As I sit down to write this article, I can’t help but feel a deep sense of sadness and loss. The story of Iraq’s Jewish community is one of tragedy, resilience, and ultimately, exile. It’s a tale that deserves to be told, not just for the sake of history, but as a cautionary reminder of how quickly centuries of peaceful coexistence can unravel.
The Cradle of Jewish Civilization
Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? The Jewish presence in Iraq dates back to the 6th century BCE, when the Babylonians conquered Judea and exiled many of its inhabitants. For over 2,600 years, Jews thrived in this land between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, contributing immensely to its culture, economy, and intellectual life. Baghdad, in particular, became a center of Jewish learning and scholarship, producing works like the Babylonian Talmud that continue to shape Jewish thought to this day.
By the early 20th century, Jews made up about a third of Baghdad’s population. They were doctors, lawyers, merchants, and government officials. Iraq’s first finance minister was a Jew named Sassoon Eskell. It seemed like a model of interfaith harmony in the Middle East.
The Farhud: A Turning Point
But dark clouds were gathering on the horizon. The rise of Nazi Germany and its poisonous ideology of antisemitism found fertile ground in some corners of the Arab world. In 1941, a pro-Nazi coup briefly took control of Iraq, and though it was quickly suppressed, the damage was done.
On June 1-2, 1941, Baghdad erupted in violence against its Jewish population. This pogrom, known as the Farhud, left at least 180 Jews dead, hundreds more injured, and countless homes and businesses looted and destroyed. Heskel Haddad, who was 11 years old at the time, recounted the horror: “We went out to the roof to see what’s happening. We saw fires, we saw people on the roofs in the ghetto screaming, begging God to help them.”The Farhud marked a turning point. Though most Iraqi Jews remained in the country after 1941, the sense of security they had enjoyed for centuries was shattered.
The Great Exodus
Fast forward to 1950. The newly established State of Israel had passed the Law of Return, offering citizenship to any Jew who wished to immigrate. For the increasingly beleaguered Jews of Iraq, it was a lifeline. The Iraqi government, perhaps hoping to be rid of a population it now viewed with suspicion, allowed Jews to leave on one condition: they had to renounce their Iraqi citizenship and forfeit nearly all their property and assets. It was a cruel choice, but one that tens of thousands felt compelled to make.
What followed was one of the largest airlifts in history. Operation Ezra and Nehemiah, named after the biblical figures who led the Jews out of Babylonian exile, transported over 120,000 Iraqi Jews to Israel between 1951 and 1952. My heart aches thinking of families boarding planes with nothing but a suitcase, leaving behind homes, businesses, and centuries of history.
The Human Cost
The mass exodus was traumatic for all involved. Many Iraqi Jews arrived in Israel to find themselves in makeshift tent camps, struggling with a new language and culture. Some felt a deep sense of displacement, captured in the poignant phrase: “In Iraq we were Jews, in Israel we are Arabs.”For Iraq, the departure of its Jewish community was an economic and cultural blow. Jewish-owned businesses had been responsible for a significant portion of the country’s imports and exports. The vibrant, multicultural Baghdad of the early 20th century was forever changed.
Lessons for Today
As I reflect on this history, I’m struck by how quickly things can change. The Jews of Iraq went from being an integral part of the country’s fabric to refugees in the span of a single generation. It’s a stark reminder of the fragility of minority communities and the dangers of nationalism taken to extremes.
But there’s hope in this story too. Many Iraqi Jews, despite the trauma of exile, have kept their cultural heritage alive. In Israel and elsewhere, the music, food, and traditions of Iraqi Jewry continue to thrive. And in recent years, there have been tentative efforts at reconciliation and remembrance in Iraq itself.
The story of Iraq’s Jews is more than just a historical footnote. It’s a powerful reminder of the importance of tolerance, the value of diversity, and the human cost of hatred. As we face our own challenges of rising intolerance and division, we would do well to remember the lessons of Baghdad’s lost Jewish community. In the end, this isn’t just about Jews or Iraqis. It’s about our shared humanity and the choices we make to either embrace or reject those who are different from us. Let’s choose wisely, for the sake of all our futures.
