Skip to content
K. Jews, Europe, 21st Century
Create an account and discover the new features.

The Shiite Clergy, Zionism, and the Reception of Nazism in Iran

Excerpts from "Enlightenment and Anti-Enlightenment in Iran" by Stéphanie Roza and Amirpasha Tavakkoli (PUF, 2026)

In "Enlightenment and Anti-Enlightenment in Iran", Stéphanie Roza and Amirpasha Tavakkoli offer an interpretation of Iranian political history that rejects both culturalist exceptionalism and geopolitical simplifications. By revisiting the Shiite clergy’s longstanding hostility toward Zionism, and then the unique forms that the reception of Nazism took in Iran in the 1930s, they demonstrate—as these excerpts show, exclusively translated into English for K.—that Islamist antisemitism is neither a purely contemporary accident nor a simple continuation, but rather a specific historical and ideological configuration.

9782130880073_Lumieres_anti-Lumieres_Iran_ok.pdf

Presentation

The value of Stéphanie Roza and Amirpasha Tavakkoli’s book lies in revealing, within the very fabric of Iranian modernity and in light of a long history, enduring fault lines: between universalism and theocracy, nationalism and clericalism, political openness and anti-Jewish sentiments. By restoring this historical depth, the pages we are publishing shed new light on the centrality of the Jewish question and Israel in the political imagination of the Islamic Republic, while reminding us that in Iran, too, the legacies of the Enlightenment and their enemies continue to clash. For the authors of Enlightenment and Anti-Enlightenment in Iran (Lumières et Anti-Lumières en Iran), Iran appears less as a world apart than as a particularly revealing site of the conflicts that marked the 20th century. They reject both the culturalist narrative of a country inherently devoted to “political spirituality” and that of a linear modernization brutally interrupted. What they describe is a history of struggles, crossroads, and choices, where nothing was predetermined, and in which political Islam itself must be understood within the context of modern ideological frameworks, including its borrowings from reactionary Europe.

The excerpt is part of a broader argument. It first reminds us that the history of Iran’s Jews does not begin with the confrontation between Iran and Israel. Their presence is ancient, marked both by integration into Iranian society and by vulnerability to discrimination and violence. At the turn of the 20th century, with the constitutional revolution and then the transformations of the interwar period, a new era began: Iranian Jews took part in the country’s political, social, and cultural life, and embodied—often in an exemplary manner—the liberal, reformist, or egalitarian spirit that was sweeping through Iran at the time. It is against this backdrop that the following pages should be read: they do not describe the abstract encounter between “Iran” and “Zionism,” but rather the emergence of a conflict within a society where the Jewish question was already an integral part of national history.

By revisiting the Shiite clergy’s longstanding hostility toward the Zionist project—beginning with the Balfour Declaration and continuing into the 1930s—the authors demonstrate that the Islamic Republic’s anti-Zionist obsession has deeper roots. But the excerpt does not stop there. It also sheds light on another side of Iranian history: that of Iranian Jews and modernizing circles who see in Zionism, in opening up to the world, and in welcoming European Jewish refugees a potential resource for the country. The following pages thus paint a picture of an Iran torn by opposing conceptions of the nation, modernity, and the place of Jews. Above all, they shed light on a decisive paradox: in 1930s Iran, Nazism was able to appeal to certain nationalist circles less because of its antisemitism than because of its anti-communism, its hostility toward Great Britain, and its glorification of a supposed “Aryan greatness” of Persia. The text thus reconstructs a complex landscape where religious rivalries, political calculations, national modernization, and the circulation of European ideologies intersect. — The Editors

Stéphanie Roza et Amirpasha Tavakkoli (c) PUF

Balfour, the Clergy, and Zionism in Iran

Since the 1979 revolution, the ruling mullahs have been known to issue recurring threats against Israel. By referring to Israel as “the Zionist entity,” “the Little Satan,” or “a cancerous tumor” from the very founding of the Islamic Republic, Khomeini and his inner circle made the elimination of the Jewish state a top priority of their foreign policy. One must look back in history to understand the reasons for this hostility of the Shiite clergy toward Israel, which dates back notably to 1917, a time when its representatives did not yet have a stranglehold on Iranian political life.

