War, Belonging, and Empire: An African Diaspora Theological Critique of U.S.–Israeli Military Engagement with Iran

We are watching another war unfold.Not just between nations—but between ways of seeing the world.

One rooted in control, domination, and empire.The other rooted in belonging, dignity, and shared humanity.

As people of faith—and as people shaped by the African Diaspora—we cannot afford to be silent about the difference.

Introduction: The Crisis of Belonging in a World at War

At the heart of the human experience lies a fundamental longing: the desire to belong—to God, to one another, and within the created order. This longing is not peripheral; it is central to the biblical narrative. From Genesis to Revelation, Scripture tells the story of a people seeking home, covenant, and community amid systems marked by domination, exclusion, and violence.[1]

War, in this sense, is not merely a geopolitical event. It is a rupture in the fabric of belonging. It is the manifestation of a world disordered by sin, where power displaces peace and domination replaces dignity.[2]

The escalating military conflict between the United States, Israel, and Iran in 2026 must therefore be interpreted not only through the lens of international relations, but through theological and moral frameworks that interrogate deeper questions: What kind of world are we building? Who belongs within it? And at whose expense?

This essay argues that the current conflict reflects an enduring imperial logic that stands in tension with African moral traditions, African American historical consciousness, and Christian theological commitments to justice, reconciliation, and peace.

Empire and the Spirit of Imperialism

Empire is not simply a political arrangement; it is a way of seeing the world. It is rooted in control, expansion, and the consolidation of power. Imperialism, more precisely, is the spirit that animates empire—the belief that one has the right, even the obligation, to dominate land, people, and systems beyond one’s own.[3]

As theologian Kat Armas writes:

“Empire is fundamentally about the extension of control, whether through direct domination or subtle influence. And in that expansion, something essential is always sacrificed. Imperialism differs from empire in that it’s less about the physical empire itself and more about the spirit of conquest behind it. Those driven by an imperial mentality believe they are entitled to not only occupy lands that aren’t theirs but also to impose their language and their economic and political systems on the people who inhabit those lands… Imperialists see the world as something to be conquered… At its core, imperialism captures the exhilaration of expansion and the insatiable hunger for control… [it is marked by] control, exploitation, and the readiness to use military power to protect its interests.”[4]

This imperial imagination operates through both overt and subtle mechanisms: military intervention, economic coercion, cultural imposition, and political influence. It constructs hierarchies that privilege certain lives while rendering others expendable.[5]

Within this framework, war is not an aberration—it is a tool.

The U.S.–Israeli military engagement with Iran must be understood within this broader history of imperial practice. While framed in the language of security, deterrence, and defense, such actions cannot be disentangled from long-standing patterns of geopolitical control, resource interest, and strategic dominance in the Middle East.[6]

From an African Diaspora theological perspective, this raises a critical concern: when war becomes normalized as an instrument of policy, the moral imagination is diminished, and the sacredness of human life is subordinated to strategic interests.

African Moral Traditions of War: Restoration Over Annihilation

Pre-colonial African societies offer an alternative moral framework for understanding conflict—one that stands in sharp contrast to modern militarism.

Across many African traditions, war was not undertaken lightly. It was governed by unwritten but deeply internalized ethical codes:

• War was a last resort, pursued only after mediation and negotiation failed.

• Its purpose was restorative, aimed at reestablishing balance and justice rather than achieving total destruction.

• Non-combatants were protected, including women, children, and the elderly.

• Combat was often conducted away from civilian spaces to minimize harm.

• Surrender was honored, and wounded enemies were frequently cared for rather than killed.

• Spiritual consequences were taken seriously; excessive brutality was believed to invite divine retribution.[7]

In this framework, war was not a theater for domination but a constrained mechanism for restoring communal equilibrium.[8]

The contrast with contemporary warfare is stark. Modern conflicts—particularly those involving aerial bombardment, proxy engagements, and economic sanctions—blur the distinction between combatant and civilian, often resulting in widespread suffering among populations far removed from decision-making centers.[9]

From an African ethical standpoint, such practices represent not strength, but a profound moral failure.

The African American Experience: War, Citizenship, and Skepticism

African American perspectives on war are shaped by a historical paradox: a people called to defend a nation that has often denied their full humanity.[10]

From the Civil War to World Wars I and II, Black participation in military service was frequently tied to the hope that sacrifice would yield recognition, citizenship, and equality. Yet these hopes were repeatedly met with continued marginalization.[11]

This history has produced a deep and enduring skepticism toward state-sponsored war.

By the mid-20th century, this skepticism became more explicit. Martin Luther King Jr.’s opposition to the Vietnam War marked a turning point, as he connected U.S. militarism abroad with racial and economic injustice at home.[12] He warned that a nation investing heavily in war while neglecting social uplift was approaching “spiritual death.”

Contemporary African American thought continues this critique, often framing war as part of a broader system of structural violence.[13] From this perspective, force may be justified in the defense of community and dignity, but there remains a critical distinction between protective resistance and imperial aggression.

Thus, when evaluating the current conflict with Iran, African American historical consciousness urges caution: whose interests are being served, and who bears the cost?

