No, she has nothing special with Trump, says Noa Aviad (38). ‘He has done good things for our country, but his name is certainly not the reason we moved here. We were looking for the tranquility, the proximity to nature, and the togetherness of a small community. That this village is named after Donald Trump, well, it just is.”
They’re big, shiny, gold letters that announce you’ve arrived at the settlement of Trump Heights (“Trump Heights”), a small village in the north of Israel — famously the way the former president of the United States likes his name. at a real estate project.
It was a gift from his good friend Benjamin Netanyahu, the former prime minister of Israel, to give this name to a settlement on the Golan Heights: Trump had recognized the area, captured from Syria in 1967 during the Six-Day War and considered occupied by the world, as an “inseparable part of Israel” in 2019. Netanyahu wanted to thank him for that.
Illegal Settlement
It was an empty gesture at the time. According to international law, Trump heights an illegal settlement, and it wasn’t even a new project. In 1991 an attempt had already been made to found a village on this spot, then with the name Beruchim, but hardly anyone wanted to settle there. There were a few old Russian immigrants who had taken the plunge, living in small, dilapidated houses.
But since then, new life has drawn to Ramat Trump, as the village is called in Hebrew. Some twenty families have now settled there, and according to Aviad, life is good. ‘The community is very close,’ she says, as her daughters (5 and 7 years old) play in the garden among the laundry that flutters on a line. There is shade from softly rustling trees, a hammock, and lots of children’s toys. ‘People help each other with small things, such as taking care of the children, and together they organize the big things, such as expanding the village. Because it is pioneering: we have to set up everything ourselves. A school, for example, we’re busy with right now.’
Not everyone understood that Aviad went this way with her family last year, but she herself calls it ‘the best decision ever’. ‘It’s a fantastic place to live. The children have space, and we enjoy the beautiful nature every day.’
Development plan
The Israeli government wants nothing more than for many families to follow Aviad’s example. Many tourists come, but after a short vacation they rush back home. That is why a development plan has been set up this year: 285 million euros will be set aside to establish a number of new settlements, but above all to invest in tourism, technology and sustainable energy projects, so that there will be work for the new inhabitants.
Because that is a problem in this area: there are some jobs in agriculture and in tourism, but otherwise there is nothing to do. A job elsewhere is difficult: it is a two-hour drive before you reach the urban area again. ‘You have to be a bit creative’, Aviad admits with a smile. ‘My husband, for example, is a construction entrepreneur, so we’ll get there.’
Currently, about 53 thousand people live in the Golan Heights, including 27 thousand Jewish settlers. The rest are made up of Arabic-speaking minorities, such as Druze (24 thousand) and Alawites (two thousand). As for former Prime Minister Naftali Bennett, who presented the plan earlier this year, the number of settlers will be “doubled as soon as possible, then doubled again.”
And that while the area actually belongs to Syria. But because of its strategic location (it provides a buffer against possible attacks from Syria), and access to the shores of the Sea of Galilee (Israel depends to a large extent on this area for its water supply), the government does not think twice about to give it back. The international community is exerting little pressure – at most there was a little bit of form spattering when Trump recognized the Golan Heights as part of Israel.
“Development is welcome,” said Abas Abu Awad, the mayor of the Druze village of Buqata. The atmosphere here is completely different from Ramat Trump: lots of traffic in the streets, cluttered shops, old stone houses. Abu Awad believes the investments will benefit not only the settlers but also his own community. ‘We drive on the same roads, and will work for the same companies. The government has invested heavily in this area before, and we have only benefited from that.’
Israeli identity
There used to be a different sound here: in 1981, when Israel formally annexed the Golan Heights, Druze still publicly burned their mandatory Israeli identity cards. The ties with Syria remained strong, as siblings, aunts and uncles, cousins live on the other side of the border, and the wish persisted that they could embrace one another again one day.
But the current war in Syria has changed the situation, and Israel has cleverly jumped on it. “In the past, thousands of young Druze still went to Syria for their studies, but that is over,” says Salman Suleiman Faridi, a friend of the mayor. “They’re going to Tel Aviv and Haifa now.” And while people who chose Israeli nationality used to be considered traitors, that has now become much more normal. “We see how the war is destroying the lives of our relatives,” says Faridi. “Of course it’s not ideal, the situation is complex, but in Israel we can live a good life. Certainly younger Druze, who only know Syria from stories, think: ‘We are better here.’