between Tel Aviv and Moscow.

Israeli Prime Minister Yair Lapid angered Russian President Vladimi Putin when he described Moscow’s actions in Ukraine as “war crimes”. Israel is also upset with Russia over its efforts to shut the Jewish Agency that promotes emigration to Israel.

As for Syria, it is an arena for settling scores.

Condemnation was expressed when Russia operated an anti-aircraft missile system to target Israeli jets and when Tel Aviv targeted “Iranian positions” near Hmeimim.

Russia, however, did not object to the Iranian “drones” that targeted the al-Tanf base. How could it when it struck a deal with Iran to purchase its drones to use them against US allies in Ukraine? This is just another example of how the complex scene in Syria is impacted by Russia’s war on Ukraine.



Sweida’s Druze, Bedouin Tribes Locked in Historic Grievances

Druze woman from Israeli-Occupied Golan gazes toward Syria (Reuters)
Druze woman from Israeli-Occupied Golan gazes toward Syria (Reuters)
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Sweida’s Druze, Bedouin Tribes Locked in Historic Grievances

Druze woman from Israeli-Occupied Golan gazes toward Syria (Reuters)
Druze woman from Israeli-Occupied Golan gazes toward Syria (Reuters)

Sweida, a province in southern Syria, is teetering on the brink after days of deadly violence and clashes between local communities and government security forces, an unrest that signals deeper turmoil across the war-battered country.

The latest flare-up has laid bare tensions that go beyond the provincial borders, raising concerns about the future of coexistence and civil peace in a region long known for its rich tapestry of religious, social, and cultural diversity.

While the Syrian government in Damascus seeks to reassert control over all of its territory, local groups are renewing calls for greater recognition of their rights and “distinct identity.” The result is a fragile and combustible equation in a strategically vital region.

Sweida has long been a flashpoint, shaped by decades of uneasy relations between Druze communities and neighboring Bedouin tribes. That legacy of mistrust now intersects with a crumbling economy, a lack of essential services, the rise of armed factions, and a newly entrenched central authority in Damascus, factors that together threaten to turn the province into a flashpoint for wider instability.

Competing narratives have further muddied the waters, with each side offering starkly different versions of recent events, accounts that are often shaped not just by what happened in the past few days, but by long-standing grievances and buried animosities. The deepening rift and absence of trust among local communities highlight just how far Syria remains from reconciliation.

As pressure builds, observers warn that without a sustainable political solution that acknowledges local demands while maintaining national cohesion, Sweida may be a harbinger of further unrest in Syria’s uncertain future.

Power Struggles and Fractured Alliances

In Syria’s Sweida, power is fragmented among a complex web of religious authorities, influential families, and rival armed factions, a fractured landscape that reflects the broader divisions tearing at the country.

Local leadership is split between traditional Druze clerical authorities and prominent families, each with their own loyalties and varying degrees of influence on the ground. Political rivalries run deep, and military factions are equally divided, some aligning with the government in Damascus, while others openly challenge it.

Among the most prominent pro-government groups is the “Madafat al-Karama” faction led by Laith al-Balous, son of the late Druze leader Sheikh Wahid al-Balous. He is seen as a key ally of Damascus, alongside Suleiman Abdel-Baqi, commander of the “Ahrar Jabal al-Arab” group.

On the opposing side are factions such as the “Military Council in Sweida” and “Liwa al-Jabal” (Mountain Brigade), which collectively field around 3,000 fighters. These groups are seen as aligned with the views of influential Druze spiritual leader Sheikh Hikmat al-Hijri, who has been increasingly critical of the central government.

A newer alliance has also emerged under the banner of “Counter-Terrorism Forces” or the “Syrian Brigade Party,” bringing together factions such as “Dir’ al-Tawhid,” “Forces of Al-Ulya,” “Sheikh al-Karama,” “Saraya al-Jabal,” and “Jaysh al-Muwahideen.” This coalition formally severed ties with Damascus following Sheikh Hijri’s speech on July 15, in which he rejected the government’s announcement of a ceasefire agreement with local notables.

Also active in the province is the “Men of Dignity Movement,” a relatively large faction led by Abu Hassan Yehya al-Hajjar. Though not officially aligned with the new coalition, the group is also staunchly opposed to the Syrian government.

The growing number of factions and rival power centers has deepened instability in Sweida.

Bedouin Tribes in Sweida Say They Are Marginalized, Blamed and Forgotten

Even after government forces withdrew and a fragile ceasefire took hold in Sweida, clashes reignited, this time between Druze residents and Bedouin tribes, underscoring the deep and historical grievances simmering beneath the surface of the country’s sectarian fault lines.

