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Lt. Col. (Res.) Eyal Dror <\/p>\nWhat does it mean when a soldier describes his own life not as a sequence of postings, but as an unbroken continuity between home, border, and operational responsibility? This question sits beneath the account of Eyal Dror, whose introduction does not begin with abstraction but with institutional placement and geographic immediacy. \u201cI\u2019m a lieutenant colonel in reserve,\u201d he states, continuing that he \u201cserved 31 years in the IDF,\u201d and that his last active role was as commander of Operation Good Neighbour on the Syrian border.<\/p>\n
Lt. Col. (Res.) Eyal Dror is a reserve officer whose professional pathway is rooted in more than two decades of service within the Israel Defence Forces, particularly across coordination, liaison, and operational planning structures that operate at the intersection of military authority and civilian administration. During his 24 years of service, he held senior positions in coordination and liaison units, including serving as Head of the Operations Branch within the Coordinator of Government Activities in the Territories (COGAT), a role associated with managing complex civil\u2013military interfaces in highly sensitive environments. Between 2016 and 2018, he established and commanded the \u201cGood Neighbour\u201d Directorate within the IDF Northern Command. This formed part of a broader operation conducted between 2013 and 2018, which was the largest humanitarian initiative in the history of the IDF and one of the largest undertaken by any military. The operation provided assistance to Syrian civilians affected by the civil war, including medical treatment for thousands of children in Israeli hospitals and the delivery of substantial quantities of humanitarian aid, including food and equipment. He describes this effort as having executed approximately 700 humanitarian aid missions along the Israel\u2013Syria border during the Syrian civil war. In his framing, this period involved sustained engagement in delivering medical assistance, logistical support, and cross-border humanitarian coordination in an area influenced by multiple armed actors, including ISIS, Al-Qaeda, and Hezbollah, while simultaneously cultivating \u201ctrust-building relationships in a highly complex reality.\u201d<\/p>\n
The role of my unit was not to fight the enemy. Our role was to take care of the civilians living in those enemy countries or enemy places.<\/p>\n
He has documented these experiences in his book Embracing the Enemy, which reflects on the operational, organisational, and human dimensions of prolonged humanitarian engagement under conditions of uncertainty and conflict. His academic training includes a bachelor\u2019s degree in Political Science with a specialisation in Strategy and National Security, a master\u2019s degree in Educational Systems Management, and ongoing doctoral research at the University of Haifa focusing on collaboration and inter-organisational learning during crises. He continues to serve as an active IDF reserve officer in the Golan Heights Division and works as an international lecturer delivering talks in Hebrew, English, and Arabic on geopolitics, humanitarian aid, trust-building, and complex operational systems.<\/p>\n
Lat Thursday, I sat down with him as part of a series of interviews with experts from Israel.<\/p>\n
From the outset, his spatial positioning becomes inseparable from his professional one. He explains that he belongs to \u201cthe Bashan Division, which is the division that\u2019s protecting the Israeli-Syrian border,\u201d and adds that he is \u201cliving in Kibbutz Dafna on the northern border, not like 1.5 kilometres from the Lebanese border.\u201d The emphasis here is not incidental; it establishes a lived geography in which domestic proximity to the frontier is presented as an ordinary condition. The border is not described as an external line of separation but as an immediate environment that structures everyday life.<\/p>\n
Lt. Col. (Res.) Eyal Dror <\/p>\n
When asked about his upbringing, he situates his childhood near Tel Aviv, but the narrative quickly shifts towards language and perception. He recalls that he \u201clearned Arabic in high school,\u201d and frames this as an early intellectual orientation towards regional understanding: \u201cI realised that it is important to understand the language of our neighbours, the traditions, habits of our neighbours.\u201d In his articulation, language is not merely communicative but interpretative, a mechanism through which social and political environments become legible. He extends this further when he notes that \u201cto learn their culture, their values,\u201d was necessary because \u201cmost of the people around us are Arabic speakers, not English speakers.\u201d Even at this stage, the structure of his reasoning moves between linguistic competence and strategic awareness, where comprehension of neighbouring societies is treated as a prerequisite for navigating proximity.<\/p>\n
This interpretative framework continues into his description of early military service, which he situates within the period of the Oslo Accords. He states that he \u201cstarted to serve in the coordination and liaison position with the Palestinians,\u201d and that this involved long-term engagement across multiple territories: \u201ccoordinating with the Palestinians in Gaza, in Hebron, in Bethlehem, through Cairo, all over Judea and Samaria.\u201d The duration of this phase is significant in his telling: \u201cI served for around 17 years in those positions.\u201d The emphasis here is less on episodic events than on institutional continuity, where the role itself is defined by sustained coordination across shifting political and geographic contexts.<\/p>\n
