Bryan Lawrence Gonsalves
April 4, 2026
Assyrian flag planted in the remains of the village of Mar Yaqob in the district of Simele, northern Iraq. Mar Yaqob was an ancient Assyrian Christian village with monasteries dating back to at least the 7th century damaged in the 1970s and completely destroyed in 1988 during the Anfal campaign carried out by the Iraqi government.
Higher 1123, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons
Juliana Taimoorazy, an Assyrian American activist born in Iran, is the founder and president of the Iraqi Christian Relief Council. Since establishing the organization in 2007, she has worked tirelessly to highlight the plight of persecuted Christians in Iraq and the Middle East, raise millions in humanitarian aid, and advocate globally for religious freedom. She was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize in 2021 and 2022.
Yes, I am an Assyrian. I was not born in Iraq. I was born in Iran, but my ancestral homeland is indeed Iraq. We are known as the heirs of the cradle of civilization. Unfortunately, not many people know that we still exist. Many believe that with the destruction of Nineveh in 612 BC, the Assyrians were also destroyed. That is not true.
Without any break in our continuity, we are today the heirs of ancient Nineveh. There are approximately two and a half million Assyrians left in the world who speak a form of Aramaic known as Neo-Aramaic. It is a living language, a mixture of Aramaic with many Akkadian words. Akkadian is recognized as the ancient Assyrian language.
I founded the Iraqi Christian Relief Council because of the complete lack of attention being paid, especially in the United States, to the persecution of Assyrians in Iraq. After the U.S. invasion of Iraq, nearly one and a half million Assyrians who were still living there fell to the sword. Our churches were bombed. Our women were kidnapped and raped. Our men were murdered. Our children were abducted. Our clergy and nuns were decapitated.
Today, our numbers in Iraq have been reduced to barely 100,000 people, most of whom are now concentrated in northern Iraq.
I started the Iraqi Christian Relief Council to raise awareness, to ask for assistance, and to advocate publicly for the rights of Assyrians in our ancestral homeland. Over time, the mission grew beyond serving only Assyrians. We have also assisted Yazidis, Muslims who came to us in need, Armenians, and more recently Ukrainians. To date, we have served in 13 countries around the world, and we continue to do so today. I am happy to say that we have been able to serve hundreds of thousands of people in the Middle East region.
Thank you for asking this important question. While ISIS inflicted incredible suffering, the persecution of Assyrian Christians did not begin with ISIS, nor did it end with the fall of the so-called caliphate. Before ISIS, there was al-Qaeda; before that, Saddam Hussein; and long before modern regimes, our persecution began with our conversion to Christianity, nearly 2,000 years ago.
Today, discrimination and insecurity continue in more systemic forms. For example, Iraq’s constitution, grounded in Sharia law, states that if a parent converts to Islam, their children are automatically considered Muslim. This is a clear violation of religious freedom and must be addressed.
Another serious issue concerns political representation. In Iraq and in the Kurdistan Region, anyone, including members of dominant political or religious factions, can vote for Assyrian Christian parliamentary quota seats. This allows outside actors, including Islamist or Iran-aligned groups, to influence who represents Christian communities, undermining genuine self-representation.
In northern Iraq, the threat is often less overtly religious but deeply cultural and ethnic. Assyrians are frequently referred to as ‘Kurdish Christians,’ which is a form of identity erasure. Our history, heritage, and indigenous Assyrian identity are being appropriated or rewritten as part of Kurdish history. This systematic erasure of Assyrian identity is extremely serious and rarely discussed internationally.
These forms of discrimination, legal, political, and cultural, create a climate of insecurity that pushes people into exile. Many Assyrians leave Iraq not only because of physical danger, but because they feel their identity, history, and future are being erased.
The fate that has befallen my people cannot be attributed solely to modern Western policy mistakes, though those mistakes were devastating. The deeper roots go further back, to the arrival of Western missionaries, French, British, and American, in Iran, Iraq, and Turkey. Their presence created the perception among local Muslim populations that Assyrian Christians were directly tied to Western powers. We became viewed as agents of Western Christendom, and this planted deeper seeds of suspicion and resentment, something that is rarely acknowledged in public conversation, even in academic settings.
