Murder in the Name of Religion, from Yaqub Antabi and Murad Farhi to Netanyahu and Ben Gvir

Author

Dr. Mohamed Awda

One of the most heinous crimes associated with religious fanaticism in Syria was the murder of Father Thomas the Capuchin and his Muslim assistant Ibrahim Amara in Damascus in 1840. This case is historically known as the "Blood Libel" against a gang hiding behind Judaism in Damascus. According to the historical narrative of the case, this gang committed the murder of Father Thomas and his assistant, claiming religious justifications and alleging that the blood of the victims would be used in religious rituals, despite the fact that Jewish law does not recognize any ritual involving human blood; the blood associated with rituals in the Torah is that of animal sacrifices, while human blood is not a substance for any religious rite, in one of the most horrific examples of using religion to justify murder.

Father Thomas practiced medicine in Damascus and was known for treating patients and helping people during times of epidemics. On February 5, 1840, he disappeared along with his servant Ibrahim Amara, turning the incident into a major political and religious case. Investigations and arrests began, and several accused members of the Jewish community were tortured and forced to confess, transforming the case into a conflict that transcended the borders of Damascus to international capitals and powers.

The narratives of the case mention the names of several individuals who were subjected to arrests and investigations, including Yaqub Antabi, Musa Abu Al-Afiya, Musa Bimad, Yehuda Salameki, along with Dawood Hariri, Haroun Hariri, Isaac Hariri, Yusuf Hariri, Murad Fattal, Meir Farhi, Murad Farhi, Yusuf Farhi, Suleiman Saloum, Haroun Aslanpoli, Aslan Rafael, Isaac Bigoto, and Yusuf Linado. Among these were four rabbis, the most notable being Rabbi Yaqub Antabi, while other names were linked to the series of investigations and accusations that followed the disappearance of Father Thomas and his assistant.

Detailed accounts emerged in the investigation reports about the manner in which Father Touma was allegedly killed; he was tied up and had a piece of cloth placed in his mouth, then it was said that Murad Farhi cut his throat, while others held his body until his blood was drained, before the body parts were cut and thrown into the river. The crime was said to have been repeated with Ibrahim Imara, and what was claimed to be bones and parts of the body, along with a hat and hair, were presented, in addition to doctors' reports and confessions extracted during the investigation.

Ten defendants were sentenced to death, while two died during the investigation, four became prosecution witnesses, and the sentences were confirmed, but their execution did not take place after the intervention of the French consul and the sending of the case papers to Ibrahim Pasha, the commander of the Egyptian forces in Syria at the time, leading the case into a new phase of political and diplomatic interventions.

The case did not stop at the limits of investigation and trial, as prominent Jewish figures moved to defend the detainees, among them the French lawyer Isaac Cremieux and the British Moses Montefiore, who arrived in Alexandria and worked to pressure Muhammad Ali Pasha to stop pursuing the accused, release the detainees, grant them safety, and return them to their work. Accounts recall that these pressures and negotiations included an offer of three hundred thousand golden lira to Ibrahim Pasha to end the case and release the detainees.

However, crime, even when committed by its perpetrators in the name of Sharia, does not become Sharia, and those who impersonate religion do not become its representatives; Jewish law is innocent of them, and one of the clear commandments that was revealed to our master Moses says: Do not kill. Therefore, turning religious texts into a cover for shedding blood does not make killing an obligation, nor does it make the killer a man of religion.

This mechanism connects the Damascus case with what is happening in Palestine today; the issue is not about Judaism or Jews, but about colonial movements, currents, and individuals who impersonate religion and invoke its interpretations to justify violence. In the Palestinian territories, the ongoing Zionist crime and the bloodshed in Gaza accompany the settlers' rampage in the West Bank under the protection of the occupation army, along with land confiscation, uprooting olive trees, seizing property and livestock, and the displacement of Palestinians from their villages, while religious and national interpretations are employed to provide a cover for these practices.

