It may seem almost inconceivable today, as rockets and drones streak across Middle Eastern skies, but there was a time not all that long ago when Iran and Israel were partners.
Indeed, before the Islamic Republic made “Death to Israel” a governing slogan, Tehran and Jerusalem maintained a quiet but consequential relationship built on shared interests, strategic realism, and even a measure of genuine cooperation. The ferocity of the current confrontation obscures that earlier chapter, yet history reminds us that the hostility we witness today is neither ancient nor inevitable.
Under the Pahlavi dynasty, Iran and Israel cultivated ties that were substantive, if at times deliberately understated.
In 1950, Iran granted Israel de facto recognition. Jerusalem maintained a permanent delegation in Tehran that functioned as a diplomatic mission. Commercial, agricultural, and security cooperation flourished. Iranian oil flowed to Israel, helping sustain the young Jewish state during its formative decades, while Israeli expertise in agriculture, water management, and defense found receptive partners in Iran.
So close were the ties that there were once direct commercial flights between Tel Aviv and Tehran, a remarkable fact that today sounds almost surreal. Businessmen, officials, and private citizens traveled openly between the two countries, something that would be unthinkable under the current regime.
The partnership was rooted in hardheaded strategic logic. The Shah’s Iran, wary of Arab nationalism and Soviet encroachment, saw in Israel a fellow non-Arab regional power confronting similar threats. Israel, isolated in a hostile neighborhood, embraced what became known as its “periphery doctrine,” forging alliances with non-Arab states such as Iran and Turkey to counterbalance surrounding adversaries.
For Iran’s ancient Jewish community – whose presence dates back more than 2,500 years – the pre-1979 period was, by Middle Eastern standards, one of relative security and prosperity. By the 1970s, between 80,000 and 100,000 Jews lived across Iran, with vibrant communities in Tehran, Shiraz, Isfahan, and Kermanshah. They were physicians and judges, teachers and entrepreneurs, deeply woven into the fabric of Iranian society. Synagogues functioned openly; Jewish schools educated a new generation comfortable in both Persian and Jewish identity.
Even more striking is an earlier and often forgotten episode. During World War II, Iran became an unlikely corridor of refuge. In 1942-43, thousands of Polish refugees – including roughly 1,000 Jewish children orphaned by Nazi brutality – passed through Iran after fleeing eastward from German-occupied Europe into the Soviet Union. Known as the “Tehran Children,” they found temporary shelter on Iranian soil before ultimately making their way to the Land of Israel.
For these children, Iran was not an enemy but a bridge between annihilation and survival.
That moment matters. It reminds us that the relationship between Persians and Jews has not been defined solely by confrontation. There were periods of coexistence, cooperation, and even humanitarian decency.
But then everything changed in 1979.
Islamic Revolution led to Iran's severing ties with Israel
The Islamic Revolution did not merely alter Iran’s internal political structure: it reoriented the country’s entire strategic outlook. The new theocratic regime severed relations with Israel, turned the Israeli embassy into a Palestinian mission, and recast anti-Zionism as a pillar of state ideology. Strategic pragmatism gave way to ideological absolutism and theological fanaticism.
In the decades since, Tehran has armed and financed terror proxies such as Hezbollah and Hamas, pursued nuclear capabilities in defiance of international concern, and defined itself in existential opposition to the Jewish state. Iran’s Jewish population steadily dwindled to fewer than 10,000. While a small community remains and even retains a reserved parliamentary seat, it operates under tight constraints and periodic intimidation. There were executions in the revolution’s early years on trumped-up charges of espionage, and emigration became the only realistic option for many.
And yet, history cautions against fatalism.
The enmity between Iran and Israel is the product of a particular regime and a particular ideology. It is not the sum total of Persian history, nor is it embedded in the DNA of the Iranian people. Periodic unrest inside the country, driven by economic hardship, political repression, and generational frustration, suggests that the current order is neither universally embraced nor necessarily permanent.
Should Iran one day undergo internal transformation and return to a more pragmatic, nationally grounded identity – one that draws pride from its ancient Persian legacy rather than revolutionary dogma – the precedent for renewed engagement with Israel already exists. The Abraham Accords demonstrated that longstanding hostilities in the region can yield to strategic recalibration when interests align. A post-theocratic Iran might similarly conclude that cooperation serves it better than perpetual confrontation.
This is not naïve optimism: It is historical realism.
Iran and Israel once found common cause. They traded openly, their officials met. Their planes flew between capitals and their peoples interacted. The record is clear.
The current war should not blind us to the possibilities of the future. History shows that alliances can shift and enemies can become partners. If after the fall of the Ayatollahs, Iran does choose pragmatism over permanent revolution, it will not be forging an uncharted path.
It will simply be rediscovering one it once knew well.
The writer served as Deputy Communications Director under Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.