Israel blew up a synagogue during the Jewish holiday of Passover. The synagogue was standing in Tehran and either intentionally or by accident became a victim of the US/Israeli war of aggression...
Article
## A warning from a demolished synagogue
The image of a synagogue reduced to rubble during a Jewish holiday pierces assumptions and forces a hard question: who and what is being protected by a state that claims to act in the name of a people? The conversation with Prof. Yakov Rabkin pivots on this question, using the destruction of a Tehran synagogue on Passover—whether by error or intent—as a focal point for a broader critique. The act is read not simply as a military incident but as potent symbolism: a Jewish state implicated in violence that damages Jewish communal life abroad. From this vantage, the episode becomes emblematic of a persistent tension at the heart of Zionism and Israeli statecraft—between claims of universal Jewish protection and the practical consequences those claims have for Jews and non‑Jews everywhere.
## The Tehran synagogue: symbolism and reality
The struck synagogue in Tehran is more than a building lost to war. According to the conversation, it contained holy books and scrolls; it was a site Prof. Rabkin personally visited and described as integrated into the fabric of Iranian civic life. That the synagogue was damaged during a military action tied to Israeli interests magnifies the irony: a polity that declares itself the national home of all Jews is implicated in the destruction of Jewish sacred space abroad. Symbolism matters here because it refracts a larger message—Israel’s security logic and its projection of power can put Jewish communities elsewhere at risk, undermining claims that the state exists solely to safeguard Jews worldwide.
The conversation stresses uncertainty about intent—whether the strike was deliberate or collateral—but insists the symbolism is unavoidable. For many Jews in the diaspora, especially those not aligned with Israeli politics, the image of their supposed protector striking a synagogue elides its purported guardianship. The episode thus functions as a narrative hinge: it challenges a simple protective reading of a Jewish nation‑state and invites scrutiny of the ways state policies exported or linked to Israeli security priorities can harm Jews outside its borders.
## Jewish life in Iran and the limits of Western imaginings
One of the conversation’s corrective themes is how Western imagery often flattens life in Muslim-majority countries into caricature. Prof. Rabkin recounts synagogues in Tehran without guards, Jewish old‑age homes and kosher restaurants, and ordinary Jewish households where Shabbat wine is uncoupled from state prohibitions on alcohol. Iranian Jews, he emphasizes, are deeply rooted: multi‑century inhabitants who identify as Iranians and live their Jewish faith in ways shaped by local history and customs.
This normality stands in stark contrast to the anxieties that Zionism proffered as universal truths—that Jews are everywhere alien, permanently vulnerable, and in need of a territorial refuge. The lived realities Rabkin observed—social integration, respect from the broader society, and robust Jewish education—expose how the Zionist narrative sometimes overwrote plural histories of Jewish belonging. The implication is twofold: one, Zionist claims about universal Jewish statelessness draw heavily on European experiences of persecution that were not universal; two, the export of a singular security solution can rupture pluralist, locally grounded Jewish lives.
## Zionism’s European genealogy and its export
The conversation repeatedly returns to an essential historical point: Zionism originated predominantly among East and Central European Jews and emerged from the political and intellectual milieu of European ethnic nationalism. Prof. Rabkin notes that Jews from Islamic lands were scarcely represented in formative Zionist bodies; the movement’s language and imperatives were, in large part, responses to European antisemitism and modern nationalist thought.
This genealogy shapes Zionism’s assumptions. If Jews are viewed through the prism of the European "Judenfrage"—an ongoing, ineradicable antisemitism—then concentration in a nation‑state appears a rational remedy. But that remedy imported into areas where Jewish communities experienced different trajectories had disruptive consequences. Zionist leaders crafted a universal solution based on a particular history, then sought to mobilize Jews worldwide in ways that sometimes misaligned with local loyalties, identities, and interests.
The conversation points to a further dynamic: political Zionism was not merely a defensive strategy but also an act of national construction—disruptive, revolutionary, and at times dismissive of existing Jewish cultures such as Yiddish. Modern Hebrew, the kibbutz movement, and the “new Hebrew” ideal were efforts to forge a novel collective identity. In practice, this meant recruiting Jewish lives as "material" for a state project, a move that treated people instrumentally in service of state-building.