When reflecting on the conceptual basis of his early service, he describes an evolving understanding of proximity and complexity. He says, \u201capparently, some of them are also our enemies, so you have to understand a little bit about your enemies also,\u201d and extends this to an analytical register: \u201cwhere they are taking their power, their courage, their thoughts, their beliefs.\u201d The phrasing reflects an attempt to describe not only social proximity but also perceived epistemic necessity\u2014the need, as he presents it, to understand the internal logics of surrounding populations in order to operate within the environment.<\/p>\n
The transition to his later career is marked by his involvement in what he calls \u201cOperation Good Neighbour.\u201d He frames it as a distinct shift in operational orientation, explaining that it was part of a broader effort conducted between 2013 and 2018 along the Syrian border, and that he was in charge of the operation between 2016 and 2018. He describes relocating as a family to the northern border area and notes, \u201cin the last 10 years, I\u2019m living on the border.\u201d This is not presented as relocation in the conventional sense, but as an alignment of domestic life with operational geography.<\/p>\n
The meaning of this alignment becomes more explicit when he contrasts abstract military service with embodied proximity. \u201cWhen you\u2019re a soldier, people tell you that you are fighting for your country,\u201d he says, \u201cbut when you are living on the northern border\u2026 you\u2019re literally fighting for your home.\u201d The shift from national abstraction to domestic immediacy is central to his framing. He continues, \u201cbecause Hezbollah units were shooting towards my community,\u201d and describes his division as responsible for protecting the area. The boundary between civilian life and military responsibility is thus articulated as permeable rather than distinct.<\/p>\n
The most challenging one was how I am building a trust with people that for years heard that we are the devil, that we are the enemy. It was not easy, and we did it step by step.<\/p>\n
When asked about psychological preparation and the sense of living under persistent threat, his explanation moves into a combination of identity, history, and territorial attachment. He states: \u201cI\u2019m a Jew\u2026 this is the land that has been promised to us,\u201d adding, \u201cI\u2019m secular, totally secular.\u201d The emphasis on secular identity is immediately followed by a historical and collective framing: \u201cthis is the land that we, generation after generation, we fought for it. We were expelled from it and we came back to it.\u201d He then introduces a comparative reflection, stating, \u201cmaybe our lives were easier if we were living in Uganda\u2026 or in Australia\u2026 but this is our land.\u201d The logic here is not presented as strategic calculation but as inherited attachment to place, articulated through historical continuity and collective memory.<\/p>\n
He also acknowledges the presence of adversarial actors in his environment, describing them as \u201cterror organisations and some corrupt leaders that decided\u2026 instead of making the world a better place to live and have peace with us\u2026 to fight against us.\u201d He situates this within an acceptance of cost, stating, \u201cwe are totally aware of the price that we are paying,\u201d and later adding, \u201cwe paid a huge price for that\u2026 a lot of soldiers, security people and civilians that have been murdered during terror activities.\u201d The language here oscillates between acknowledgement of loss and assertion of necessity, without separating the two analytically.<\/p>\n
When the discussion turns to reading and intellectual formation, he is asked what texts might help to understand the psychology of living in Israel. He responds initially with hesitation, saying, \u201cI do not know what is my recommendation for reading,\u201d before suggesting foundational and historical texts. He states, \u201cfirst of all, I would recommend anyone to read the Bible,\u201d but immediately reframes this non-religiously: \u201cyou don\u2019t have to read it like a religious person\u2026 understand the meaning of the land.\u201d Alongside this, he references historical military literature, particularly accounts of Israeli wars and battles, noting that such texts help one understand \u201cthe spirit and the meaning of being a Jew and being an Israeli.\u201d<\/p>\n
He continues by emphasising military history as a lens for understanding societal character: \u201cyou understand the initiative, you understand the courage\u2026 you understand what it means to be an Israeli.\u201d He links this to a broader claim about collective identity, stating, \u201cwe want to live\u2026 we are willing to pay the price in order that other Israelis will be able to live their life.\u201d The structure of this reasoning again blends descriptive identity with collective obligation, framed through historical experience rather than abstract theory.<\/p>\n
When the conversation turns to Arab citizens within Israel, he estimates their presence and states, \u201c90% of those Arabs are living a great life,\u201d and further argues that their conditions compare favourably to other regional contexts. He says, \u201cif you compare it objectively\u2026 you will find that here the Arabs are getting a much better life than in any other place.\u201d He also emphasises civic structure, stating, \u201cthey are full civilians\u2026 they are getting social insurance and health care exactly like me.\u201d His framing here focuses on institutional inclusion within the state framework, while acknowledging internal diversity and the presence of radicalised elements: \u201cof course there are radicals, but in every society there are radicals.\u201d<\/p>\n
