By Dr. Tim Orr

I get asked by leaders from both the UK and the US about Islamic antisemitism, and these questions almost always correlate with events unfolding in the Middle East. Occasionally, I also receive requests to listen to lectures or, in this case, a debate on the subject. In this blog, I will offer a review of the debate and share my thoughts.

The debate, Is Islam Anti-Semitic?, featured Reza Aslan, an Iranian-American religion scholar and bestselling author of Zealot (Aslan, 2013), who opposed the motion, and Tim Dieppe, Head of Policy at Christian Concern, who affirmed it (Dieppe & Aslan, 2024).

The Debate

Tim Dieppe argued that antisemitism is deeply embedded in Islam’s foundational texts, pointing to verses in the Quran and Hadith that curse Jews, compare them to apes and pigs, and command ongoing hostility toward them (Firestone, 2012). He highlighted Muhammad’s treatment of Jewish tribes in Medina, particularly the mass execution of the Banu Qurayza, as a historical precedent that reinforced antisemitic attitudes within Islamic tradition (Cook, 2005). For Dieppe, these events weren’t just political conflicts but theological imperatives that shaped how Muslims have viewed Jews for centuries. He also contested the idea that Jews thrived under Islamic rule, arguing that the system of dhimmitude—where Jews and Christians were subjected to discriminatory laws, forced to pay the jizya tax, and relegated to second-class status—was not a sign of protection but systemic subjugation (Bat Ye’or, 2002). In his view, modern Islamic antisemitism isn’t merely a reaction to political events but a continuation of long-standing theological themes that have influenced Muslim societies and still shape religious sermons today.

Reza Aslan took a very different approach, arguing from a postmodern perspective that religion is ultimately what people make of it (Aslan, 2017). He dismissed the idea that Islam itself could be antisemitic, asserting that religious texts are always interpreted through the lens of the reader. While he acknowledged that some Quranic verses appear hostile toward Jews, he countered that the Quran also includes positive references, such as passages recognizing Jews as fellow members of the Abrahamic tradition (Safi, 2003). He framed modern antisemitism in Muslim communities as a political issue rather than a theological one, pointing to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict as the primary cause of contemporary hostility toward Jews (Lewis, 1986). He also compared Islam to Christianity, noting that certain biblical passages have been used to justify antisemitism, yet no one claims that Christianity itself is inherently antisemitic. From Aslan’s perspective, Islam should not be judged by isolated verses but by how Muslims choose to practice their faith in the present day.

A Psychobiographical Analysis of Muhammad

A psychobiographical analysis is a method of studying historical figures by examining how their personal experiences, emotions, and psychological development influenced their beliefs, decisions, and legacy (McAdams, 2006). This approach is particularly useful when assessing religious leaders like Muhammad, whose life events and personal struggles played a critical role in shaping Islamic theology. Rather than viewing Islam’s development as a purely theological or political phenomenon, psychobiography allows us to understand how Muhammad’s personal encounters—especially his repeated experiences of rejection—shaped his religious outlook and interactions with other communities (Nettler, 1987).

Muhammad’s early life was marked by profound hardship and social displacement. Orphaned at a young age, he lost both his father before birth and his mother at the age of six, leaving him dependent on extended family for support (Lings, 1983). Though his uncle Abu Talib provided him with protection, Muhammad lacked the security and high social standing that came with being part of a powerful tribal lineage. In Meccan society, lineage and patronage determined one’s status, and despite his ties to the prestigious Quraysh tribe, his upbringing was marked by instability and a sense of social vulnerability. This may have contributed to an acute sensitivity to rejection, as he later sought validation for his prophetic claims but was repeatedly dismissed by his own tribe (Rodinson, 2002). His early experiences of loss and marginalization likely shaped his deep desire for communal belonging and recognition, making rejection a particularly painful and formative experience in his later life.