That said, I do hold Western policymakers responsible for what happened in modern times, particularly after 2003. In November 2015, while standing at the Golan Heights in Israel with a former member of the U.S. Congress, I raised the dire situation of the Assyrian people in Iraq. He responded, with evident heartbreak, that Assyrians were considered “dispensable” to U.S. foreign policy, that we did not serve strategic interests, and therefore were not even on the agenda. That moment was deeply revealing.
What it tells us is that Assyrian lives have not been considered valuable enough, not only by the United States, but by Europe and other powerful actors, because we are seen as offering no political benefit. When a people are deemed strategically irrelevant, their human dignity, safety, and survival are easily ignored.
So yes, I do blame Western policymakers. But I also believe we cannot stop advocating to them, nor can we rely solely on the mercy of the West. We ourselves must become more strategic and more visible. Assyrian Christians are not dispensable; we are indispensable. We can serve as a bridge of understanding between Western Christendom and the Muslim world. We have lived alongside Muslims for centuries. We understand the region culturally and historically, and we can be strong allies to the West, including to Israel.
At the same time, we must remind the Arab world who we are: a people who lived alongside them as doctors, lawyers, teachers, farmers, and neighbors. We need to tell the Assyrian story clearly and persistently. Only by doing so can we gain allies, both in the East and in the West, and begin to change the course of our future.
The destruction of Middle Eastern Christianity did not begin with the Islamic Revolution in Iran in 1979, the Iraq War, or the Arab Spring. What we are witnessing today is the continuation of a much longer process. The genocide of Middle Eastern Christians can be traced back to the mid-19th century, particularly with the rise of Kurdish nationalism under Bedir Khan Beg in 1843, when large-scale attacks against Assyrians took place in Urmia (northwestern Iran) and southeast Turkey. Later, Kurdish militias were used as proxy forces by the Ottoman Empire and played a central role in the mass murder of Armenians and Assyrians.
This pattern did not end with the collapse of the Ottoman Empire. It evolved. In the modern era, it has taken the form of Islamist ideology, which seeks dominance and conformity. Through religious, ethnic, and cultural persecution, Islamist movements have steadily worked to purge the Middle East of its indigenous Christian populations.
Christianity is not a Western invention. It is a Middle Eastern faith, born in the lands where Assyrians, Armenians, and other ancient Christian communities have lived continuously since time immemorial. What we are seeing today is the systematic removal of Christianity from its birthplace.
As Christians are pushed into exile and forced into the West, many may retain their faith, but they often lose something just as vital, their language, heritage, historical memory, and communal identity. Genocide is not only the act of killing a people; it is also the destruction of their continuity, culture, and presence in their ancestral lands.
What makes this genocide particularly dangerous is that it is slow, fragmented, and often denied. It unfolds through displacement, legal discrimination, cultural erasure, and forced migration, making it easier for the world to ignore, even as ancient communities disappear.
With the dismantling of the ISIS caliphate, media coverage about Iraqi Christians largely disappeared. But the suffering never stopped.
Inside Iraq, Christian communities are facing severe demographic decline because many families have been unable to return to their homes. Homes were destroyed, infrastructure was never rebuilt, and entire towns remain unlivable. Widows are living in deep poverty after losing their husbands. They are raising orphaned children without the means to provide even basic necessities. There are countless orphans who urgently need care, education, and support.
The medical system in Iraq is broken for all Iraqis, but Assyrian Christians suffer disproportionately because we are still treated as second- or third-class citizens. We were targeted specifically for our ethnicity and our faith, and that legacy continues. Poverty is widespread, the cost of living is extremely high, and access to adequate healthcare is very limited.
There is also a desperate need for long-term solutions. Schools must be repaired and brought up to date technologically. Young people graduate from universities, often with high honors, but cannot find jobs due to the collapsed economy and discrimination. This leads to demoralization and, ultimately, to exile. We need to create small businesses, especially for young people and for women, so families can put food on the table and build a future in their own homeland.
Outside Iraq, the situation for displaced Christians and refugees is equally devastating. Many are living without dignity. Some women, out of desperation, have been forced to sell their bodies to feed their children because their husbands were murdered, gravely ill, or unable to cope with the pressure of displacement. Others want to work but are forbidden because they lack legal residency and are waiting for resettlement.
