"What's in a Name?"

Doctrinal Dissonance in Hamas’ Charters: Supersessionism and the Suppressed Qur’an

Image 1 – Official emblem of Hamas

A Comparative Analysis of the 1988 and 2017 Charters, Qur’an 5:21, and the Strategic Erasure of Jewish Indigeneity through Waqf, Taqiyya, and Theological Inversion

The official emblem of Hamas (see Image 1) is a composite of potent theological and geopolitical symbols: the Dome of the Rock, built on top of the destroyed Jewish Temple, flanked by two crossed scimitars, shrouded by so-called Palestinian flags, crowned by a full map of Israel, symbolically in green (the color of Islam), represented by the word “Palestine” in Arabic. Beneath, a green ribbon bears the movement’s full name: “Harakat al-Muqāwamah al-Islāmiyyah” (Islamic Resistance Movement). An unequivocal visual erasure of the state of Israel symbolized by Jihadi intent: euphemized violence as the emblematic antithesis of the “two-state” solution. As Hausdorff (2024) explains, this is not nationalist heraldry; it is apocalyptic iconography. The Dome signifies Jerusalem (renamed in Arabic as al-Quds, another nomenclature erasure) as a site of ultimate Islamic redemption, while the crossed swords symbolize religiously sanctioned conquest (jihad). The map of Israel, presented in Islamic green, conveys not just territorial ambition but also theological negation. The Qur’anic mandate frequently associated with this image, “Fight them until there is no more fitna, and the religion is all for Allah” (Qur’an 8:39), underscores the eschatological nature of Hamas’s ideology. In this framework, the Jewish presence in so-called Palestine is not a political problem to be negotiated but a religious impurity to be purged. Article 28 of Hamas’s 1988 Charter confirms this genocidal imperative: “Israel will exist and will continue to exist until Islam obliterates it, just as it obliterated others before it” (Hamas, 1988; see Table 1: Stance on Israel). While some framed Hamas’s 2017 revision of its political document as a softening, the group made no symbolic changes to its emblems, flags, or rhetoric. No borders were acknowledged. No coexistence was implied. The iconography remained unaltered, signaling that the underlying metaphysics of sacred conquest remain intact (Kedar, 2017a; Spencer, 2005).

As Phillips (2023) and IMPACT-se (2021) document, the emblem of Hamas appears in official school textbooks, government documents, martyrdom posters, and public murals across Gaza. In this context, the Hamas emblem becomes what Saad (2020) identifies as a “memetic weapon”: a symbolic device that bypasses rational critique through repetition, emotional salience, and moral inversion. Rather than inviting debate, it commands allegiance. Rather than representing a pluralist identity, it projects an absolutist mandate. Its function is not descriptive but prescriptive; it prescribes the theological annihilation of the Jewish state as a divine imperative. This emblem thus operates as what Ricoeur (2004) and Arendt (1951) both termed “totalizing semiotics.” It does not merely represent an idea. It constructs a political-theological reality in which only one narrative is permissible. In contrast to Western political symbols, flags, seals, and emblems that often represent compromise, plurality, or national diversity, the Hamas emblem is dualistic and exclusionary. It communicates that only one entity, Palestine, rendered as a singular Islamic waqf, may exist between the Jordan River and the Mediterranean Sea (Khadduri, 1955; Ye’or, 2002).

This theological rigidity is reinforced by parallel emblems, such as that of the Izz ad-Din al-Qassam Brigades, Hamas’s military wing. Their insignia features crossed rifles beneath the Dome of the Rock, Qur’anic verses endorsing warfare, and a green field engulfing the full territory of Israel. Green, the traditional color of jihad, dominates the palette, while the swords and rifles explicitly sanction violence under divine decree. These emblems do not reflect resistance. They proclaim obligation, obligation to erase, to purify, and to conquer. The danger lies not merely in the weaponization of these symbols within Gaza, but in their global normalization. As Hausdorff (2024) and Lindsay (2021) note, when such emblems are imported into Western protests or academic discourse under the banner of “liberation,” they serve not as tools of critique but as instruments of civilizational inversion. They disguise religious supremacy as human rights, recasting genocidal intent in the aesthetics of anti-colonial struggle. In the final analysis, the Hamas emblem is not a logo. It is a theological doctrine in graphic form; a visual fatwa calling not for justice, but for annihilation.

The official flag of Hamas (Image 2) consists of the Islamic shahāda inscribed in white thuluth script against a green background. The text reads: “There is no god but Allah, and Muhammad is the messenger of Allah.” This inscription, one of the most sacred formulations in Islam, is not used in this context as a religious affirmation of personal faith. Rather, as Kedar (2017) and Spencer (2005) underscore, its deployment by Hamas marks a metaphysical claim to divine sovereignty, one that supersedes and obliterates all secular or non-Islamic governance within its territorial assertion. The flag is not political. It is theological. Unlike national flags, which typically symbolize territorial governance, civic representation, or shared historical experience, the Hamas flag represents a jurisdictional absolutism: the total submission of land, law, and people to the divine sovereignty of Allah as interpreted through Islamic jurisprudence (sharīʿah). The green field, representing Islam, is not arbitrary. It is the color historically associated with Muhammad and Islamic conquest, from the rāya of the Rashidun Caliphate to the flags of modern jihadist movements including al-Qaeda, ISIS, and Boko Haram. The shahāda, in this context, is not a profession of faith. It is a declaration of war.

As Article 11 of the original Hamas Charter (1988) states,

“The land of Palestine is an Islamic Waqf consecrated for future Muslim generations until Judgment Day. It, or any part of it, should not be squandered: it, or any part of it, should not be given up.”

This theological formulation is not a metaphor. It constitutes the legal basis for jihad: the view that any non-Muslim sovereignty over what was once Islamic land is inherently illegitimate and must be reversed (Khadduri, 1955; Ye’or, 2002). Under the doctrine of waqf, once land has been incorporated into dār al-Islām, it cannot be relinquished. To do so is apostasy. This is the metaphysical reality behind the flag. In its inscription lies the foundational truth of Hamas’s worldview: that the existence of Israel is not merely unjust, but blasphemous. As Hausdorff (2024) argues, the religious semiotics of the Hamas flag cannot be divorced from its eschatological purpose. It is a banner of holy war, sacralizing the political objective of Israel’s destruction under divine command. Thus, the flag itself functions as a doctrinal fatwa, a visual verdict of annihilation, declaring not a future of coexistence, but a future of sacred conquest.

While apologists might argue that the flag is merely a religious identifier, this interpretation collapses under comparative scrutiny. The same inscription is used on the battle standards of jihadist groups globally, whether by ISIS in Iraq, Jabhat al-Nusra in Syria, or Boko Haram in Nigeria, always functioning not as cultural ornamentation but as a seal of religious warfare. The Hamas flag follows this template. It is not a call for statehood. It is a license for jihad. In contrast with the emblem of the PLO, which presents a political erasure of Israel, the Hamas flag operates on a deeper ontological level. It does not merely erase Israel’s borders; it denies its right to exist within the created moral order. The enemy (Israel) is not a state but a sin. The resolution is not diplomacy but destruction. Where the PLO’s iconography expresses parasitic nationalism, the Hamas flag proclaims what Murray (2022) terms apocalyptic nationalism: a totalizing theological vision in which political reconciliation is not just unwanted but forbidden.

Image 2 – Flag of Hamas

In the global discourse surrounding Israel, Islam, and so-called Palestinian identity, few texts are more revealing and more strategically deceptive than the 1988 and 2017 Hamas Charters. While both claim to speak in the name of Islam, a close doctrinal analysis reveals a profound internal contradiction: Hamas upholds classical Islamic jurisprudence on jihad, waqf, and sacred conquest, yet it suppresses one of the Qur’an’s clearest affirmations of Jewish sovereignty, Surah al-Mā’idah 5:21. This article explores that paradox in detail, showing how Hamas engages in selective theological omission to sustain its narrative of so-called resistance, even at the cost of Qur’anic coherence. The result is not a faithful application of Islam, but a politically motivated distortion of its own sacred text: an erasure of revelation in the service of irredentist war. By comparing the Charters’ content, omissions, and doctrinal frameworks, this study demonstrates that what appears to be religious fidelity is, in truth, ideological manipulation masquerading as divine mandate.

While the 2017 Hamas Charter is more rhetorically sophisticated and designed to appeal to international audiences, it does not renounce the goals of the 1988 Charter. It simply reworks jihadist violence in the language of nationalism, rights, and victimhood. The theological core, Islamic waqf, jihad, and the rejection of Jewish sovereignty, remain intact (see Table 1: Core Identity). The supposed shift from antisemitism to anti-Zionism is a strategic falsehood, designed for taqiyya-style deception (see Table 1: Zionism vs. Judaism). The 1988 Charter openly declares the duty to kill Jews as a religious mandate (see Table 1: Call to Genocidal Jihad); the 2017 Charter continues that war beneath the more palatable lexicon of so-called “resistance” and “liberation” (see Table 1: Religious Justification for Violence).

