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Arvin Kheirkhah

A 20 years old young man who was arrested during January protests. He was executed saturday morning (Aug 1st) with the sentence of "Moharebeh" (waging war against God).

In his last conversation with his family he said: "Don't let them forget me. We stood up for the liberation of our homeland. Don't let the path we chose be silenced."

Arvin Jaan, I'm sorry I could not do more for you.

We won't forgive and we surely won't forget.

When Pasadena Jewish Temple and Center held services in the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains, Chann and Christina An, who lived across the street, sometimes sat on their front porch and listened to the songs.

And when the Eaton fire flattened the PJTC campus last January — and the An home, too — the synagogue helped its next-door neighbors with food donations and gift cards.

“Ever since the fire, they’ve included us like one of their members,” Chann An said.

So when a vandal earlier this week spray-painted swastikas on a mural the synagogue had painted on its only remaining wall, it felt like an attack on them, too. On Thursday, when PJTC organized a community-wide solidarity event at the site, the Ans were among many non-Jewish residents in attendance.

“They’re part of our community, and they’re always welcome, and I want them to feel that way,” said An. “And I want them to feel that all the neighbors support them.”

What typically happens when a Jewish institution is tagged — an increasingly common story these days — is a familiar chain of events: Photos are snapped and posted online; Jewish leaders and local officials issue statements; the tag is covered up and people move on.

In Altadena, all of that happened. But so did something else: The synagogue was inundated with messages of support from surrounding faith institutions and Altadena residents, according to the temple’s executive director Melissa Levy. A few of those neighbors had offered to sand down the graffiti themselves.

That kind of support has been really beautiful in the wake of all of this,” Levy said.

The Eaton fire devastated Altadena, killing 19 people and leveling cherished community institutions, including the temple’s 75-year-old campus and several other houses of worship. Dozens of congregants lost their homes in the blaze. Where PJTC’s sanctuary, chapel and religious school once stood, weeds now rise five feet off the ground.

The mural had been painted in May in response to graffiti on the same wall earlier this year. At the mural’s center was a fire poppy — a native flower known to rise from ashes — adorned with a message intended to be universal: We are all responsible for each other.

“When we look at the mural,” Christina An said, it reminds them: “We’re all going to be back.”

But this week, those inspiring words were painted over with another. Vandals painted more swastikas alongside the message: “Zionism is not welcome.” No arrests have been made in either instance, and it is unclear whether the same person was responsible for both incidents. LA County Supervisor Kathryn Barger has called on the county to offer a $20,000 reward for information on the culprit.

“There’s an increased feeling of vulnerability after the fire destroyed our home,” said Rabbi Josh Ratner, the synagogue’s senior leader. “To have any stuff happen after that compounds our vulnerability.”

Rising from the ashes

The stone wall abutting Altadena Boulevard was the only one on the complex that remained fully intact after the fire. But it didn’t become a symbol until after it was vandalized earlier this year, when passersby noticed on Jan. 13 that the charred stone wall had been tagged.

That graffiti read “F— Zionism” and “RIP Renee,” the latter message an apparent reference to Renee Nicole Good, an anti-ICE protester who had been killed the previous week in Minneapolis.

In response, synagogue leadership decided to cover it with art. Working with a local group called Art Against Hate, PJTC commissioned a muralist who invited synagogue members to contribute ideas — and recruited their children to help paint it.

The mural was sectioned like stained glass, with Stars of David in the corners and a border containing the animal symbols for the tribes of Israel. A peacock adorned one side — the birds have thrived in the area for more than a century — and while the children were painting it, one approached the scene, seemingly to admire it.

“It was for Altadena as much as the synagogue, and the neighbors appreciated it,” said Judy Callahan, a longtime PJTC member. “I think looking out and seeing it — they still see this vacant lot, but it just made things cheerier.”

Coming together

Many of those neighbors — and a phalanx of local officials — were on hand Thursday to condemn the latest graffiti and watch Miriam Hellmann, the muralist, apply the final touches for a second time.

Barger spoke, as did Pasadena Mayor Victor Gordo, U.S. Rep. Judy Chu and others. But just as important to the temple members in attendance were the locals who braved the scorching heat to embrace them.

After Ratner spoke, he invited the Rev. Amy Aitken to the podium. Aitken leads the First United Methodist Church of Pasadena, where PJTC has been holding their services for the last year.

After joking that most other Methodist churches don’t have a “campus rabbi” — that is, Ratner — she asked other clergy in attendance to stand up. Nearly a dozen did.

One of them was the Rev. Michael David Lewis of Altadena Community Church, who said he wanted to assure Jewish community members that he considered them family.

“When they are attacked, I want to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with them,” he said. “I want to stand against the hate that was expressed here and stand against the fear that was expressed here.”

