Rabbis Detained and Questioned, Jews Targeted: Iran's Crackdown During War With Israel

The 12-day war between Israel and Iran, which concluded with a ceasefire on June 24, 2025, left Iran’s Jewish community, approximately 7,000 in Shiraz and 15,000 nationwide, in a state of profound fear and isolation. As Israel’s “Am K’Lavie” operation devastated Iran’s nuclear and missile infrastructure, Iranian authorities intensified their crackdown on perceived internal threats, detaining chazanim (cantors) and Rabbanim (rabbis) in Shiraz and Tehran on suspicion of collaborating with Israel. The arrests, announced on the war’s final day, amplified the community’s vulnerability under a regime wielding fear as a weapon.

Zahava, an Israeli from Iran now in Haifa, shared a chilling WhatsApp message from a childhood friend in Shiraz: “In Persian, she wrote that the police had taken the chazanim and Rabbanim in for questioning. They were suspected of collaborating with Israel. To this day, we don’t know if they’ve been released.” She added, “She told us it’s best not to contact the Jews there right now, the situation is extremely fragile. There’s a very active WhatsApp group, but since the war started, there’s been complete silence.” Frightened Jews stayed indoors, severing internet connections to avoid regime scrutiny, as Zahava noted, “They’re too afraid to go out, it could cost them their lives.”

Lydia, who left Tehran 30 years ago and lives in Holon, recalled a tense call with her brother in northern Tehran: “They were warned that Jews with ties to Israel would be arrested and sent to prison.” His wife said, “We had nowhere to go, so we went to an aunt’s house in the western part of the city. It’s safer there.” From his balcony, her brother witnessed Israeli airstrikes, saying, “We waved to the pilots and loved seeing the Israeli army in action. Redemption has arrived. We thank the Creator.” Lydia shared past trauma, stating, “Four family members were killed five years ago. They sounded fine, had a mild flu, and the next day they were gone.”

Noga, who fled Shiraz after the 1979 Islamic Revolution and now lives in New York, described the community’s plight: “When there’s a war involving Israel, the government forces Jews to publicly declare they’re against Zionism to prove loyalty to Iran.” Communication was perilous: “If you call from Israel, they know. They just know.” Conversations use coded language, with weather metaphors signaling danger, such as, “Right now things are okay, but we heard tomorrow there’ll be a flood.” Noga recounted the ayatollah’s threats: “He spoke about ‘Zionist spies,’ saying, ‘We will catch the traitors, deal with their families and not let them continue to live,’” intensifying fear.

Despite moments of normalcy, Noga stressed the regime’s brutality: “They’ll make an example of anyone suspected of collaborating with Israel. If Rabbanim and chazanim were detained, it’s a very troubling situation, and urgent action is needed.” She lamented, “Shiraz will always be my city, but Iran is no longer my country. The mullah regime has dragged it back a hundred years.” Systemic discrimination persists, with Jews barred from most jobs without Muslim partners and limited university access. Noga expressed hope for change: “These mullahs need to go to hell so Iran can return to the days of the Shah.” The war’s end offers little relief, as the community remains silenced, fearing further reprisals under a regime that relentlessly targets dissent.