When leaders invoke God to justify war, they erode the moral limits that restrain violence. This dangerous shift demands resistance not only from governments but from society. Tourism, as a people-to-people force, offers a rare counterbalance—connecting cultures, challenging division, and reminding the world that humanity must come before ideology.
There are many ways to justify war. Invoking God should not be one of them.
When US Secretary of War Pete Hegseth recently called for “overwhelming violence” while invoking Jesus Christ, he did not simply cross a rhetorical line. He crossed a moral one.
Because once political leaders begin to wrap violence in the language of faith, they are no longer just arguing for war. They are sanctifying it. And that is where danger begins.
This Is Not Faith. It Is Power
Let’s be clear about what is happening. This is not about religion guiding conscience or offering comfort in times of crisis. It is about religion being used as a tool—to mobilize, to justify, to silence doubt.
The pattern is global and unmistakable:
- In the United States, elements of political leadership invoke Christianity alongside military force
- In Iran and among militant groups, violence is framed as a duty in the name of Allah
- In Israel, religious identity is increasingly entangled with political power and control over sacred space and territories.
Different religions. Same strategy.
Take something sacred. Attach it to violence. Make that violence harder to question.
“No Mercy” Is Not a Casual Phrase
Words like “no mercy” do not slip off the tongue. They are signals.
They tell soldiers what is expected. They tell the public how to think. They tell the world how far a government may be willing to go.
Under the Geneva Conventions, war is supposed to have limits. Civilians are not targets. Force must be proportional. Humanity must remain intact, even in conflict. But “no mercy” is the language of was limitless.
Add God to that message, and you remove the last remaining restraint: doubt.
The Geneva Conventions and their Commentaries
The 1949 Geneva Conventions and their Additional Protocols protect people who do not take part in the fighting and those who can no longer fight.
The Law Cannot Save Us From This
Yes, there are laws. The Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court defines war crimes and establishes accountability. In theory, leaders can be held responsible not only for what they order, but for what they enable. But the law is reactive. It punishes after the fact.
It does not prevent the moment when a young soldier—18 years old, far from home—pulls a trigger believing not only that it is allowed, but that it is right.
That belief is formed long before the battlefield. It is shaped by language.
This Is How Extremism Works
There is a reason extremist movements rely so heavily on religion. Because it works.
It removes ambiguity. It replaces complexity with certainty. It transforms violence into purpose.
The formula is simple:
- God is with us
- The enemy is evil
- Mercy is weakness
That formula has fueled jihadist movements, ultranationalist militias, and violent ideologies across the world.
When democratic leaders adopt even fragments of it, they do not distinguish themselves from extremism. They echo it.
The Damage Does Not Stay Abroad
This rhetoric does not stop at the battlefield. The same logic—dividing the world into the righteous and the other—invitably turns inward.
We have seen the consequences:
- LGBTQ+ communities treated as threats to moral order
- women’s rights reframed as negotiable
- minorities cast as outsiders
Once politics is moralized through religion, pluralism becomes a problem to solve, not a value to protect.
Tourism, Football, and the Last Remaining Counterforce
There is, however, one global arena where this logic still struggles to take hold: people meeting people.
Tourism is not just an industry—it is one of the few systems built on the assumption that strangers can encounter each other without fear. It depends on openness, curiosity and the simple idea that difference is not a threat.
The upcoming 2026 FIFA World Cup—hosted across North America—will bring millions of people from different cultures, religions and identities into shared spaces. Stadiums, streets and cities will temporarily become places where nationality competes, but humanity coexists.
That matters more than it seems.
Because every interaction that contradicts the narrative of “us versus them” weakens it. Every shared moment challenges the idea that the world is divided into the righteous and the enemy.
Institutions like the United Nations World Tourism Organization and leaders across the travel and sports sectors have a responsibility here. They cannot remain neutral while religion is used to justify division and violence.
If political leaders are amplifying fear, then tourism—and global sport—must amplify something else: recognition, proximity, and shared humanity.
They may not stop wars. But they can undermine the stories that make wars easier to fight.
And Where Is Everyone Else?
Where, in all of this, are the institutions that claim to stand for global connection? Where are the universities, the cultural leaders, the tourism industry?
Organizations like the UN Tourism speak endlessly about dialogue, exchange, and shared humanity.
But when religion is used to justify violence—and to restrict access to the very cultural and sacred sites they promote—they fall silent. That silence is not neutrality. It is avoidance. And it is unsustainable.
Because an industry built on openness cannot survive in a world increasingly organized around division.
The Pope Is Right—and Almost Alone
Pope Francis has said plainly that God does not justify war. It is a statement so obvious it should not need repeating. And yet, in today’s political climate, it feels almost radical.
That alone should be cause for alarm.
This Must Be Rejected—Clearly and Publicly
There is no ambiguity here. Leaders who invoke God to justify violence are:
- Weakening the legal frameworks that restrain war
- Manipulating belief for political ends
- Increasing the likelihood of atrocities
This is not a matter of tone. It is a matter of responsibility.
