War of Memory and History

Peshraw Mohammed

(Note: A shorter version of this article was previously published in Yad Mizrah Magazine in Israel. We are now presenting the full version here)

Abstract

“Sara’s Homeland” is a Kurdish-language novel by the Kurdish-Jewish author Miran Abraham, which recounts the story of the Kurdish-Jewish community in the Kurdistan Region of Iraq, particularly in the city of Slemani (Sulaymaniyah), home to the second-largest Jewish community after Zaxo, often considered the capital of Kurdistani Jews. The novel portrays themes of love, struggle, persecution, antisemitism, and solidarity between Kurdish Muslims and Jews but also anti-jewish prejudices among Kurdish muslims in the early twentieth century. It also reflects the dreams and aspirations for a free Kurdistan, the journey to Israel, and the internal struggle between Kurdishness and Jewishness. Abraham masterfully tells a story that could not have been told in any other way. Before analyzing the novel, it is important to briefly explore the history of the Kurdistani Jews, their influence on the Kurdish community, and the long-standing relationship between Kurds and Jews, which is key to understanding the mutual recognition and affection shared between the two nations today.

First Chapter

1.1 The Jews of Kurdistan: A Journey of Identity, Struggle, and Homeland

The history of Jews in Kurdistan is one of resilience, survival, and cultural amalgamation. Spanning centuries, the Jewish communities in the Kurdish regions of Iraq, Turkey, Syria, and Iran developed a unique identity. The story of the Kurdistani Jews is deeply entwined with that of the Kurdish people, marked by a shared history of coexistence, mutual respect, and, ultimately, separation due to geopolitical changes in the 20th century. The tension between Jewishness and Kurdishness, and the struggle to reconcile these two identities, culminates in the formation of the term “Kurdistani Jew,” which represents a powerful bond with a territorial homeland—Kurdistan—and the later immigration to Israel.

1.2 The History of Jews in Kurdistan

Jews have lived in the Kurdistan for over two thousand years, forming vibrant communities that flourished in relative peace under the protection of Kurdish tribal leaders known as Aghas. As Haya Gavish notes, ‘relations between Jews and Muslims in Kurdistan were shaped by the delicate balance of power between the formal sovereign in Mesopotamia and local strongmen who ruled areas in Kurdistan. The central authorities exercised no real control over Kurdistan, in fact, it was the tribal leaders who ruled there.’[i] Unlike their counterparts in other parts of the Middle East, Jews in Kurdistan were largely spared from the severe persecution that plagued Jewish communities elsewhere. From the Middle Ages onward, Jews in Kurdish lands lived within a distinct socio-cultural and religious framework, deeply integrated with the Kurdish way of life.

In the medieval period, Kurdish tribal leaders often protected Jews from the harsh treatment meted out by other rulers. Jewish communities in places like Zakho, Amadiya (Amedi), and Erbil (Hewler) enjoyed a degree of autonomy under Kurdish tribal leaders, who valued their economic contributions and respected their religious practices. As Israeli journalist and historian Haya Gavish notes in Unwitting Zionists: The Jewish Community of Zakho in Iraqi Kurdistan, the Jewish community of Zakho, for example, was free from the persecution that characterized other Jewish diasporas.

The mutual respect between Kurds and Jews was born of shared historical experiences—both peoples had suffered at the hands of foreign empires and both held strong regional identities that tied them to their land. Jews in Kurdistan, therefore, developed a Kurdistani identity that transcended their Jewish faith. Kurdish Jews, or Kurdistani Jews, felt a connection to their Kurdish homeland, seeing themselves as part of the wider Kurdish nation by preserving their Jewishness.

1.3 The Split Identity: Jewishness and Kurdishness

However, the 20th century marked a turning point for the Jewish communities in Kurdistan. As modern nation-states emerged in the Middle East, the identity of Kurdish Jews began to shift. With the emergence of Arab nationalism and the establishment of Iraq as a modern state under British colonial rule, and annexing Kurdistan to Iraq, Jews in Kurdistan were caught between their Jewish heritage and their Kurdish homeland. The trauma of the Farhud pogrom in Iraq in 1941 and the eventual political upheavals led many to reconsider their place in the region. The collapse of the small Kurdish monarchies and the advent of Iraq’s central government heralded a period of secularization that affected Kurdish society at large, and Jews were increasingly marginalized by the Arab rule and later forced to immigrate.

