Ideas Have Consequences

Religion is a central element in the longstanding conflicts and wars of the Middle East. Data shows that 75% of countries have experienced hostilities motivated by religious hatred[1], and that 50% of MENA armed conflicts explicitly reference religion.[2] Furthermore, Deitch finds that religious conflicts tend to last longer than non-religious ones.[3] Over the years, proposed solutions have often contradicted the deep-seated religious identities of the different sides, emerging from secular Western conflict resolution theories that are only partially suited to the region and therefore limited in effectiveness. Ignoring the religious roots of the conflict has, in many cases, led to the rise of extremist forces rather than their moderation.

The reason is simple: ideas have consequences. This phrase, coined in 1948 by American author Richard M. Weaver,[4] became a catchphrase in the White House during Ronald Reagan’s presidency (1981–1989). Those years saw the fall of the Iron Curtain, the end of the Cold War, and major economic liberalization in both the United States and Israel—transforming Israel into a regional power and fostering its emerging high-tech industry. My generation, the so-called Millennials, grew up amid these changes. We were the first children of the Internet, the first to dream of peace in the 1990s, and the first to see that dream shatter in the years that followed.

As a teenager during the post-Reagan 1990s, many of my peers and I believed that the century-old Israeli–Palestinian conflict was on the verge of resolution with the Oslo Accords (1993), and that military service might soon become obsolete. In reality, I am still serving as a combat medic at the age of 42, having completed over 300 days of reserve duty—with more to come. Looking back, I believe this is because many leaders of the previous generation failed to understand not only that ideas have consequences, but that religious ideas have consequences of an even deeper and more enduring kind.

Ideas Are True in Their Implications

One need not personally hold a faith to acknowledge its power. As the Thomas Theorem reminds us: “If men define situations as real, they are real in their consequences.”[5] When large numbers of people believe certain religious interpretations, the implications of those beliefs shape reality—whether or not outsiders see the ideas themselves as valid.

This leads to what I see as the core obstacle in the Israeli–Palestinian conflict: mythification. By this I mean the transformation of a relationship between social groups from one governed by contemporary, negotiable interests into one governed by timeless myths and sacred symbols.

For example, when Hamas named its October 7, 2023 attack Tuffan al-Aqsa (“the Flood of al-Aqsa”), it was not merely coining a slogan. The name invoked two powerful religious symbols: the biblical Flood of Noah (Mabool) and the al-Aqsa compound in Jerusalem. By invoking these myths, Hamas framed its actions not as a political struggle for Palestinian statehood—which could have been negotiated decades ago—but as a divinely mandated mission to “wipe the slate clean” in the name of Islam. Similarly, Hamas leader Yahya Sinwar has been compared to Saladin, implicitly casting Israelis as Crusaders and transforming the conflict into a cosmic, yet awkward, struggle between Allah and Elohim.

Iran’s leadership plays a parallel game. The Islamic Republic does not seek or care about Palestinian liberation; rather, it aims to dominate the Sunni Muslim world—beginning with Mecca and Medina—by exporting its Shi‘ite revolution. One of its tools is to reframe the Israeli–Palestinian conflict as a global religious war, managed from afar in Tehran, and thus gain the support of the Sunni world en route to taking over it. Many in the West struggle to counter Iran precisely because they underestimate how deeply its leaders mean what they say.

Mythification exists on the Jewish side as well, though generally with less extreme consequences. Some Jews regard all Muslims—or at least all Palestinians—as the biblical Amalek, rendering the conflict non-negotiable. Former MK Dr. Michael Ben-Ari, for example, has argued that the entire Muslim world is essentially Hamas or under the sway of the Muslim Brotherhood, leaving only “eternal war” as an option.[6] He does dedicate one page out of 600 to Sufi and Indonesian Islam (half a page each), just to say they are completely irrelevant (in his opinion). While the Brotherhood’s influence is alarmingly growing, failing to understand the nuances and internal distinctions within the Muslim world (a view becoming increasingly prevalent in Israeli society) plays into the hands of the Muslim Brotherhood and the Iranian Regime as it amplifies their voices, over other more moderate voices, and gives them the mandate to dictate what Islam is (these two forces are opponents fighting over internal Muslim domination, and they cooperate temporarily against Israel and the West as a common enemy).

De-Mythifying the Conflict

As long as mythification dominates the discourse, achieving long-term progress will be nearly impossible. De-mythification—stripping away these absolutist religious narratives—must be led by religious authorities themselves.

Jews are a core part of both the Islamic and Christian sacred narratives. Islam and Christianity deeply revere biblical prophets and share much of Judaism’s theological foundation. The early Muslim–Jewish partnership in Medina, codified in the Constitution of al-Madina, reflected political cooperation rather than theological antagonism. While the Quran contains criticisms of certain Jewish groups—such as those accused of Sabbath violations or worshipping Ezra—it also speaks positively of the People of Israel as a whole. Its criticism of specific acts of specifics groups of Jews is no different then similar biblical criticism. Notably, there is little basis in the Quran for the idea of replacement theology; that notion entered Islamic thought later, imported from Christian theology by converts like Ibn Hazm in the 11th century.