The Shiite clergy’s reaction to the plan to create Israel is similar to that of religious authorities in the Sunni world. Senior members of the clergy in Iran and Iraq unanimously condemned the idea of a Jewish state in the Middle East, beginning with the Balfour Declaration of November 2, 1917, in which Britain expressed support for the establishment in Palestine of a “national home for the Jewish people” . Beginning in the 1930s, the mullahs’ stance hardened toward European Jews seeking to emigrate to the Middle East, specifically to Palestine under British mandate. In 1936, several senior representatives of the Shiite clergy in Iran and Iraq (Mohammad Mahdi Sadr, Mohammad Mahdi Ispahani, Yousef Atta, Ebrahim Elravi, and a few others) sent a telegram to the League of Nations and the British Foreign Office to express their disagreement, stating that “this decision is an act of aggression against Islam and the Arab world.”1 Some among them even called for jihad against the settlement of European Jewish refugees.2

The hostility of the Shiite clergy reached its peak at the time of the creation of the State of Israel in 1948. Fighting the Zionists is now a permanent religious duty, for which the use of violence and war is permitted.

Considered a last resort, the call to jihad is an extremely significant act in the Muslim world: the faithful are expected to answer the call to preserve the higher interests of Islam.3 The Shiite populations, a minority in Mandatory Palestine, Lebanon, and Syria, thus participated in the uprising against Jewish settlement between 1936 and 1939 (the “Great Arab Revolt”), which resulted in the deaths of eighty Jews as early as 1936. This uprising led Britain to limit the arrival of Jewish immigrants in Palestine.

The Iranian clergy’s anti-Zionism did not stop there. In 1933, Ayatollah Haeri Yazdi, the founder of one of the world’s largest Shiite centers of study in Qom, sent a letter to Reza Shah stating that “today, with the invasion of Palestine and Jerusalem by the Jews, [his] support is more indispensable than ever to protect the Muslim world.”4 The largest center of Shiite studies in Qom, as a religious institution of international renown, requested that Haeri Yazdi’s letter be published in the country’s daily press for wider circulation. However, the court did not comply. The Shah’s response was terse: “The publication of the letter concerning the Muslims of Palestine in the daily press is not feasible.”5 The hostility of the Shiite clergy reached its peak at the time of the creation of the State of Israel in 1948. Ayatollahs Kashani and Boroujerdi called on the faithful to demonstrate and compared Israel to the enemies of Islam during the time of the Prophet Muhammad. Fighting the Zionists is now a permanent religious duty, for which the use of violence and war is permitted.

Among Iranian Jews, but also among certain members of the intelligentsia, the reaction is quite different. Even though, in the interwar period, Iran seemed to be on the right track regarding tolerance and respect for religious freedom, a portion of Iran’s Jews were enthusiastic about the Zionist project. Iranian Jewish communities were less interested in it for its own sake than in the context of promoting Jewish culture, and in particular the study of Hebrew. Azizollah Naeem, a graduate of the Alliance schools, a renowned journalist, and a multilingual intellectual, became the first head of the Association of Iranian Zionists. The organization was not composed solely of Jews: non-Jews also joined to take advantage of the cultural and philanthropic activities funded by European and American Zionists. In 1931, Naeem sent a letter to Reza Shah. In it, he emphasized his full support for the project to modernize Iran and listed areas in which the country needed foreign technicians and engineers to advance on the path of industrialization and technological innovation. Concerned about the fate of European Jews and aware of the extent of antisemitism in the eastern part of the continent, he believed that Iran could become a place of refuge for European Jewish populations:

Your Majesty, Iran needs to attract the attention of American and Zionist charitable organizations to secure grants in its march toward modernization. To this end, we can offer European Jews—most of whom are educated—in Romania, Hungary, Poland, and other countries the opportunity to settle in Iran and share their knowledge with us… I ask you to consider these points from a nationalist perspective and in the sole interest of Iran.6

Naeem’s proposal seems to interest Reza Shah, as graduates of the Alliance, whether Jewish or not, now participate in the recruitment of European technicians who settle in Iran during the interwar period. The presence of Alliance alumni within the state apparatus, as well as the pro-Jewish sentiments of certain political leaders during the reign of the first Pahlavi, pave the way for the arrival of skilled European Jews. Thus, the Iranian embassy offered Iranian passports to Jews during World War II, and Poles—mostly Jews—found refuge in Iran between 1942 and 1945. Later, the Islamic Republic would view Naeem’s influence over Reza as proof of the Zionists’ stranglehold on the monarchy of the time. This interpretation obviously fails to take into account the concrete interest the ruler saw in recruiting qualified technicians to accelerate Iran’s industrialization, nor the hostility Reza Shah otherwise displayed toward the spread of the Zionist project in Iran.