Peter Beaumont (The Guardian), Martin Indyk (former U.S. Special Envoy), and Nathan Thrall (The New York Review of Books) are among the most cited voices who mischaracterized Hamas’s 2017 Charter as a shift toward moderation or pragmatic realism, despite the document’s retention of core jihadist and antisemitic doctrines (see Table 1: Call to Genocidal Jihad; Zionism vs. Judaism; Language of Erasure). Beaumont (2017), for example, reported that the revised text “implicitly accepted” a so-called Palestinian state within the 1967 borders. Thrall (2017) similarly described the new language as part of an internal evolution toward political maturity. Martin Indyk praised the document for “aligning more closely with the two-state consensus,” presenting it as a hopeful gesture in a stagnant peace process (Indyk, 2017, as cited in Erlanger, 2017). These interpretations, however, are not only misguided; they are intellectually negligent. They fail to account for Hamas’s unchanged theological core, the continued invocation of Qur’an 5:64 and 5:82 in its public education and propaganda, and the eschatological logic embedded in Article 20 of the 2017 Charter: “There shall be no recognition of the legitimacy of the Zionist entity” (Hamas, 2017, Art. 20).

Far from endorsing a peaceful solution, the revised document categorically rejects all negotiated settlements, affirms the inalienability of every inch of so-called Palestine, and denies Israel’s right to exist (see Table 1: Definition of So-Called Palestine; Stance of Israel; Islamic Civilizational Jihad; Language of Erasure; So-Called Palestinian Identity; Education and Indoctrination; Religious Justification for Violence). Its rebranding is a rhetorical maneuver, taqiyya in political form, not a doctrinal reformation. Moreover, the continued erasure of Jewish indigeneity and the explicit linkage of resistance to Islamic jurisprudence (sharī‘ah) in both the 1988 and 2017 texts expose the fraudulent nature of this supposed shift. As Halevi (2017) observes, the 2017 Charter omits reference to the Muslim Brotherhood not to disavow its ideological lineage, but to obscure its global civilizational ambitions for Western audiences. Those who misread this as moderation participate, wittingly or not, in the laundering of genocidal theology under the cover of alleged political evolution. The stakes of this mischaracterization are not merely semantic; they are existential.

The Myth of the “1967 Borders”: Lexical Warfare and Legal Deception

The phrase “1967 borders” is a political misnomer that refers to the 1949 Armistice Lines, temporary ceasefire demarcations agreed upon after the 1948 Israeli-Arab War (Israel’s war for independence). These lines were never intended to constitute permanent political borders, a fact explicitly stated in the General Armistice Agreements themselves, which affirmed that they would not prejudice future territorial settlements (United Nations, 1949). Despite this, international bodies and media routinely refer to these lines as the “1967 borders,” thereby engaging in what can be called lexical warfare: the strategic misuse of language to implant false legal and political assumptions. In international law, particularly under the principle of uti possidetis juris, Israel inherited the territorial borders of the British Mandate of geographically renamed Judaea “Palestine” upon achieving independence in 1948 (Imseis, 2003; Rostow, 1990; see Tables 2 & 3).

Uti possidetis juris, Latin for “as you possess under law,” is a principle of international law stating that newly independent states inherit the borders that existed at the time of their independence. Applied to Israel, it affirms that Israel’s legitimate borders upon its 1948 independence are those of the British Mandate of geographical and so-called Palestine, reinforcing its legal sovereignty over territories such as Judaea and Samaria (now often mislabeled the “West Bank” a remnant of Jordanian colonialism [from 1948-1967], their ethnic cleansing of the Jews, and nomenclature erasure, in the shadow of Hadrian’s renaming of Judaea to “Syria Palestina” in the 2^nd century CE), and even Gaza [seized by Egypt during Israel’s War for Independence] (see Tables 2 & 3). These facts make Israeli claims to this territory far stronger than those of any previously nonexistent “State of Palestine.” No Palestinian Arab state ever existed in these territories, and no international instrument legally assigned them to one. Jordan’s occupation of the area from 1948 to 1967 was itself illegal and unrecognized, as was Egypt’s in Gaza (Mandel, 1976).

When UN or EU resolutions, or other political texts, “implicitly accept” a so-called Palestinian Arab state within the 1967 borders, they are in effect smuggling an ideological fiction into diplomatic language. They predicate their declarations on a presumed political outcome, namely, the existence and legal entitlement of a so-called Palestinian Arab state to the territory east of the 1949 lines, which has never existed in international law. As Hausdorff (2023) emphasizes, the phrase “occupied Palestinian territories” embeds this outcome in advance by linguistically assuming a sovereignty that does not yet and may never legally exist. This framing not only falsifies history and undermines Jewish legal indigeneity but also paves the way for lawfare against Israel, weaponizing international institutions like the ICC and ICJ to delegitimize Israeli sovereignty and security needs. In effect, the phrase “1967 borders” is a rhetorical device masquerading as a legal fact, which erases the provisional and contested nature of the territories in question and turns a contended maximalist Arab and Islamic territorial claim into an assumed international norm and legal entity.

BBC News claimed Hamas had “softened” its position and “distanced” itself from antisemitism (BBC News, 2017). Think-tank reports from organizations like the International Crisis Group and commentary from political analysts such as Nathan Thrall (2017) characterized the document as signaling readiness for peaceful compromise. However, such interpretations collapse under doctrinal and historical scrutiny. The 2017 Charter’s surface rhetoric masks unchanged objectives: it retains jihad as a duty (see Table 1: Call to Genocidal Jihad), refuses recognition of Israel in any form (see Table 1: Stance on Israel), and frames so-called Palestine as an indivisibly Islamic land (see Table 1: Definition of So-Called Palestine). It remains grounded in the same theological logic as the 1988 Charter and must be interpreted through the lens of Islamic waqf doctrine and supersessionism (the belief that Islam is the final and most complete Abrahamic religious expression). This rhetorical posturing is not limited to Hamas. The Arab League and Palestinian Arab leadership have consistently rejected every credible offer of a two-state solution since 1919, including those granting overwhelming territorial concessions and Palestinian Arab sovereignty in nearly all of Judaea and Samaria (see Table 4: Historical Record of Arab and Palestinian Arab Rejections of Peace and Statehood Proposals).

From the Peel Commission in 1937 and the UN Partition Plan in 1947, to the Camp David offers in 2000 and 2001, the Olmert Plan in 2008, and the Trump Peace Proposal in 2020, Israel has accepted compromise, while the Arab League and Coalition have responded with categorical rejection, escalation, or silence on every occasion (see Table 4). The only notable instance of Jewish opposition to a territorial proposal occurred in response to Churchill’s 1922 White Paper, which recommended ceding 75% of the British Mandate for a Jewish National Home to the Hashemites, thereby establishing Transjordan (see Table 4). This concession was part of a broader quid pro quo: Britain had promised territory to the Hashemite dynasty in exchange for their support against the Ottoman Empire during World War I. In contrast, Arab leaders supported the creation of this Arab-only state and endorsed the exclusion of Jewish national rights east of the Jordan River. This pattern is not the result of failed diplomacy but of a theological worldview in which Jewish sovereignty is metaphysically intolerable to Islam.

In Islamic law, territory once absorbed into the dār al-Islām (abode of Islam) is permanently consecrated to Allah (see Table 1: Definition of So-Called Palestine). The land falsely referred to in Islamic nomenclature post the Roman renaming of Judaea as filasṭīn, including all of Israel, is defined not politically but theologically as waqf: an inalienable religious endowment (see Table 1: Definition of So-Called Palestine). Classical jurists such as al-Māwardī (c. 1058 CE) and contemporary scholars like Khadduri (1955) affirm that land sanctified by Islamic rule may not be surrendered to non-Muslims under any circumstances without violating the divine trust (waqf doctrine). Hamas makes this doctrine explicit in Article 11 of the 1988 Charter and rephrases it in the 2017 Charter by declaring so-called Palestine a “blessed sacred land” that is “Arab Islamic land” from the river to the sea (Hamas, 1988, Art. 11; Hamas, 2017, Arts. 2–3). As Bat Ye’or (2002) observes, this sacralization of geography ensures that the rejection of Israel is not merely political or military; it is eschatological and unyielding.

The “two-state solution” narrative, as invoked by Hamas or the Palestinian Authority, is a calculated deception, a rhetorical mirage constructed to seduce Western mediators and gain legal-linguistic advantage in international forums. In truth, the Islamic conception of a “two-state solution” denies the existing reality of the legal Jewish state and seeks to replace it. As historian Benny Morris (2001) bluntly concluded, so-called “Palestinian leaders never accepted a two-state solution. They accepted partition only as a stage toward Israel’s destruction.” The 2017 Charter embodies this logic: it merely reframes the same supremacist irredentism of 1988 under the sanitized language of human rights and international legality (see Table 1: Strategic Discourse). To speak, therefore, of a so-called “Palestinian state alongside Israel” while endorsing the 2017 Hamas Charter is not just a diplomatic contradiction; it is a moral and epistemological fraud. It denies the long record of Arab rejectionism (see Table 4), falsifies the theological foundation of Hamas’s worldview (see Table 1: Core Identity, Islamic Civilizational Jihad), and undermines the legitimacy of Jewish indigeneity enshrined in both biblical and Qur’anic texts (see forthcoming Section: The Land, the Lie, and the Charter: How Hamas Defies Even the Qur’an).

