The Old Jewish Cemetery of Baghdad: A Forgotten Chapter in Iraq’s History

The old Jewish cemetery in Baghdad, a relic of a once-thriving Jewish community, holds the stories of generations who contributed to Iraq’s social, cultural, and economic fabric. It was more than a burial ground — it symbolized the deep roots of Jewish life in Baghdad, once home to one of the most vibrant Jewish communities in the Arab world.

A Historical Overview: From Jerusalem to Babylon

The Jewish presence in Mesopotamia dates back more than 2,500 years, beginning with the Babylonian exile in 586 BCE. After the destruction of the First Temple by King Nebuchadnezzar, exiled Jews settled in Babylon, adapting to their new circumstances while preserving their traditions. This period gave rise to the Babylonian Talmud, a cornerstone of Jewish scholarship.

By the time Arab armies conquered Mesopotamia, Jewish life was deeply entrenched in the region.

Baghdad, strategically located on the Tigris River, became a hub for trade and culture, attracting Jewish merchants, artisans, and scholars. Over the centuries, the Jewish community contributed significantly to Baghdad’s golden age, cementing its place as a vital part of the city’s identity.

The Jewish Cemetery: A Sacred Landmark

In the 19th century, Baghdad’s growing Jewish population established a cemetery in the Bab al-Sharqi district. This sacred space became a repository of memory, where Hebrew and Judeo-Arabic epitaphs told the stories of the departed. The cemetery symbolized the resilience of a community that, despite persecution, thrived and enriched Baghdad’s cultural and economic landscape.

By the early 20th century, Jews formed a significant portion of the city’s population, with a flourishing network of synagogues, schools, and businesses.

The Cemetery’s Evacuation and Its Aftermath

The destruction of Baghdad’s Jewish cemetery under President Ahmed Hassan al-Bakr in the 1970s marked a profound loss. The site, which held victims of the 1941 Farhud pogrom and perhaps my own ancestors, was razed to make way for Al-Nahda Bus Terminal (محطة النهضة لنقل المسافرين).

This act of erasure reflected the Ba’athist regime’s broader narrative, which glorified figures like Rashid Ali al-Kilani, a pro-Nazi leader implicated in the Farhud, while erasing the legacy of the Jewish community.

This symbolic affront was compounded by the renaming of the surrounding neighborhood as Al-Kilani. Such decisions underscored the government’s efforts to rewrite history, sidelining Iraq’s once-multicultural identity in favor of a narrative that marginalized minorities.

A Midnight Summons

The destruction of the cemetery was orchestrated with chilling precision. Sasson Kaduri, head of Baghdad’s dwindling Jewish community, was summoned in the middle of the night to meet al-Bakr, who ordered the relocation of the graves to Al-Habibiya within six months. Despite Kaduri’s protests about the religious and logistical challenges, the community had no choice but to comply.

With great care, the remains were exhumed and reburied, but for many families, this process severed their connection to their ancestors and their history. Kaduri, burdened by the task, ensured the relocation was carried out with dignity, but the act itself was an irrevocable violation of religious principles and human dignity.

A Monument to Erasure

Today, Al-Nahda Bus Terminal stands on the cemetery’s former grounds, devoid of any acknowledgment of its past. Passengers tread unknowingly over land that once bore the legacy of Baghdad’s Jewish community.

For descendants like myself, the loss is deeply personal. The thought of my ancestors being disinterred and displaced fills me with sorrow and anger.

The destruction of the cemetery was not just about land; it was about erasing a history that conflicted with the regime’s vision. It marked the final act in the erasure of Baghdad’s Jewish community, beginning with the Farhud pogrom and culminating in the mid-20th-century mass exodus of Jews from Iraq.

A Legacy of Loss

As I reflect, I am haunted by what was lost — not only the graves of my ancestors, but also the tangible connection to a community that had lived in Baghdad since the Babylonian exile. For centuries, Jews were integral to Baghdad’s identity, contributing to its culture, commerce, and history.

While the cemetery is gone, its memory persists in the stories we tell. It is our duty to ensure this chapter of Iraqi history is not forgotten — a legacy that deserves remembrance by all who value diversity and the richness of the past.

Itamar Tzur is an academic and writer specializing in Middle Eastern history, politics, and culture, holding honors degrees in Jewish History and Middle Eastern Studies.  

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