In Once A Diaspora, Always A Diaspora?, Bahar Baser explores how Kurdish Jews in Israel have grappled with their dual identity. The term “Kurdistani Jew” emerged as a way for Jewish Kurds to preserve their unique connection to both the Jewish faith and the Kurdish homeland. This term symbolizes a complex relationship between Jewishness and Kurdishness, acknowledging both the historical roots in Kurdistan and migration to Israel[ii].

1.4 The Rise of Antisemitism and the Impact of Islam

While Jews had historically lived in peace with Kurds – in the introduction to one of the most authoritative works on antisemitism in Islam edited by Andrew Bostom, Ibn Warraq states that Jews experienced a brief period of peace under Islamic rule and attained political power, but this occurred primarily during the reign of Sultan Saladin Ayubi. Warraq attributes this to Saladin being a Kurdish ruler-,[iii] the political dynamics of the 20th century introduced a shift in attitudes. The spread of Arab nationalism and the influence of Islamist ideologies in the region began to alter the perception of Jews. Kurdish Muslims, who had previously lived alongside Jews with mutual respect, were influenced by the broader regional hostility toward Jews. The rise of Arab nationalist movements, which included a rejection of the Zionist project, contributed to the deterioration of relations.

In Kurds, Jews, and Kurdistani Jews[iv], Haidar Khezri explores the parallels between the persecution of Kurds and Jews, noting that both groups have been historically oppressed by dominant powers. However, while antisemitism did not have deep roots within Kurdish culture, it was gradually imported through the influence of Arab nationalism and Islamist rhetoric, secularized by the Iraq government. This shift gradually marginalized the Jewish communities in Iraq, leading to their eventual exodus.

1.5 The Exodus: Immigration to Israel

The formation of Israel in 1948 was a catalyst for the mass migration of Jews from the Middle East, and Kurdish Jews were no exception. As Ariel Sabar recounts in My Father’s Paradise: A Son’s Search for His Jewish Past in Kurdish Iraq[v], the transition from Kurdistan to Israel was not just a physical journey, but an emotional and cultural one. For the Jews of Kurdistan, Israel was not only a homeland but also a place where their Kurdish identity could be expressed anew.

By 1951, the Iraqi government had begun to systematically push Jews out of the country, and Kurdish Jews, along with other Iraqi Jews, were airlifted to Israel in Operation Ezra and Nehemiah. This migration brought an end to a centuries-old Jewish presence in Kurdistan but also marked the beginning of a new chapter in the relationship between Kurds and Jews.

1.6 The Role of Israel and the Changing Image of Jews Among Kurds

The founding of Israel dramatically changed the relationship between Jews and Kurds. Israeli leaders, from David Ben-Gurion to Benjamin Netanyahu, have consistently referred to Kurds as “natural allies,” recognizing shared values such as the struggle for national self-determination and a commitment to freedom. Ofra Bengio, Israeli historian specialising in the Kurdish history, in her writings, highlights the historical ties between Israel and the Kurds, noting how the Kurdish political movements’ struggles against oppressive regimes resonated with the Jewish state[vi]. According to a poll conducted in 2009 in the Kurdistan Regional Government in Iraq, 71 percent of the respondents said they supported establishing diplomatic relations with Israel, and 67 percent said they viewed such relations as an important step toward an independent Kurdistan[vii].

As Israeli politicians talk about Kurds as “natural allies,” it is not only a political alignment but a recognition of the historical bond that existed between Jews and Kurds in the pre-modern era. This relationship has blossomed into diplomatic and military cooperation, with Israel offering support to the Kurdish people, particularly in their struggle for autonomy and independence.

Moreover, the Jewish diaspora, particularly in Israel, has become a vocal supporter of the Kurdish cause. The ties between Kurds and Jews are not only political but cultural, as both groups share a history of persecution and a common vision of independence.

1.7 Asenath Barzani: The First Kurdish Jewish Female Rabbi

One of the most remarkable figures in the history of Kurdish Jews is Asenath Barzani, the first female rabbi in Jewish history. Barzani, a Kurdish Jewish scholar, lived in the 17th century and was a symbol of the unique cultural and religious synthesis of the Kurdish Jewish community. As Lior Zaltzman writes, Barzani broke gender barriers in a deeply patriarchal society, becoming a revered religious leader in her community. Her legacy continues to inspire Kurdish Jews, especially in Israel, where she is celebrated as a trailblazer in both Jewish and Kurdish history[viii].

