Every major religion wrestles with the tension between texts written in moments of warfare and teachings proclaiming universal peace, justice, mercy, and compassion. This is true of both Islam and Christianity. Both contain passages that have been invoked to justify violence, alongside an ocean of teachings emphasizing the virtues of human coexistence. The difference between those who advocate violence and those who uphold the moral principles of their faith lies not in the mere existence of particular verses, but in which passages they emphasize, how they interpret them, and how they contextualize and apply them.
The Bible and the Quran both contain passages that, when read literally and stripped of their historical context, can be invoked to justify religious violence, coercion, and even killing. The Old Testament prescribes death for certain forms of apostasy and idolatry. The Quran condemns apostasy, although it does not prescribe a specific worldly death penalty for abandoning Islam. That penalty is derived principally from Hadith and subsequent classical Islamic jurisprudence. Islamic Hadith also prescribe stoning for adultery. Yet the existence of these passages and prescriptions does not, by itself, define the character of either religion. What matters is how religious scholars and communities interpret them and determine which overarching principles should govern their application.
The distinction, therefore, is between religious traditions that subordinate passages concerning violence to overarching principles of justice, mercy, and peaceful coexistence, and extremist movements that elevate violence into a religious obligation.
Within Islam, this ideological contest takes several forms. On one side are mainstream Islamic scholars and traditional jurists who emphasize established legal traditions, historical context, and the ethical constraints governing the use of force. On the other are extremist currents, particularly Salafi-jihadism and Wahabism, that selectively invoke Quranic passages concerning warfare, strip them of their historical context, and weaponize them to advance an ideology of religious supremacy and political domination.
At the root of these competing interpretations lies a more fundamental difference in belief: whether Islam is one of the world’s great religious traditions, entitled to the same respect and freedom of worship as other faiths, or whether its adherents are obligated to establish its supremacy over other religions in public and political life. Zakir Naik’s simplistic “2+2=4” argument attempts to present the superiority of Islam as an indisputable mathematical truth rather than a theological proposition. His analogy is particularly revealing because he uses it to argue that, just as a school principal would not permit someone teaching incorrect mathematics, a majority Muslim state should not permit the construction of churches and temples or the propagation of other religions.
Once religious supremacy is accepted as a foundational political tenet, the suppression of other faiths becomes its logical extension. This is precisely the position Naik articulated when he argued that churches and temples should not be permitted in a majority Muslim country. He has also publicly endorsed the death penalty for Muslims who leave Islam and propagate their new faith. These are not incidental theological observations. They have direct implications for religious freedom, freedom of conscience, and the rights of religious minorities.
This article has two objectives.
First, it examines the ideological roots of the divide between Islam as a religious tradition whose overarching moral principles emphasize peace, justice, mercy, and compassion, and interpretations that use religion to legitimize violence and domination.
Second, it examines the nature and implications of Ahmedin Jebel’s movement in Ethiopia, including its overt campaign against Christians and its less visible ideological contest within Islam to shape religious doctrine and determine whose interpretation commands religious authority.
The Battle Over the Interpretation of Islam
The Quran and the Bible contain passages that lend themselves to different interpretations. What distinguishes religious traditions that foster peaceful coexistence is the ability of their scholars to build a broad interpretive consensus around the overarching moral principles of their scriptures. They use teachings on peace, justice, mercy, and compassion not as peripheral virtues, but as both the scaffolding and defining features of their religious traditions.
The problem arises when religious authorities abandon this perspective, allowing selective interpretations of violent passages to undermine the broader moral teachings of their faith.
This is not merely a theological disagreement. It is a contest over who has the authority to define religious orthodoxy, which interpretations command institutional legitimacy, and whether religious identity becomes a foundation for coexistence or a justification for domination.
Historical Context: From Mecca to Medina
At the heart of the ideological struggle over Islam is how different movements interpret the arc of the Prophet Muhammad’s life, particularly the transition between his Meccan and Medinan periods.
For approximately thirteen years in Mecca, Muhammad and his small community lived as a persecuted minority. Revelations from this period emphasized patience, persuasion, and religious distinction without coercion. Surah 109:6, for example, declares: “For you is your religion, and for me is my religion.”
Following the migration (Hijrah) to Medina in 622 CE, Muhammad became the leader of a nascent political community confronted by hostile tribes, political disputes, and existential military conflicts. Revelations during this period addressed statecraft, treaties, military engagements, and the rules governing warfare. These included the passage commonly referred to as the “Verse of the Sword” (Surah 9:5). The Medinan period also saw the development of the Charter of Medina, an agreement governing relations among the diverse religious and tribal communities of the city.
Mainstream classical Islamic jurisprudence did not treat every Quranic passage concerning warfare as a universal command for perpetual religious conflict. Islamic jurists developed elaborate rules concerning legitimate authority, the circumstances under which force could be used, the treatment of noncombatants, treaty obligations, and the protection of those entitled to security. They also interpreted teachings on peace, justice, and non-compulsion, including Surah 2:256, as important principles governing religious life.
