By Mustafa Makumba

An Israeli’s Heritage Minister Amichay Eliyahu’s controversial statement on 24th July, 2025 didn’t just shock people, it melted them to the bone. He threatened to “wipe out Gaza and make it Jewish.” These weren’t just reckless words. It was a glimpse into a deeper, darker reality: the dehumanization, occupation, and colonial violence that have shaped Israel’s treatment of Palestinians for decades.

But let’s be clear, when a government official talks about erasing an entire territory, home to over two million people (most of them refugees and children), this isn’t “strategy.” It’s a call for ethnic cleansing.

This kind of rhetoric doesn’t just violate international law, it spits in the face of the moral foundations that bind humanity together. In Islamic tradition, as in many others, the sanctity of life is absolute. The Qur’an says: “Whoever kills a soul… it is as if he had slain all of mankind.” That principle doesn’t bend for politics, race, or religion. It’s a line we should never cross.

Gaza isn’t just a strip of rubble and ruins. It’s a place where history lives, where generations of Palestinians have held on despite siege and bombardment. Most Gazans are descendants of families driven from their homes in 1948, from cities like Jaffa, Ashkelon, and Beersheba, during the Nakba, the catastrophic expulsion that birthed modern Israel. Since 2007, Gaza has been locked under blockade. Children there have never known 24-hour electricity. Many have never left.

So when a minister vows to “make Gaza Jewish,” it’s not about coexistence. It’s about erasing people, of memory, of the right to exist. This isn’t about religion. It’s about power: who gets to control land, lives, and the stories we tell.

Islamic ethics don’t just call for belief in justice, they demand action against oppression. The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) taught that the greatest struggle is “a word of truth spoken to a tyrant.” Today, that means refusing to stay silent when leaders call for annihilation.

But silence isn’t the only failure. Empty slogans won’t cut it either. We have to ask harder questions: Why do officials feel safe saying such things? What global systems enable this rhetoric? Why do media outlets often soften this language, framing it as just another “side” of a conflict?

This isn’t a “Palestinian problem” or a “Muslim issue.” When a leader threatens genocide, it’s a test for everyone. Do we defend human rights only when it’s convenient? Do we condemn ethnic cleansing only when our enemies do it? The real question is whether we can hold power accountable, not selectively, but always. Whether we’ll protect lives not as a political calculation, but as a moral duty.