As the conversation moves from formative influences into operational terrain, his narrative turns towards an extended account of humanitarian coordination conducted amid active conflict, centring on what he identifies as \u201cOperation Good Neighbour.\u201d He characterises this not as a conventional combat deployment but as a structured system of cross-border assistance. \u201cThe role of my unit was not to fight the enemy,\u201d he explains, adding that \u201cour role was to take care of the civilians living in those enemy countries or enemy places.\u201d Within this framing, the military function is re-situated as logistical mediation, where operational success is measured through continuity of civilian access to medical and material support rather than battlefield outcomes.<\/p>\n
He repeatedly emphasises that this work involved systematic coordination with medical institutions. He describes how, \u201cwith every battalion that was fighting as a terrorist of Hamas, it was an officer from my unit\u2026 to take care of coordination to bring fresh supply to the locals.\u201d He extends this further, noting that \u201cif there is someone wounded, to coordinate with the ICRC so that they will send an ambulance.\u201d<\/p>\n
The scale of the operation, as he presents it, is expressed in both qualitative and quantitative terms. He states, \u201cwe did an incredible job,\u201d and later clarifies the reach of assistance: \u201cit was more than thousands\u2026 in Israeli hospitals, in the clinics that were built inside, there was approximately 17,000 people.\u201d Beyond direct treatment, he expands the scope further, claiming that \u201cthe aid that we provide\u2026 we gave aid to approximately a quarter of a million people.\u201d He differentiates between direct medical intervention and indirect life-saving impact through supplies, stating, \u201cwhen you are giving baby formula, you might save a life\u2026 when you are giving it to a person suffering from diabetes\u2026 you save their life.\u201d<\/p>\n
A recurring theme in his description is the problem of trust under conditions of historical hostility. He describes it as the central operational difficulty: \u201cthe most challenging one was how I am building trust with people that for years heard that we are the devil, that we are the enemy.\u201d He frames this as a gradual process: \u201cit was not easy, and we did it step by step.\u201d Trust, in his account, is not instantaneous but cumulative, dependent on repetition and verification over time. He adds that even after establishing individual relationships, the difficulty persisted: \u201cI built trust with you, but your friend, he doesn\u2019t believe me yet.\u201d<\/p>\n
He also situates this trust-building process within a broader conceptual framework of communication and perception management, noting that the challenge was not only logistical but interpretative. In his words, the aim was \u201cto show them and to prove to them that we are not the people that they heard about and we want to help them.\u201d The emphasis here is on epistemic transformation\u2014altering pre-existing narratives through sustained practical engagement rather than rhetorical persuasion.<\/p>\n
The naming of the operation is itself presented as culturally embedded. He explains that \u201cthe name was decided by the general staff after some meetings with the Syrians,\u201d and that it was called \u201cGood Neighbour\u201d because of a shared regional proverb. He refers to an Arabic expression: \u201cthe close neighbour and not the far brother,\u201d explaining its meaning as a prioritisation of immediate relational proximity over distant kinship. He elaborates: \u201csometimes you prefer that your neighbour, which is close to you, might be much more helpful than relatives that do not care.\u201d The operation\u2019s designation thus emerges, in his telling, from a convergence of linguistic resonance and pragmatic interpretation of social proximity.<\/p>\n
We did an incredible job\u2026 it was more than thousands. In Israeli hospitals, in the clinics that were built inside, there was approximately 17,000 people. The aid that we provide\u2026 we gave aid to approximately a quarter of a million people.<\/p>\n
When asked about the scale of lives affected, he differentiates between direct and indirect impact. \u201cDirectly it was more than thousands,\u201d he states, adding that \u201cdozens of thousands of people\u201d were saved through combined interventions. He also specifies the logistical breadth of assistance: \u201cwe supplied hundreds of tonnes of medical equipment and medicines.\u201d He acknowledges uncertainty in precise accounting, stating, \u201cI don\u2019t know how many lives we saved in any shipment,\u201d but maintains that the cumulative effect was substantial due to repeated interventions over time.<\/p>\n
The conversation then shifts towards operational risk and adversarial presence within the Syrian theatre. He notes that assistance was delivered in areas influenced by \u201cAl-Qaeda and ISIS and Hezbollah,\u201d and acknowledges that \u201cthere were a lot of tactical obstacles in making it a success without being hit.\u201d However, he frames the primary difficulty not as physical danger but relational fragility: \u201cthe most challenging\u2026 was how to build trust.\u201d He returns to this repeatedly, describing it as the decisive factor in sustaining operational continuity.<\/p>\n