When Muhammad declared his prophetic mission, the Quraysh elites, including many of his own relatives, ridiculed him, calling him a poet, a sorcerer, and a madman (Guillaume, 1955). His calls for monotheism threatened the economic and religious power structure of Mecca, where the Kaaba functioned as a hub for polytheistic worship and pilgrimage. His message alienated him from the dominant clans, leading to economic boycotts and persecution of his small band of followers. The rejection extended beyond the Quraysh; when he sought support from the city of Ta’if, he was not only turned away but physically attacked by its inhabitants. This period of repeated rejection coincided with the death of both his uncle Abu Talib and his wife Khadijah, his two primary sources of support. These personal losses compounded his sense of isolation, making his eventual acceptance in Medina a turning point not just politically but psychologically. The shift in Muhammad’s fortunes—from rejection in Mecca to consolidation of power in Medina—correlates with an increasing hostility in his revelations toward those who had refused to accept him, particularly Jews, who had initially been seen as potential allies but later became targets of theological condemnation (Nettler, 1987)

Applying this lens to Muhammad’s relationship with Jewish tribes in Medina offers a compelling counter to Aslan’s claim that Islamic antisemitism is purely a modern political development. Instead of being a byproduct of recent geopolitical conflicts, antisemitic themes in Islamic theology can be traced directly to Muhammad’s own psychological trajectory (Stillman, 1979). His initial outreach to Jewish tribes, followed by their rejection of his prophetic claims, appears to have led to an escalating hostility that was later codified in Islamic texts. This shift wasn’t arbitrary; it reflected Muhammad’s increasing need to consolidate power and delegitimize those who opposed him. By embedding his personal grievances into Islamic doctrine, Muhammad ensured that these attitudes would persist long after his death.

This analysis undermines Aslan’s argument that Islam, like all religions, is what people make of it. While postmodernists may claim that interpretation is subjective, the problem arises when religious doctrine itself establishes hostility as a divine command (Durie, 2020). The theological framework built around Muhammad’s experiences—particularly the Quranic verses and Hadith that cast Jews as corruptors and eternal enemies—was not merely an interpretation but a structural feature of Islam from its inception. Unlike Christian antisemitism, which developed extrabiblically through later theological distortions, Islamic antisemitism is foundational, making reform efforts within Islam far more challenging (Pipes, 1999).

Muhammad's Teaching

Muhammad’s early outreach to Jews in Medina, including his adoption of Jewish customs, was met with rejection, which he came to perceive as an existential threat—what Islam refers to as fitna, or chaos and sedition that disrupts the Muslim community. His response was not just political but theological; he recast the Jews as corruptors of divine revelation, distorting scripture and leading people astray from their natural fitra, the Islamic concept of an innate predisposition toward monotheism.

As a result, the Quran’s portrayal of Jews shifted from potential allies to persistent enemies, as seen in passages that describe them as cursed, treacherous, and divinely punished. This growing hostility culminated in the mass execution of the Banu Qurayza, which was justified as a divine command and later enshrined in Islamic eschatology, where Jews are described as being hunted down and killed before the Last Day (Sahih Muslim 2922).

This hostility was not just a product of war but became institutionalized through dhimmitude, the legal framework that subjugated Jews and Christians under Islamic rule. Contrary to Aslan’s claim that Jews thrived under Islam, the dhimmi system ensured their permanent second-class status, forcing them to pay the jizya tax "with willing submission and feeling subdued" (Quran 9:29). Far from a form of protection, dhimmitude functioned as a codified system of discrimination, with Jews required to wear distinctive clothing, prohibited from building new synagogues, and subject to ritual humiliation when paying their taxes.

Even Maimonides, whom Aslan cites as evidence of Jewish prosperity under Islam, wrote of the severe oppression Jews faced, lamenting that "never did a nation degrade and debase us as much as this one." This historical reality contradicts Aslan’s postmodern argument that Islamic doctrine is simply what Muslims make of it—in reality, antisemitism was embedded in Islamic law, ensuring its continuation long after Muhammad’s death.