Second Chapter

Sara’s Homeland: Battelfield of History and Memory

2.1 Life and Works of Miran Abraham

Miran Abraham was born on March 26, 1970, in Slemani, southern Kurdistan (Kurdistan Regional Government in Iraq), into a Jewish family. He grew up in Kurdistan, where, unlike his grandfather who emigrated to Israel, his father chose to stay and join the Kurdish national liberation movement against the Iraqi regime. After the collapse of the Kurdish struggle, Miran and his father moved to the Netherlands, where he now lives with his wife and daughter. Miran began his writing career by translating books into Kurdish on the history, culture, and life of Kurdistani Jews. He later moved on to writing his own novels. Miran’s works are known for their historical realism, exploring themes of persecution, Jewish and Kurdish life, historical responsibility, urbanization, and nationalism. He gained recognition for his novel Sara’s Homeland, which tells the story of the Kurdistani Jews. The novel became a bestseller in Kurdistan, selling 25,000 copies initially and receiving positive reviews daily. This success highlights the Kurds’ deep desire to understand their history with Jews. I was also involved in the academic and intellectual discussions about the novel, first by writing an essay in Kurdish (which I reconstruct here) and then delivering a speech for a Kurdish audience. Before starting this essay, I spoke to my friend Miran about my project, which made him incredibly happy.

3. The Rise of the Novel and The Delayed Emergence of the Kurdish Novel

The novel, as a literary form, is intricately linked to the evolution of modernity, the emergence of bourgeois society, and the development of national consciousness. Its trajectory, from its rise in 18th-century Europe[ix] to its delayed emergence in Kurdish literature, reflects profound socio-political and cultural dynamics. This essay seeks to explore why the novel emerged late in Kurdish literature, drawing on the ideas of Franco Moretti, György Lukács, Benedict Anderson, Walter Benjamin, and Guido Mazzoni. It situates the Kurdish novel within broader historical and theoretical contexts, analyzing its development in relation to print capitalism, modernity, and the shifting aesthetics of narrative forms.

3.1 The European Genesis of the Novel

Franco Moretti, in Atlas of the European Novel 1800-1900 and The Bourgeois, emphasizes that the novel is a product of the bourgeois era, embodying the values, anxieties, and aspirations of this rising class. The novel became a vehicle for exploring individualism and social mobility, themes central to bourgeois ideology[x]. Benedict Anderson’s Imagined Communities complements this by showing how novels and newspapers helped forge national consciousness, creating shared imaginaries essential for the modern nation-state[xi].

György Lukács, in The Theory of the Novel and The Historical Novel, sees the novel as a form born from “transcendental homelessness,”[xii] where the loss of traditional totalities necessitates a new artistic expression. The novel’s fragmented form mirrors the fractured experience of modernity, marking it as both a product and a critique of its time. Unlike the epic, which reflects a unified worldview, the novel grapples with alienation and individuality—central features of capitalist society.

3.2 The Delayed Emergence of the Kurdish Novel

In contrast to Europe, the Kurdish novel emerged only in the early 20th century, during the British mandate period in Iraq. This delay can be attributed to several factors:

1. Lack of Print Capitalism: As Walter Benjamin argues in The Storyteller: Reflections on the Works of Nikolai Leskov[xiii], the novel’s emergence is closely tied to the rise of print technologies. The delayed introduction of print technologies in Kurdistan hindered the development of a literary culture that could sustain novel-writing. The British brought print technologies to Kurdistan, facilitating mass printing and laying the groundwork for the emergence of early Kurdish novels like Jamil Saib’s ‘In My Dream’ and Ahmad Mukhtar Jaf’s ‘The Issue of Conscience: Or How I became a Nobel’. Both novels based deeply on social criticism of history, politics, society and inerpersonal relationships.
2. Socioeconomic Structures: The absence of a robust bourgeoisie in Kurdish society delayed the cultural and economic conditions necessary for novel production. As Moretti notes, the novel thrives in societies where the bourgeoisie dominates cultural consumption, shaping the themes and forms of literary production.
3. Epic and Oral Traditions: Storytelling was deeply rooted in oral and epic traditions, as Benjamin’s analysis of storytelling highlights and this is entirely true to the Kurdish storytelling. These forms, tied to pre-industrial societies, persisted longer in Kurdish culture, delaying the transition to the novel’s individualized and industrialized narrative mode.
4. National and Political Struggles: Kurdish literature has been shaped by the ongoing struggles for statehood and national identity. As Anderson’s Imagined Communities suggests, the novel plays a crucial role in articulating national consciousness. However, the statelessness of the Kurdish people complicated the development of a unifying literary form in relation to the novel until the mid-twentieth century.