The Bedouin, who see themselves as long-marginalized stakeholders in the region, say they have been caught in the crossfire - blamed for violence they did not initiate and excluded from political life and public services.

“We are the perpetual scapegoats,” said Mohammad Abu Thulaith, a lawyer and member of the Sweida Tribal Council. A descendant of one of the Bedouin tribes long at odds with the Druze population, he told Asharq Al-Awsat that “Bedouins are the weakest link in the local power struggle.”

The sense of injustice voiced by Abu Thulaith runs deep and is rooted in historical narratives. According to his account, the Druze - who migrated to the Jabal al-Arab area around two centuries ago - gradually expanded their influence, curbing the pastoral livelihoods of the Bedouin, particularly livestock herding. This, he said, led to the forced migration of nearly half of the Bedouin tribes from the mountain region toward Jordan, rural Damascus, and Daraa.

He cited the example of Saad Hayel al-Surour, a former speaker of the Jordanian parliament, who remains a Syrian citizen to this day. His father, Hayel al-Surour, once headed the Syrian parliament before the 1958 union between Syria and Egypt.

Many in the Bedouin community consider themselves the original inhabitants of the land, victims of what they describe as “a prolonged injustice” that denied them citizenship rights, political representation, and even basic services.

Abu Thulaith argues that the source of current tensions must be addressed at its roots. “We are blamed because the other side does not dare confront the real actors behind the violence,” he said, referring to armed groups operating in the area.

He called on the Druze tribal leadership - often referred to as “the people of the mountain” - to assume responsibility for protecting the Bedouin community and ending decades of exclusion. “We’ve suffered from a double injustice,” he said. “One at the hands of the Assad regime and Baathist rule, and the other from our neighbors. We have no access to employment, no political representation, and we’re deprived of the most basic public services.”

Despite the mounting frustration, Abu Thulaith insists that the Bedouin do not seek confrontation. “We don’t have the means to fight,” he said. “All we want is to live in peace with our neighbors. No one can erase the other. Since the fall of the former regime, tribal communities have hoped the state would step in to offer protection and ensure the most basic rights.”

As tensions in Sweida continue to spiral, voices like Abu Thulaith’s are demanding a deeper national conversation about identity, land, and the future of Jabal al-Arab - one that addresses long-neglected wounds before they erupt into further conflict.

Druze Grapple with a Perpetual Identity Crisis

For Syria’s Druze minority, identity is not just a question of culture or belief, it is a matter of survival. That fear of erasure has long shaped their political instincts, social structures, and geographic presence in the country.

“The Druze, like many minorities, live with a constant sense of threat,” said Khaldoun Al-Nabbouani, a professor of political philosophy at the University of Paris and a native of Sweida. “This persistent anxiety drives them to close ranks around their identity in a collective effort of self-preservation.”

Speaking to Asharq Al-Awsat, Al-Nabbouani explained that the community’s inward turn is not only symbolic or cultural - it also manifests demographically. “Just as the Alawites are concentrated in the coastal mountains, the Druze have built their stronghold in Jabal al-Arab. It reflects a broader pattern among minorities to cluster in specific regions where they can reinforce their social cohesion and safeguard a perpetually anxious identity.”

That reflex dates back centuries. The very formation of the Druze sect, he said, was a political and cultural rebellion against traditional Islam. “Since its inception, the community has developed a deep need for internal solidarity and social insulation,” he said. “Even today, that’s visible in things like marriage practices - interfaith unions remain extremely rare.”

This insularity, he noted, extends to the political realm. The community has historically resisted the appointment of governors or officials from outside the Druze fold, a trend dating back to the 1930s and continuing into recent decades. One of the more controversial examples was the appointment of a non-Druze governor under the government of Ahmad Al-Sharaa, which sparked uproar, resignation, and a political standoff before the governor ultimately returned.

Tensions between the Druze and the central government are nothing new. Under President Adib Shishakli in the early 1950s, relations with Damascus deteriorated sharply. Shishakli accused the Druze of plotting against the state and in 1954 ordered artillery strikes on Jabal al-Arab, an assault that killed civilians, displaced families, and left deep scars that still echo in local memory.

When the Baath Party seized power in 1963, Damascus shifted tactics, pursuing what Al-Nabbouani described as a policy of “soft containment.” Symbolic appointments of Druze figures to government positions were coupled with tight security oversight in Sweida, a strategy aimed at managing rather than integrating the province.

As new waves of unrest ripple through southern Syria, the Druze community once again finds itself wrestling with existential questions caught between historical trauma, present instability, and an uncertain future.