Commemorating the Mizrahi exodus

Today is an important day in Mizrahi history; today is an important day in Jewish history; today is an important day for the State of Israel, where roughly half the Jewish population is of Mizrahi descent. Since 2014, Israel commemorates the Mizrahi exodus of Jews from Arab countries and Iran. But this day does not receive the same type of attention in the countries from which Mizrahi Jews fled or were expelled. On the contrary, that part of history is met with denial. For that reason, it remains important to write about it. In my case, for my family members from Iraq, especially.

When you visit the website of Justice for Jews from Arab Countries, it shows a table with estimates for Jewish communities in the Arab world and Iran. The virtual collapse is astounding. A few examples will suffice. In 1948 there were roughly 265,000 Jews in Morocco; today, just 2,500. There were 140,000 Jews in Algeria in 1948; today, zero. There were 135,000 Jews in Iraq; today, 5. There were 105,000 Jews in Tunisia in 1948; today, 1,500. There were 75,000 Jews in Egypt; today, 2. When you look at these figures, the conclusion becomes rather easy to draw. Israel is to blame for the collapse, something that still counts for orthodoxy in the MENA region. There is one issue, though. It is a persistent historical myth.

If the exodus is discussed in the Arab world, it tends to center on blaming Israel. Yet, allow me to make a simple comparison based on present times. Take the United States, home to the largest Jewish community outside of Israel. While antisemitism has been growing at an exponential rate – it has exploded in Europe as well – it has not led to a mass exodus of American Jews to Israel. The reason is that migration is a complex endeavor, based on multiple factors and it is different for every individual. I have met plenty of young American Jews while volunteering, who have shared disturbing stories. From being vilified on campus and ostracized by friends, to witnessing numerous pro-Palestinian protests filled with antisemitism. Some of them have made aliyah, while most of the people I have met have returned to the United States and still live there to this day. Perhaps more will move to Israel in the future, but the reasons for delaying or refusing are understandable. If you have friends and family in the US, you barely speak Hebrew, perhaps have a family of your own, are part of the vibrant American Jewish community life, and have a job you like, the decision to move becomes much more difficult. Thus, it would make sense to be supportive of Israel, while not moving to the country. Indeed, the number of American Jews making aliyah has risen, but it remains a miniscule percentage of the total population.

So, if American Jews, despite these difficult times, by and large decide to remain in the United States, then why did Mizrahi Jews overwhelmingly choose to leave? The answer is connected to three important factors: persecution, violence, and poverty.

After 1948, Mizrahi Jews fled en masse. Differences existed. So, Moroccan Jews left in waves, while the Iraqi community nearly vanished overnight. Jews were scapegoated after Israel was established and managed to survive the War of Independence. From Morocco to Iraq, governments established laws meant to ostracize and disenfranchise their Jewish communities; constitutions were established that enshrined the Arab and Islamic characters of countries like Algeria and Egypt; property and assets were confiscated; Jews were arrested on suspicion of espionage based on trumped up charges. In one infamous case in 1969, as described by Lyn Julius in her book Uprooted, nine Iraqi Jews who had chosen to stay in the country after the mass flight of the early 1950s were convicted and executed behind closed doors. Their bodies were then displayed in a Baghdad square where hundreds of thousands of Iraqis came to watch and celebrate. Pogroms took place in Morocco, Libya, and Yemen. And after the Suez Crisis, Gamal Abdel Nasser expelled the Egyptian Jewish community as punishment.

Roughly a quarter of Mizrahi Jews decided to settle elsewhere, mostly in Europe or North America. The majority went to Israel. The flight came in waves, because some countries, such as Morocco, Iraq and Yemen, imposed emigration bans. Simultaneously, life for Jews in these countries was becoming increasingly dire. Clandestine emigration did take place, but Morocco, for instance, allowed Jews to leave during Operation Yakhin, in the early 1960s. Some 100,000 Jews left, but that was not simply an act of benevolence as shown by Georges Bensoussan in his book Jews in Arab Countries, as King Hassan II demanded that Israel pay a fee for every Jew. It brought Morocco a handsome profit. Moreover, that same Morocco would send ground forces to fight alongside Egypt and Syria in 1973, despite not even sharing a border with Israel, as described by Abraham Rabinovich in his book The Yom Kippur War – in addition, Israel fought Palestinian, Kuwaiti, Libyan, Algerian, and Iraqi ground forces in that war. Still, though, if you confront Arabs in the MENA region with the history of pogroms, dispossession, ostracization, and the eventual mass flight of Jews, the overwhelming majority will still argue that Israel is to blame. The relationship would not have deteriorated, if Israel had not existed. And this line of reasoning draws from the historically harmonious co-existence between Arabs and Jews. This, as well, is a myth.