The health crisis among refugees is staggering. Cancer rates are alarmingly high. Men suffer from colon cancer, women from breast cancer, and ,most heartbreaking of all, children are battling leukemia or lymphoma. They cannot afford medication or access proper treatment.
These are people who once lived honorable lives. They were doctors, lawyers, shop owners, farmers, self-sufficient, dignified members of society. Today, many are trapped in despair and destitution through no fault of their own.
The Iraqi Christian Relief Council has been on the frontlines for 19 years, doing everything we can to meet these urgent needs, inside Iraq and across the region. But we cannot do this alone. This is why we need partners from around the world to stand with us and help provide what is urgently needed. These are human beings who have suffered immensely, largely as a result of foreign policies that devastated their lives. They have the right to live with dignity, safety, and hope. What sets us apart from other ministries is that we are directly connected to the people we serve. Our partners are refugees or former refugees themselves, as well as trusted humanitarian organizations on the ground that know, intimately, what is needed and how to respond.
We are not operating at a distance. We receive calls, text messages, emails, photos, videos, and receipts directly from the families and communities we help. We see the progress of projects as they unfold, and we follow up six months later, a year later, and beyond to ensure that what was implemented is still working, still serving the community, and still restoring dignity. If more help is needed, we respond.
This is not simply aid delivery. It is accompaniment. It is about dignity, about truth, and about being present, not turning our faces away from the one who needs us the most.
For me, this is not a job; it is a mission that has defined my life. My board stands fully behind this work, and together we remain committed for the long term. I believe God called, and I answered, Here I am.
And I am grateful for this platform to help make that reality visible, because the crisis is far from over.
This is a very difficult question to answer. As Assyrian Christians from the Middle East continue to migrate to the West, we face a real danger of assimilation. We melt into Western societies, and as a result, our language, Neo-Aramaic, is clearly in peril. Our broader cultural heritage is also at risk.
That said, our liturgical life remains strong, especially within the Church of the East and the Assyrian Church of the East. The liturgy has always been and continues to be a powerful anchor of continuity. Many churches now offer Friday and Sunday classes for those who want to learn the language. Parents are bringing their children, and even adults, many of whom were born in the West and never learned to read, write, or speak the language, are attending these classes as an act of defiance against erasure.
I also want to add that something profound shifted after ISIS. When ISIS attacked our churches and murdered us for our faith, it was tragically familiar; we have been persecuted for nearly 2,000 years as Christians. But when, in 2015, ISIS destroyed the ancient city of Nimrud in Iraq, when they demolished the gates of Nineveh that had withstood 3,000 years of history in a matter of weeks, and when they attacked the Mosul Museum and destroyed our heritage, something unexpected happened. ISIS inadvertently awakened a giant called Assyria.
We are now seeing a renewed awakening among the younger generation. Young Assyrian men and women are choosing to marry within the community to preserve culture and continuity. Many are actively learning the language. I attended an Assyrian New Year celebration at the end of 2025, and I was deeply moved to see so many young people dancing traditional Assyrian dances and singing along in Neo-Aramaic. I cannot describe how heartened I was to witness this shift compared to the years before ISIS.
So, while the gates of Nineveh were destroyed, while the ancient city of Nimrud was destroyed, and while the Mosul Museum was devastated, our identity was not. Stones can be destroyed, but we hope that our ethnicity, language, and faith will not. We are and will fight for them. And I see clearly that the younger generation is already doing so.
Western governments, particularly European institutions, must move beyond statements of concern and symbolic resolutions. Protection requires action. We are tired of empty promises.
First, they must recognize persecuted Christians as indigenous peoples of the Middle East, not simply as religious minorities. They must recognize the Assyrians as the heirs of the Assyrian culture and the lands to which they belong. This matters because it anchors protection in history, land, and continuity, and not charity only.
Second, aid must be conditioned on accountability. Reconstruction funds and development assistance to Iraq, Syria, and regional authorities should be tied to the safe return of Christians to their ancestral towns, the rebuilding of their homes and churches, and legal guarantees of equality and, most importantly, of security. Funding without conditions only reinforces discrimination.