3.3 The Kurdish Novel and Modernity

The early Kurdish novel, characterized by its simple form and content, reflects the transitional nature of Kurdish society during the mandate period. The rise of novel-writing coincided with the introduction of modern institutions and the integration of Kurdish regions into global economic and political systems. These changes facilitated the novel’s emergence as a representation of modern individuality and social complexity.

Lukács’s notion of the novel as a synthesis of epic and modern narrative finds resonance here. Early Kurdish novels attempted to bridge the gap between traditional storytelling and the demands of a modern audience. However, as the form evolved, it began to reflect the complexities of Kurdish society, addressing themes of alienation, identity, and political struggle.

3.4 Aesthetic Evolution and Challenges

While the early Kurdish novel adhered to classical conventions, recent decades have seen significant innovation. Figures of refugees, marginalized identities, and displaced individuals have emerged as protagonists, breaking away from the earlier trend of idealized, superhuman characters. This shift reflects a broader trend in global literature towards de-centering the protagonist and embracing diverse perspectives.

Guido Mazzoni’s Theory of the Novel highlights the novel’s capacity to represent the complexity of individual and collective experiences. Kurdish novelists are increasingly embracing this potential, exploring themes of exile, displacement, and cultural hybridity. This evolution signals a break from the traditional model, aligning Kurdish literature with contemporary global trends.

Miran Abraham’s novel Sara’s Homeland represents a fresh evolution in Kurdish literature, marking a distinct genre that defies traditional classifications such as historical fiction or pure storytelling. It neither recounts history directly nor leans heavily on memory, instead weaving together multiple threads drawn from autobiography. The novel shifts from critiquing historical societal issues to examining the influence of ideologies on Kurdish society, ultimately calling on Kurds to fulfill the moral responsibility of confronting and acknowledging past ideologies. At its core, it is a tale of urbanization, portraying the struggles of Kurdistani Jews as they fought to earn a livelihood and live in peace.

4. How to address the so-called ‘Jewish Question’?

The novel places significant emphasis on addressing the long-standing ‘Jewish Question,’ exploring its relevance not only in the context of Kurdistan and Iraq but also more broadly, spanning the Middle East, Europe and beyond. By extending the discussion beyond Iraq and Kurdistan, Abraham expands the portrayal of Jewish identity and experiences, offering a more comprehensive and nuanced perspective.

The novel form is generally categorized into two traditions: the narrative tradition, which emphasizes history, and the complexity tradition, which prioritizes theory. In the narrative tradition, history takes precedence, while in the complexity tradition, theory is dominant. Many Kurdish novels that aim to philosophize their protagonists strive to align with the complexity tradition, yet the narrative tradition often prevails. This is because novelists frequently emphasize the protagonist’s narrative arc, and while they attempt to detach the protagonist from social reality to elevate their role to pure theory, the narrative aspect remains dominant.

In Sara’s Homeland, the story oscillates between history and memory—history aligning with the narrative tradition and memory with the tradition of theory construction. Given the novel’s focus on the ‘Jewish question’ in general and Kurdistani Jewish lives in particular, the novelist cannot avoid engaging with both traditions. However, care must be taken not to veer into historiography, as the historian often undermines the essence of memory. To clarify this point in the context of Abraham’s novel, which addresses the lives of Kurdistani Jews, it is necessary to consider the interplay between the traditions of historical writing and the narration of memory.

The relationship between history and memory in telling the ‘Jewish Question’ and the Holocaust has been explored by several scholars, each offering distinct perspectives on their significance and uniqueness.

Shulamit Volkov emphasizes the role of collective memory in shaping Jewish identity, highlighting the complexity of memory as a means of both preserving history and forming a cultural narrative. She views memory not as an exact recounting of events but as a dynamic process that evolves over time, particularly in the context of trauma like the Holocaust[xiv].