Islamic Supersessionism and the Doctrine of Waqf

The 1988 and 2017 Hamas Charters are anchored in the Islamic legal concept of waqf, a perpetual religious endowment that renders land sacred and inalienable once brought under Muslim rule. In Article 11 of the 1988 Charter, Hamas asserts that “the land of Palestine is an Islamic Waqf consecrated for future Muslim generations until Judgment Day” (Hamas, 1988). This claim reflects classical Islamic jurisprudence, particularly the teachings of Māwardī (c. 1058 CE), who held that land acquired by Islamic conquest becomes part of dār al-Islām and may never be relinquished to non-Muslim sovereignty (Māwardī, 1996, pp. 102–104). The 2017 Charter, while omitting legalistic terminology, reaffirms this claim by referring to so-called Palestine as a “blessed sacred land” (Art. 3) and “an Arab Islamic land” whose liberation is a duty for the entire Ummah (global community of Muslims; Art. 7), thereby perpetuating the religious absolutism behind territorial claims (see Table 1: Definition of So-Called Palestine). In both documents, the sanctification of Jerusalem (renamed by Islam: Bayt al-Maqdis) is similarly theological rather than historical or political. Citing Muhammad’s supposed isrāʾ (night journey) and miʿrāj (ascension), Hamas constructs an Islamic eschatology of geography in which Jerusalem’s Islamic status is claimed to precede and therefore erase all previous claims. This narrative contradicts even the Qur’an itself, which in Surah al-Mā’idah 5:21 assigns the Holy Land (al-arḍ al-muqaddasah) to the Children of Israel through divine decree: “kataba Allāhu lakum,” “Allah has written it for you” (Qur’an 5:21). Classical Qur’anic commentators such as al-Ṭabarī, Ibn Kathīr, and al-Qurṭubī unanimously interpret this as a genuine territorial allocation to the Jews, grounded in covenant and divine promise (Ṭabarī, 2001; Ibn Kathīr, 2003; Qurṭubī, 1996; see forthcoming Section: The Land, the Lie, and the Charter).

Despite this internal theological contradiction, Hamas maintains that no Muslim authority, whether so-called Palestinian, Arab, or international, has the right to concede even “a single inch” of the land (Hamas, 1988, Art. 13; Hamas, 2017, Art. 20). This absolutist position is not a political strategy, but a doctrinal obligation derived from fiqh al-siyar (Islamic law of territory and treaties). As Kamali (2008) clarifies, waqf implies “an irrevocable legal commitment to religious control,” such that any negotiation with infidel entities is tantamount to betrayal of Allah’s trust (p. 187). Thus, the 2017 Charter’s use of secular terms like “justice” and “self-determination” (Art. 12) does not reflect a departure from its theological foundations established in the 1988 original but a camouflaged reaffirmation of them, designed for Western misapprehension and legal manipulation (see Table 1: Strategic Discourse). In effect, what appears as political intransigence is better understood as metaphysical irredentism. The Islamic doctrine of waqf does not merely reject Jewish sovereignty; it forbids its possibility. Hamas’s invocation of sacred geography and eternal trust constitutes a theological veto on any peace plan, partition, or recognition of the Jewish state, irrespective of the 1967 borders or international law. The conflict is therefore not one of disputed boundaries but of irreconcilable cosmologies: one that deems land holy by covenant of chosenness (Judaism), and the other by conquest and permanent possession (Islam; see Table 1: Core Identity, Islamic Civilizational Jihad).

Genocidal Antisemitism vs. Anti-Zionist Deception

The most publicly visible rhetorical shift between the 1988 and 2017 Hamas Charters appears in Article 16 of the latter, which asserts that “Hamas affirms that its conflict is with the Zionist project, not with the Jews because they are Jewish” (Hamas, 2017). This disingenuous disavowal of religious hatred has been cited by sympathetic Western media, including The Guardian (Beaumont, 2017) and the New York Times (Erlanger, 2017), as evidence of political moderation. However, this claim cannot withstand theological or textual scrutiny. The 1988 Charter openly affirms genocidal intent by citing a Hadith from Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim, a canonical Sunni text, stating: “The Day of Judgment will not come about until Muslims fight the Jews (killing the Jews) when the Jew will hide behind stones and trees…” (Hamas, 1988, Art. 7; Muslim, 41:6985; see Table 1: Call to Genocidal Jihad). The 2017 document does not repudiate this Hadith; it simply omits it. As Wistrich (2010) notes in his global antisemitism survey, strategic omission is a hallmark of ideological deceit, particularly among totalitarian movements that rebrand without reforming their goals (p. 35).

Moreover, while the 2017 Charter avoids the explicit antisemitic conspiracies of the 1988 Charter, such as blaming Jews for revolutions, wars, and secret societies (Art. 22, 28), its language continues to echo classical Islamic and European antisemitism, merely redirected toward “Zionists.” Articles 14 and 15 of the 2017 text describe Zionism as “racist,” “colonial,” and “aggressive,” asserting it is “a danger to international peace and security” (Hamas, 2017; see Table 1: Zionism vs. Judaism). By avoiding the term “Jews” but attributing to “Zionists” all the same traits historically applied to Jews, Hamas rebrands its religious hatred under political terminology, a pattern evident in Soviet antisemitic campaigns and modern Islamist rhetoric alike (Korey, 1995; Litvak, 2010). The rejection of Jewish historical rights to Jerusalem and the labeling of Israeli governance as “Judaization” (Art. 11) reinforce this rhetorical erasure (see Table 1: Language of Erasure). Such terminology denies not only Israel’s political legitimacy but also the ancient Jewish religious and cultural presence in the land.

This linguistic maneuver, substituting “Zionism” for “Jews,” is part of a broader strategy of civilizational deception rooted in taqiyya (تقيّة) the Islamic doctrine that permits a Muslim to lie, conceal belief, or act contrary to faith when under threat, coercion, or to protect Islam, oneself, or the community (Ummah) (see Table 5). While often associated with Shi‘ism, it is firmly grounded in Sunni jurisprudence and Qur’anic precedent. Sunni Islam has its equivalents of taqiyya, namely Kitmān, Mudārāt, Tawriyah, and Darurā (see Table 6). As Ibn Taymiyya (d. 1328) observed, and as reiterated by contemporary Muslim reformers like Khaleel Mohammed, such substitution is not reform but rhetorical diversion, allowing religious war to masquerade as political critique (Mohammed, in Handler, 2004; see also Israel National News, 2004). As Wisse (2010) astutely argues, “Antisemitism does not depend on what Jews do. It depends on what antisemites need” (p. 17). In Hamas’s case, the need is to maintain a sacred war against Jewish sovereignty while presenting itself to international audiences as a movement for rights and justice. The 2017 Charter’s denial of antisemitism, therefore, should be seen not as a reform of intent but as a recalibration of language. Beneath the surface of diplomatic phrasing lies the same theological goal: the annihilation of the Jewish state and the erasure of Jewish peoplehood (see Table 1: Stance on Israel; Religious Justification for Violence).

One of the most unaltered pillars of Hamas’s ideological framework, present in both the 1988 and 2017 Charters, is the doctrine of jihad. This is not jihad as internal struggle or spiritual discipline (jihad al-nafs), but as armed, physical combat in the service of Islamic territorial reclamation. The 1988 Charter codifies this clearly in Article 15, defining jihad as an individual obligation (fard ʿayn) incumbent upon every Muslim when the so-called Islamic land is under non-Muslim control: “Jihad for the liberation of so-called Palestine is an individual duty binding on all Muslims everywhere” (Hamas, 1988; see Table 1: Call to Genocidal Jihad). This ruling draws directly on classical Islamic jurisprudence, notably the doctrine articulated by al-Shafiʿī, Ibn Taymiyyah, and later codified in the ʿUmdat al-Sālik (Reliance of the Traveller, o9.1–o9.9), which prescribes offensive and defensive jihad as obligatory when so-called Islamic lands are allegedly occupied by infidels (Khadduri, 1955; Bonner, 2006).

The 2017 Charter reiterates this obligation with more strategic phrasing: “Resistance and jihad for the liberation of Palestine will remain a legitimate right, a duty and an honour” (Hamas, 2017, Art. 23). The Charter further describes so-called armed resistance as the “strategic choice for protecting the principles and the rights of the [so-called – my inclusion] Palestinian people” (Art. 25; see Table 1: Religious Justification for Violence). While references to Hadith and Qur’anic blood-commands are omitted, the theological imperative remains unaltered, clothed in the rhetorical garments of international self-defense and nationalist resistance (see Table 1: Core Identity). This shift from Hadith citation to human rights vocabulary is not doctrinal evolution but ideological concealment. In both Charters, the liberation of so-called Palestine is not framed as a negotiable political objective but as a divinely ordained religious mandate. Islamic lands are not simply national territories; they are sacred geographies, incorporated into the body of dar al-Islām (Abu Sway, 1998). Once under Islamic sovereignty, such lands cannot be relinquished without violating sharī’ah. This is supported by the jurisprudential consensus (ijmāʿ) among the four Sunni schools of law (Ḥanafī الحنفي, Mālikī المالكي, Shāfiʿī الشافعي, and Ḥanbalī الحنبلي), all of which define jihad as obligatory when Muslims are expelled from their lands, conquered, or otherwise (Peters, 2005; Duderija, 2011).

The difference between 1988 and 2017 is not one of essence but of presentation. The earlier Charter weaponizes religious vocabulary explicitly, citing Hadiths from Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim to justify eschatological slaughter (Hamas, 1988, Art. 7; see Table 1: Use of Islamic Scripture). The latter version shifts to political terminology and legal jargon, “liberation,” “resistance,” and “rights,” in an attempt to repackage theological conquest as humanitarian defense. However, as Goldstein and Meyer (2010) warn in their study of lawfare, such reframing is often a mechanism of stealth jihad: the deliberate exploitation of international legal systems to advance supremacist theologies under the guise of rights discourse. Therefore, the 2017 Charter does not depart from the intent of fard ʿayn jihad; it camouflages it. Its continuity with the 1988 document is not interrupted by omission; it is reinforced by dissimulation. The battlefield remains theological, even when the weapons are linguistic.