## Coercion, manufactured fear, and population transfers
Perhaps the most troubling disclosures in the exchange concern how Zionist networks and agents operated in Arab lands and beyond to accelerate Jewish emigration to Palestine/Israel. Rabkin recounts episodes where Zionist operatives engaged in acts that frightened or harmed local Jewish communities—bombings of Jewish institutions, provocations designed to alarm parents, and other forms of coercion. These tactics were intended to convert deeply rooted, often well-integrated Jewish populations into migrants who would bolster the nascent Jewish state.
The moral logic underlying such actions is stark: the state’s imperatives eclipsed individual welfare. Rabkin cites Ben‑Gurion’s infamous utilitarian calculus—prioritizing state needs over individual destinies—as emblematic of a broader wartime ethos. The result: Jews became instruments in a geopolitical project, treated as population to be mobilized rather than as communities with autonomous histories. That approach helpfully explains some of the post‑1948 demographic reshaping across the Middle East, but it also leaves a legacy of trauma and dispossession among those who were pushed or misled to leave.
The conversation reframes the common narrative of Jewish exodus from Arab lands. Rather than a monolithic account of ancient antipathy driving departure, it documents a more contingent history in which Jewish departures were sometimes precipitated or accelerated by Zionist intervention. This complicates any simplistic portrayal of Jews in Arab lands as uniformly oppressed and it stresses the ethical responsibility of those who orchestrated or benefited from such migrations.
## Settler‑colonialism, militarization, and the making of the “new Jew”
Another thread the conversation pursues is the settler‑colonial character of Zionism as practiced on the ground. Early Zionist settlements in Palestine—kibbutzim, paramilitary groups, and ideological texts—were not just community experiments but a colonizing enterprise that required a military edge to secure land and suppress resistance. Rabkin points to early admissions among Zionist leaders that a superior military force would be necessary to maintain dominance—a posture that has translated into the long arc of Israel’s security doctrine.
Linked to this is the cultural remaking of Jewish identity that nationalism required: the rejection of diasporic stereotypes and the crafting of a muscular, agrarian, militarized figure, the so‑called Muskeljude. Violence and the threat of violence were normalized as tools for survival and state formation. That normalization had internal consequences too: within Israel, militarization became central to citizenship and politics; externally, it justified policies of deterrence and coercion that could spill over to harm Jews abroad by associating Jewishness with a state seen as aggressive by its neighbors.
The settler‑colonial lens reframes Zionism not only as a national liberation project for some but as an
Transcript
Israel is a Mortal Danger to the Jews | Prof.
Yakov Rabkin
Israel blew up a synagogue during the Jewish holiday of Passover. The synagogue was standing in
Tehran and either intentionally or by accident became a victim of the US/Israeli war of aggression
against Iran. The episode stands paradigmatically for the grave threat that Israel and Zionism pose
to the life and safety of Jews (and non-jews) around the world. While we mostly think of Zionism as
a danger mainly for the muslim population of West Asia, it is fundamental to understand that also
native local Christian and Jewish populations are in danger, as are Jews around the globe and even
Jews inside Israel. The violence of Zionist ideology poses a universal threat to those who disagree
with its core-premises. This is what I discuss today with my guest, Dr. Yakov Rabkin, Professor
Emeritus of History at the Université de Montréal, scholar at the Montreal Centre for International
Studies (CERIUM) and founding member of Canada’s Independent Jewish Voices. He is the author,
most recently, of Israel in Palestine and Zionism Decoded in 101 Quotes. LINKS Support us on
Substack: https://pascallottaz.substack.com Our shop and donations: https://neutralitystudies-shop.
fourthwall.com PROF. RABKIN'S WORKS (www.yakovrabkin.ca) Zionism Decoded in 101 Quotes.
[https://www.amazon.com/s?
k=yakov+rabkin+zionism+decoded&crid=2GCL3IJ11Y7MN&sprefix=yakov+rabkin+zionism+decoded%2Caps
#Pascal
Welcome back, everybody, to Neutrality Studies. My name is Pascal Lottaz, and I am joined again
today by Professor Dr. Yaakov Rapkin, professor emeritus of history at the University of Montreal, a
scholar at the Montreal Center for International Studies, and a founding member of Canada's
Independent Jewish Voices. He's the author, most recently, of *Israel in Palestine* and *Zionism
Decoded in 101 Quotes*. Yaakov, welcome back.
#Yakov Rabkin
Thank you.
