The Islamic Ethnic Cleansing of the Middle East's Jews
One cannot make the argument in good faith that Israel is "colonial". It can only be made by deciding, in advance, that certain people don't count.
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by Matt Field
June 10, 2026
The German ambassador to Egypt works out of a house that used to belong to a Jewish family. So does the Swiss ambassador. So does the American one. The homes were confiscated in 1956, when the Egyptian government declared, in a proclamation read aloud from the minarets of Cairo and Alexandria, that all Jews were Zionists and enemies of the state.
The families were given one suitcase. They signed documents “donating” everything else to the government. Then they left. The houses are still there; the families are not.
This is where the argument about Israel begins — not in Europe, but here.
There is a story told about Israel with remarkable confidence in universities, at the United Nations, in the opinion sections of newspapers that should know better. The story goes like this: European Jews, traumatized by European persecution, arrived in a land populated by indigenous Arabs and established, by force, a settler state. European guilt. European migration. European power. Colonialism wearing a Star of David.
The story requires you to ignore the majority of Israelis.
Mizrahi Jews (those whose ancestry traces to Iraq, Iran, Yemen, Egypt, Morocco, Libya, Syria, Tunisia, Algeria, and Lebanon) constitute the largest demographic bloc in Israel’s Jewish population, as many as 61 percent depending on how intermarriage and self-identification are counted. No serious demographer disputes the basic fact.
They are not European, but descendants of communities that lived in the Middle East and North Africa for over 2,000 years before the word “Europe” carried any political meaning. Many trace their origins to the Babylonian exile of 586 BC. Their families were in Iraq before Rome was a city. They were in Sana’a and Cairo and Tripoli while the ancestors of today’s loudest “anti-Zionists” were still pagans in northern forests.
By every definition that the language of indigenous rights claims to honor, they are indigenous people of the Middle East.
The colonial thesis does not complicate this fact; it requires its erasure.
These communities did not arrive in Iraq and Yemen and Egypt from Europe or from nowhere. They arrived from Eretz Yisrael (the Land of Israel), carried there by the conquests and expulsions that defined the ancient world.
The Babylonian exile of 586 BC brought Jews to Mesopotamia when Nebuchadnezzar destroyed the First Temple and deported the population of Judea. Later waves followed the Assyrian conquest, the Roman destruction of the Second Temple in 70 AD, and the subsequent dispersions that scattered Jewish communities across the region.
The Jews of Baghdad, of Sana’a, of Cairo, of Tripoli were not immigrants to the Middle East from somewhere else; they were the exiled children of the Land of Israel, living in the lands to which conquest had driven them, maintaining their language, their texts, and their memory of home across 2,000 years. When they came to Israel in the 20th century, they were not arriving as colonizers; they were returning.
To understand what was lost, you have to know what existed.
The Jews of Iraq were among the oldest continuous Jewish communities on earth. Their roots in Babylonia stretch to the destruction of the First Temple. They did not merely survive in Iraq; they built there. The Talmud, the central text of Jewish law and life that has governed Jewish practice for 15 centuries, was composed in Babylon, in the academies of Sura and Pumbedita, on the soil of what is now modern Iraq.
By the early 20th century, Jews made up roughly a third of Baghdad’s population. They were merchants, musicians, government officials, doctors, and bankers. They spoke Judeo-Arabic and prayed in Hebrew and had done both, without interruption, for two and a half millennia.
The Jews of Yemen maintained a liturgical tradition so ancient and so isolated from the rest of the Jewish world that scholars of Hebrew phonetics study it today to understand how the language was originally pronounced. They had been in the Arabian Peninsula since before the rise of Islam. Their piyyutim, their sacred poetry, carried melodies that the rest of the Jewish world had forgotten.
The Jews of Morocco and Algeria predated the Arab conquest of North Africa. The Persian Jewish community traced its origins to the era of Cyrus the Great, who is named in the book of Isaiah as the instrument of Jewish liberation. The Jews of Egypt and the Jews of Syria were ancient. These were not transplanted peoples, but rooted ones with sacred texts, living languages, and unbroken communal memory reaching back to the earliest chapters of Jewish history.