Moishe Postone approaches the Holocaust from a critical theory perspective, focusing on the way historical memory interacts with ideology and modernity. He argues that the Holocaust is not just a historical event but a symbol of the dangers inherent in modern capitalist societies. For Postone, memory of the Holocaust serves to critique not only Nazi ideology but also broader socio-political systems[xv].

Raul Hilberg, a leading historian of the Holocaust, emphasizes the distinction between history and memory. He believes that history must be objective and based on verifiable facts, whereas memory is more subjective, shaped by personal and collective experience. For Hilberg, the Holocaust is a unique historical event that cannot be fully understood through memory alone; it requires meticulous historical research and analysis[xvi].

Together, these scholars illustrate the tension between history as a factual recounting of events and memory as a subjective, evolving narrative. Their perspectives underscore the uniqueness of the ‘Jewish Question’ and the Holocaust, where historical facts, collective memory, and ideological constructs intersect in complex ways. This tension between history as an objective recounting of events and memory as a subjective experience is central to Sara’s Homeland. At times, the novelist draws on his personal memory as the son of a Jewish father who fought for Kurdistan and a mother who died in the mountains, emphasizing the unique identity of the ‘Kurdistani Jew.‘ However, when addressing broader events like pogroms, the Holocaust, and similar phenomena, the narrative shifts to prioritize historical facts.

The novel stands out in its field by offering a dual perspective: it examines the history of Jewish persecution through a Kurdish lens and explores the history of Kurdish persecution through a Jewish lens.

Miran Abraham’s novel weaves a narrative that draws parallels between the crises faced by Kurdistan’s and Iraq’s Jews and those arising from the heart of Europe’s most advanced cultural, economic, and technological system—especially Germany during the Nazi rule. While Abraham underscores the “uniqueness of the Jewish question” in his portrayal of Jewish persecution, he simultaneously ties this issue to the Kurdish question through the lens of Sara’s Homeland. This dual focus reflects both truths and challenges within the narrative tradition: the Jewish genocide during the Nazi era remains unique in its biologization of racism and the systematic attempt to annihilate an entire people, while the Kurdish question also possesses considerable regional uniqueness, shaped by the racialized policies of Arab superiority.

Abraham might suggest that the Kurdish genocide, particularly during Al-Anfal, was planned and carried out in a manner akin to racialized state policies, similar to Nazi ideology. It is unclear whether Abraham was influenced by Israeli historian Moshe Zuckermann’s thesis, which upholds the uniqueness of the Jewish question but advocates for comparing it with other crimes against humanity—not to relativize the Holocaust but to deepen understanding of other atrocities.

We should here frame the Holocaust as a three-stage process: the establishment of the Warsaw Ghetto to isolate European Jews, the failed attempt to relocate Jews and Slavs to Soviet territories following Operation Barbarossa, and the “Final Solution” ((Endlösung)—the systematic extermination of all Jews, involving gas chambers and crematoria. Abraham’s narrative draws parallels to the Iraqi regime’s actions against the Kurds, including displacement, forced Arabization, mass executions, the destruction of over 7,000 villages, and ultimately, the genocidal Al-Anfal campaign.

A particularly intriguing aspect is the use of the term “Al-Anfal,” derived from the Quran, by the secular pan-Arab nationalist Ba’ath regime. This raises questions about my thesis in relation to what I have called it ‘Interconnectedness of Antisemitism and Antikurdism’[xvii]. With the rise of secular pan-Arab nationalism and the establishment of Israel, Islamist and pan-Arab, pan-Turkish and pan-Iranian nationalist movements in Turkey, Iran, Iraq, and Syria—regions encompassing and occupying Kurdish historical lands—began framing Kurdish national liberation movements as conspiratorial extensions of a so-called “Zionist plot.” This conflation underscores the deeper ideological and historical links between antisemitism and antikurdism.

In 1966, the Iraqi Minister of Defense, Abd al-Aziz al-Uqayli (a prominent member of the Ba’ath Party), accused the Kurds in Iraq of attempting to establish “a second Israel” in the Middle East. He also claimed that “the West and the East are supporting the rebels to create a new Israeli state in the north of the homeland” (referring here to Southern Kurdistan), just as they did in 1948 when they established Israel. “It is as if history is repeating itself,” he remarked.