Hellmann, who is not Jewish, said every muralist knows their work might get tagged — murals tend to be in prominent places, and vandals want their message to be seen.

But this target had broader resonance than other walls, or even other synagogues. “It’s not just about the Jewish community,” Hellmann said. “It was supposed to be a symbol of hope for a lot of people.”

When Hellmann first painted the mural, she applied a layer of anti-graffiti coating that prevents spray paint from bonding to the surface. But the graffiti was not cleaned off immediately, allowing it to set.

“I’ll keep repainting it every day if I need to,” Hellmann said.

This time, she added an olive branch, that ancient symbol of peace.

“I think that it’s important for non-Jewish people to stand with the Jewish community when there’s antisemitism,” she said. “So I’m happy to be a part of it. I think it’s a beautiful religion.”

Because both countries sit on the front line of a much older ideological conflict - one that many Western politicians still refuse to study on its own terms.

To understand that conflict, you have to understand two concepts that have shaped Islamist political thought for centuries: Dar al-Islam (“the house of Islam”) and Dar al-Harb (“the house of War”).

These terms are deeply influential within Islamist movements from ISIS and al-Qaeda to Hamas and the Muslim Brotherhood - and continue to appear in their literature, speeches, and ideological writings.

The classical idea is straightforward:

* Dar al-Islam refers to lands under Islamic rule.

* Dar al-Harb refers to lands outside that rule, that should eventually be brought into the former through expansion, treaties, or conquest.

This is why Islamist leaders often speak not merely about Gaza or the West Bank, but about restoring Muslim rule over territories that were once governed by Islamic empires.

That includes Israel.

And it also includes Spain.

For Islamist ideologues, al-Andalus is not simply history. It is unfinished business.

Hamas’ charter frames the land as an Islamic waqf that cannot be permanently surrendered. Al-Qaeda leaders repeatedly invoked the “liberation of al-Andalus”. ISIS propaganda called for returning Islamic rule to Spain. Muslim Brotherhood thinkers have long described Islam as a comprehensive political system whose mission extends far beyond personal faith. This means that organized Islamist movements openly strive to recapture it.

Which makes today’s events in Ceuta impossible to ignore.

Thousands of migrants crossed from Morocco into the Spanish enclave in a matter of hours, overwhelming local authorities and forcing Spain to deploy military forces. Most visible arrivals appeared to be mostly or all army aged men.

Since Morocco is a functioning state with schools, hospitals, and a stable economy, those crossing into Spanish territory are not be fleeing war or state collapse. Instead, many are individuals seeking to exploit Spain’s more permissive legal and asylum framework, Jihadists infiltrating the west, or criminals attempting to evade Moroccan law enforcement by moving into a jurisdiction where local authorities cannot easily pursue them.

Ordinary criminals - robbers, rapists, and murderers - are dangerous enough. But they are not the worst-case scenario.

Morocco itself devotes enormous resources to dismantling jihadist cells and suppressing Islamist extremism, regularly arresting ISIS operatives and disrupting planned attacks. It does so because it understands that a handful of committed Islamists can inflict far more damage than hundreds of ordinary criminals. 

Can anyone honestly say how many of the invaders are committed Islamists, planning to commit mass terror attacks in the name of Allah in Europe?

Can anyone honestly say that none are?

Of course not.

That uncertainty is precisely why states conduct security screening and maintain secure borders.

Spain has already arrested ISIS supporters in Ceuta this month, alongside other cities, after authorities alleged they were spreading support for violent jihad and seeking links to global jihadist organizations.

Meanwhile, local authorities describe the current situation as an emergency after thousands entered the enclave in a single day, overwhelming local resources.

Israel learned decades ago that Islamist terrorism can fundamentally change a nation’s security environment.

Spain has spent years condemning Israel for checkpoints.

For border barriers.

For intelligence operations.

For preventive arrests.

For military responses.

Yet every one of those policies emerged after decades of terrorism - not before.

Spain now faces a choice.

It can continue insisting that ideological Islamist movements are merely products of poverty or discrimination.

Or it can recognize what the movements themselves say about their own goals.

History suggests that ignoring declared ambitions rarely makes them disappear.

Spain should understand this better than almost any country on Earth.

For nearly eight centuries, much of the Iberian Peninsula was ruled by successive Muslim dynasties before the Reconquista gradually restored Christian kingdoms. That history remains central to Islamist propaganda today. Modern jihadist organizations invoke al-Andalus not because they are interested in medieval history, but because they present it as a future objective.

That means that dismissing Islamist ideology while condemning the only democracy in the Middle East for taking it seriously may prove to be a costly mistake.

Spain may discover that geography is less important than ideology - and that the countries most loudly criticized for defending themselves are often the only ones who succeed in that mission.

Abolfazl Sepahi Badjani

And

Amirhossein Safari HosseinAbadi