Flourishing Under Confinement: A Visit to Jewish Iran

It all began at a dinner in Jerusalem where the host was telling stories about family members left behind in Tehran, and how little he knew about the life they were leading there. For years, I’ve been writing about the plight of Jews in my native Sweden, where violent attacks and casual harassment have become the norm. What was it like, I couldn’t help wondering, for Jews in a place where anti-Semitism was out in the open, and European ideas of human rights held no sway at all? Then and there, I decided to go see.

In leaving for Iran I was of course well aware of the anti-Semitic (excuse me, “anti-Zionist”) rhetoric that regularly emanates from high-ranking government officials, and of the non-rhetorical rockets with which Iran has equipped Hamas and Hizballah for the purpose of killing Jews around the world, regardless of their citizenship or place of residence. And I had heard horror stories from Persian Jews I’d met in Israel and Europe. I was told that my Jewishness would have to be hidden, that I would see only Soviet-like despair, and that as a woman traveling alone I would have to watch my every step.

None of this was the case. What I actually witnessed was something far more complicated, and more unsettling.