From Fatwa to Bullet: Mechanisms of Turning Ideological Hatred into Actual Crime

At the heart of many crimes committed in the name of religion lies a fatwa that serves as the starting point. A fatwa is not always a tool for guidance or jurisprudential clarification—it can become a weapon used to grant “legitimacy” to violent actions, once it is loaded with extremist interpretations and presented as a religious duty that cannot be abandoned. In such contexts, no questions are raised about the objectives of Sharia or the conditions for applying rulings. Instead, elements from Islamic heritage are selectively drawn to suit the political or ideological agenda of the fatwa issuer.

Certain “scholars” or extremist preachers play a central role in this process, adopting the role of religious authority while in reality functioning as part of a mobilization and incitement machine. They re-read religious texts in a justificatory manner that transforms ideological or religious opponents into “enemies of God” who must be fought. Fatwas such as “fighting apostates,” “implementing the punishment on renegades,” or “loyalty and disavowal” are used as weapons to brainwash minds and drive followers to take violent action without hesitation.

What makes these fatwas dangerous is not only their content, but also the context in which they are issued—often aimed at an audience already charged with feelings of hatred and loss, searching for meaning or a sense of belonging. At that point, the fatwa becomes more than just a legal opinion; it turns into an operational directive, preparing the psychological and religious groundwork for the crime to come.

Once the fatwa is issued, it is not left to circulate merely in books or isolated lectures; it is injected into the public sphere through more powerful and widespread tools: the media. Hardline religious channels and the social media platforms run by extremist groups play a central role in amplifying sectarian narratives and spreading hatred against minorities or ideological and political opponents. In this type of media, hatred is produced as daily content: fiery sermons, inflammatory videos, charged imagery and terminology that evoke the bloody memory of historical conflicts—all presented as part of an eternal battle between “truth and falsehood.”

These platforms do not merely broadcast the fatwa; they recycle it, magnify it, and present it as an unquestionable absolute truth. The fatwa is embedded in an emotional context that stirs feelings of victimhood and vengeance, and it is linked to real or imagined massacres to deepen the sense of existential threat. Here, media becomes not only a tool for spreading hate, but also a factory for shaping identity—where the “enemy” is given clear features, and the audience is assigned a central role in confronting it.

The greater danger lies in the fact that this type of media does not present a purely religious discourse, but rather dresses hatred in the cloak of faith, making killing a commendable act, and violence a legitimate means to "defend the religion." With the weakness of moderate discourse and the absence of oversight, this media becomes a fertile environment for recruiting minds and directing them toward committing crimes.

At the moment the incitement cycle is completed—with a religious fatwa and mobilizing media—the third element emerges: the followers. These are not necessarily criminals by nature, but ordinary individuals, often young people who feel marginalized or are searching for meaning in their lives. Yet under an extremist religious narrative, they become pliable tools carrying out what is portrayed to them as a “religious duty” and “jihad in the path of God.”

At the moment the incitement cycle is completed—with a religious fatwa and mobilizing media—the third element emerges: the followers. These are not necessarily criminals by nature, but ordinary individuals, often young people who feel marginalized or are searching for meaning in their lives. Yet under an extremist religious narrative, they become pliable tools carrying out what is portrayed to them as a “religious duty” and “jihad in the path of God.”

At this stage, the person no longer thinks as an individual, but as a tool within a system. He receives instructions, believes they are true, and proceeds to act with full conviction. The fatwa issued months ago, or the media content he repeatedly watched, may become the mental trigger that transforms him from a mere follower into a soldier.

When a crime is committed, there should be accountability. But in cases of violence rooted in religious discourse, perpetrators often escape punishment—not only because of weak laws, but because the crime itself is wrapped in a “religious” cover that renders questioning it a form of blasphemy or hostility toward the faith. The killer is portrayed as a “mujahid,” while the victim is labeled a “kafir” or “apostate” undeserving of sympathy. Here, moral debate becomes a religious trap, and justice is smothered at birth.

In conflict zones such as Syria or Iraq, extremist groups often position themselves as the state, enforcing their own laws, “judges,” and “punishments.” In stable countries, some extremists may exploit legal loopholes and freedoms to spread their rhetoric without consequence. The result: a crime committed in the name of religion, with the perpetrator shielded by a religious or legal veil the society cannot penetrate.

To confront this complex chain that starts with a fatwa and ends with a bullet, it is not enough to focus on the outcomes; the system must be dismantled from its initial formation. A fatwa that incites killing does not emerge in a vacuum—it is built on an intellectual environment that permits its existence and spread, and on institutions or figures that treat it as part of “heritage” or “religious jurisprudence.” Thus, the solution begins with the courage to examine these structures, expose those behind them, and dismantle the religious discourse that sanctifies violence.