The Iranian embassy offered Iranian passports to Jews during World War II, and Poles—mostly Jews—found refuge in Iran between 1942 and 1945.

Of course, the Jews of Iran, for their part, were not interested in the Zionist project solely from the perspective of modernizing Iran. Some of them supported the idea of a Jewish state in the Middle East. Indeed, while the situation of Jews appears to be improving significantly in the major cities, those living on the country’s periphery or in particularly impoverished areas—such as Baluchistan or the Kurdish regions—feel excluded from reforms that primarily benefit urban and educated populations. In these remote regions, the Shiite clergy retains control over the affairs of the Jewish minority, and the situation remains unchanged, prompting some of its members to attempt the venture of emigrating to Palestine.

There are no reliable data regarding the number of Iranian Jews who left to settle in Mandatory Palestine. According to Trita Parsi, “between eight thousand and ten thousand Jews left Iran [each year] from the 1930s through 1950.” For his part, David Littman puts a more conservative estimate, stating that “the total number of Iranian Jews who settled in Israel between 1948 and 1978 is seventy thousand.”

Nazism Without Antisemitism

The rise of Nazism in the 1930s was not limited to European countries; it also affected North Africa and the Middle East. Nazi Germany sought to weaken France, the Soviet Union, and Great Britain by any means necessary, particularly in their colonies and spheres of influence. The Third Reich made numerous efforts to win over the Arab-Muslim world. Research by David Motadel and Jeffrey Herf shows that its representatives took an interest in the aspirations and problems of colonized peoples in order to reach a wider audience and appear more credible in their propaganda.7 Thus, some of them read German Orientalist authors, such as Max von Oppenheim, nicknamed the “German Lawrence of Arabia,” to gain a clearer understanding of the concerns of Arab-Muslim peoples in the Balkans or the Arabian Peninsula.

In this subtle maneuver, Nazi propaganda emphasized two fundamental themes. On the one hand, Germany claimed to support the independence of colonized countries and pretended to back resistance movements and Arab nationalism; on the other hand, Nazi propagandists stoked antisemitism by portraying Jews as the common enemy of both Arabs and Germans (relying in particular on certain figures driven by hatred of Jews, foremost among them the Mufti of Jerusalem, Mohammed Amin al-Husseini). Furthermore, the persecution of Jews also took place in certain Muslim countries, such as Tunisia under German occupation.8 The “Muslim moment” of Nazism, to borrow Motadel’s expression, thus refers to an entire strategy of influence in which the Nazis partially abandoned their racial classification system to draw closer to the peoples of the Arab-Muslim world (despite their being considered inferior in Hitler’s ideology) and to extend the war into the non-European colonial sphere. However, the reception of Nazism was not homogeneous or unambiguous within Muslim countries. For example, the Muslim Balkans were not affected by the same colonial issues as the countries of North Africa or Mandatory Palestine.

Iran in the 1930s stood out for certain peculiarities within this landscape. Thus, it was not colonized in the strict sense; furthermore, its people enjoyed a certain privilege, for according to the Nazis’ pseudoscientific laws, they did not belong to the inferior races, as Iran had been the homeland of the Aryans (a name used, among others, by the Persians since antiquity to refer to themselves) before their supposed arrival in Europe, where they allegedly founded the white race.9 Admittedly, Iran became a Muslim country, and the Persians have intermingled with other ethnic groups throughout their history, but in the eyes of the Nazis, they have retained cultural and biological elements from the civilizational era that preceded Islam. On this point, the Nazis drew inspiration from Arthur de Gobineau, though he was not the only one to defend the distinctiveness of Persia within the Arab-Muslim landscape.

In France, other famous writers and politicians, such as Ernest Renan in Islam and Science10 or Pierre Loti in Towards Isfahan11, defended the cultural distinctiveness of Persia. Thus, the Nazis’ treatment of Iranians and their propaganda apparatus differed from what was common in other Arab-Muslim countries.