Finally, Aslan’s assertion that antisemitism in Islam is politically motivated rather than theological ignores the open-ended nature of Islamic texts. The Quran describes Jewish enmity as lasting “until the Day of Resurrection” (Quran 5:64), making hostility toward Jews a theological necessity rather than a temporary political reaction. Similarly, the Hadith about stones and trees calling for the death of Jews is not framed as a historical event but as an end-times prophecy, reinforcing the idea that Muslim-Jewish conflict is divinely ordained.

This means that antisemitism in Islam is not merely a product of modern interpretations but is deeply rooted in the religion’s foundational texts, reinforced by Muhammad’s personal experiences, legal precedents, and theological worldview. By reducing Islamic antisemitism to a matter of contemporary politics, Aslan ignores the psychological and doctrinal origins of these teachings, failing to acknowledge that hostility toward Jews has been a core feature of Islamic theology from its inception.

Rejection Sensitivity and the Jewish Tribes of Medina

Psychobiography suggests that Muhammad’s sensitivity to rejection played a significant role in how he formulated theological doctrines, particularly regarding the Jews (Nettler, 1987). Initially, Muhammad sought Jewish support in Medina, aligning himself with Jewish practices such as facing Jerusalem in prayer and observing Yom Kippur-like fasts. However, when the Jewish tribes refused to accept his prophetic claims, his attitude shifted dramatically. This rejection appears to have fueled his growing hostility, which became enshrined in the Quran. The chronological development of Quranic revelations shows an increasing antagonism toward Jews, transitioning from initial outreach (Quran 2:62) to open hostility (Quran 5:51, 7:166, 9:29), culminating in calls for their subjugation and execution.

Conclusion

By arguing that religion is what people make of it, Aslan ignores the psychological origins of Islamic antisemitism. The psychobiographical approach to Muhammad reveals that antisemitism in Islam is not merely political but stems from Muhammad’s personal experiences of rejection, which later became codified into Islamic theology. This explains why antisemitism in the Islamic world persists today—not just because of contemporary politics, but because it is rooted in the very formation of the faith itself.

References

Aslan, R. (2013). Zealot: The life and times of Jesus of Nazareth. Random House.

Aslan, R. (2017). God: A human history. Random House.

Bat Ye’or. (2002). Islam and dhimmitude: Where civilizations collide. Fairleigh Dickinson University Press.

Cook, D. (2005). Understanding Jihad. University of California Press.

Dieppe, T., & Aslan, R. (2024, June 21). Is Islam antisemitic? [Video]. YouTube. Intelligence Squared. [John Donvan, Moderator]. Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FbNVpJAUlf0

Durie, M. (2020). The third choice: Islam, dhimmitude, and freedom. Deror Books.

Firestone, R. (2012). Holy war in Judaism: The fall and rise of a controversial idea. Oxford University Press.

Lewis, B. (1986). Semites and anti-Semites: An inquiry into conflict and prejudice. W.W. Norton.

McAdams, D. P. (2006). The redemptive self: Stories Americans live by. Oxford University Press.

Nettler, R. (1987). Past trials and present tribulations: A Muslim fundamentalist’s view of the Jews. Pergamon Press.

Pipes, D. (1999). The hidden hand: Middle East fears of conspiracy. St. Martin’s Press.

Safi, O. (2003). Progressive Muslims: On justice, gender, and pluralism. Oneworld Publications.

Stillman, N. A. (1979). The Jews of Arab lands: A history and source book. Jewish Publication Society.

Tim Orr is a scholar of Islam, Evangelical minister, conference speaker, and interfaith consultant with over 30 years of experience in cross-cultural ministry. He holds six degrees, including a master’s in Islamic studies from the Islamic College in London. Tim taught Religious Studies for 15 years at Indiana University Columbus and is now a Congregations and Polarization Project research associate at the Center for the Study of Religion and American Culture at Indiana University Indianapolis. He has spoken at universities, including Oxford University, Imperial College London, the University of Tehran, Islamic College London, and mosques throughout the U.K. His research focuses on American Evangelicalism, Islamic antisemitism, and Islamic feminism, and he has published widely, including articles in Islamic peer-reviewed journals and three books.

Share this article
The link has been copied!