In 1948, there were 135,000 Jews in Iraq, 265,000 in Morocco, 140,000 in Algeria, 105,000 in Tunisia, 100,000 in Egypt, 60,000 in Yemen, 38,000 in Libya, and 30,000 in Syria. Today, there are fewer than 10 Jews in Iraq, fewer than 10 in Yemen, and fewer than 10 in Libya. The end of each community had its own texture, but the pattern was the same everywhere.
In Baghdad, the unraveling began on the Jewish holiday of Shavuot1 in June 1941. Nazi influence had reached Iraq through the German ambassador Fritz Grobba, who funded antisemitic newspapers, bankrolled a youth movement modeled on the Hitler Youth, and cultivated a pro-Axis officer class. When a short-lived pro-Nazi government collapsed and British forces moved toward the city, mobs took to the streets.
Over two days, roughly 180 Jews were killed, hundreds were wounded and raped, and 1,500 homes and businesses were looted and destroyed. The pogrom is called the Farhud, an Arabic term often translated as “violent dispossession” or “pogrom.” It is not taught in schools.
A decade later, Iraq criminalized Zionism, seized Jewish property, stripped Jews of their citizenship, and arranged the conditions under which 120,000 Jews boarded planes to Israel in Operation Ezra and Nehemiah, leaving behind the land where the Talmud was written.
In Egypt, President Gamal Abdel Nasser’s government waited until the Suez Crisis of 1956. Then the proclamation went out from the mosques: Zionists, enemies of the state, one suitcase, sign the form, leave. Between 1948 and the late 1960s, more than 80 percent of Egypt’s Jews fled, most to Israel, some to France and the Americas, all to a life rebuilt from nothing.
In Yemen, anti-Jewish riots erupted in late November 1947, triggered by protests against the United Nations Partition Plan. Over three days, more than 80 Jews were killed, over 100 Jewish-owned businesses looted, synagogues burned. In 1949 and 1950, in an operation the Israeli government called On Wings of Eagles, nearly 49,000 Yemenite Jews were airlifted to Israel. Many had walked for days through the desert to reach the airstrip. They arrived carrying almost nothing. They brought their Torah scrolls.
In Libya, the Jews had been present for over 2,000 years, their roots in the region traceable to before the destruction of the Second Temple. In 1945, Arab nationalist riots killed more than 140 of them and destroyed hundreds of their homes. Another pogrom followed in 1948 — more dead, more homes burned. When Prime Minister Muammar Gaddafi came to power in 1969, he confiscated all remaining Jewish property by law. By 1970, the government declared Libya Judenrein (German meaning “free of Jews”) — 2,000 years of Jewish presence, ended by decree.
The same pattern completed itself across Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, Syria, Lebanon, and Iran — sometimes through mob violence, sometimes through bureaucratic suffocation. Property laws required Muslim business partners, passports were withheld, citizenship was stripped, and bank accounts were frozen.
The Jewish communities of the Arab world were liquidated across three decades through a combination of persecution, pauperization, and periodic slaughter, until more than 99 percent were gone. The land confiscated from those who fled amounts to 40,000 square miles, five times the size of Israel in 1948. The property losses, documented across 22 archives and submitted to the United Nations Human Rights Council, are valued at $263 billion in current terms.
There is no UN agency for these refugees, no annual day of mourning recognized by the UN General Assembly, no special rapporteur, no international fund, no permanent refugee population maintained across generations as a political instrument.
The word Nakba — meaning “catastrophe” in Arabic and referring to the 1948 displacement of Palestinians during the First Arab-Israeli war — is not applied to them, though by every measurable standard, what happened to nearly one million Jews across the Arab world was a larger, more total, and more deliberately engineered displacement than the Palestinian exodus to which that word is exclusively applied.
The silence is not an oversight. Oversights get corrected when you point them out. This is where the argument has to be named precisely.
The people who advance the colonial thesis about the modern State of Israel are not, in general, ignorant of Mizrahi Jews. They are educated people. They read. They know that Israel is not a monoculture. The problem is not that they lack information; the problem is that the information does not serve the argument, so the information is not used.