Nazi propaganda focused on two fundamental themes. On the one hand, Germany claimed to favor the independence of colonized countries and pretended to support resistance movements and Arab nationalism; on the other hand, Nazi propagandists stoked antisemitism by portraying Jews as the common enemy of both Arabs and Germans.

On the Iranian side, Germany played a significant role in the foreign policy of Reza Shah and some of his associates. Nazi propaganda was listened to closely, as an alliance with Germany was viewed as a “third way” by Iranian nationalists. Indeed, the rapprochement with Nazi Germany was seen as a means for Iran to rid itself of the Soviet Union to the north and of Great Britain in the south of the country. Iran therefore sought to strengthen its ties with Germany. It was only with the Anglo- -Soviet invasion and the deposition of Reza Shah in 1941 that military and industrial cooperation with Germany would come to a definitive end. The German-Iranian rapprochement was thus a strategic one for both countries. On the one hand, Iran’s natural resources were of interest to Germany; on the other, the monarch and his allies saw the alliance with Germany as a means of securing relative independence.

Initially, Nazi propaganda aimed at the Iranian public appealed to both nationalist and religious sentiments. In 1938, the Iranian section of Radio Berlin, managed by Bahram Shahrokh, contributed to the spread of Nazism in Iran from Nazi Germany, with broadcasts covering various geopolitical themes.12 For their part, the Nazis themselves drew upon the Shiite religious references they were familiar with to better influence the clergy and a segment of Iranian public opinion; the main architect of this propaganda was the German ambassador in Tehran, Erwin Ettel13. Thus, rumors circulated in the country claiming that Hitler had converted to Shia Islam14 or that he was the savior (the Hidden Imam) whom the Shias awaited at the end of time.15 In this context, Hitler’s hostility toward the Russians and the British is perceived as aligned with that of the Iranian people. His struggle is thus seen as a battle of Good against Evil, against Satan. Hitler’s wars are even compared to the wars of the Prophet Muhammad. However, this propaganda had no real influence. It was not widely adopted by the clergy, who had been largely sidelined from political life by Reza Shah in the 1930s; it therefore did not contribute to the acceptance of Nazism within political discourse. At that time, the mullahs had begun resisting the Westernization of Iran, particularly regarding dress; their interventions in public life primarily concerned the prohibition of Islamic attire in state-run institutions, or the ban on the veil for women in public spaces. The directly nationalist dimension of Nazi propaganda, on the other hand, seems to have resonated more effectively in the Iranian context of the 1930s. The promotion of ancient Persian cultures, the friendship between the Aryans of the North (Europe) and the people of Zoroaster, and the defense of the religions of ancient Persia are all elements on which the defenders of Nazism and Pan-Iranism agree, as they view pre-Islamic Iran as a model of civilization.16 Themes such as national revival, a return to Persia’s non-Islamic origins, or even, in some cases, hatred of Islam as the cause of the decline of Persian civilization, were present in Iranian public discourse of the 1930s, sometimes even within certain intellectual circles leaning toward the left. However, hatred of communism was another passion shared by the Nazis and Iranian nationalists. Supporters of Nazism emphasized the communists’ unconditional loyalty to the Soviet Union and their indifference toward nationalism and the glory of Iran. This rhetoric resonated with nationalist democrats, given the highly complicated and often humiliating relations that Russia had forged with Iran since the 19th century. Gradually, the Iranian section of Radio Berlin thus abandoned religious discourse to promote almost exclusively an anti-communist and anti-British nationalism.17 In this context, praise for pre-Islamic Iran gained ground.

Jews in Iran are generally not viewed as a foreign element by nationalists and advocates of Pan-Iranism; moreover, as noted, from the moment the country entered the modern era, Jews managed to secure full political representation alongside Armenians, Azeris, and Zoroastrians.