It is a myth that is still popular in the region, but in the Western world, too. Quite astonishingly, a large number of Jews believe this as well. Allow me to offer some counterarguments.

Suppose I said the following about the Venetian ghetto: the ghetto was an example of perfect co-existence between Christians and Jews. The Venetians built the ghetto to protect the Jews, it preserved Jewish life, and Jews freely interacted with their Christian counterparts. You would probably be stunned if I claimed this and rightly so. As Simon Schama described in his book Belonging, the Venetian ghetto was a cramped and suffocating place, which was locked at night; Jews needed to wear distinctive clothing, so Christians could recognize them; and every year Jewish leaders would have to humiliate themselves in front of the Venetians in gratitude that they were allowed to live in the ghetto. Considering this, why would we accept the romanticizing of Moroccan mellahs, Tunisian and Libyan haras, and Yemeni Jewish quarters? They were the Arab equivalents of the Venetian ghetto.

The first Moroccan mellah was built in 1438, after an explosion of anti-Jewish violence. This is today presented as protection for Jews, but it usually skirts the issue that Jews were periodically threatened by the Arab and Muslim majority. Moreover, it was an example of ostracization and confinement of Jews to a fixed space. In addition, these spaces were cramped and suffocating where masses of poor Jews lived. Requests to enlarge mellahs were usually not carried out. And in times of epidemics they were veritable death traps. Also, on a number of occasions pogroms were committed in the mellahs, which run counter to the claims of protection. Indeed, the writings of Albert Memmi show the difficulties of life in a Tunisian hara. So, no, they should not be romanticized. Instead of punishing those who attacked Jews, the solution was to confine them to their own quarters, to appease large segments of the population. That makes them symbols of submission, not protection.

This, in turn, leads to another problem with the myth of co-existence. While plenty of stories abound of Jews living in peace with their neighbors throughout the Arab world – and it is important to share those stories – they tend to obscure the fact that the relationship was structured by submission. For 1,300 years, Jews lived under Islamic rule. Sharia law enshrined the inferior status of Jews in society. Coupled with that, Islamic rulers copied the anti-Jewish Byzantine code when establishing the dhimma, and supplemented it with the individual jizya and communal kharraj taxes. Thus, Jews had to accept their humiliation by submitting to Islamic rule. It was observed through numerous rules, such as the fact that Jews were not allowed to ride horses – Muslims were allowed to pull them off. In Yemen, Jews were forced to clean latrines, until 1949. Jews were not allowed to bear arms, while Muslims could. Jews could not convert a Muslim, but a Jew could convert to Islam. In Yemen and Iran Shia fundamentalism led to recurrent forced conversions of Jews. And a Jew’s testimony was worthless in a Sharia court. Thus, highlighting examples of people living together in peace must not distract from the fact that Jews were expected to humiliate themselves. Indeed, Ashkenazi Jews documented how Mizrahim had to suffer public humiliation at the hands of Arabs in Jerusalem, as late as the nineteenth century.

The fact that Jews in the MENA region wished for their inferior status to come to an end is exemplified by the fact that large groups of Jews welcomed the arrival of colonial powers. When adopting an Arab perspective, this easily looks like treason. Yet, such an assessment is blind to the fact that Jews had been oppressed under Islamic rule for many centuries. However, Jews would become disappointed in colonial rule. While Algerian Jews received French citizenship rights through the Crémieux Decree, this was not extended to its colonial protectorates in Tunisia and Morocco. And during the short rule of Vichy France, the Crémieux Decree was even temporarily abolished in Algeria and in Morocco Jews were forced back into the mellahs – with strong support from the Moroccan populace.

What about Zionism? Well, researchers have shown that Zionism was complex and could mean several things. For instance, it could be seen as the wish to return to the ancestral homeland – the phrase “next year in Jerusalem” certainly carries deep meaning; it could be seen as an example of Jewish emancipation that did not entail a determination to move to Eretz Yisrael; or it could mean sympathy for the idea, that was limited to financial support. In addition, there were non-Zionists or even anti-Zionists – for instance, Mizrahi Jews who joined or founded Communist parties. The history of Egyptian and Iraqi Jews shows that both communities exhibited limited interest prior to 1948.