The colonial framing is load-bearing. Remove it and the entire ideological structure collapses. Acknowledge that the majority of Israelis descend from communities expelled from Arab lands, and you must also acknowledge that Arab states conducted ethnic cleansing against their Jewish populations. Acknowledge that, and you cannot sustain the clean binary of indigenous Arabs against colonial Europeans. Acknowledge that, and the people demanding the dismantling of Israel as an act of decolonization are demanding that the refugees of Arab ethnic cleansing surrender the one place that took them in.
The Mizrahi Jews do not complicate this argument; they end it — so they are disappeared, not through a conspiracy, but through a habit of selective attention so consistent and so convenient that it functions as policy. They are the people the argument needs not to exist. And for the most part, in the discourse that shapes how much of the world talks about Israel, they don’t.
The erasure is not ignorance; it is maintenance.
Israel is a country whose majority population descended from Jews expelled from the Arab world. Those Jews came from communities that predated Islam, that built the Talmud on Babylonian soil, that maintained ancient Hebrew liturgy in Yemeni mountains, that had been part of the fabric of Cairo and Baghdad and Tripoli for longer than most modern nations have existed. They were dispossessed by Arab nationalism, stripped of citizenship and property, forced onto planes and into transit camps and into a new country that was the only country that would have them. They are not colonizers of the Middle East; they are its expelled children, returned.
And those Arab states bear direct responsibility for the demographic reality they then spent decades condemning. Nearly 900,000 Jews left Iraq, Yemen, Egypt, Libya, Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, and Syria, driven by persecution, pogrom, and state-sponsored dispossession. Some left under direct expulsion order. Others left because staying had been made impossible. The distinction matters less than the result: They are gone, their property was taken, and not one Arab state has ever offered to keep them, protect them, or compensate them for what was taken.
Some 650,000 went to Israel, because Israel was the only country that would receive them without conditions. The rest went to France and the Americas. They expelled the Jews, closed every door behind them, and then condemned where those Jews ended up. The population that the colonial thesis calls a European imposition was built, in its majority, by refugees the Arab world itself created. The indictment and its cause are the same people.
The conflict has competing claims; they deserve honest accounting; and that accounting cannot begin until all the people are on the table.
The people who built the colonial thesis around Israel knew, or should have known, all of this. They constructed the argument anyway. They invoked “indigenous rights” while erasing the most indigenous Jews on earth. They demanded “historical accountability” while granting total immunity to the Arab states that liquidated their Jewish populations and kept the stolen property. They called Israel a “European project” while ignoring the Yemeni Jews who walked through the desert carrying Torah scrolls to reach a plane to Israel.
You cannot make that argument in good faith. You can only make it by deciding, in advance, that certain people do not count.
The Mizrahi Jews count. They were there when the argument was being built against them. They were there when the world decided not to notice. They are there now, the majority of the people in the Jewish state, the expelled children of the Arab world, home. No thesis survives that — only the decision to keep pretending it doesn’t exist.
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Shavuot is a major Jewish holiday marking the 50th day after Passover and commemorating the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai.
Where is Tucker Carlson regarding these facts? Interesting how podcasters and television news programs hide these facts from the public. Either way, in the end we all die and must give an account to God for how we lived and also how we treated these people. They are truly a neon sign indicating to the world that God exists so we are left without excuse for not knowing the truth.
https://thinktorah.substack.com/p/history-of-the-jews-of-yemen
The history of the Jews in Yemen spans millennia, encompassing many challenging and prosperous periods. Read on to explore and unravel the captivating narrative of Yemenite Jews, tracing their journey through time, and learn about an ancient Jewish community that survived all odds and came home.
The Last Jew in Yemen
A lone Jewish person remains in Yemen, down from seven in February, according to a new United Nations report about the treatment of religious minorities in conflict zones. (Gabby Deutch, Jewish Insider March 14, 2022) In the early 20th century, Jews in Yemen numbered over 50,000; today, there is one Jew left. There are reportedly a handful of “hidden Jews” in Yemen who have converted to Islam but secretly practice Judaism.