What about antisemitism in all this? Surprisingly, it does not appear to be a decisive factor in the reception of Nazism in early Pahlavi Iran. On this subject, a certain divergence emerges between the German Nazis and the supporters of Nazism in Iran, even though the latter accept all other cultural and political aspects of Nazism. The reasons for this divergence are complex. First, it must be recalled that a portion of the Iranian intelligentsia was educated at the Alliance Israélite Universelle. Its representatives were accustomed to associating with their Jewish classmates and were not prepared to subscribe to the antisemitic propaganda that portrayed the latter as enemies of the nation. Indeed, graduates of the Alliance, both Jewish and non-Jewish, took part in the country’s affairs, and the Jews of Iran did not appear as a “stateless” people, “nomads,” or “a nation within a nation.” The statements of the founders of the Iranian Nazi Party (SUMKA)—established in 1952—on this subject are quite revealing and clearly demonstrate how alien antisemitic propaganda was to Iran’s cultural elites. According to Dariush Homayoun, one of SUMKA’s leading members:

The party was heavily influenced by Nazi ideology, but could not endorse antisemitic propaganda, given the historical friendship between Persians and Jews dating back to the time of Cyrus the Great. However, SUMKA fully accepted the nationalist dimension and the emphasis the Nazis placed on the superiority of the Aryans.18

Other party members, such as Davud Monshizadeh—an admirer of Hitler, an Iranian scholar, and a member of the SS, and author of a memoir, Fight Evil19 (1951), defended the same ideas as Homayoun, specifying that a civil nationalism respectful of ethnic, religious, and linguistic differences could make no room for any form of antisemitism, given the contribution of Jews to Iranian history since antiquity. Indeed, Monshizadeh’s “civil” nationalism was not meant to be an aggressive form of nationalism, advocating for differential treatment among the many ethnic groups that made up 20th-century Iran. On the contrary, Monshizadeh advocated for equality before the law for the citizens of Iran’s various ethnic groups, while defending the superiority of Iranians within the Muslim world. From this perspective, the Jews of Iran belong to the same national community as the non-Jewish populations.20

Thus, the Jews of Iran are generally not considered a foreign element by nationalists and advocates of Pan-Iranism; moreover, as noted, from the moment the country entered the modern era, Jews managed to secure full political representation alongside Armenians, Azeris, and Zoroastrians. Since that time, Jews have therefore not been regarded as members of an inferior race, and some opponents of Nazism in Iran even took advantage of this situation to save certain Jews from Europe. Abdol-Hossein Sardari, nicknamed “the Schindler of Iran,” thus managed to obtain passports and exit permits for approximately one thousand Iranian Jewish families living in France.21 Faced with the scale of the persecution, Sardari was also able to obtain fake Iranian documents for two thousand non-Iranian Jewish families so they could leave Europe.22 The Simon Wiesenthal Center, an NGO fighting against antisemitism, racism, and promoting the prevention of hatred, has thus organized ceremonies on several occasions to honor the memory of this Righteous Among the Nations.

In summary, it can be said that, for the most part, it was the anti-communism of Nazi propaganda that resonated with Iranian nationalists. The rejection of antisemitic propaganda is not, moreover, limited to the elite; it is evident within Iranian civil society. The warm and fraternal welcome extended to Polish refugees—most of whom were Jewish—in Iran during World War II is a particularly telling example.23 In 1942, approximately twenty thousand Polish refugees arrived in Iran, and some of them chose to remain in Iran, even though they were supposed to be sent to other countries.

Finally, Reza Shah himself showed no hostility toward Jews, even though he had placed great hopes in Hitler. As noted, some of his closest associates were Jewish; the royal family’s physician (Habib Levy) was even a Zionist. All of this demonstrates just how complex the reception of Nazism in Iran is. After 1941, with the ousting of Reza Shah by the Allies, any support for Nazism became reprehensible. In fact, it was not until the Allies left Iran that SUMKA, the Iranian Nazi party, came into being—well after the war, as mentioned. However, SUMKA never managed to play a decisive political role on the Iranian political scene and was quickly supplanted by various pan-Iranist groups.

Excerpt from Part One, Chapter 3, “Les Juifs d’Iran” (The Jews of Iran), pp. 81–93.

