The BBC recently visited with the community to find out how Iranian Jews feel about the threat of an Israeli strike on Iran’s nuclear sites.
Uri Nissani distinguishes between the Iranian people and the Iranian government. He has little desire to return to the country of his birth. “I came to here in 1959 and have never been back. I may have been born in Iran, but I feel I am an Israeli.”
Now in his 60s, Uri helps to manage of one of the three synagogues in Holon that are mainly frequented by Jews of Iranian descent, and he says talk in the community is dominated by one subject: the drum-beat of war.
“We love the people of Iran, but we don’t love the regime,” Uri says. “No one wants war, but if it comes to military action then I would have to support it.”
Across town on the lower ground floor of a suburban shopping center, Parviz Barhourder helps to run a full-time radio operation in Farsi. Every day of the week, Iranian poetry, music and politics can be heard blasting over the air waves of Radio RadisIN, but the station has one overall aim—peace.
“Throughout history, until the current regime came to power, there had been constant good relations between Iran and Israel. The aim of our station is to re-establish that relationship,” Parviz told the BBC.
Since the station’s establishment three years ago, a team of 38 Iranian-Israeli volunteers keep RadisIN streaming over the internet, cable and satellite to a national and international audience of Farsi speakers.
The station takes calls, text messages and emails from listeners in Iran, and one of the most commonly talked about subjects, Parviz says, is the impact that Western economic sanctions are having on the country.
“People talk about their weariness with the current situation and tell us how they’re having to store food and other life necessities at home.”
Parviz is concerned about the impact military action could have on his Jewish friends who remain in Iran. “I’m worried about them. If anything happens, the regime will take them as hostages,” he says.
Iran is home to the largest population of Jews in the Middle East outside of Israel. Numbers have declined since the establishment of Israel in 1948, when about 100,000 Jews were thought to live in Iran, and the revolution in 1979. An estimated 25,000 Jews still live there.
“We need to convince the current regime in Tehran to leave their atomic project and become another normal country,” says Parviz. “As soon as they have access to an atomic bomb, a third world war will be created.”
He does not want to see war with his homeland, but—like many in the community—he would ultimately support military action as a last option. “If it comes between the hammer and the rock, what are we going to do? The window of opportunity is getting narrower and narrower everyday.”
Not far from the radio studio, the Beit Koresh community center for Holon’s Iranian population is closed and unfinished. There is a Persian library, but this can only be accessed when the building is open—and that is very rarely.
Standing outside, Kamal Penhasi, editor of Israel’s only Farsi-language magazine, Shahyad, remembers the role the center played for him, arriving in Holon as a 16-year-old in 1979. “The center seemed so beautiful, we would come here every week. It was really important,” he told the BBC.
But as Iranians have become more integrated in Israel, many of the younger generation have lost interest. The community has just not pulled behind the center, says Kamal. Construction on Beit Koresh began over 30 years ago with the financial aid of the Shah.
“Every Iranian in Holon knows about Beit Koresh. If we were united, we could finish the project. But we are a wealthy people and everyone wants to be a manager.” His complaint sounded very Iranian, not Israeli.
These days, Iranian-Israelis are an integrated and economically successful group. Shaul Mofaz, the newly elected leader of the country’s opposition Kadima party is Iranian-born, for example.
Kamal longs to see the removal of the current regime in Tehran but thinks the most likely way for that to happen is for change to come from within. “The Iranian people, especially the youth, are capable of bringing about political change, as we saw after the 2009 presidential elections. We in the West should be willing to step in and help them with financing, logistics, information and media support.”
At the magazine’s offices, Kamal’s 22-year-old niece, Rose Penhasi, says she is worried for Iranian civilians. “I’m afraid for students like myself in Iran. Here in Israel, we are free to say what we feel, but I know in Tehran they are scared.”
Rose was born in Israel, but learned Farsi at home before speaking Hebrew. She still tries to maintain links with the country of her parents. “I used to be able to talk to people my age in Tehran via internet chat rooms and social media, but these days government blocks are making it increasingly difficult.”
Her interest in Iran is unusual among her peers. “When I’m at home with my parents and grandparents, I feel 100 percent Iranian. But when I’m out with my friends, I’m Israeli.”
She says, “Most second generation Iranians have forgotten their roots.”
It is important, she argues, for people to acknowledge the distinction between the Iranian people and the regime. “The civilians in Iran are not like the government and we need make sure they know that Israelis love and support them.”
Rose hopes to visit Tehran one day, to see the family home in Amir Abad she has heard so many stories about. But in the current climate she knows this option is out of the question.