Interpretations differed across legal schools and generations of scholars. Extremist movements, including ISIS, al-Qaeda, al-Shabaab, and Boko Haram, have advanced a radically different interpretation. Some invoke an expansive doctrine of abrogation, arguing that later Medinan passages concerning warfare superseded earlier Meccan teachings emphasizing patience and coexistence. In their hands, the Prophet’s journey from Mecca to Medina becomes less a historical and spiritual evolution than a tactical blueprint: practice patience while weak and pursue domination once power is achieved.
These movements also employ the doctrine of takfir, declaring other Muslims unbelievers when they reject their particular interpretation of Islam. In doing so, they marginalize centuries of jurisprudential debate and claim exclusive authority to determine who is a legitimate Muslim. A rich ethical and legal tradition is thereby reduced to an instrument of ideological conformity and perpetual conflict.
This rigid literalism is also propagated through modern media ecosystems by high-profile figures such as Zakir Naik. Drawing heavily on Salafi-oriented interpretations, Naik advocates a strict return to the Quran and Hadith, challenges established religious authorities, and promotes an uncompromising understanding of Islamic monotheism.
His influence extends well beyond traditional religious institutions. Through mass-media preaching, international conferences, and an enormous global audience, he has helped popularize an exclusionary interpretation of Islam. His documented statements concerning the prohibition of churches and temples in Islamic countries and the punishment of apostasy illustrate the practical implications of his religious hierarchy.
In Ethiopia, the Salafi-inspired movement associated with Ahmedin Jebel provides a local vehicle through which transnational religious narratives can be translated into Ethiopian political and social realities.
The Consequences of Religious Supremacy
Where extremist religious interpretations capture state power or dominate social institutions, the consequences can be catastrophic. Consider Afghanistan under the Taliban and the territories across Iraq and Syria briefly ruled by ISIS’s self-proclaimed caliphate.
By treating religious coercion and ideological conformity as overriding imperatives of governance, these regimes hollowed out their own societies. Religious minorities faced systematic persecution, expulsion, and slaughter. Women and girls were subjected to extraordinary restrictions on education, employment, and public life, in direct contradiction to the broader Islamic teachings on human dignity, justice, and the pursuit of knowledge.
A similar dynamic emerges wherever militant Salafi-jihadist networks exploit local grievances and institutional weaknesses. In parts of northern Nigeria, for example, Boko Haram has turned extremist religious ideology into a vehicle for terror and social destruction.
Contrast these outcomes with countries where mainstream, classical, or reform-minded Islamic traditions provide a foundation for public life and statecraft. Indonesia, the world’s largest Muslim-majority country, and Morocco offer important examples of Islamic traditions that have sought to reconcile religious identity with pluralism and constitutional governance.
In Indonesia, the foundational philosophy of Pancasila and the civic theology promoted by major grassroots organizations such as Nahdlatul Ulama explicitly reject the notion that Islamic identity requires hostility toward non-Muslims or precludes coexistence within a pluralistic political system.
Similarly, Morocco’s 2016 Marrakesh Declaration, developed through a gathering of hundreds of Muslim scholars and religious leaders, reaffirmed the historical precedent of the Charter of Medina and called for the protection of the rights and religious freedom of minorities in Muslim-majority societies. Even in the Gulf, countries such as the United Arab Emirates have undertaken educational and institutional initiatives intended to marginalize extremist interpretations and promote religious tolerance.
These countries are not without their own restrictions on religious freedom or challenges involving religious minorities. Their significance lies in demonstrating that Islamic identity and peaceful coexistence are not mutually exclusive. Religious identity need not be sacrificed to accommodate pluralism, nor does respect for other faiths require abandoning one’s own religious convictions.
The contrast between these different political and religious trajectories is consequential. Societies that uphold justice, pluralism, religious freedom, and the rule of law create more favorable conditions for investment, education, social stability, and human development. Those captured by extremist ideologies invite endless conflict, institutional decay, displacement, and poverty.
The lesson for Ethiopia is straightforward: the ideological direction of Islam matters not only to Muslims but to the entire country.
The Two Faces of Ahmedin Jebel’s Campaign: Overt and Covert
Ahmedin Jebel’s campaign has two dimensions. One is overt: the effort to frame the relationship between Islam and Christianity as a confrontation between competing religious communities. The second is less visible but potentially just as consequential: the ideological struggle to reshape Ethiopian Islam itself.
The two dimensions reinforce each other. The portrayal of Christians and the Ethiopian Orthodox Church as historical oppressors helps mobilize religious grievances, while the consolidation of institutional authority within Islam can provide the organizational infrastructure through which a particular ideological orientation gains influence.
The Overt Campaign: Against the Ethiopian Orthodox Church
The overt campaign presents itself as a struggle for religious equality but increasingly frames the relationship between Islam and Christianity as a zero-sum contest.