Third, Western governments must reform asylum and resettlement policies. Those who cannot safely remain must be given dignified, expedited protection and a pathway to the countries which will receive and host them. At the same time, resettlement should not replace the right to return. Emptying the region of its Christians is not protection; it is erasure.
Fourth, Western countries must confront legal and structural discrimination in countries it partners with. Laws that force religious conversion of children, deny political self-representation, or allow identity erasure must be challenged directly in diplomatic and trade relationships.
Fifth, Western governments should partner with organizations rooted in the communities themselves, not only large international NGOs. Local and diaspora-led groups understand the realities on the ground and can ensure aid reaches people directly, transparently, and effectively. The Iraqi Christian Relief Council is one organization that welcomes partnerships.
Finally, there must be moral consistency. The West cannot champion human rights while ignoring the slow destruction of one of the world’s oldest Christian communities, the Assyrians people. Protecting this ancient people is not a favor; it is a responsibility.
If the West wants to prevent further genocide, exile, and cultural extinction, it must act now, not when it is already too late.
Islamist ideology has taken root in most of Europe and is increasingly visible in the United States. When large-scale illegal migration occurs, it creates parallel communities rather than cohesive ones. This fragmentation breeds instability, radicalization, and resentment, both within migrant populations and in the wider society. The failure to insist on integration, shared civic values, and the rule of law undermines social trust and weakens democratic institutions. What Europe is experiencing today should be understood as a warning: multiculturalism without integration does not produce harmony; it produces tension, insecurity, and division.
Two projects that stand out are the expansion of a small bakery run by a widow and our support of a woman who makes traditional Assyrian clothing. Through the bakery, a mother is able to put food on the table, raise her children with dignity, and become a source of stability in her community. Through the clothing project, another woman is not only providing for her family and setting a powerful example for her children, but also preserving our cultural heritage by producing beautiful, handmade Assyrian traditional clothing. Both women are rebuilding their lives after ISIS. Both defy erasure. And both stand as living proof that ISIS did not succeed in destroying our people.
Persecution has shaped Assyrian Christianity at every level, spiritually, theologically, and communally. It has left our people deeply traumatized. That trauma is not only individual; it is collective and generational. It shapes how we trust, how we relate to authority, how we raise our children, and how we understand safety. As Assyrians, we carry this trauma with us wherever we go, to the ends of the earth, and we carry it until our last day. Many people are exhausted. Some become disheartened and ask honest and painful questions: Where is God? How much more are we meant to suffer? Those questions are real, and they come from wounds that have never had the time to heal.
But something else is also true. For the majority, persecution has not weakened faith; it has deepened it. Our Christianity is steeped in prayer, endurance, and intimacy with Christ. When everything else is taken, land, safety, livelihood, faith becomes the last refuge. Many Assyrians grow closer to God through suffering, not because suffering is good, but because it forces a total reliance on Him.
This does produce a distinct Christian culture, not one that seeks martyrdom, but one shaped by resilience, memory, and survival. Ours is a faith that knows loss but refuses erasure. It is a faith carried in language, liturgy, and family memory. And it is inseparable from who we are as Assyrians. We do not leave it behind when we leave our homeland. We carry it with us for a lifetime.
Looking ahead 10 to 20 years, my hope is that Assyrians of Iraq are still there, leading prosperous lives, not just surviving but thriving, rebuilding our nation on our ancestral land. A meaningful future means safety, legal equality, and the ability to live openly as Assyrian Christians without fear.
A real success story would look like families returning to their towns, homes rebuilt, churches and schools functioning, and young people choosing to stay because they see a future. It would mean economic stability, individuals leading dignified lives, and educated youth finding jobs instead of being forced into exile. It would also mean political representation that is genuine, not symbolic, and laws that protect, rather than undermine, religious freedom.
Just as important, success would mean cultural and spiritual continuity: our language spoken by children, our liturgy alive in our churches, and our identity respected, not erased or renamed. It would mean that being Assyrian and Christian in Iraq is no longer a sentence to disappearance but a life that can be lived with dignity.
This is the mission to which I have dedicated my life. My heart beats for my people and I will lay my life down for Assyria.
