The Blogs: The Arab World’s Forgotten Jewish Past

A quiet erasure has occurred across the Arab world. Once-thriving Jewish communities—whose histories stretch back millennia—have all but disappeared. Their homes stand empty; their synagogues lie in ruins, and their cemeteries are overgrown. Not only has their presence faded, but their very memory.

It has become dangerous to speak of this loss. In many parts of the Arab world, acknowledging the region’s Jewish history is seen as political, as if remembering that Jews were once our neighbors somehow undermine contemporary national narratives. This is a grave mistake. The erasure of Jewish heritage has not only deprived us of a fuller understanding of our past—it has weakened our societies, making them more vulnerable to intolerance, extremism, and historical distortion.

This is not just a Jewish tragedy; it is an Arab one. The loss of Jewish communities is a loss for all of us. And unless we act now to reclaim and preserve this shared heritage, the damage will become irreversible.

A Vanishing History

For centuries, Jews were integral members of Arab societies. They were merchants, poets, artisans, and scholars. In Baghdad, they dominated the spice trade; in Cairo, they helped shape the city’s cosmopolitan identity; in Morocco, they contributed to the vibrant culture of the mellahs (Jewish quarters). In my hometown of Mosul, Jews lived for centuries as an essential part of the city’s social, intellectual, and economic life.

Aerial footage of Mosul’s Jewish Quarter. 2024. ©Omar Mohammed

Yet, in the span of a few decades, nearly every Jewish community in the Arab world was uprooted. Political turmoil, persecution, and war forced them to flee. Their homes and businesses were confiscated, their citizenship revoked, and their presence erased from national histories.

Today, in Iraq, fewer than five Jews remain from a community that once made up 40% of Baghdad. In Libya, where Jews once lived, there are none. In Yemen, once home to one of the oldest Jewish communities in the world, only a handful remain, living in secrecy.

What remained after their departure was not just empty homes and abandoned synagogues but a gaping hole in our societies that has yet to be acknowledged, let alone filled.

The Dangers of Forgetting

The erasure of Jewish history in the Arab world is not merely a historical loss. It has had devastating consequences for the present—consequences that have shaped societies fueled conspiracy theories, and deepened divisions. The absence of Jewish history from public discourse has made it easier for falsehoods to spread unchecked. Without any understanding of the Jewish contributions to Arab societies, generations have grown up with a warped perception of Jews, shaped only by propaganda. Many young Arabs are never taught that Jews once lived among them as neighbors and citizens; instead, they are exposed to conspiracy theories blaming Jews for everything from economic struggles to political instability. These baseless ideas take root precisely because there is no counterweight—no historical knowledge to challenge them. The erasure of Jewish heritage is part of a broader trend of intolerance in the region, where diversity is seen as a threat rather than a strength. Societies that suppress pluralism become breeding grounds for radicalism. When extremists destroyed Mosul’s last synagogue, they were not just attacking a building—they were attacking the very idea of coexistence. The absence of Jewish history from Arab narratives has allowed extremists to take control of the discourse, shaping public perception in ways that make antisemitism seem typical rather than dangerous.

Because there is no historical knowledge of the Jewish presence in the Arab world, it has become easy to cast Jews as the “outsiders” responsible for all ills. Rather than acknowledging internal political failures, corruption, and economic mismanagement, governments, and extremist groups have often used Jews as a convenient scapegoat. This has contributed to spikes in antisemitism, the rejection of peace efforts, and the normalization of hatred. Across Europe and North America, Jewish heritage tourism is a thriving industry. Cities like Kraków, Prague, and Córdoba have embraced their Jewish pasts, drawing visitors, investments, and cultural revitalization. Arab countries could do the same. Restoring synagogues, preserving Jewish cemeteries, and incorporating Jewish history into national narratives would honor the past and enrich the future.

UNESCO’s Revive the Spirit of Mosul: A Lost Opportunity

This erasure is more evident than in Mosul, a city once home to a thriving Jewish community. After ISIS was driven out, UNESCO launched its Revive the Spirit of Mosul initiative—one of the Middle East’s most ambitious cultural restoration projects. The initiative sought to rebuild the city’s destroyed heritage, mainly its mosques and churches, as symbols of religious coexistence.

But something was missing. The Jewish history of Mosul was entirely excluded.

While UNESCO rightly focused on restoring Al-Nuri Mosque and Al-Saa’a Church, it neglected the Jewish landmarks that were once part of the city’s rich heritage. The last synagogue in Mosul, which had already fallen into disrepair before being destroyed by ISIS, received no attention. The Jewish cemeteries, some of which contained centuries-old graves, were left in ruin. The historic Jewish quarter—once a vibrant part of Mosul’s social fabric—was ignored entirely.

This was an oversight and a lost opportunity to promote a vision of collective heritage. UNESCO could have sent a powerful message that Mosul’s Jewish past is as integral to its identity as its Muslim and Christian histories. By failing to include Jewish heritage in the revival project, UNESCO unintentionally reinforced the exclusion it sought to overcome.

And let me be clear: The issue is not a lack of funding. Global organizations like UNESCO and other heritage preservation foundations have the resources to preserve Jewish heritage. However, despite clear signals that the people of Mosul are open to reviving this history—such as reinstating the street sign for Mahallat al-Yahud (the Jewish Quarter)—UNESCO has remained silent. This should have been a moment to support local efforts, yet political caution has taken precedence. Fearful of losing access to countries hostile to Israel, many in these organizations prefer to sidestep Jewish heritage entirely, treating it as too sensitive rather than as a history deserving protection like any other.

If we allow political considerations to dictate what parts of history deserve preservation, we are complicit in the erasure we claim to oppose.

A Future Built on Memory

The Arab world’s Jewish past is not a foreign story but our story. The Jews who once lived here were not outsiders; they were part of the very fabric of our societies. Their forced departure was not just their tragedy—it was ours as well.
For too long, the region has been haunted by what it has chosen to forget. It is time to remember. And in remembering, we can begin to heal.