Invented Indigeneity: “Palestinians” as Ahistorical Fabrication

A striking asymmetry between the 1988 and 2017 Hamas Charters lies in their treatment of the term “Palestinian.” The 1988 Charter assumes a Muslim Arab presence in the land without ever defining or substantiating a distinct ethnic or national identity for a people called “Palestinians.” Its language centers entirely on Islamic belonging, jihad, and waqf, treating the territory as a religious trust without reference to national ethnicity (Hamas, 1988; see Table 1: So-called Palestinian Identity). Article 11, for instance, defines the land of so-called Palestine as sacred to Islam “until the Day of Judgment,” thereby positioning its ownership not in Arab genealogy but in divine Islamic obligation (see Table 1: Definition of So-Called Palestine). By contrast, the 2017 Charter attempts to retroactively construct a national identity by defining so-called Palestinians as Arabs who resided in so-called Palestine before the 1948 Nakba and their descendants (Art. 4). This genealogical redefinition asserts an “authentic” historical continuity (Art. 5), a move that functions not as history but as ideological invention (Hamas, 2017; see Table 1: So-called Palestinian Identity). As historian Ephraim Karsh (2013) argues, no such national consciousness existed before the 1960s, and the term “Palestinian” was historically used to describe Jews as often as Arabs under British Mandate rule (pp. 12–14). No so-called Palestinian state, language, currency, or legal-political structure ever existed before the British exit in 1948 (Shapira, 2012).

The 2017 Charter’s attempt to project a national identity backward in time represents a textbook case of nomenclature erasure: the replacement of historically documented indigeneity (Jewish) with an invented lineage (Arab-Muslim). As Philip Hitti, an eminent Arab historian, acknowledged before the Anglo-American Committee in 1946, “There is no such thing as Palestine in history, absolutely not” (cited in Peters, 2001, p. 259). The purpose of this fabrication is twofold: (1) to deny the historical sovereignty and ancestral roots of the Jewish people in the land, and (2) to Islamize and Arabize the conflict by casting the Jewish return as foreign settler-colonialism rather than restoration of indigenous sovereignty (see Table 1: Language of Erasure). This double-erasure, of Jewish antiquity via Arab modernity, constitutes a strategic myth, deployed as a weapon in both religious warfare and international propaganda (see Table 1: Islamic Civilizational Jihad). As Gold (2008) and Kedar (2011) demonstrate, the notion of a timeless, indigenous so-called Palestinian Arab Muslim identity is absent not only from pre-1948 records but even from foundational PLO documents. The 1964 Palestinian National Charter explicitly disavowed any claim to Judaea and Samaria (the West Bank) and Gaza, then held by Jordan and Egypt, focusing instead on the destruction of Israel proper (PLO Charter, 1964; see Table 4: Historical Record of Arab and Palestinian Arab Rejections of Peace and Statehood). Hamas’s adoption of this fabricated ethnicity is not incidental but central to its civilizational jihad. It reframes an Islamic religious war of territorial recovery into a national liberation struggle, thereby appealing to Western sympathies while disguising theological absolutism. The strategy overwrites the notion of coexistence and replaces the real with the imagined.

Strategic Discourse: From Caliphal Vocabulary to Human Rights Lexicon

Perhaps the most strategically deceptive transformation between the 1988 and 2017 Hamas Charters is the shift in discursive register, from explicit religious command to a sanitized rhetoric of “rights,” “justice,” and “liberation.” The 2017 Charter invokes the language of “freedom,” “human dignity,” “self-determination,” and “humanity” (Preamble; Arts. 9, 12, 39), borrowing lexicon from international law and the United Nations Charter (see Table 1: International Law and Peace). However, this rhetorical evolution does not indicate ideological reform, but rather a calculated deployment of taqiyya (see Tables 5 & 6). The 1988 Charter, by contrast, is unequivocally caliphal in tone and content. It calls for a holy war (jihad) against the Jews, drawing on Qur’anic verses and Hadiths of genocidal prophecy (e.g., Art. 7’s citation of the hadith predicting Muslim slaughter of Jews before the Day of Judgment) (Hamas, 1988; see Table 1: Call to Genocidal Jihad, Use of Islamic Scripture). It declares the total obliteration of Israel by Islam as an eschatological necessity (Preamble), presenting so-called Palestine as a sacred Islamic waqf land under divine interdiction against any negotiation, recognition, or compromise (Art. 11–13; see Table 1: Definition of So-Called Palestine).

The 2017 Charter does not disavow any of these foundations. It merely reframes them. Armed jihad is now styled as a “strategic choice,” not a divine command; so-called Palestine is a site of “inalienable national rights,” rather than stated as a waqf property (Art. 2–3, 23–25; see Table 1: Religious Justification for Violence, Strategic Discourse). However, the shift is semantic, not structural. As Goldstein and Meyer (2010) argue, this kind of rhetorical transformation is emblematic of what they term lawfare, the manipulation of human rights discourse by Islamist movements to exploit liberal institutions and shield jihadist goals behind a façade of civil activism (pp. 27–34). The strategy is not one of mutual legal engagement but of calculated sabotage: a form of ideological asymmetry in which the language of “freedom,” “justice,” and “rights” is hijacked to dismantle the very civilization that sustains those ideals. Lawfare, in this context, becomes the inversion of law: not the pursuit of justice, but the weaponization of legal norms to paralyze democratic states, suppress dissent, and immunize supremacist ideologies from scrutiny.

Major General Charles Dunlap (2001) defined this tactic plainly as “the use of law as a weapon of war… a method of warfare where law is used as a means of realizing a military objective.”

Islamists, particularly those affiliated with Hamas, the Muslim Brotherhood, or Iran-backed proxies, wield international human rights instruments like ideological battering rams. These instruments were never intended to shield antisemitism, religious supremacism, or calls for genocide; yet under the banner of anti-Zionism or “resistance,” they are now being used precisely for that purpose. The Lawfare Project (2010) sharpens this point further, describing lawfare as “the wrongful manipulation of the legal system to achieve strategic military or political ends.” It is not a misuse of law as an unfortunate by-product of armed struggle. It is a core weapon of asymmetric jihad. As Goldstein and Meyer (2011) clarify, lawfare is “a negative manipulation of international and national human rights laws to achieve purposes other than, or contrary to those for which they were originally enacted” (p. 15). Within Islamist ideology, this subversion of law is doctrinally justified, just as taqiyya allows for deception to protect or advance Islam, lawfare allows for legal deception to destroy non-Islamic systems from within. In the case of Hamas’s 2017 Charter, the appropriation of terms like “freedom,” “justice,” and “self-determination” masks an unchanged agenda of permanent jihad. Its rhetoric is cleaner, and its eschatology intent remains intact. The lawfare is in the lexicon, a lexicon that functions as camouflage, concealing supremacist intent in the language of the oppressed.

Similarly, Lorenzo Vidino (2010) demonstrates how groups like the Muslim Brotherhood, of which Hamas is a direct ideological offspring (see Table 1: Link to Muslim Brotherhood), have mastered the use of “Western legal lexicon to undermine Western values” (p. 143). This strategic repackaging serves two audiences. First, it deceives Western governments, NGOs, and human rights organizations by cloaking genocidal theocracy in the language of oppressed victimhood. Second, it sustains Hamas’s legitimacy among Islamist movements by keeping the theology intact beneath the surface. The Charter even acknowledges its dual messaging strategy when it affirms Islam as the “frame of reference” for all action, despite its appeals to secular legal discourse (Art. 1; see Table 1: Core Identity). This rhetorical bait-and-switch underscores the broader paradigm of civilizational jihad, wherein Islamist actors wage war not only through violence but through narrative capture, legal exploitation, and epistemological subversion. The 2017 Charter is not a peace offer but a polished war declaration written in the enemy’s language.

Doctrinal Persistence Behind the Facade: Eight Thematic Continuities from the 1988 and 2017 Hamas Charters

1. Waqf, Irrevocability, and Territorial Absolutism

The theological and legal concept of waqf, an Islamic eternal religious endowment, anchors the foundational Hamas claim that the land of so-called Palestine is not merely territory, but sacred and irrevocable. Article 11 of the 1988 Charter states explicitly that so-called “Palestine is an Islamic waqf consecrated for future Muslim generations until Judgment Day,” precluding any form of compromise, negotiation, or division (Hamas, 1988; see Table 1: Definition of So-Called Palestine). This framing draws from classical Islamic jurisprudence, particularly the doctrines of dar al-Islām and ḥurmah al-waqf (the inviolability of endowed land), both of which are embedded in Mālikī and Shāfiʿī legal traditions (Khadduri, 1955; Kamali, 2008). Though the 2017 Charter avoids explicit juristic language, its theological intent remains unchanged. It refers to so-called Palestine as “blessed sacred land” (Art. 3) and reasserts the non-negotiability of its entirety “from the river to the sea,” reinforcing the belief that the land is part of the Muslim Ummah’s divine inheritance and must be liberated by the collective (Art. 7; see Table 1: Islamic Civilizational Jihad). By invoking Jerusalem and al-Aqsa, the 2017 text subtly invokes the spiritual geography that renders any recognition of Jewish sovereignty an act of blasphemous betrayal (Ye’or, 2002).

Moreover, the concept of waqf imposes legal irrevocability. Once land has been designated as an Islamic endowment, any transfer of control to non-Muslims constitutes a sin and a breach of divine command (al-khurūj ʿan al-amr al-ilāhī) (Kamali, 2008, p. 187; see Table 1: Core Identity). This explains why Hamas asserts that no so-called Palestinian leader, democratic or dictatorial, possesses the authority to cede even a “single grain of sand” (Hamas, 2017, Art. 20). Thus, far from representing a political evolution, the 2017 Charter merely recasts the same religious absolutism in modernized rhetoric of human rights and national dignity. In this sense, both Charters are doctrinally identical. The rejection of Israel’s legitimacy is not merely ideological; it is juridical, eschatological, and metaphysical. Waqf is the theological veto on coexistence; taqiyya is its rhetorical veil.