#Pascal
Yaakov, you recently wrote this article that we published on my Substack. It’s called *Israel: A
Danger to Jews and Non-Jews Alike.* In it, you wrote about the synagogue that was destroyed on
Passover by Israel in Tehran. Could you first unpack a little bit what exactly happened, and then talk
to us about what you think this means for Israel and Jews worldwide?
#Yakov Rabkin
-- 1 of 15 --
Well, the episode itself was apparently a rocket that fell on a synagogue in Tehran and destroyed it.
It also destroyed many of the holy books. I don't know if it was targeted on purpose or if it was
collateral damage, but there’s tremendous symbolism in that. Here you have a state that claims to
be a Jewish state, destroying the holiest Jewish place—if you like—the synagogue, the books, the
scrolls, and so on. That’s why I wrote about it, because I’d been to that synagogue. I was in Iran
about ten years ago, I visited Jews there, and I even wrote a little travelogue about it, which I can
put in your description if you like.
The Jews in Iran that I met were living really full Jewish lives, while at the same time being full
Iranian citizens. I think it's very important to understand that the view of Jews as alien—which was
common in Europe and may still be common in parts of Europe today—is not something Jews
experienced elsewhere. We tend to project this European image of Jews onto Jews in other places.
And I think that in the countries of Islam, without idealizing them, life was a lot more harmonious
and peaceful. In the case of Jews in Iran, they’ve been there for 25 centuries. They saw the arrival
of Islam, they saw all kinds of things, and they feel—and are perceived—as Iranians, not as an alien
group. And here comes the difference: for Israel, every Jew is a potential citizen of Israel, because
according to Israeli ideology, the only safe place for a Jew to be is Israel.
And Jews don’t belong anywhere, because sooner or later they will be persecuted, murdered, or
discriminated against. Anti‑Semitism is eternal, and therefore the only solution to the Jewish
question—the *Judenfrage* of Theodor Herzl—was to concentrate Jews in one ethnic nation‑state,
and then Jews would live happily ever after. Well, this is the scenario that many Jews didn’t accept.
It was a European—East European, to be more exact—idea, rooted in the ethnic nationalism of
Eastern and Central Europe, and it was totally alien to Jews elsewhere. Avishai Margalit, a colleague
of mine from Oxford University, wrote a wonderful memoir recently, and he mentions that he once
asked his mother what Zionism was when he was a kid. And she said, “Oh, it’s an Ashkenazi thing. It’
s not our thing.”
#Pascal
Ashkenazi.
#Yakov Rabkin
For European Jews, it was “not us.” And indeed, I think in the 1930s, Jews from the countries of
Islam made up less than one‑half percent of the delegates to the Zionist Congress. So we’re talking
about a European phenomenon that was alien to Jews elsewhere. And that’s a long answer to your
question. The symbolism of striking the synagogue in Iran, for me, was too great not to write this
article.
#Pascal
-- 2 of 15 --
So, I mean, it’s a very good point you bring up. It could be on purpose, or it could be an accident.
The one thing it’s probably not—I saw some tweets online saying, “Oh, this was the Iranians who
blew it up as a false flag”—but that makes absolutely no sense. As you said, they’re fully integrated,
and actually the Jews of Iran condemned Israel’s attacks against their state. So I think it’s very
important to understand how Judaism in Iran functions. When you were there, did you have any
more observations about how this faith exists among others within the Iranian state?
#Yakov Rabkin
Well, the Islamic Republic takes religion seriously, not surprisingly. Therefore, they treat religious
minorities with respect—Zoroastrians, the old religion of Iran, and Jews. Now, what does that mean
in practice? When I arrived in Tehran, I visited several synagogues, and after being in Europe, what
struck me was that there were no guards, no police cars in front of them, because there was no
need for that. In one case, there was an old-age home and a kosher restaurant, and you could just
drive in with a truck. I mean, it was perfectly open, normal. That normality is what struck me.
Another aspect is that the Islamic Republic imposed religious education on all students, on all
schoolchildren. As a result, young Jews—young Jewish schoolchildren—have been sent to rabbis to
study for ten years. The level of Jewish literacy and observance of commandments is certainly a lot
higher today than it was before the Islamic Republic.
#Pascal
Wow.
#Yakov Rabkin
And another thing—you know, I was there during the holidays, and it was Shabbat. Of course, I was
invited to the table, and there was alcohol, as usual, in Jewish homes on Shabbat. I asked, “Well, is
it legal to have alcohol?” He said, “Yes, as Jews we’re allowed to have alcohol, and there’s no
problem.”
