“When I say we have no greater friends than Christian supporters of Israel, I know you’ve always stood with us,” declared Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to an evangelical audience in Washington, D.C., framing today’s Middle East conflicts as a clash between “Judeo-Christian heritage” and “militant Islam.” Similarly, a preacher from Al-Azhar University once said he did not like Jews because “they [Jews] are the worst enemies of the Muslims and have no moral standards,” adding: “I hate the Jews so as to earn a reward from God.” Such voices represent a seemingly unbridgeable divide between Jews and Muslims today. Yet this bitter enmity, which many take as eternal truth, crumbles under historical scrutiny. In his groundbreaking book The Islamic Moses: How the Prophet Inspired Jews and Muslims to Flourish Together and Change the World, journalist and Acton affiliate scholar Mustafa Akyol systematically dismantles this myth of perpetual conflict, revealing centuries of Jewish-Muslim cooperation that successfully challenges widespread contemporary assumptions.
The scale of Akyol’s challenge is immense, as he confronts not just contemporary prejudices but also deeply entrenched political and cultural narratives that frame Jewish-Muslim conflict as historically inevitable. Modern discourse, shaped by some Islamists, mainstream Western media, and Middle Eastern propaganda, presents their enmity as rooted in irreconcilable theological differences and ancient tribal hatreds. Contrary to this, Akyol reveals a sophisticated tradition of cooperation that fundamentally shaped both faiths’ development. This “Judeo-Islamic tradition,” he demonstrates, proved far more substantial than today’s politically expedient rhetoric about “Judeo-Christian values”—a concept that emerged only in the 20th century as a response to European anti-Semitism. The historical reality manifested in profound theological exchange, where Jewish scholars adopted Islamic rational theology while Muslim jurists incorporated Jewish legal insights; in legal development, where both traditions enriched each other’s understanding of divine law; and in a cultural synthesis that produced a civilization whose achievements in science, philosophy, and arts lasted centuries. This tradition’s existence challenges the presumed inevitability of today’s conflicts, suggesting they reflect modern political forces rather than ancient religious imperatives.
Akyol’s treatment of early Jewish-Muslim relations stands out for its unapologetic historical clarity and analytical depth. Rather than defensively explaining away the conflicts between Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) and Medinan Jewish tribes, or, conversely, amplifying them as evidence of eternal enmity, he places these episodes within a broader geostrategic context. Similarly, through careful attention to individual stories—like that of Rabbi Mukhayriq, who fought alongside Muslims at Uhud and was praised by the Prophet as “the best of the Jews”—Akyol illuminates larger historical patterns. The Covenant of Medina, establishing Jews and Muslims as “one community” (umma), emerges not as an isolated document but as evidence of sophisticated political thinking that distinguished between religious differences and political cooperation. Even as relationships evolved and tensions arose, this foundation of potential partnership remained influential, demonstrating how individual choices and institutional frameworks could transcend religious boundaries when political wisdom prevailed.
As for the institutional dynamics at work, Akyol details the transformation of Jewish life under the Ottoman state. He quotes Lucien Gubbay to argue that Jewish communities did not merely survive but flourished as “the leading doctors, tax and customs officials, financiers, traders and manufacturers.” This was not accidental: Islamic civilization’s openness to Jewish talent filled a crucial gap, providing “the nucleus of a new middle class, one that was free from political ambition.” Unlike in Christian Europe, where Jews faced constant persecution, Al-Andalus offered them freedom to develop their intellectual and commercial capabilities fully. The resulting collaboration produced what Rabbi Joseph Telushkin called “the closest parallel in Jewish history to the contemporary golden age of American-Jewish life.”
The intellectual exchange proved even more profound. Jewish scholars adopted Islamic rational theology (kalam), while Muslim jurists learned from Jewish legal traditions. Moses Maimonides, writing in Arabic under Muslim rule, engaged so deeply with Islamic thought that his works shaped both traditions. His son Abraham went further, arguingthat “the ways of the ancient saints of Israel” had “now become the practice of the Sufis of Islam.” This was not mere borrowing but deep synthesis: As Jewish historian Shelomo Dov Goitein noted, Islam “is from the very flesh and bone of Judaism. It is, to say, a recast, an enlargement.”
Ottoman protection of Jews also reveals how this tradition manifested in statecraft. When Spanish Jews faced expulsion in 1492, Sultan Bayezid II did not just offer refuge; he sent ships to rescue them, understanding their value to his empire. His critique of Spain’s Ferdinand—“How can you call Ferdinand of Aragon a wise king … the same Ferdinand who impoverished his own land and enriched ours?”—reflects not just tolerance but strategic wisdom. The refugees transformed Ottoman society, establishing the Middle East’s first printing press and contributing crucial skills across sectors.