  1. Mohammad-Hossein Rajabi, « Le clergé chiite et le combat antisioniste » (« Rohaniyat shie et mobazaeh alayhe sahyounism »), Revue de la République islamique, 7, 2006, p. 6. ↩︎
  2. Ibid., p. 8. ↩︎
  3. This kind of call played an important role in the political struggles of the clergy in Iran: in particular, they called for jihad against the Soviet invasion—which they deemed an “enemy of Islam”—during World War II. ↩︎
  4. Ahmad Najafi, “Reflections on the Palestinian Question” (“Ta’amolat darbaraye masaleye felestin”), Mobahesat, 17, 2019, p. 12. ↩︎
  5. Jalaleedine Madani, Kashani and the Palestinian Question (Kashani va masaleye felestin), Tehran, Kolbeh Shorough, 2017, p. 110. ↩︎
  6. Reza Azari Shahrzayi, Iran and German Immigrant Technicians (Iran va motakhasesan mohajer almani), Tehran: National Archives of Iran Press, 1995, p. 11. ↩︎
  7. For further reading on this topic, see David Motadel’s book, Les Musulmans et la machine de guerre nazie (Paris: La Découverte, 2019), and Jeffrey Herf’s book, Nazi Propaganda for the Arab World (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2009). ↩︎
  8. In his book Les Juifs de Tunisie sous le joug nazi, 9 novembre 1942-8 mai 1943 (Paris: Le Manuscrit, 2020), Claude Nataf compiles and analyzes testimonies from Tunisian Jews who fell victim to Nazi propaganda, the Vichy regime, and Muslim antisemitism. ↩︎
  9. According to Arthur de Gobineau in his Essay on the Inequality of the Human Races (Paris: Firmin Didot, 1853–1855, 4 vols.). Gobineau took a keen interest in pre-Islamic Iran during his diplomatic missions to the country from 1855 to 1863. His pseudoscientific theories were widely used by proponents of white racial superiority during the first half of the 20th century. ↩︎
  10. Lecture at the Collège de France from 1862, published by Vrin (Paris, 2018). ↩︎
  11. Paris, Calmann Lévy, 1904. ↩︎
  12. See Hamid Shokat’s article on this topic, titled “Broadcasts by the Iranian Section of Radio Berlin,” published in Iran Nameh, vol. 28, Spring 2013, p. 42. ↩︎
  13. After leaving Iran in 1941 at the time of the Anglo-Soviet invasion, Erwin Ettel continued his missions to Arab and Muslim countries from Germany. ↩︎
  14.  Eliz Sanasarian, Religious Minorities in Iran, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2000, p. 46. ↩︎
  15. Ahmad Sokani, We Must Live (Zendegi bayad kard), Tehran: Amirkabir, 1978, p. 25. ↩︎
  16. In his book Germany and Iran: From the Aryan Axis to the Nuclear Threshold (New York: Telos Press Publishing, 2014), Matthias Küntzel provides a precise and detailed overview of the themes addressed in Nazi propaganda in order to more effectively manipulate Iranian nationalist circles. ↩︎
  17. To counter the influence of Radio Berlin’s Persian-language service, the BBC also launched its own Persian-language service, which began broadcasting highly critical programs about Nazi Germany in 1940. BBC Persian remains active to this day. ↩︎
  18. Interview with Dariush Homayoun, available online: http://m.youtube.com/ playlist?list=PLkrlU21-0GWI09oeAni1S48zHmlv3pqUX. ↩︎
  19. Davud Monshizadeh, Fight Evil (Nabard alayhe shar), Tehran: SUMKA Publications, 1951. ↩︎
  20. It should be noted that Moshizadeh’s concept of “civil nationalism” must be viewed with caution, as his writings nonetheless contain remarks critical of Azerbaijani communists and certain accusations regarding an alleged Jewish stranglehold on Iranian industry. ↩︎
  21. Brian Wheeler, « The Iranian Schindler Who Save Jews From the Nazis », BBC Magazine, March 8th, 2012, online: https://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-16190541. ↩︎
  22. Entry on Abdol-Hossein Sardari in the Multimedia Encyclopedia of the Shoah: https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/fr/article/abdol-hossein-sardari-1895-1981#:~:text=The%20Iranian%20diplomat%20Abdol%20 Hossein,Occupation%20(1940%2D1944). ↩︎
  23. Read Mikhal Dekel’s article on this topic, titled “When Iran Welcomed Jewish Refugees,” published in October 2019 in Foreign Policy: https:// foreignpolicy.com/2019/10/19/when-iran-welcomed-jewish-refugees/ ↩︎