#Pascal
You know, I have this anecdote because I have a close Iranian friend here, and he brought me
wine—actually from Azerbaijan—but he's from the Azeri part in the north, from Tabriz. He brought
me wine and said, “We make the same wine near our city.” And I said, “Oh, really?” But yeah, again,
I was bewildered because, isn’t it a Muslim country? Isn’t it supposed to be forbidden? And then he
looked at me and said, “But look, Pascal, winemaking is much older than Islam, right? It was there
long before Islam, and Islam is just one of the newer things—they didn’t stop that at all. I mean,
they tried to tone it down, but winemaking is still part of it.” So Iran, in a sense, the image we’re fed
here in the West—of Iran being a place where every woman walks around in a big black carpet and
whatnot—is just utterly ridiculous, isn’t it?
-- 3 of 15 --
#Yakov Rabkin
Well, when I was there, I saw that indeed most women—practically everyone—had their heads
covered. But the word “covered” includes a whole range of things, from a serious black chador to, I
would say, a scarf or something almost invisible on the head. I remember on my first Shabbat in
Tehran, I walked through a park and saw couples behaving like couples do anywhere else, right? So
I didn’t see anything unusual there. Of course, there was this insistence on covering the hair and not
drinking alcohol and all that. But in a way, it reminded me of the Soviet Union under Brezhnev—
there was the social ideology that people paid tribute to, and then there was reality, and the two
didn’t quite coincide.
#Pascal
And maybe let’s go back a bit to this issue of how Israel tries to portray itself as the only safe place
for Jews, and actually as the country of the Jews. Our colleague Jeffrey Sachs kept saying several
times that it makes him mad. He says, “No, Netanyahu is not my president. Just because I’m a Jew
doesn’t mean he represents me at all.” When it comes to the Jews in West Asia—in Persia, in Iran—
can you talk to us a little bit about the impact of Zionism and Israel on the lives of Jews in those
different communities, in Tehran, in Baghdad, and so on? I know Avishai Margalit also wrote about
that very famously. But can you tell us a bit about what the impact of Zionism was on those local
communities?
#Yakov Rabkin
Well, as I said, Jews from Arab lands—or Arab Jews from lands of Islam—had not played any
important role in the emergence or development of either Zionism or the Zionist settlement in
Palestine. However, when the state was unilaterally declared in May 1948, Jews were associated by
some leaders with Israel, particularly because Israel itself was saying that it was the state of all Jews
in the world. So there was some tension. In the case of Iraq, there had also been violence in 1941
against Jews, so there was a certain background, though unrelated, as far as I know, to Zionism. But
what happened after 1948, for example in Iraq, was that the Israeli government negotiated a deal
with the Iraqi government that would allow Jews to leave.
But Jews were in no rush to leave. See, this is very important, because Jews had lived there for
centuries, and like Avi Shlaim, they were settled, they spoke Arabic, they were Arabs for all practical
purposes—just with a different confession. So Zionist activists had to do something to prod them to
leave. And here we come to a very sad episode, a sad page in the history of Zionism, when Zionist
activists actually committed acts of violence against Jews and against Jewish institutions in order to
push them to leave. You know, there was an explosion in Jewish institutions in Iraq. There were
similar events in Egypt. In Morocco, Zionist activists frightened Jewish girls.
-- 4 of 15 --
Well, the Zionist activists actually told me—one of them told me this whole story—and it may be
worth telling you. They would dress like Muslims, be taken to another town in Morocco where no
one knew them, and they would harass Jewish girls in order to frighten their parents. The worst
thing that could happen was that a girl might be molested. And that really moved quite a few people
out of Morocco to Israel or somewhere else. Many years later, after I heard the story, I met a
Moroccan Jewish woman who actually confirmed that she was on the receiving end of it in her town.
She said, “No, there was a very strange episode where some Arabs attacked us, but they didn’t beat
us up very badly. They were just yelling and screaming more than anything else.” But that was
enough to frighten her parents.
I mean, that was bad enough. And that’s very—again, it’s understandable, but for the Zionist
movement, for Ben-Gurion, for those who created the state, the most important thing was the raison
d’état, the Staatsräson. That’s how they behaved during the Nazi genocide. And famously—or
infamously—Ben-Gurion said he would rather save half of the Jewish children if they could be sent to
Palestine, rather than all of them if they were sent somewhere else. So for them, Jews were human
material. The European human material was