He also reflects on the vulnerability of local intermediaries involved in the process. When asked about protection mechanisms, he responds indirectly, stating that \u201cthey were brave people and they were putting their lives at great risk.\u201d He avoids detailing operational methods but acknowledges exposure: \u201cthey were at risk and we were at risk.\u201d The structure of this statement places both sides within a shared risk environment, albeit with different forms of exposure and authority.<\/p>\n
A further dimension of his account concerns decision-making under uncertainty. He describes operational judgement as occurring without complete information: \u201cit was like a school of taking decisions in terms of uncertainty.\u201d He elaborates that \u201cevery decision can be a bad one or a very dangerous one,\u201d particularly in contexts where intelligence is partial and consequences are immediate. He refers to this as a continuous condition of command responsibility, where \u201cyou didn\u2019t have all the information, and some of the decisions were taken under stress.\u201d<\/p>\n
He gives specific examples of such dilemmas, including medical and humanitarian triage decisions: \u201cwhether this child\u2026 can we hospitalise them or not,\u201d and whether \u201ca group\u2026 can get food or they are lying to me.\u201d These examples are used to illustrate the ethical and procedural complexity of operations that combine humanitarian considerations with security constraints. Despite this uncertainty, he concludes retrospectively, \u201cwe succeeded in this important mission.\u201d<\/p>\n
The discussion then turns to the interpretation of the operation\u2019s political character. He rejects the framing of it as primarily political, stating, \u201cit wasn\u2019t political\u2026 it was a strategic one.\u201d He clarifies that the intention was not covert influence but relational transformation: \u201cwe want to build bridges with you\u2026 we are providing you with humanitarian aid.\u201d He emphasises that no reciprocal demand was made: \u201cwe didn\u2019t ask them for anything in return.\u201d<\/p>\n
He frames the initiative as an expression of institutional values rather than transactional diplomacy: \u201cwe will do that because we think that it is important, it goes with our values.\u201d At the same time, he acknowledges an implicit strategic expectation that perceptions might shift over time, allowing future de-escalation or improved regional stability. He summarises this as a \u201cwin-win situation,\u201d where assistance could potentially alter long-term perceptions of intent.<\/p>\n
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Lt. Col. (Res.) Eyal Dror <\/p>\n
When asked about the fate of those who received medical treatment or assistance, he states that there is no ongoing contact: \u201cwe take care of them and they go back to Syria,\u201d and adds, \u201cI am not in touch with those people.\u201d He attributes this discontinuity to political conditions: \u201cSyria is not a friendly country\u2026 if I were to call them even after I was released, they would immediately be accused of being Israeli spies.\u201d He expresses a future-oriented hope, saying, \u201cI do hope that one day, when Israel and Syria have some agreements\u2026 I will be able to meet some of them.\u201d<\/p>\n
The conversation then broadens into regional geopolitics, beginning with Syria\u2019s post-war trajectory. He suggests that Syria is likely to become \u201ca much more religious country,\u201d clarifying that he does not necessarily mean extremist governance but a shift in social and legal norms. He references restrictions such as limits on alcohol sales as indicators of this direction. However, his primary concern is not cultural transformation itself but the potential for renewed radicalisation and instability, particularly in relation to minority populations. He refers to previous violence involving \u201cthe Alawites, the Kurds, the Druze,\u201d and argues that such precedents shape Israeli security concerns regarding future governance.<\/p>\n
He also comments on ongoing Israeli military positioning near the Syrian border, stating that Israel maintains control over certain positions \u201cvery close to the border,\u201d which he frames as preventative security measures. He explains this as a response to lessons drawn from previous attacks: \u201cwe\u2019ve seen the lessons of October 7th\u2026 we cannot take any chance.\u201d In his framing, the operational logic is preventative proximity control rather than territorial expansion, emphasising that the aim is to ensure hostile forces are intercepted before reaching civilian zones.<\/p>\n
Hezbollah is controlling Lebanon, and if you cannot enforce it, it is nothing. We find plenty, tonnes of ammunition in the south. Without dismantling it, the next round is on the corner.<\/p>\n
Turning to Lebanon, he describes Hezbollah as a long-term structural threat embedded within the Lebanese political and military environment. He asserts that \u201cHezbollah is controlling Lebanon,\u201d and argues that dismantling its capabilities is necessary for regional stabilisation. He expresses scepticism regarding official Lebanese claims about disarmament efforts, stating that despite announcements, \u201cwe find plenty, tonnes of ammunition\u201d in southern Lebanon. He interprets this as evidence of a gap between declared policy and operational reality.<\/p>\n
He further argues that ceasefire frameworks and agreements are insufficient without enforcement mechanisms. \u201cIf you cannot enforce it, it is nothing,\u201d he states, suggesting that written agreements alone do not guarantee behavioural change among armed actors. He concludes that without dismantling Hezbollah\u2019s infrastructure, \u201cthe next round is on the corner,\u201d framing the situation as structurally cyclical rather than resolved.<\/p>\n
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