Protests in Iran and Jewish Allyship

Conversation transcript:

Maytal: Hi, everybody. We weren’t actually going to record anything this week. Jon’s away, and we were planning to take a break from our J-Space Canada Policy Space. But with everything that’s going on, there’s been a bit of a change of pace, with the focus really being on Iran, the protests there, and how the diaspora is responding. I didn’t want to wait until next week, when Jon and I usually chat, to broach the topic. So, in Jon’s absence, I asked someone else to join us, someone with many credentials, but above all, a dear friend of mine.

I’ve asked Daniel Bral to join us today. Daniel is a first-generation Iranian-American Jewish writer on American Jewry, Israel, and peace, and he serves as Director of Education for Project Shema, another organization we’re big fans of here.

Daniel, thanks so much for joining us.

Daniel: Hi, my friend. It’s good to be with you. I’m honored you asked me to be in conversation with you, and I want to thank you for even talking about this subject. What’s happening in Iran often doesn’t get the attention it deserves, or it’s appropriated in really negative ways. So I want to thank you and JSpace for actually giving it time and attention.

Maytal: Thank you. Let’s turn things over to you. Just to give some context: in our Policy Space series, we often focus on cold, hard analysis. Because we have the treat of having Daniel here, with such deep personal connection and experience, we’re going to lean more into the emotional side—what’s happening and how you’re reacting in the diaspora.

To start, can you share a bit about your family and background—how you came to the U.S., and anything else you’d like to share?

Daniel: I like to share about myself and my family by taking a couple of steps back. Like many Jews, I come from a line of people who chose to proclaim their Jewishness openly, even in places where tolerance was never promised. My grandfather, Moossa, really embodied that courage. He was a pharmacist by trade, but became the sole Jewish member of Parliament in pre-revolution Iran, due to restrictive quotas, serving as the representative for the entire Jewish community.

Despite the burden of that responsibility, he refused to be constrained by limits imposed on him because of his identity. One of the first things he did as a Member of Parliament was change the oath of office, which required all members to swear on the Quran, so that each person could take the oath on their own holy book.

His service was recognized by the Shah, Mohammad Reza, who awarded him the Royal Medal. That’s why Muslim-Jewish coexistence is personal to me, even though I’m not naive about its challenges today.

I share this not to glamorize the Shah’s very checkered regime, but to show how my grandfather, and Jews more broadly, were able to break through glass ceilings in a system that still imposed limits on them.

That progress was reversed when the revolution came. Thankfully, my family was able to leave before and during the revolution, as it became clear things wouldn’t bode well for the Jewish community.

My mom left Iran in 1976 to study in the U.S., alone, without speaking English, with no family or friends here. She intended to return, but as events unfolded, she couldn’t. She never got to say a proper goodbye to her home.

My dad left Iran at 16, studied in the UK for about 16 years, and eventually came to the U.S. That’s the journey of my family, and how I ended up here.

Maytal: That story has elements many of us recognize: exile, diaspora, leaving home. Those experiences bond Jews across the diaspora. But I imagine there are differences specific to the Iranian Jewish diaspora. We often talk about Ashkenormativity. What’s different about the Iranian Jewish experience that people might not know?

Daniel: This question is really important to me. Ashkenormativity plays a major role in how we talk about Jewish diversity and how institutions perpetuate misconceptions about Jewish identity.

Jewish institutions often default to the Ashkenazi experience, treating it as the totality of Jewish history and identity, even in small decisions, like which stories are told or what food is served at Jewish events.

Are we ever talking about Jews from Middle Eastern countries? That default has a domino effect, especially in how non-Jews understand Jewish diversity, lived experience, trauma, and identity.

Middle Eastern Jews often have more in common culturally with former Arab neighbors than with Ashkenazi Jews—music, food, hospitality, strong matriarchal roles. Meanwhile, Ashkenazi identity is often shaped by European persecution, which influences perspectives on Israel.

For Middle Eastern Jews, Israel may hold centrality in a different, sometimes more hawkish way, but that perspective is rarely factored into policy or dialogue—especially when considering peace-building or who gets a seat at the table. Many of these differences are often papered over.

Maytal: That’s really interesting, especially when thinking about diplomacy and peace processes. The cultural closeness and fewer generations of separation could be a real asset—and an untapped one.

Daniel: Absolutely. There’s a cultural fluency that isn’t often tapped into. While there’s pain and resentment from displacement, that history can also play a unique role in rebuilding relationships—something we’re struggling with right now.

Maytal: Let’s turn to what’s happening today. There’s been a full internet blackout in Iran, conflicting reports, and it appears that thousands of protesters have been killed by the regime. How are you personally feeling, and how is the Iranian, and Iranian-Jewish, diaspora responding?

Daniel: It’s an incredibly emotional moment. The death toll is devastating. Seeing videos of families identifying loved ones in body bags brings back traumatic memories for many elders who lived through the revolution.

There’s anxiety, but also cautious optimism. This moment feels different, more resolute, more angry. Still, we’re not naive about the regime’s brutal tactics, so I temper my expectations while remaining hopeful for change.

I’m optimistic, but I don’t share the same position as some of my fellow Iranian Jews when it comes to U.S. intervention. I have no faith in Donald Trump making a smart tactical or strategic decision. He has never proven that he’s capable of doing that. I believe that, like any other revolution or popular uprising, this has to be organic. It has to come from the streets and from the people themselves. I worry that any foreign intervention could have a counterintuitive effect.

Maytal: So let me ask you exactly about that, because what struck me was what you said about family members trying to identify loved ones in body bags, shrieking in fear, sadness, and heartache. It inevitably brings up memories of the massacres of October 7, and what happened in Israel at the hands of Hamas, and then the past two years of war with Gaza—the devastation, destruction, death, suffering, and pain. It’s overwhelming.

I reject the idea that the Iranian protests should be used as a “gotcha” to point out hypocrisy. But I’m curious how you see the discourse in the diaspora, especially as a Jew deeply involved in Israel–Palestine conversations. My guess is that you’d say every side is getting it at least a little bit wrong. Is that true?

Daniel: [Laughs] I had to sit up for that. This one drives me crazy. You might be referring to something I tweeted. I want to start by saying that I genuinely appreciate the solidarity from many people in the community.

But I want to distinguish between genuine solidarity and solidarity rooted in proving a political point. The Iran discourse is being dominated and hijacked by people engaging in a right–left proxy hypocrisy battle over Israel.

That framing frustrates me because it strips attention and agency away from the Iranian people themselves. It turns their bravery into a tool for proving political points.

Maytal: Final question. How should people in the Jewish community—or any diaspora community—show up in genuine solidarity? Is it protesting, engaging government officials, educating ourselves—what actually helps?

Daniel: I think it starts with keeping the spotlight on the bravery of the people. The regime is counting on fatigue—both among protesters and the international community. Continuous, steadfast attention really matters.

I would also encourage people to center what’s happening in Iran itself, and resist folding it into other political agendas in this moment.

Maytal: That’s incredibly helpful. Thank you so much for your time. We’ll link to your writing, because you’re an incredible writer and I always appreciate reading your work.

I’m also hoping for a free Iran and a real shift in the region. Thank you, Daniel.

Daniel: Thank you, my friend. I appreciate you.