Ethiopia’s history of Christian political dominance is real, as are the historical grievances of Ethiopian Muslims. But the political and religious landscape has changed profoundly. The end of the imperial order in 1974 dismantled the formal privileges of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church. Subsequent governments further transformed the relationship between religion and state. The Orthodox Church lost its privileged political position and has itself experienced decades of state interference, institutional restrictions, and persecution.
None of this diminishes the historical grievances of Ethiopian Muslims or the importance of protecting their religious rights. But historical discrimination cannot justify a contemporary campaign to delegitimize another religious community or undermine its right to exist and worship freely.
Ahmedin Jebel’s rhetoric must be examined against this historical background. The problem is not his advocacy for Muslim rights. Those rights deserve full protection. The problem arises when the pursuit of those rights is framed as a struggle against another religious community, a areligious community that poses no threat to Islam.
His recorded statements and the training material In a widely circulated recording described as a confidential training session on psychological warfare and coercive propaganda, he discusses a sequence of tactics aimed at weakening an opponent by attacking, dividing, isolating, humiliating, frightening, and ultimately compelling submission.
The recording of his training is here . https://www.facebook.com/reel/1146505054579318/?app=fbl.
The training material is a localized adaptation of Islamist extremist and Salafi-Jihadi indoctrination manuals. Its structural core mirrors frameworks found in psychological warfare manuals associated with al-Qaeda’s ideological network and regional affiliates like al-Shabaab. The explicit, step-by-step targets—shifting attitudes, attacking core beliefs, and exploiting social hierarchies—reflect the cognitive conditioning developed in these curricula. Furthermore, its phased approach to societal subversion aligns closely with the empowerment and infiltration frameworks utilized by political Islam movements such as the Muslim Brotherhood.
The Covert Campaign: Against Sufi Islam
The less visible campaign is an ideological contest within Islam itself: an effort to shape the future direction of Ethiopian Islam and determine whose interpretation will command religious authority.
Historically, Ethiopian Islam has had a strong Sufi character. Wollo, in particular, has long been an important center of traditional Ethiopian Islamic scholarship and culture. Sufi traditions have emphasized spiritual discipline, religious scholarship, and coexistence within Ethiopia’s diverse religious landscape. Salafi reformist currents, meanwhile, have gained ground in other parts of the country, including Bale and the Arsi-Oromo areas.
Ahmedin Jebel was the architect of the transfer of the presidency of the Ethiopian Islamic Affairs Supreme Council (the Majlis) from Mufti Haji Umer Idris, an Amharic-speaking cleric from the north to Sheikh Haji Ibrahim Tufa, an Oromo-speaking cleric from the south. This was not simply a handover of leadership between two individuals. It reflected a broader struggle over religious authority, institutional influence, and, ultimately, the ideological direction of Ethiopian Islam.
The transition marked a shift in the institutional balance of power within an already contested religious landscape—from the relative influence of Ethiopia’s traditional Sufi institutions toward a more Salafi-oriented doctrinal current.
This distinction matters. Salafism is not synonymous with jihadism, and many Salafis reject political violence. Nevertheless, some of the world’s most consequential jihadist organizations—including al-Qaeda, ISIS, and al-Shabaab—emerged from Salafi-jihadist currents. The distinction is essential, but it should not obscure the danger posed by movements that cross the line from doctrinal conservatism into religious supremacism and the ideological legitimization of violence.
A Warning to Christians and Muslims Alike
Ethiopian Muslims must recognize these warning signs before ideological radicalization acquires the institutional infrastructure, organizational capacity, and coercive power to become something far more dangerous. The future of Ethiopian Islam depends in part on whether its religious institutions can preserve the primacy of justice, mercy, scholarship, and peaceful coexistence as defining principles of their faith.
Christians must also understand that the killings of Orthodox Christians and the burning of churches cannot be dismissed as isolated incidents of communal violence. Their recurrence, geographical spread, and ideological context raise a much more troubling possibility: that religious persecution is becoming normalized and that extremist mobilization is exploiting Ethiopia’s political fragmentation and weakening security institutions.
Muslims must not surrender their religion to extremists who claim to speak in its name. Ahmedin Jebel must not be allowed to become the Mullah Omar of Ethiopia. Ethiopia has already paid an unbearable price for ethnic supremacism, political messianism, and the weaponization of identity. It cannot afford to replace one form of ideological domination with another.
The battle within Islam is therefore not an internal Muslim affair alone. It is a battle over the future of Ethiopia itself. The responsibility to defend the country’s religious pluralism belongs to Muslims and Christians alike. Neither community can preserve its freedom by surrendering the freedom of the other. Ultimately, Ethiopia’s future depends on whether justice, mercy, and peaceful coexistence prevail over the zealous nihilism of religious supremacy.
Editor’s Note: Views in the article do not necessarily reflect the views of borkena.com
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