2. Jihad as Sacred Duty, Not Political Resistance

The 1988 Hamas Charter does not merely endorse jihad as a political instrument; it sanctifies it as an individual religious obligation (farḍ ‘ayn), grounded in classical Islamic jurisprudence and eschatology. Article 15 declares, “Jihad for the liberation of Palestine is an individual duty,” invoking the traditional doctrine found in fiqh literature, where the defense of Muslim land under occupation becomes a binding obligation on every capable Muslim (Khadduri, 1955, pp. 60–62). Article 7 of the 1988 Charter quotes a notorious Hadith from Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim, in which the Prophet allegedly prophesied:

“The Day of Judgment will not come about until Muslims fight the Jews, and the Jew will hide behind stones or trees, and the stones or trees will say, ‘O Muslim, O servant of Allah, there is a Jew behind me; come and kill him’” (Muslim, Kitāb al-Fitan, 41:6985).

This Hadith is not a marginal citation; it has been canonically referenced across centuries by fuqahāʾ (jurists) in the context of eschatological warfare against Jews (see Table 1: Call to Genocidal Jihad). While the 2017 Charter omits this explicit citation, the omission is tactical rather than theological; an elided taqiyya. Article 23 reaffirms that “Resistance and jihad for the liberation of Palestine will remain a legitimate right, a duty and an honor,” thereby preserving the religious imperative to wage armed struggle against the Jewish state based on what can only be described as intrinsic antisemitism (Hamas, 2017; cf. Table 1: Religious Justification for Violence).

This shift from apocalyptic imagery to a vocabulary of “strategic choice” and “self-defense” does not mark a doctrinal departure; it constitutes a discursive repackaging to evade international scrutiny and legal accountability. Indeed, the notion that jihad remains obligatory until the land is returned to Muslim control is echoed in both medieval and modern jurisprudence. According to Ibn Taymiyyah, when non-Muslim powers occupy claimed Muslim land or reclaim land conquered by Islam “jihad becomes an obligation on every Muslim in that land and upon their neighbors” (Majmūʿ al-Fatāwā, vol. 28). Similarly, Bonner (2006) explains that jihad in Islamic tradition is not a temporary policy but an enduring duty against unbelief, especially where dar al-Islām has allegedly been lost (pp. 90–97). Hamas’s continued framing of armed struggle as honorable ibādah (worship) reveals its rejection of international norms in favor of transcendent legal doctrine. Therefore, the 2017 Charter’s use of sanitized language should be read as taqiyya as lawful deception under conditions of weakness (darūra), not as genuine moderation. The jihad imperative, stripped of its eschatological slogans, remains operational, sacred, and total.

3. Reframing Antisemitism as Anti-Zionism

The 2017 Hamas Charter asserts that its opposition is “not to the Jews because they are Jewish,” but solely to “the Zionist project” and the “Zionist entity” (Hamas, 2017, Art. 16). Western analysts and diplomats frequently cite this claim as evidence of Hamas’s ideological evolution away from classical antisemitism (Beaumont, 2017; Thrall, 2017). However, this rhetorical pivot must be understood as a calculated deception rather than a theological or ideological revision. The original 1988 Charter is explicit in its antisemitic worldview, accusing Jews of orchestrating revolutions, wars, economic corruption, and control of the media (Arts. 22, 32), echoing the fabricated Protocols of the Elders of Zion (see Table 1: Zionism vs. Judaism). These conspiratorial motifs are not repudiated in the 2017 Charter; they are displaced, recoded under the guise of anti-Zionism. This substitution of “Zionist” for “Jew” mirrors the broader strategy of ideological laundering, in which religious hatred is reformulated as political critique (Wistrich, 2010; Wisse, 2010). Article 14 of the 2017 Charter defines Zionism as a “racist, aggressive, colonial and expansionist project,” and Article 15 condemns all attempts to normalize relations with Israel, while denying any legitimacy to the Jewish presence in Jerusalem. By refusing to refer to the State of Israel by name, calling it only the “Zionist entity” and by rejecting any historical Jewish claim to the land, the Charter perpetuates the illogic of antisemitic erasure under the pretext of political struggle (see Table 1: Stance on Israel; Language of Erasure).

The replacement of explicit antisemitic invective with “anti-Zionist” vocabulary has become a hallmark of contemporary Islamist and leftist propaganda, particularly in academic and activist spaces. As the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA) definition of antisemitism recognizes, denying the Jewish people their right to self-determination, e.g., by claiming that the existence of a State of Israel is a racist endeavor, is itself a form of antisemitism (IHRA, 2016). Hamas’s rhetorical maneuver, therefore, fails the test of sincerity: it obscures the enduring objective to eliminate the Jewish state and erase Jewish sovereignty while appearing to conform to international norms. Theologically, this shift is meaningless. Hamas continues to promote the total removal of Jewish presence from the land, referencing Islamic eschatology, territorial waqf doctrine, and martyrdom theology. The 2017 Charter’s assertion that its conflict is “only” with Zionists does not alter its invocation of classical Islamic frameworks that demand Jewish expulsion. In this sense, the 2017 Charter’s language of tolerance functions as kitmān, concealment of true intentions, permissible under Islamic law in the pursuit of strategic victory.

4. Sacralizing the Land, Erasing the People

The 1988 Hamas Charter anchors its territorial claim to Jerusalem in the theological mythos of Muhammad’s Isrāʾ (night journey) and Miʿrāj (ascension), citing this as proof that Al-Aqsa and its environs belong irrevocably to Islam (Art. 14). This invocation of religious cosmology to justify political sovereignty elevates the land into a domain of sacred trust, rendering compromise an act of blasphemy (see Table 1: Al-Aqsa and Jerusalem). The 2017 Charter retains this theological absolutism but reframes it in nationalist language, declaring Al-Aqsa Mosque to belong “exclusively to our people and our Ummah” (Art. 11). This phrase simultaneously fuses Islamic religious exclusivity with Arab ethnic entitlement, erasing all Jewish historical and spiritual connections to Jerusalem (see Table 1: Use of Islamic Scripture; Language of Erasure). Such theological sacralization of territory is a form of ontological warfare, the systematic erasure of another people’s identity by denying the foundations of their being: memory, history, and place. Classical Islamic scholars such as al-Qurṭubī, Ibn Taymiyyah, and Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī all treated the Isrāʾ and Miʿrāj as miraculous signs (āyāt) affirming Islam’s cosmological supremacy, not as historical evidence of political title. Hamas’s use of these motifs is therefore not religious orthodoxy; it is postcolonial revisionism masquerading as Islamic fidelity. It rewrites the prophetic narrative as a nationalist deed registry.

This deliberate effacement of Jewish indigeneity is reinforced by the Charter’s repeated use of phrases such as “Judaization of Jerusalem” and “Zionist aggression against holy sites,” framing any Jewish archaeological presence, religious access, or civil administration as desecration (Hamas, 2017, Arts. 11, 14). The ideological underpinning is rooted not in historical dispute, but in Islamic exclusivism: once a land has been sanctified by Islamic presence or conquest, it may never revert to non-Muslim stewardship (cf. Khadduri, 1955, pp. 59–61; Ye’or, 2002). This doctrinal intent is deployed strategically to erase Jewish history and memory. As Yosef (2021) has shown, the denial of the Jewish Temple’s existence and the rebranding of Jewish artifacts as “Islamic heritage” are part of a coordinated campaign of cultural obliteration. Hamas’s Al-Aqsa narrative is therefore not an expression of faith; it is an assault on historical truth. When territory is turned into theology, and theology is weaponized against historical evidence, truth itself becomes a casualty of jihad.

5. Inventing Indigeneity: The Myth of the Palestinian People

The 1988 Hamas Charter presumes Islamic entitlement to the land of Israel, renamed “Palestine” in the document, but makes no effort to define a distinct Palestinian ethnicity, culture, or sovereign history. Instead, it frames the entire claim to the land through the prism of Islamic religious law, jihad, and pan-Islamic solidarity (see Table 1: So-called Palestinian Identity). Ethnicity is replaced by theology, and identity is subordinated to the ummah. This omission reflects the broader Islamic jurisprudential intent in which all Muslims share collective responsibility for the land once it is deemed waqf (Art. 11) and where the term “Palestinian” is deployed as a placeholder for pan-Islamic stewardship rather than as an ethno-national classification. By contrast, the 2017 Charter strategically innovates and codifies an ethnic narrative. Articles 4 and 5 define “Palestinians” as Arabs who resided in so-called Palestine before the Zionist presence and extend the right of return and inheritance to their descendants in perpetuity. This genealogical construction performs several polemical functions: (1) it fabricates a continuous historical identity where none existed, (2) it assigns territorial rights via bloodline rather than sovereignty or governance, and (3) it repurposes Jewish diasporic memory and indigeneity for Islamic ends. This maneuver attempts to reverse the historical script: turning the Jews into foreign colonists and the Arabs into eternal natives (see Table 1: Language of Erasure).