When the Ba’ath Party carried out two genocides against the Kurds in Iraq in 1988—namely, the Al-Anfal operations and the chemical attacks on Halabja—both were part of a total annihilation strategy against the Kurds, whom Arabs viewed as obstacles to the unification of the Arab nation. Naturally, the Kurds were blamed for these genocides: their refusal to embrace Arab identity was portrayed as a choice for their own destruction. This rhetoric mirrored the language used by the Nazis before and after the Holocaust to justify the Shoah.

This raises the question of why Saddam Hussein chose to use the term Al-Anfal from the Quran. I would like to briefly explain the term Al-Anfal in the Quran, why it was used in the context of the genocide against the Kurds, and its connection to the early history of Islam and the extermination of Jews.

The Surah Al-Anfal (The Spoils of War) was written in Medina during the time of the Hijra, Muhammad’s migration from Mecca to Medina. One of Muhammad’s first actions in Medina was waging war against three Jewish tribes: Banu Nadir, Banu Qaynuqa, and Banu Qurayza. Muhammad and the Muslim army annihilated these tribes, marking the first “total extermination” and an attempt to erase an entire Jewish lineage during the early days of Islam’s establishment. This event is documented in the Hadiths (sayings and actions of Muhammad) as well as in the earliest biographies and accounts of Muhammad’s companions.

Surah Al-Anfal 8:39

“And fight them until there is no fitnah [disbelief and worshiping of others along with Allah] and [until] the religion, all of it, is for Allah. And if they cease, then indeed, Allah is Seeing of what they do.”

Saddam Hussein, the Ba’ath Party, and the Ba’athist ideology had spent years preparing ideologically to view the Kurds as the “second Jews” of the Middle East, as a foreign body against the unity of the Arab nation, as descendants of the devil who, although they had converted to Islam, could not be trusted. The Ba’ath Party in Iraq believed that before the great mistake of the Arab homeland was repeated, meaning before a second Israel emerged, the entire ‘race of the devil’ (the name the Ba’athists used for the Kurds) must be destroyed. Al-Anfal signifies the repetition of the annihilation of the ‘second Jews,’ the destruction of the Kurds by the Arabs and Islam, before another catastrophe strikes the Arab nation. Anfal refers to the seizure of wealth and land in Kurdistan after destruction. The only difference between the new Al-Anfal and the annihilation of the Jews of Medina is that Muhammad did not kill all the Jewish women and children; he made the women slaves and sold the children, but the Ba’ath Party even buried women and children alive.

This serves as the starting point for Miran Abraham to narrate the interconnected story of persecution, genocide, racialization, and biologization, portraying both the Jews and the Kurds as enemies of modern states, among other themes.

5. The War of Memory and History

What has made the ‘Jewish question’ both a unique and influential subject, and also the theme of millions of writings, novels, films, and historical works, is the development of ‘Jewish Memory Culture’ (Jüdische Erinnerungskultur)—particularly when Jewish memory entered the public sphere and general consciousness, especially at the end of the twentieth century. Many factors contributed to the emergence of this subject, including oral history, audio archives, and more. Based on this foundation, other traditions of narration and presentation emerged, such as film and novels. In fact, it is memory that makes history something unique, not the other way around. Where historians see only one step in a process or detail within a complexity, witnesses, through memory, alter the picture. They can recognize an extremely important event that has dramatically and uniquely changed their entire life.

If we look at the photographs of the Jewish genocide in the camps, historians might busy themselves with decoding, analyzing, and explaining the images that remain from Auschwitz. Historians know that the people gathered and loaded onto trains are Jews, and the uniformed individuals watching and forcing them are Nazi soldiers. But for memory, the images convey much more than this. Images for memory possess sensory tools—they carry emotion, feeling, sound, and smell. They emit fear. In short, an image, from the perspective of memory, calls for a completely unique observation of events that historians may never easily access. The image of a Jew in Auschwitz, through the historian’s lens, is a nameless victim. However, for those who survived, suffered, and experienced it—the remaining members in the image, the victim’s friends, and so on—it recalls an absolutely unique and different world that the historian cannot see.

For an external observer and witness (Miran Abraham, for example, experienced the catastrophe both as an observer and as a Kurdistani Jew), who experiences the victims through these images, as Siegfried Kracauer discusses in his analyses of the catastrophe through the theory of memory, this image reveals only an ‘unredeemed‘ (unerlöst)[xviii] reality that must be redeemed, and the rights of victims and the nameless must be recognized. The novelist, as an external and experienced observer through the medium of history, accomplishes the task that the historian cannot fulfill.