The fact is that the MENA region missed opportunities. There were local examples of rulers implementing reforms which benefited the rights of minorities. An example would be the Egyptian viceroy Mehemet Ali, who implemented reforms that benefited Jews in the early nineteenth century. But the backlash was immediate, exhibited by a mob that engaged in an anti-Jewish pogrom in Safed that lasted for more than a month. And when the Ottoman Empire implemented the Tanzimat reforms, it was received with hostility among its Arab subjects. Indeed, in the corners of the empire the reforms were simply disregarded. Reform meant emancipation and the majority pushed back, as it would shatter a hierarchy that was comfortable for most. For instance, poor Muslim masses could take comfort in the fact that the Jews were beneath them. Jewish emancipation would be the end of that.

Arab nationalism offered another opportunity, but it quickly coalesced into an exclusionary identity that identified with Islam. Thus, it shut the door on many minorities, including Jews. And the rise of Islamism, in the shape of Hassan al-Banna’s Muslim Brotherhood, offered no hope either. In a way, you could argue that Arab nationalism and Islamism were modern responses to restore the shattered hierarchy built by Islamic empires. Yet, it is much easier to blame Israel, of course.

Thus, for a strong majority of Mizrahi Jews, Israel was the opportunity to flee persecution, to become emancipated, to escape crippling poverty; to live in the ancestral homeland. Of course, Israel is not perfect. Examples of discrimination did take place, especially in the 1950s. In her book Ben-Gurion: Father of Modern Israel, Anita Shapira referenced articles published by Ha’aretz and HaBoker in the 1950s, which warned against the arrival of “Levantine ruffians” – i.e., my paternal grandparents –  who could alter the country’s character. Prejudice was a factor, yet the status of Mizrahi Jews improved over decades and Israel did welcome multitudes of impoverished refugees. In the 1950s, the country took in numbers larger than its 1948 population, while simultaneously recovering from the War of Independence and an economic recession. Some Arab and Muslim pundits and journalists stress this discrimination in an attempt to paint Israel in the worst possible light. And yet, only a fraction responded to the calls of Arab governments to return. Indeed, Mizrahi communities in Israel have grown exponentially, and their status has improved over time, evidenced by increasing representation in terms of culture, media, politics, sports, and academia.

The Arab world has certainly suffered from colonial rule and it is perfectly understandable that Arabs support Palestinians, based on Arab and Muslim solidarity. Yet, it continues to avoid the elephant in the room. Even when brave Arabs or Muslims try to discuss the tragedy of Mizrahi communities, such as Sahar al-Ta’i in Iraq in 2021, when she pleaded for normalization with Israel and recognition of the mistreatment of Iraqi Jews, it was met with ferocious backlash. Calls for her arrest were uttered and a law was passed that criminalizes contact between Iraqis and Israelis. And I have not found a trace of Sahar al-Ta’i since then.

So, the question remains: when will the Arab world and Iran be ready to come to terms with this uncomfortable period in their history? Morocco, in this case, is exceptional, as its government restores Jewish heritage sites – though there is a clear economic incentive as well, of course – has included Hebraic influence in its constitution, and Jewish tourists have spoken of positive encounters. However, the orthodoxy concerning the Mizrahi exodus remains dominant. When I observe a random article by a Moroccan writer about the relationship of Amazigh Jews with Israel, which offers a disclaimer on Moroccan Jewish history that is riddled with omissions and therefore succeeds in blaming French colonialism and Israel for Jewish suffering, it becomes clear that the myth continues to persist; when a Tunisian mob heavily damages a synagogue in October 2023, it is clear that Jewish heritage is still at risk; when Arab writers themselves, from Moroccan writer Saïd Ghallab in the 1960s to voices in the twenty-first century confirm that Jew-hatred is far from an exception in the Arab world, it becomes clear that it will take a long time for reconciliation to occur. Which is why we must remember Mizrahi suffering, as described and analyzed by scholars such as Albert Memmi, Bernard Lewis, Martin Gilbert, Georges Bensoussan, Shmuel Moreh, Salim Fattal, and Lyn Julius, to name but a few. To keep that memory alive, as it is more important than ever.

In short, today I commemorate the painful Mizrahi exodus from Arab countries and Iran; in memory of our ancestors, who were dispossessed, subjected to pogroms and routine violence, and legally ostracized; for those who failed to leave in time and were murdered for being Jewish; for those who had to rebuild their lives from scratch in Israel – like my paternal grandparents and their relatives – or elsewhere. That memory is part of Jewish history and must not be forgotten.