The claim collapses under historical scrutiny. There has never been a sovereign so-called Palestinian Arab state, capital, national currency, legal system, or unique ethnic distinction before the mid-20th century (Karsh, 2010; Peters, 1984). The Ottoman Empire, which governed the land for four centuries, did not refer to any so-called “Palestinian” nationality. British Mandate documents used the term “Palestinian” to refer to Jews, not Arabs, as documented in pre-1948 passports, postal systems, and international registries (Mandate for Palestine, 1922). As Porat (2021) notes, the modern Palestinian Arab identity was retroactively constructed in opposition to Zionism rather than arising from organic cultural development. It is an oppositional invention, not a civilizational inheritance. This tactic of invented indigeneity, then, functions as a double erasure: first, it obliterates the 3,000-year history of Jewish presence, sovereignty, and sacred connection to the land; second, it fabricates an unbroken Arab lineage ex nihilo. This historical inversion is not merely polemical; it is strategic disinformation, weaponized to delegitimize Jewish statehood in international forums and legal frameworks (see Table 1: Language of Erasure, Zionism vs. Judaism).

6. Propaganda and the Weaponization of Rights Language

The 1988 Hamas Charter establishes its ideological framework with overt references to the Qur’an and Hadith. Article 7 cites the well-known eschatological Hadith from Sahih Muslim, commanding Muslims to slaughter Jews in the end-times: “The Day of Judgment will not come about until Muslims fight the Jews (killing the Jews)...” This, along with numerous verses invoking martyrdom, jihad, and divine conquest, forms the theological scaffold of the Charter’s genocidal vision (see Table 1: Use of Islamic Scripture). The language is explicitly supremacist, rooted in Islamic jurisprudence (fiqh) and eschatology. It invokes classical doctrines of dar al-Islam, fard ‘ayn jihad, and religious obligation to reclaim Islamic waqf (see Table 1: Religious Justification for Violence). The 2017 Charter, however, attempts a sleight of hand. While still affirming Islam as its exclusive “frame of reference” (Art. 1) and explicitly denying any recognition of Israel’s legitimacy (Arts. 18–20), the Charter is couched in internationalist terms: freedom, justice, human rights, self-determination, and national liberation (Preamble; Arts. 9, 12, 39). This shift is not ideological reform but discursive subterfuge, a recalibration intended to appeal to Western liberal sensibilities and manipulate international legal institutions. As observed by Goldstein and Meyer (2010), this tactic is lawfare (see Table 1: Strategic Discourse).

The internal contradiction is stark. On one hand, Hamas claims to seek rights under international law; on the other, it declares all international resolutions, from the Balfour Declaration to the Oslo Accords, “null and void” (Art. 18). It appeals to democratic values while operating as a theocratic paramilitary organization that executes opponents, suppresses dissent, and indoctrinates children for jihad (see Table 1: Education and Indoctrination). This duplicitous rhetoric, framed as a liberation struggle, is in fact a continuation of war by other means, a civilizational jihad not through force alone, but through semantic conquest. Such propaganda functions both externally and internally. Internationally, it mobilizes Western support through the co-optation of human rights discourse, what Wistrich (2010) describes as “the inversion of moral language for the purpose of delegitimization.” Internally, it serves to mask Hamas’s rejection of peace and its refusal to abide by any conditions short of total Jewish expulsion (see Table 1: International Law and Peace). In effect, the 2017 Charter is a tool of psychological and legal warfare; taqiyya through treaties. It invites international sympathy while preserving a supremacist goal. Its invocation of “justice” is Orwellian: a justice that cannot tolerate Jewish self-determination, coexistence, or sovereignty. This is not the language of peace. It is the language of conquest, repackaged for Geneva.

7. Omission as Strategy: The Brotherhood Connection

The 1988 Hamas Charter openly affirms that “Hamas is one of the wings of the Muslim Brotherhood in Palestine” (Art. 2), establishing its foundational link to the transnational Sunni Islamist movement founded by Hassan al-Banna in Egypt in 1928 (see Table 1: Link to Muslim Brotherhood). This connection is not incidental; it places Hamas squarely within the ideological framework of the Brotherhood, which views Islam as a total system encompassing governance, jurisprudence, education, and armed struggle. The Muslim Brotherhood has long advocated al-jihad fi sabil Allah (struggle in the path of God) as a divine obligation to restore the Caliphate and impose Shari’ah globally (Mitchell, 1969; Berman, 2003). However, the 2017 Charter omits all explicit reference to the Brotherhood. This is not a theological divergence, but a strategic recalibration in response to mounting international pressure on the Brotherhood, particularly from Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and the UAE, which have designated it a terrorist organization. As scholars such as Vidino (2010) and Rubin (2010) have observed, this rhetorical omission is a textbook example of ideological camouflage: a declaration of independence that is in truth a public relations maneuver. Hamas has not disavowed Brotherhood ideology; on the contrary, it continues to embrace its core commitments to jihad, pan-Islamism, antisemitism, and the rejection of secular nationalism (see Table 1: Core Identity).

Organizationally, Hamas remains deeply influenced by the Brotherhood’s model of civilizational infiltration. It mirrors the Brotherhood’s strategic emphasis on gradualism, education as indoctrination, and long-term conquest through culture and law (see Table 1: Education and Indoctrination). As Jonathan Dahoah Halevi (2017) notes, the 2017 Charter even reproduces Brotherhood terminology, such as resistance, Ummah, and Islamic unity, without attribution. This continuation without confession is deliberate: it allows Hamas to distance itself from the global crackdown on the Brotherhood while preserving its doctrinal roots and operational methods. Moreover, the omission serves a secondary function: it enables Hamas to appeal to Western governments and NGOs by downplaying its association with an explicitly Islamist revolutionary network. This is taqiyya by omission, aimed at obfuscating the theological and organizational continuity between Hamas and the Brotherhood, and thus presenting the former as an indigenous nationalist movement rather than a node in a transnational jihadist web (see Table 1: Strategic Discourse). In sum, the 2017 Charter’s silence on the Brotherhood is not the absence of ideology; it is the presence of deception. It is the rhetorical decoupling of Hamas from its jihadist scaffolding, undertaken for the sole purpose of legal survival and diplomatic legitimacy in the West.

8. Jihad Is Still the Engine: No Matter the Rhetoric

Despite its polished diction and strategic ambiguity, the 2017 Hamas Charter preserves the theological and ideological tenets of its 1988 predecessor. It explicitly states that “no part of the land of Palestine shall be compromised or conceded” (Art. 20), reaffirming that resistance to Israel is a permanent, non-negotiable duty (see Table 1: Definition of Palestine; Stance on Israel). While the 2017 Charter reframes this position as a struggle for “rights,” “freedom,” and “self-determination,” these terms operate as euphemisms for the same supremacist goal: the total dismantling of Israel as a Jewish state (see Table 1: Religious Justification for Violence; Core Identity). This unaltered commitment to rejectionism is not merely political, as it is fundamentally eschatological. The 1988 Charter’s invocation of the Hadith foretelling an end-times war against the Jews (Art. 7) reveals the religious telos underpinning Hamas’s project. Though the 2017 document omits such explicit eschatological references, its doctrinal continuity is evidenced by its insistence on “armed resistance” as a sacred right (Art. 23), the eternal inviolability of so-called Palestine, and the denial of any peace negotiations or territorial compromise (Arts. 20–21). In this framework, jihad is not a means but an end: it constitutes both method and metaphysics.

The rhetorical decoupling of Hamas’s current language from its foundational commitments is a calculated strategy of da’wah diplomacy: a form of ideological outreach designed to mask military jihad with appeals to Western liberal sensibilities. As Goldstein and Meyer (2010) note in their analysis of lawfare, this manipulation of human rights terminology is a hallmark of civilizational jihad, in which ideological subversion is performed through ostensibly peaceful means. The 2017 Charter exemplifies this phenomenon, embedding Islamic supremacy and genocidal ambition beneath the surface of normative international discourse (see Table 1: Strategic Discourse). Furthermore, Hamas’s categorical rejection of a two-state solution reveals that its target is not territorial occupation but Jewish sovereignty itself. This rejection echoes the broader Arab and Islamic repudiation of every historic two-state proposal, from the 1947 UN Partition Plan to the 2020 Trump Peace Plan (see Table 4: Historical Record of Arab and Palestinian Arab Rejections of Peace and Statehood Proposals, and Israel’s Acceptance). In Islamic legal doctrine, the notion of a Jewish state on land once ruled by Islam is a theological impossibility, a breach of waqf, and a challenge to the supremacy of ummah (Khadduri, 1955; Ye’or, 2002). Hamas’s position is thus not merely a nationalist claim, but a metaphysical imperative to erase Israel from existence. In summary, the engine of Hamas’s ideology remains jihad, not merely as resistance but as a sacred, perpetual war against Jewish sovereignty. The Charter’s verbal recalibrations do not constitute ideological reform; they represent an advanced tactic in the information theater of global jihad.

The Land, the Lie, and the Charter: How Hamas Defies Even the Qur’an

Section I: The Qur’an Assigns the Land to the Jews (Qur’an 5:21)

Qur’an 5:21 (Sahih International Translation)

“O my people, enter the Holy Land which Allah has assigned to you and do not turn back and [thus] become losers.” Arabic: يَا قَوْمِ ادْخُلُوا الْأَرْضَ الْمُقَدَّسَةَ الَّتِي كَتَبَ اللَّهُ لَكُمْ وَلَا تَرْتَدُّوا عَلَىٰ أَدْبَارِكُمْ فَتَنقَلِبُوا خَاسِرِينَ

The phrase “kataba Allāhu lakum” (“Allah has assigned to you”) carries a decisive legal and theological connotation in classical Arabic and Qur’anic jurisprudence. The verb kataba (كَتَبَ) in Qur’anic idiom denotes not merely a descriptive statement but a binding, divinely decreed ordinance. As Kamali (2008) notes, verbs of writing and decree (kitāba) in the Qur’an signify legal obligation and divine finality (p. 73). The use of this formula, unconditional, declarative, and temporal, confirms that the Children of Israel are the rightful heirs to what is also described in Arabic as al-ard al-muqaddasah (the Holy Land), a term traditionally identified as the land encompassing Jerusalem and its environs (Ṭabarī, 2001; Ibn Kathīr, 2003; Qurṭubī, 1996).