This integration of memory and history speaks to the insights of jewish philosophers like Emmanuel Lévinas, who emphasized the ethical responsibility to remember suffering and the need to engage with the past; Zygmunt Bauman (both were survivors of Auswitz), who warned against forgetting the role of modernity in facilitating such atrocities; Hannah Arendt, who focused on the manipulation of memory and truth by totalitarian regimes; Dora Vargha, who explored the interplay of trauma, identity, and memory; and Walter Benjamin, who reflected on the memory of the past as a tool for redemption and historical justice. Each of these thinkers contributes to our understanding of memory not as a passive recollection, but as an active, transformative force that shapes both personal and collective identity in the aftermath of catastrophe.

The novelist revisits historical documents and, through memory, reexamines the experience of the Jews in Sulaymaniyah. These memories shape our understanding and emotions surrounding Jewish history. Historians cannot overlook this memory; they must respect it and thoroughly analyze and comprehend it. However, they cannot, and should not, transform this undeniable and uniquely legitimate memory into a normative historical narrative. Historians’ task is to engage with the lived experiences of the victims and incorporate these into the broader historical context. This involves learning from memory, but also critically filtering it. While memory can present an image as entirely unique, history always treats uniqueness with relativity. For Salar (novelist’s own real father), Sara (novelist’s mother), and Chaim (novelist’s grandfather) – all protagonists in the novel -, the experience of the Jews in Slemani is dangerously unique—something an external observer (the novelist, though external, is not neutral, as Abraham is part of the tradition) can understand through the fictionalization of memory.

Among the Jews of Slemani—who were completely marginalized by the newly established Iraqi state, displaced, subjected to anti-Jewish laws, and so on—the expulsion, dehumanization, dispossession, and reduction of their status to mere economic actors is something a historian cannot fully comprehend and remain loyal to, especially if that historian is involved in the oppression of these people. This is why very few historians in Kurdistan have been able to write thoroughly about the Jewish community there: due to the aforementioned issues and because of political, cultural, class, and religious interests. It was left to a few sociologists, philosophers, and intellectuals to address the history of Kurdistani Jews. Thus, Miran Abraham’s novel becomes a unique work within this tradition, navigating the conflict between history and memory.

6. Pogrom, ‘Now-Time’ and the Allegory of Intellectuals

You all know about pogroms, and also about the ‘Kristalnacht’. Kristallnacht, or the Night of Broken Glass, occurred on November 9–10, 1938, in Nazi Germany. It was a coordinated attack on Jewish communities, marked by widespread violence, destruction, and persecution. Synagogues were burned, Jewish businesses and homes were looted and vandalized, and around 30,000 Jewish men were arrested and sent to concentration camps. At least 91 Jews were killed during the pogrom.

The name “Kristallnacht” refers to the shattered glass from the windows of Jewish-owned establishments. The violence was officially presented as spontaneous public outrage over the assassination of a German diplomat by a Polish-Jewish teenager, Herschel Grynszpan, but it was orchestrated by the Nazi regime. Kristallnacht marked a turning point, escalating the Nazi regime’s systematic persecution of Jews and setting the stage for the Holocaust.

Miran Abraham seeks to depict Iraq’s equivalent of Kristallnacht through a gripping fictionalized narrative, illustrating the dynamics between society, various social strata, and intellectuals.

Intellectuals were instrumental in normalizing, rationalizing, and executing Nazi antisemitism. Their involvement highlights the dangers of knowledge and culture being subordinated to totalitarian ideologies, showcasing how intellectual contributions can both inform and enable oppressive regimes. Totalitarian, fascist, and racially driven regimes cannot exist without the involvement of intellectuals; likewise, pogroms require intellectuals to rationalize them. Abraham’s novel portrays this dynamic with remarkable skill.

Miran Abraham’s novel delves deeply into the opportunism and ideological convictions of Iraqi intellectuals, whose worldview has been shaped by a potent mix of secularism and Islamism. Through his narrative, Abraham exposes how these intellectuals, far from being neutral observers, were complicit in perpetuating conspiracy fantasies that scapegoated Jews for Iraq’s political, economic, and social struggles. Their beliefs, often laced with antisemitic tropes, not only justified pogroms but also entrenched societal prejudice against Kurdistani Jews.