The legal evolution of both traditions reveals a fascinating paradox that illuminates broader institutional dynamics. Early Islamic law often demonstrated remarkable progressiveness compared to Jewish law, particularly regarding women’s rights. While biblical law gave daughters no inheritance if sons existed, the Qur’an explicitly declared that “women shall have a share,” even if unequal to men’s. Islamic divorce laws proved so relatively advantageous that medieval Jewish women sometimes appealed to Muslim courts, as Gideon Libson, a scholar of comparative Jewish and Islamic law, documents. Yet over centuries, Jewish law developed more flexible tools for reform—through concepts like sevarah (reason-based ruling) and takkanah (rabbinic enactment)—while Islamic law became increasingly rigid. Akyol rightly attributes this divergence to the difference between having and lacking state power: Muslim jurists, operating within powerful empires, became constrained by state orthodoxy, while Jewish scholars, as a powerless minority, preserved intellectual flexibility partly out of necessity.
The breakdown of this reciprocal interaction reveals how modern forces reshaped ancient relationships. European anti-Semitism infected the Muslim world precisely as nationalism emerged as the dominant political force. “Most common themes in the Arab antisemitic discourse,” Esther Webbman notes, “were derived from classical Christian and Western vocabulary.” Yet Akyol acknowledges the role of Islamic thinkers as well. For instance, he discusses Sayyid Qutb’s essay Our Struggle with the Jews, which argued: “The Jewish enmity against Islam began in Medina and has continued ceaselessly in the past fourteen centuries.” Akyol carefully challenges such narratives and contradicts their assertions. The overall point is that the rise of Zionism and Arab nationalism transformed a primarily religious relationship into a territorial conflict. Even more tellingly, modern Muslim anti-Semitism often employs “Islamic” justifications borrowed from European sources—a historical irony lost on its proponents.
Furthermore, Akyol’s examination of early Muslim intellectual tradition reveals a striking contrast with contemporary Muslim defensiveness about religious authenticity. When the great historian Ibn Khaldun matter-of-factly acknowledged that “the Arabs had no books or scholarship” and learned it from “the earlier People of the Book,” he displayed a self-awareness and intellectual confidence rarely seen today. This wasn’t viewed as a contamination of Islamic thought but as its enrichment: Early Muslims saw no contradiction between divine revelation and human learning from other traditions. The Qur’an itself commanded Muslims to “ask those who read the Scripture before you,” and early scholars took this seriously. Akyol insists that this openness did not weaken Islamic civilization but strengthened it, producing the “golden age” that modern Muslims proudly reference while often ignoring its pluralistic foundations. Today’s defensive posturing about Islamic “purity,” Akyol shows, reflects not traditional Islamic confidence but modern insecurities, ironically imported along with European notions of cultural authenticity and nationalist purity.
The tragic timing of Akyol’s book, published amid unprecedented violence between Israelis and Palestinians, makes his historical analysis painfully relevant. On October 7, he responded to Hamas’ attacks with both moral clarity and broader concern: “I am sad to see the news of innocent civilians killed & terrorized in Israel with surprise attacks by Hamas. I am worried about the innocent civilians in Gaza who may pay a terrible price.” As Israeli response escalated to what even President Biden called “indiscriminate bombing,” Akyol’s warnings about forgetting shared heritage became prophetic.
Akyol challenges the religious framing of this conflict, insisting, “This is not a religious war. It is not a war between Jews and Muslims, let alone Judaism and Islam.” When Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu invoked the biblical “Amalek”—implying divine sanction for total war—Akyol reminded readers that “There is really no ‘Amalek,’ as there are no Meccan polytheists.” Instead, he frames the conflict as fundamentally political: “a political war between two peoples for sovereignty over land.” This understanding suggests hope: If the conflict is not rooted in eternal religious enmity but in modern nationalism, it can be resolved through political wisdom rather than religious confrontation.
In my opinion, Akyol’s intelligent placement of the Judeo-Islamic tradition within larger geopolitical shifts offers a crucial lesson for today. Just as the Byzantine-Sassanid rivalry shaped early Muslim-Jewish relations and Ottoman-European dynamics influenced their medieval flourishing, today’s conflicts reflect America’s overwhelming influence as the global superpower. Yet, unlike the Ottomans, who strategically fostered Jewish-Muslim cooperation, America’s role as the global superpower has proved disappointing.
The current tragedy in the Middle East cries out for the kind of enlightened leadership that once turned religious differences into strategic advantages. When Sultan Bayezid II sent ships to rescue Spanish Jews, he demonstrated how power can be used to foster cooperation rather than deepen divisions. With far greater resources and influence, today’s America could play a similarly transformative role by moving beyond simply taking sides to address legitimate grievances by all parties.
Akyol’s work reminds us that positive change often begins with individuals who dare to challenge prevailing orthodoxies. Just as medieval Jewish scholars like Maimonides found inspiration in Islamic thought and Muslim rulers recognized the value of Jewish talent, today’s leaders could foster dialogue and cooperation across divides. The recent Abraham Accords, despite their limitations, suggest potential for new relationships. Yet lasting peace requires moving beyond political deals to revive genuine cultural and intellectual exchange rather than weaponizing religious identities for political ends.