In his tafsīr, al-Ṭabarī (d. 923 CE) affirms that this land was “assigned by Allah to the Children of Israel by the tongue of their Prophet,” referring to Moses (Mūsā), and interprets al-ard al-muqaddasah as Bayt al-Maqdis and the lands of Shām, including Jerusalem and Hebron (Ṭabarī, 2001, vol. 10). He emphasizes this as a literal divine grant tied to obedience, not allegory.

Ibn Kathīr (d. 1373 CE), likewise, explains that the land includes the historical areas of Philistia (roughly Gaza) and Judaea (now known to many by the nomenclature erasure name the “West Bank”), and that the command was a legal obligation, not symbolic (Ibn Kathīr, 2003, Tafsir on Qur’an 5:21). He explicitly states: “It was decreed for them by divine judgment.” Al-Qurṭubī (d. 1273 CE) strengthens the legal connotation of kataba by linking it to a type of religious inheritance, “obligatory upon them” and “not given to any nation prior” (Qurṭubī, 1996, vol. 6). His interpretation confirms that this grant is both temporal and sacred.

The Qur’an’s explicit designation of Jewish indigeneity, by divine decree, stands in direct contradiction to Islamic supersessionist theology, especially that invoked by Hamas in both its 1988 and 2017 charters (see Table 1: Definition of So-Called Palestine. Where Hamas defines all of “Palestine” as irrevocable Islamic waqf (1988, Art. 11; 2017, Art. 3), the Qur’an itself testifies to its prior assignment to the Jews, an inconvenient truth that Hamas must suppress. This contradiction between Qur’anic grant and Islamist erasure reveals a deeper theological incoherence: either the Qur’an is to be upheld as final divine revelation, in which case Jewish indigeneity is affirmed, or it must be selectively ignored to preserve the political dogma of an eternally Islamic so-called Palestine. Hamas chooses the latter. The omission of Qur’an 5:21 from both charters, particularly the 2017 version, which claims to reflect Islamic norms and heritage, is not accidental. It is an act of religious suppression in the service of ideological revisionism (see Table 1: Use of Islamic Scripture).

Interlude: Is Qur’an 5:21 Abrogated? The Verse That Cannot Be Undone

Before turning to Hamas’s selective silencing of Qur’an 5:21, it is necessary to address a potential Islamic defense: that the verse has been abrogated (mansūkh) by later revelation. This argument collapses on both chronological and doctrinal grounds. First, Surah al-Mā’idah is among the last chapters revealed, placing it beyond the reach of chronological abrogation. Classical scholars across the four Sunni madhāhib, such as al-Suyūṭī, al-Zarkashī, Ibn al-Jawzī, and al-Nahhās, make no mention of verse 5:21 as mansūkh in any canonical list of abrogated verses. In fact, al-Qurṭubī explicitly affirms that “Surah al-Mā’idah contains no abrogated verses, nor is it abrogating” (Qurṭubī, 1996). Second, the grammar of the verse, “kataba Allāhu lakum,” reflects an unconditional divine decree, not a historical contingency. The Qur’an does contain verses of jihad and resistance, but none of these override the territorial grant affirmed in 5:21. The most commonly cited Islamist verses, such as 9:29 (“fight those who do not believe”) or 8:60 (“prepare against them whatever you can”), are tactical exhortations, not theological property deeds. Third, no verse in the Qur’an explicitly repeals or reverses Allah’s assignment of the land to the Children of Israel. In fact, Qur’an 17:104 reaffirms their future return:

“And We said to the Children of Israel after [Pharaoh’s demise], ‘Dwell in the land, and

when the Hereafter comes to pass, We will bring you forth in multitudes.’”

Far from abrogating Jewish inheritance, the Qur’an restates it as prophetic fulfillment. That Islamists ignore or suppress this does not prove abrogation; it reveals strategic omission. Hamas’s silence is not doctrinally justified; it is ideologically mandated. Adherents to Hamas act not according to Qur’anic law, but political necessity. In doing so, they elevate political expedience over divine decree. This makes their position not merely theologically incoherent, but theologically subversive.

Section II: Hamas and the Abrogation of Scripture: 1988 vs 2017

Despite the unambiguous Qur’anic assignment of the land to the Jewish people in Surah al-Mā’idah 5:21, neither the 1988 nor the 2017 Hamas Charters make any mention of this verse. This omission is not accidental but strategic. It reveals Hamas’s conscious decision to suppress any scriptural material that undermines its irredentist narrative and genocidal aims (see Table 1: Use of Islamic Scripture). The 1988 Charter of Hamas does invoke multiple Qur’anic verses to justify jihad and the murder of Jews, including Qur’an 3:112, 5:64, and 8:60 (Hamas Charter, 1988, Arts. 7, 13, 15). However, Qur’an 5:21, despite being part of the same sūrah, is absent. This selective citation demonstrates Hamas’s manipulation of Islamic texts. It quotes violent or decontextualized verses while erasing those that affirm the divine covenant with the Jews and their historical indigeneity in the land. In the 2017 Charter, the manipulation becomes more refined. Instead of blatant scriptural invocation, Hamas asserts that its frame of reference is Islam, yet it never clarifies how Islamic law, or Qur’anic authority supports its position (Hamas, 2017, Preamble; Art. 3). It continues to reject Israel’s legitimacy while masking this rejection under the vocabulary of justice and resistance (see Table 1: Definition of So-Called Palestine; Language of Erasure). Again, Qur’an 5:21 is absent, even though it represents a definitive statement on the divine title deed of the land.

This silence contradicts not only the grammar and theology of the Qur’an, but also the tafsīr traditions of Ṭabarī, Ibn Kathīr, and Qurṭubī, who unanimously affirm that “al-ard al-muqaddasah” was divinely ordained for the Children of Israel (Ṭabarī, 2001; Ibn Kathīr, 2003; Qurṭubī, 1996). By omitting this verse, Hamas commits a form of scriptural abrogation, not by theological reasoning, but by ideological suppression. It effectively nullifies Allah’s words in favor of its own. As Khaleel Mohammed has argued, this silence is deeply telling (in Handler, 2004; see also Israel National News, 2004). A movement that claims to derive legitimacy from Islam cannot simply delete a verse without undermining its entire foundation. The omission of Qur’an 5:21 is therefore not merely an oversight but a form of epistemic violence: the erasure of inconvenient revelation to justify perpetual jihad. In both Charters, therefore, we see a consistent pattern: the use of Islamic scripture as a weapon, not a source of truth. The 1988 Charter wields verses selectively to sanctify terror. The 2017 Charter omits scripture entirely, knowing that full transparency would expose its doctrinal contradictions. In both cases, Islam is instrumentalized, not revered. The divine assignment of the land to the Jews is not refuted; it is suppressed. But as the tafsīr makes clear, the land was not given to the Muslims; it was “written” (kataba) for the Jews by Allah Himself (Qur’an 5:21). Hamas, in denying this, not only falsifies history but defies its own professed revelation. Thus, Hamas’s theological posture amounts to a heresy wrapped in jihad. It seeks not to honor Islam, but to override it. The Qur’an is clear, which implies Hamas’s Charters must be corrupt.

Section III: Theological and Moral Incoherence — Islam’s Self-Refutation

The internal contradiction at the heart of Hamas’s ideological theology lies in its denial of Jewish sovereignty over the land of Israel while simultaneously claiming divine Islamic authority. Yet the Qur’an itself, as affirmed in Surah al-Mā’idah 5:21, declares that the Holy Land (al-ard al-muqaddasah) was divinely assigned (kataba Allāhu lakum) to the Children of Israel (see Section I). This creates a profound theological dilemma for any Islamic movement purporting to wage jihad for the “liberation” of so-called Palestine from the Jews. How can a religious movement oppose what the Qur’an itself records as Allah’s will? From the standpoint of classical Islamic theology (ʿaqīdah), to reject a divinely decreed command is to place oneself in rebellion against Allah. The verse does not condition the assignment of the land upon Muslim belief or conquest but clearly depicts it as a divine gift to a prior religious community. This has led modern Muslim scholars such as Khaleel Mohammed, professor of Islamic Studies at San Diego State University and a classically trained scholar educated at McGill University, to reiterate this striking theological anomaly in the writing of Hamas that the Qur’an itself affirms the Jewish right to the land of Israel (Handler, 2004; see also Israel National News, 2004). Drawing from Surah Al-Mā’idah 5:21, he cites Moses’ command to the Israelites: “O my people! Enter the Holy Land which God has written for you…” (The Qur’an, 5:21). According to Mohammed, this verse is unambiguous. “If God has ‘written’ that the land is for the Jews,” he asks, “what human can erase His handwriting?” (Handler, 2004).

He further references Surah Al-Baqarah 2:40, where God tells the Israelites:

“O children of Israel! Call to mind My favor which I bestowed on you and be faithful to (your) covenant with Me, I will fulfill (My) covenant with you” (The Qur’an, 2:40).