Here comes the comparison between Yaqub Antabi and Murad Farahi on one hand, and Netanyahu, Ben Gvir, and others on the other hand. Yaqub Antabi is associated in the narrative of the Damascus case with the position of a religious figure who provided religious cover, while Murad Farahi is linked to the executive act in the crime. On the other hand, Netanyahu stands at the head of the political and military authority that holds the decision and power, while Ben Gvir represents an extremist religious-nationalist trend within the authority, openly declaring positions that call for a tougher stance towards the Palestinians.

In all four cases, it shows how religious discourse, when hijacked from its moral context, can turn into a tool to justify violence. In the Damascus case, the crime was linked, according to the historical narrative, to a religious interpretation presented to justify the killing, while the religious and national discourse in Palestine today enters into the context of war, settlement, and a wide political and military conflict aimed at uprooting the Palestinian people from their land.

This employment has become more evident with the invocation of biblical terms in the Israeli political discourse during the war, foremost among them the reference to Amalek, alongside religious interpretations used to justify the war on Gaza, and fatwas or positions issued by rabbis and religious authorities directed at soldiers. There have also emerged religious classifications of wars between wars of extermination and wars of subjugation, transforming the religious text from a moral reference into a tool to determine who deserves life and who can be killed.

The danger of this language increases when it finds its way into the institutions and forces that implement decisions on the ground. The case of the Taiman dam has raised reports and testimonies about torture and mistreatment, with testimonies from soldiers about the seizure of Palestinian property in Gaza. When religious discourse becomes a justification for stripping a person of their dignity and rights, as clearly manifested in the film Nazza, and the military force carries this out, we are not facing a mere religious discussion, but a political practice that has victims and responsible parties.

Here lies the difference between religion and the employment of religion: religion places 'do not kill' at the heart of the commandment, while the extremist seeks an interpretation that allows him to kill; religion prohibits aggression against humans, while those who embody it try to make aggression a duty; and religion is supposed to be a deterrent against authority, while in the hands of the extremist, it becomes a tool that provides the authority with an additional justification to use force.

But crime does not thrive on religion alone; it also requires political protection and financial and diplomatic cover, which explains how an old model of the intertwining of religion, politics, and money can emerge in new forms. In the case of Damascus, capitals, consuls, and funds moved to rescue detainees or influence the case, and today, capitals and international powers are moving in different ways to protect Israel from political and legal pressures or to provide cover for the continuation of war and settlement despite the scale of casualties and destruction.

The problem begins when an individual or group decides that their own interpretation of the text is the judgment of God, then grants themselves the right to impose it on others by force. At that point, the criminal becomes more dangerous because they do not see themselves as a criminal, but as a bearer of a message, and killing another becomes a legitimate act for them because they have convinced themselves that the victim stands on the wrong side of their interpretation of religion.

Thus, the transition from Yaqub Antabi and Murad Farhi to Netanyahu and Ben Gvir is not a transition from Judaism to politics, but rather a transition from an old model of using religion to justify crime to a contemporary model where this utilization enters the heart of power, decision-making, and war. In both cases, the victim remains a human being, and killing remains killing, no matter how the killer tries to justify their act with different language.

This is not a battle between Judaism and other religions, nor between Jews and others, but rather a battle against turning religion into a license for killing. When the criminal embodies religion, borrowing from its texts to serve their crime, and then tries to make their interpretation a law, they do not only harm their victim but also harm the religion they claim to speak on its behalf.

From Yaqub Antabi and Murad Farhi to Netanyahu and Ben Gvir, the lesson remains clear: religion is not a license for killing, and the criminal does not become a representative of religion because they committed their crime in its name. Those who embody religion and use its interpretations to justify killing do not apply the law; rather, they harm it, because the law that is claimed to be applied is innocent of killing, and the commandment not to kill remains stronger than all the interpretations that the killers try to hide behind.