The war Muhammad and his companions (including Jewish ones, such as Salman Farsi) waged later against some of the Jewish tribes in the Hijaz (that according to the Quran betrayed him) can also be understood as a political struggle for power, and not as a theological struggle over the right to represent God which necessitates the abolition of the other side.

Unfortunately, extremist actors today selectively emphasize confrontational interpretations to perpetuate the conflict. As Winter notes, “‘Islam’ has no opinion for or against specific peace agreements … political and intellectual forces in the Arab world interpret the written sources according to their opinions.”[7] The only effective counter is a sustained intellectual campaign—led by serious Muslim and Jewish scholars—to reclaim religious identity as a force for reconciliation rather than violence.

Jewish thought, too, needs renewal. Over the past two millennia, Jewish theology regarding other faiths has stagnated, leaving it ill-equipped for today’s realities. Here again, rigorous scholarship and broad-based educational efforts are essential.

Interfaith Diplomacy

Religion is undeniably part of the problem—but it can and must also be part of the solution. This insight stems from both deep academic study and years of fieldwork with Muslim religious leaders across the Middle East.

I define Interfaith Diplomacy as the strategic use of intellectual assets of different religions to propel a paradigm shift that will yield changes in behavior and in political decision making. In practice, it means amplifying interpretations of Islam and Judaism that create a shared story and reduce violent motivations. It is distinct from traditional interfaith dialogue, which too often remains symbolic or disconnected from policy.

The theory of change focuses on foundational theological issues—such as the status of the Temple Mount/al-Aqsa, the legitimacy of Jewish sovereignty over historically Muslim-administered land, and the recognition of Islam within the Abrahamic family. From there, it works to build trusted relationships with influential religious leaders, maintain presence in key interfaith forums, shape public discourse, and engage policymakers. This shift in narrative—the de-mythification of the conflict—can broaden the range of political solutions available to diplomats.

The Nostra Aetate Precedent

The idea may seem unrealistic amid the region’s current chaos, yet there is a historical precedent. In 1965, the Second Vatican Council issued Nostra Aetate (“In Our Time”), fundamentally transforming Catholic–Jewish relations. It rejected the charge of deicide against the Jewish people, and in consecutive declarations affirmed the enduring covenant between God and Israel, and prohibited proselytizing toward Jews.

If one had told my European ancestors a century ago that within two generations the Catholic Church would recognize a Jewish state and renounce centuries-old accusations, they would have been incredulous. By contrast, my Moroccan ancestors—whose history with Muslims was generally less violent—would find it easier to imagine a Jewish–Muslim reconciliation. Following the insight of my colleague Rabbi Dr. Yakov Nagen, I believe that if the 20th century was the era of Jewish–Christian reconciliation, the 21st can and should be the century of Jewish–Muslim reconciliation.

Such a process requires conceptual work, content development, intra-Jewish consensus-building, and the cultivation of a network of trust with moderate Muslim actors. Experience shows that in many Muslim contexts there is receptivity to such an approach—especially in the wake of the Abraham Accords and even during the current “Iron Swords” war, which has sharpened the distinction between moderates and extremists. But these relationships need a religious language and religious leadership to endure.

Conclusion

The path toward de-mythifying the Israeli–Palestinian conflict will be neither quick nor simple. Yet history shows that transformative change is possible when theological courage meets political will. Just as Nostra Aetate redefined centuries of Christian–Jewish hostility, so too can a deliberate, well-grounded interfaith diplomacy reshape Jewish–Muslim relations for generations to come. This demands more than well-meaning dialogue—it requires a sustained intellectual and moral effort to reclaim the sacred from extremists, to reaffirm shared narratives, and to translate them into concrete policy. If religion has been used as a sword, it can also become a plowshare. The choice is ours, and the time to choose is now.

Footnotes

[1] Samirah Majumdar and Anna Schiller, Government Restrictions on Religion Stayed at Peak Levels Globally in 2022 (Pew Research Center, 2024).

[2] Isak Svensson, “One God, Many Wars: Religious Dimensions of Armed Conflict in the Middle East and North Africa,” Civil Wars 15, no. 4 (2013): 411–30.

[3] Mora Deitch, “Is Religion a Barrier to Peace? Religious Influence on Violent Intrastate Conflict Termination,” Terrorism and Political Violence 34, no. 7 (2022): 1454–70.

[4] Richard M. Weaver, Ideas Have Consequences (University of Chicago Press, 2013).

[5] W. I. Thomas, “The Relation of Research to the Social Process,” in Essays on Research in the Social Sciences: Papers Presented in a General Seminar Conducted by the Committee on Training of The Brookings Institution, ed. L. S. Lyon et al. (The Brookings Institution, 1931).

[6] Michael Ben-Ari, A Vision and A Dagger (Jerusalem, 2024).

[7] Ofir Winter, In The Name of Allah (The Institute for National Security Studies, 2024).