By Beth Ryder
BBC World Service, Holon
An estimated 250,000 Jews
of Iranian descent live in Israel - most of them in the city of Holon,
just outside Tel Aviv. How do they feel about the threat of an Israeli
strike on Iran's nuclear programme?
Uri Nissani has little desire to return to the country of his birth.
"I came to here in 1959 and have never been back. I may have been born in Iran, but I feel I am an Israeli."
Now in his 60s, Uri helps to manage of one of the three
synagogues in Holon that are mainly frequented by Jews of Iranian
descent, and talk in the community is dominated by one subject: the
drum-beat of war.
"We love the people of Iran, but we don't love the regime,"
Uri says. "No one wants war, but if it comes to military action then I
would have to support it."
On the air waves
Across town on the lower ground floor of a suburban shopping
centre, Parviz Barhourder helps to run a full-time radio operation in
his native Farsi language.
“If it comes between the hammer and the rock, what are we going to do? ”
Parviz Barhourder
Radio RadisIN
Every day of the week, Iranian
poetry, music, and politics can be heard blasting over the air waves of
Radio RadisIN, but the station has one overall aim - peace.
"Throughout history, until the current regime came to power,
there had been constant good relations between Iran and Israel. The aim
of our station is to re-establish that relationship," Parviz explains.
Since the station's establishment three years ago, a team of
38 Iranian-Israeli volunteers keep RadisIN streaming over the internet,
cable and satellite to a large national and international audience of
Farsi speakers.
The station takes calls, SMS messages and emails from
listeners in Iran, and one of the most commonly talked about subjects,
Parviz says, is the impact that Western economic sanctions are having on
the country.
"People talk about their weariness with the current situation
and tell us how they're having to store food and other life necessities
at home."
Parviz is concerned about the impact military action could have on his Jewish friends who remain in Iran.
"I'm worried about them. If anything happens, the regime will take them as hostages," he says.
Iran
is home to the largest population of Jews in the Middle East outside of
Israel. Numbers have declined since the establishment of Israel in
1948, and the revolution which saw the overthrow of the Shah in 1979,
but an estimated 25,000 still live there.
"We need to convince the current regime in Tehran to leave
their atomic project and become another normal country," says Parviz.
"As soon as they have access to an atomic bomb, a third world war will be created."
He does not want to see war with his homeland, but - like
many in the community - he would ultimately support military action as a
last option.
"If it comes between the hammer and the rock, what are we
going to do? The window of opportunity is getting narrower and narrower
everyday."
Community crumbles
Not far from studio, the Beit Koresh community centre for
Holon's Iranian population is closed and unfinished. There is a Persian
library, but this can only be accessed when the building is open - and
that is very rarely.
Standing outside, Kamal Penhasi - editor of Israel's only
Farsi-language magazine Shahyad - remembers the role the centre played
for him, arriving in Holon as a 16-year-old in 1979.
"The centre seemed so beautiful, we would come here every week - it was really important," he says.
But as Iranians have become more integrated in Israel, many
of the younger generation have lost interest - the community has just
not pulled behind the centre, says Kamal.
“Here in Israel, we are free to say what we feel, but I know in Tehran they are scared”
Rose Penhasi
Student
"Every Iranian in Holon knows about Beit Koresh - if we were united we could finish the project.
"But we are a wealthy people and everyone wants to be a manager."
These days, Iranian-Israelis are an integrated and
economically successful group. Shaul Mofaz, the newly elected leader of
the country's opposition Kadima party is Iranian-born for example.
Construction began on Beit Koresh over 30 years ago with the
financial aid of Iran's Shah - that was a time when relations between
pro-Western Iran and Israel were broadly warm. These days, it is illegal
for anyone with an Israeli passport to visit Iran.
Kamal longs to see the removal of the current regime but
thinks the most likely way for that to happen is for change to come from
within.
"The Iranian people, especially the youth, are capable of
bringing about political change, as we saw after the 2009 presidential
elections. We in the West should be willing to step in and help them
with financing, logistics, information and media support."
Iranian roots
At the magazine's headquarters, a small shop just off the main
stretch in Holon, Kamal's 22-year-old niece Rose Penhasi says she is
worried for Iranian civilians.
"I'm afraid for students like myself in Iran. Here in Israel,
we are free to say what we feel, but I
know in Tehran they are scared."
Beit Koresh community centre was once a hub for Iranian-Israelis
Despite being born in Israel, Rose learnt Farsi at home before
speaking Hebrew, and still tries to maintain links with the country of
her parents.
"I used to be able to talk to people my age in Tehran via
internet chat rooms and social media, but these days government blocks
are making it increasingly difficult."
Her interest in Iran is unusual amongst her peers. "When I'm
at home with my parents and grandparents, I feel 100% Iranian, but when
I'm out with my friends, I'm Israeli."
"Most second generation Iranians have forgotten their roots," she says.
It is important, she says, for people to acknowledge the distinction between the Iranian people and the regime.
"The civilians in Iran are not like the government and we need make sure they know that Israelis love and support them."
Rose hopes to visit Tehran one day, to see the family home in
Amir Abad she has heard so many stories about, but in the current
climate this option is out of the question.
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