Khaleel Mohammed underscores that medieval Islamic exegetes such as Ibn Kathīr and al-Shawkānī recognized the divine allotment of the Holy Land to the Jews. Al-Shawkānī interpreted the phrase “that which God has written for you” as “that which God has allotted and predestined for you in His primordial knowledge” (Handler, 2004). Mohammed’s stance is not merely exegetical but also historical. He contends that even early Muslims “full well knew whom the land rightly belonged to,” referencing the Muslim entrance into Judaea in 638 CE as Islam’s occupation of land “that according to their own scriptures, belongs to the people of Moses” (Handler, 2004). He dismisses the argument that long-term Islamic control under the Ottomans overrides divine decree, stating:

“It doesn’t matter if the Jews were exiled 500 years or 2000 years, the Holy Land, as mentioned in the Qur’an, belongs to Moses and his people, the Jews” (Handler, 2004).

Furthermore, Mohammed exposes the politicization of Islamic theology through selective Hadith interpolation, noting that certain post-Qur’anic traditions deliberately alter or obscure clear Qur’anic meanings. For example, one Hadith appends the phrase “...but not after Moses died” to the 5:21 verse, effectively nullifying the permanence of the Jewish claim. “Allah tells Muslims that the Qur’an is perfect,” Mohammed argues, “so why add interpolations that change its meaning?” (Handler, 2004).

Mohammed also notes that Jerusalem is never explicitly mentioned in the Qur’an as a holy city, contrary to popular Islamic belief. He asserts that radicalization stems not from the Qur’an itself but from political trauma, especially the collapse of the Ottoman Empire and the founding of Israel, which generated a reactive ideology masquerading as scriptural orthodoxy, hence the birth of the Muslim Brotherhood (Handler, 2004). In both scholarship and personal engagement, Mohammed remains committed to a reformist interpretation. He initiated the Foundation for the Abrahamic Study of Religion and maintained that “Islam doesn’t deny democracy” or the development of moral and intellectual pluralism. He concludes:

“The Qur’an doesn’t deny the development of human thought and a world in which we can respect one another for our differences and come up with new ideas to make a better world” (Handler, 2004).

His conclusion is rooted not in Zionism but in a non-fundamentalist Islamic exegesis: any group that claims to act in the name of Islam but denies this verse engages in taḥrīf; distortion of divine revelation (see Table 1: Use of Islamic Scripture).

In contrast, Hamas’s theological hypocrisy is compounded by its own selective use of scripture. As documented in Section II, both the 1988 and 2017 Charters cite Qur’anic verses and Hadiths to justify eternal war against the Jews, yet they conspicuously omit 5:21. This omission is not incidental, as it is strategic. By removing verses that affirm Jewish indigeneity, Hamas fabricates a theological rationale for antisemitic jihad while discarding elements of scripture that would undermine their political narrative (see Table 1: Zionism vs. Judaism; Language of Erasure). This is not just religious cherry-picking; it is epistemic fraud. Moreover, this contradiction betrays a deeper philosophical and moral incoherence. If Islam acknowledges a prior people’s divine covenant, then the attempt to “liberate” that land from its rightful heirs is not only theologically indefensible; it becomes a moral inversion. Hamas positions itself as a liberating resistance movement, yet its very premise denies history, scripture, and the ethical principles it claims to uphold. The result is a form of doublethink: an ideology that weaponizes religion while hollowing out its ethical core. Thus, the issue is not merely exegetical; it is existential. A religious movement that contradicts its own sacred text forfeits its legitimacy as a theological actor. Hamas cannot simultaneously claim fidelity to Islamic revelation and reject that revelation’s affirmation of the Jewish people’s historical and divine claim to the land. What remains is not faith but fanaticism, a political cult garbed in religious language, built upon the erasure of both textual truth and moral accountability.

Section IV: When the Qur’an Refutes Palestinianism

Hamas’s war is not with Zionism alone, nor merely with Israel’s right to exist. It is a war against history, scripture, and theological integrity. When even the Qur’an acknowledges the divine assignment of the land to the Jewish people (Qur’an 5:21), Hamas’s genocidal jihad becomes indefensible not only under international law but under its own religious framework. Hamas cannot appeal to the authority of Islam while rejecting its most inconvenient revelations. What is revealed in this analysis is a threefold erasure: of the Jewish covenant, of theological coherence, and of moral honesty. The Hamas Charters construct a mythic narrative in which all of the so-called Palestine belongs to Muslims by virtue of Waqf, yet this claim has no grounding in the Islamic scripture they invoke. Instead, their theology is retrofitted around geopolitical hatred and antisemitic conspiracy, selecting scripture where useful, ignoring it where fatal (see Table 1: Religious Justification for Violence).

Palestinianism, as institutionalized by Hamas, is not a product of Islamic fidelity but of ideological fiction. It is a project built on rhetorical deception, Quranic distortion, and a continuous denial of Jewish legitimacy, both theological and historical. This fiction is reinforced through propaganda, legal manipulation, and eschatological rhetoric that appeals to grievance while veiling the truth. In this sense, Hamas is not only at war with Israel but with the Qur’an itself. Its claim to religious authenticity collapses under the weight of its own doctrinal contradictions. When even the sacred texts of Islam affirm Jewish indigeneity, and when classical tafsir supports this claim, the mask of religious resistance gives way to a movement driven by conquest, erasure, and theological bad faith. Orwell’s statement in this context is inciteful: “Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past,” as in fact Hamas controls neither (Orwell, 1921). Because the past, textual, historical, and spiritual, is not subject to conquest. The Qur’an is not on their side. Nor is history. Nor, ultimately, is truth.

The Phantom State: The Fictional Borders of a “Palestine” that is not Israel and the Global Complicity in a Lie

In the aftermath of Hamas’s 2017 Charter, which sought to cloak jihad in the language of nationalism, many Western states and media outlets rushed to proclaim a supposed moderation, a pivot away from the group’s genocidal 1988 manifesto. But beneath this cosmetic revision lies a deeper and more corrosive and surreptitious lie: the international legitimation of a “State of Palestine” that does not and has never existed, not with legally defined borders, not with a unified government, and not with a consistent will to accept a two-state solution. To date, 147 out of 193 United Nations member states claim to “recognize” the so-called State of Palestine. Soon, France under President Macron is expected to add its name to this list. But what precisely are these states recognizing? Where are the borders of this so-called state? Who is its governing authority, Fatah in Judaea and Samaria (the West Bank), Hamas in Gaza, or the Palestinian Islamic Jihad? If so-called Palestine has never functioned as a legal or historical state in modernity, under what international law or precedent does such recognition occur?

Repeated Rejection of Statehood

The modern Palestinian leadership, including the Palestinian Authority (PA) and its precursor, the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO), has rejected multiple offers of statehood (see Table 4). These include:

The 1937 Peel Commission Partition Plan

The 1947 UN Partition Plan (Resolution 181)

The 2000 Camp David Accords

The 2001 Taba Summit

The 2008 Olmert Plan

The 2020 Trump “Peace to Prosperity” Proposal

Each offer, some including 90%+ of Judaea and Samaria (AKA and wrongly termed the West Bank) and shared control of Jerusalem, was turned down. Not merely ignored, but violently rejected, often with follow-up waves of intifada or terrorism. This history exposes a central fact: the so-called Palestinian leadership has never wanted a state beside Israel, only a state instead of Israel.

Where Is Palestine?

The 2017 Hamas Charter refers to “Palestine” as “from the River to the Sea” (Art. 1, Art. 20), encompassing all of Israel, as did the 1988 Charter. Neither accepts the legitimacy of Israel at all. Similarly, the PLO Charter (still unrepealed in key clauses) describes so-called “Palestine” as the “entirety of Mandatory Palestine,” again, with no borders that include Israel. The irony is acute: while Israel is accused of expansionism or “occupation,” it is the Palestinian movement, chartered by the PLO, Hamas, and even the PA, that refuses to define any borders other than the full dismantling of the Jewish state. This is not a dispute over lines but a war over existence.

Recognition by Stealth

Despite the absence of legally defined borders or state functions, the so-called “State of Palestine” was granted non-member observer state status by the UN General Assembly in 2012 (Resolution 67/19). This move bypassed the Security Council, which must approve actual statehood recognition. It was not a legal recognition but a political maneuver, a form of lawfare, exploiting international bodies to wage a diplomatic and rhetorical war against Israel. Why did so many nations comply? The answer is complex, but at heart, it is a global compromise with antisemitic propaganda, cloaked in the language of human rights. Nations, eager to appease Arab oil economies, satisfy domestic Islamist constituencies, or absolve themselves of colonial guilt, choose to recognize a non-existent state rather than admit that the core of the conflict is not land, but ideology and religion.

The “State” That Cannot Point to Itself

In any legal inquiry, one may ask: Where is the crime scene? So too here: Where is this state? It has:

• No defined boundaries

• Two rival governments (PA in Ramallah, Hamas in Gaza)

• No functioning elections (last held in 2006)

• No sovereign currency, army, or postal system

• No recognition by its own leaders of the Jewish state as legitimate

• Instead of constituting a state, so-called “Palestine” operates as a negative space, a rhetorical device to deny Israel’s existence, not to build a parallel polity.

Conclusion: Recognizing a Weapon, Not a State

What is being recognized by Macron or the 147 UN members is not a state. It is a weaponized fiction, a tool of delegitimization, a mask for antisemitism, and a denial of Jewish sovereignty in their ancestral homeland. The so-called “State of Palestine” has become a perpetual placeholder for erasure, a metaphysical inversion of law and justice. That this illusion is entertained, even enshrined by the international community, is not a victory for peace, but a mark of moral collapse. The question is not whether a so-called “Palestine” exists.

It is whether the world will continue recognizing a blood libel given legal form when it sees one.

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