While the novel outwardly critiques the ideological roots of these intellectuals, it is, in essence, a reflection on ‘Jetztzeit’, the present moment imbued with historical critique. Borrowing from Walter Benjamin, Abraham’s work becomes a rupture in the continuum of historical time, creating a space where the past demands confrontation and justice. It transforms into a call for revolution—not in the political sense, but a moral reckoning against a buried history that continues to haunt Iraq and Kurdistan alike.

The novel is also a bold challenge to intellectuals across the spectrum. It urges not only Iraqi intellectuals but also Kurdish intellectuals, who have yet to critically confront their country’s own history of persecution, to reflect on these buried atrocities. By doing so, Abraham aims to do justice to Kurdistani Jews, honoring their erased history and calling for a long-overdue societal reckoning.

Peshraw Mohammed, born in southern Kurdistan (Kurdistan Regional Government in Iraq), based in Berlin, is a freelance author and translator specializing in German philosophy, antisemitism, and the cultural history of National Socialism. Since October 7, he has been writing regularly for German platforms and delivering speeches on antisemitism across various political spectra, including the right, the left, and Islamism. He is currently working on his forthcoming book, Genealogy of Demonization: The Interconnectedness of Antisemitism and Antikurdism (in English).

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• Moretti, Franco, The Novel, Volume 1: History, Geography, and Culture, Princeton University Press, 2006.
• Patai, Raphael, and Eric Brauer. The Jews of Kurdistan, Raphael Patai Series in Jewish Folklore and Anthro, 1993.

• Peshraw Mohammed, The Left and Islamism: Antisemitism and Antikurdism, https://www.telospress.com/the-left-and-islamism-antisemitism-and-antikurdism/

• Postone, Moishe and Santner, Eric, Catastrophe and Meaning The Holocaust and the Twentieth Century, The University of Chicago Press, Chicago, 2003.
• Sabar, Ariel. My Father’s Paradise: A Son’s Search for His Jewish Past in Kurdish Iraq, Algonquin Books, 2008.
• Volkan, Volkan. Killing in the Name of Identity: A Study of Bloody Conflicts, Pitchstone Publishing, Durham, 2006.
• Zaltzman, Lior. Telling the Forgotten Story of Osnat Barzani, First Female Rabbi, https://www.kveller.com/osnat-barzani-forgotten-story-of-first-female-rabbi-is-finally-being-told/

 
[i] Gavish, Unwitting Zionists, 27.

[ii] Base, Once A Diaspora, Always A Diaspora? https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/21567689.2021.1975111#abstract

[iii] Bostom, The Legacy of Islamic Antisemitism, p.21.

[iv] Khezri, Kurds, Jews, and Kurdistani Jews.

[v] Sabar, My Father’s Paradise: A Son’s Search for His Jewish Past in Kurdish Iraq.

[vi] Bengio, Jews, Israel and the Kurds: Unravelling the Myth.

[vii] Bengion, Surprising Ties between Israel and the Kurds, https://www.meforum.org/middle-east-quarterly/israel-kurds

[viii] Zaltzman, Telling the Forgotten Story of Osnat Barzani, First Female Rabbi. https://www.jpost.com/judaism/telling-the-forgotten-story-of-osnat-barzani-first-female-rabbi-658567

[ix] Moretti, The Novel, 1. Vol.

[x] Moretti, Atlas of the European Novel 1800-1900 and The Bourgeois.

[xi] Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism.

[xii] Lukács, The Theory of the Novel.

[xiii] Benjamin, The Storyteller.

[xiv] Volkan, Volkan. Killing in the Name of Identity: A Study of Bloody Conflicts. Durham: Pitchstone Publishing, 2006.

[xv] Postone, Moishe and Santner, Eric, Catastrophe and Meaning The Holocaust and the Twentieth Century.

[xvi] Hilberg, Raul, The Politics of Memory: The Journey of a Holocaust Historian.

[xvii] for my thesis see this: Peshraw Mohammed, The Left and Islamism: Antisemitism and Antikurdism, https://www.telospress.com/the-left-and-islamism-antisemitism-and-antikurdism/

[xviii] Kracauer, Theory of Film: The Redemption of Physical Reality, New York: Oxford University Press, 1960, p.14.