Eternal peace in the Middle East? One Knesset line unlocks Israel’s destiny.
It was meant to be a day of deliverance.
On 13 October 2025, Israel’s surviving captives of Hamas returned to their families, and the Knesset turned into a stage for triumph.
But as US President Donald Trump proclaimed “eternal peace” and was hailed as a savior, the moment revealed not peace, but prophecy.
Beneath the veneer of self-congratulatory, collectively amnesiac jubilation lay a choreography of American complicity dressed as diplomacy. In that dramatic and fateful act, Israel exposed the latent code destined to ordain its undoing – unless it dares to rewrite itself from the core outward.
The “real intelligence report”
The key to Israel’s fate was hidden within some 30,000 words of pyrrhic victory speeches in the Knesset – a truth so deeply buried that hardly anyone noticed.
When Israeli opposition leader Yair Lapid solemnly declared, “The real intelligence report on Israel’s intentions is found in the Book of Genesis: ‘And I will give you and your descendants after you the land of Canaan, for an everlasting possession.’” he was not merely quoting scripture; he was disclosing the moral software that drives the hardware of Israeli policy.
Beneath the diplomatic idiom of security, deterrence, and cease-fire runs a far older operating system: the belief that Israel’s identity and legitimacy rest on a divine, territorially grounded covenant rather than a civic contract.
In that light, Lapid’s remark reads less like rhetoric than revelatory political theology – the most telling “intelligence report,” and the most consequential takeaway, from the 13 October 2025 pageant.
The sign is manifest: For Israel, scripture has crossed the border from metaphor to mandate; faith has hardened into the fortress of ideology; and the poetry of promise has become the prose of power – its beauty undiminished, its cost still accruing through generations.
The covenantal grammar of power
Genesis 17:8, the decisive clue in Lapid’s speech, records God’s promise to Abraham of the land of Canaan as an “everlasting possession.” Across centuries of exile, that verse functioned as a charter of hope and return, not conquest. In modern Israel, however, it has acquired the weight of political entitlement.
When even Lapid – a senior Israeli leader who portrays himself not as a religious zealot but as a centrist secularist – rises in parliament during war to invoke this biblical promise, the message resounds louder than shellfire: Israel’s territorial rights rest on scripture, not international law or diplomatic accord.
That idea has echoed throughout history, yielding triumph and tragedy, renewal and ruin alike. From Joshua’s conquest of Jericho to the Babylonian exile and the Second Temple restoration, biblical history oscillates between divine gift and divine punishment.
By its very nature, the covenant has never been a blank check for expansion but has always remained conditional trust: The land is bestowed only upon a people faithful and steadfast in justice. The prophets warned that possessing the inheritance without righteousness would cause the very soil to “vomit out” its inhabitants (Leviticus 18:25). Christianity later recast the geographical promise as an allegory of redemption.
The elastic borders of promise
No map has ever contained the Promised Land. As a theological ideal, it transcends the historical borders of Canaan – the inhabited region central to Israelite memory – embodying a broader spiritual and moral vision that reaches beyond territory.
Its shifting borders, several times reconceived in the Bible, reveal not divine cartography, but moral geography – a map that expands or contracts with Israel’s faith and justice.
Across Genesis, Numbers, and Ezekiel, the borders of the Promised Land evolved from mythic ideal to legal reality to prophetic hope, reflecting Israel’s shifting consciousness and moral vision across vocation, law, and redemption.
In Genesis 15:18, the covenant runs “from the river of Egypt to the great river, the Euphrates” – a span encompassing areas that lie today within Egypt, Israel, the Palestinian territories, Jordan, Lebanon, Syria, and Iraq.
Numbers 34:1–12 draws a smaller rectangle around Canaan proper – roughly modern Israel and the West Bank.
Ezekiel 47:13–20 extends the borders again, stretching from the Mediterranean eastward past Damascus and south toward the Negev – the desert region beyond the Dead Sea.
After the Second Temple was destroyed in 70 AD and the Jews were scattered into the Diaspora, the Promised Land withdrew from map to memory, from territory to testimony – a potent symbol of moral order rather than a kingdom’s perimeter.
Modern political Zionism again translated that symbol into geography, and geography into sovereignty, reforging scriptural poetry into territorial possession.
The dangers of mythical entitlements
When myth is inscribed on a map, the act is rarely innocent. Fused with state power, mythic narratives cease to be metaphorical; they harden into ideology. What began as sacred cartography ends as political pathology.
The classical Athenians’ myth of being autochthonous – born from their own soil – turned origin into entitlement, transforming a poetic self-image into a unifying political argument for purity and dominion. It justified their supremacy over other Greeks, much as origin stories elsewhere have turned spiritual belonging into territorial claim.
Lapid’s “real intelligence report” also recalls other historical fusions of national destiny and territorial expansion.
In Mein Kampf – that grim catechism of myth and power – Adolf Hitler proclaimed,
“Nature knows no political boundaries. She first places the living beings upon this globe and looks on at the free play of forces. He who is strongest in courage and industry is then granted, as her dearest child, the master’s right to existence.” (Chapter 4)
Predictably, in the Führer’s mind, the laurels of nature could only ever belong to the “Aryan race.”
What is genuinely significant, though, is this: When the high priest of blood and soil set down this consequential passage in his Landsberg prison cell, he was not yet issuing orders; he was constructing a myth of racial destiny that would later justify military conquest.
Many will hasten to assert that the moral chasm between the National Socialist myth and the biblical covenant is, literally, of cosmic dimension: One, it will be said, deifies ethnic Darwinism, elevating nature as arbiter of life; the other demands moral justice grounded in divine will.
True – their kinship lies in structure rather than in substance: Both narratives, though themselves inert, encode a deterministic and transfigurative logic, inviting myth to harden into necessity and memory into fate. History, in the end, teaches that once politics is written in the grammar of destiny, realism is eclipsed by extremism, and compromise becomes heresy.
Canaan Redux – why peace fails under a co-opted covenant
Since Israel’s ultimate “intelligence report” is cast as a promise of everlasting territorial possession, any peace with the Palestinians can only be tactical, never final.
The Gaza ceasefire – part of the American twenty-point peace plan, unveiled at the White House on 29 September 2025 and later exalted in the Knesset as the supposed crowning triumph of diplomacy – was therefore doomed from the outset: The logic of covenantal permanence strictly forbids permanent division of the entrusted land.
The crux is what I shall call the “Neo-Canaanite Question”: What becomes of those who now inhabit the Promised Land in its shifting borders?
For Palestinians, Israel’s theology translates into perpetual insecurity: If the land is divinely deeded – destined to be possessed by Israel as a realm consecrated to God – their presence remains provisional. Every Israeli strike proclaimed as “retaliation”, every incursion, every demolished home becomes another footnote in an unending “sacred” history. Beyond Palestine, across the imagined expanse of “Greater Israel,” other nations, too, hold their breath, unsure how far the sacred mandate may yet extend.
The lesson is timeless: True peace cannot flourish in a landscape shaped by mythic entitlement. The treacherous, incendiary quest for what may be called “Canaan 2.0,” the ancient promise rebooted as modern geopolitics, is fated to revive the perennial spiral of violence across the Middle East. That covenantal drive seals Israel’s Knesset jubilation – a performance of peace veiling the logic of prophecy – as a conqueror’s pyrrhic victory lap.
[To be continued]
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