The Present Conflict: Regional War, Global Consequences

The 2026 escalation between the United States, Israel, and Iran—marked by targeted strikes, leadership decapitation, and retaliatory attacks—has rapidly expanded into a broader regional crisis.[14]

The implications extend far beyond the immediate actors:

• Global energy markets face instability, with potential disruptions in the Strait of Hormuz affecting a significant portion of the world’s oil supply.[15]

• African economies, particularly those dependent on imported fuel and agricultural inputs, face rising costs, inflation, and food insecurity.[16]

• Diaspora communities encounter increased economic strain and, in some cases, direct threats to safety in affected regions.

These outcomes reveal a persistent truth: wars initiated by powerful nations rarely remain contained. Their consequences cascade outward, disproportionately impacting those with the least influence over their initiation.

From a theological perspective, this raises urgent ethical questions about responsibility, accountability, and the interconnectedness of human life.

Biblical Theology: War in a Fallen World

The biblical witness offers neither a simplistic endorsement nor a total denial of war. Instead, it presents a tension.

On one hand, Scripture acknowledges the reality of conflict in a fallen world: “There is a time for war” (Ecclesiastes 3:8). On the other hand, the overarching trajectory of the biblical narrative points toward peace: “Blessed are the peacemakers” (Matthew 5:9), and the prophetic vision of nations beating “their swords into plowshares” (Isaiah 2:4).[17]

The teachings of Jesus reorient the ethical center toward love of neighbor—and even love of enemy (Matthew 5:44). The Apostle Paul echoes this call, urging believers to “live peaceably with all” (Romans 12:18).[18]

Christian traditions have wrestled with this tension through frameworks such as Just War Theory, which seeks to limit the use of force to situations that are defensive, necessary, and proportionate.[19] Yet even within this framework, the threshold for justification remains high.

The current conflict invites a critical theological question: Does it meet these criteria? Or does it reflect a broader pattern in which war is normalized and sanctified in ways that obscure its moral cost?

Toward a Prophetic Black Christian Response

In light of these considerations, what is required is not passive observation but prophetic engagement.

A Black Christian theological response to war must be rooted in several commitments:

1. The Primacy of Human Dignity

2. Skepticism Toward Empire

3. Solidarity with the Marginalized

4. A Moral Imagination Beyond Violence

5. The Refusal to Baptize State Violence

These commitments emerge not only from theological doctrine but from historical experience, communal memory, and spiritual conviction.

Conclusion: Reclaiming Belonging

War ultimately exposes a fundamental question: who belongs, and under what conditions?

Empire answers this question through domination. It creates a sense of belonging for some by excluding and subordinating others.

The African Diaspora theological tradition offers a different answer—one rooted in community, reciprocity, and shared humanity. The Christian gospel deepens this vision, calling for a reconciliation that transcends boundaries and redefines power itself.[20]

In a world increasingly shaped by militarism and geopolitical competition, the task before us is clear: to reclaim a vision of belonging that resists empire and affirms life.

If this resonates, share it.If it challenges you, sit with it.

And if we are serious about building a different world—one rooted in belonging rather than domination—then this cannot be the last conversation.

To stay connected to this work and future reflections, visit wlmministries.org or reach us at info@wlmministries.org.

Footnotes

2. Willie James Jennings, The Christian Imagination: Theology and the Origins of Race (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010).

3. Reinhold Niebuhr, Moral Man and Immoral Society (New York: Scribner, 1932).

4. Edward Said, Culture and Imperialism (New York: Vintage Books, 1993).

5. Kat Armas, Liturgies for Resisting Empire: Seeking Community, Belonging, and Peace in a Dehumanizing World(Downers Grove, IL: IVP, 2023), 17–18.

6. Achille Mbembe, “Necropolitics,” Public Culture 15, no. 1 (2003): 11–40.

7. Ervand Abrahamian, A History of Modern Iran (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008).

8. Toyin Falola and Christian Jennings, Sources and Methods in African History (Rochester: University of Rochester Press, 2003).

9. John Mbiti, African Religions and Philosophy (Oxford: Heinemann, 1969).

10. Mary Kaldor, New and Old Wars: Organized Violence in a Global Era, 3rd ed. (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2012).

11. W.E.B. Du Bois, The Souls of Black Folk (Chicago: A.C. McClurg, 1903).

12. Chad L. Williams, Torchbearers of Democracy: African American Soldiers in the World War I Era (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2010).

13. Martin Luther King Jr., “Beyond Vietnam: A Time to Break Silence,” Riverside Church, New York, April 4, 1967.

14. Cedric J. Robinson, Black Marxism: The Making of the Black Radical Tradition (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1983).

15. BBC News, “Middle East Conflict Escalates,” March 2026.

16. International Energy Agency, Global Oil Market Report, 2025–2026.

17. African Development Bank, African Economic Outlook 2025.

18. The Holy Bible, New Revised Standard Version.

19. Ibid.

20. Augustine, The City of God; Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica.

21. Desmond Tutu, No Future Without Forgiveness (New York: Doubleday, 1999).

Bibliography

Abrahamian, Ervand. A History of Modern Iran. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008.

African Development Bank. African Economic Outlook 2025.

Armas, Kat. Liturgies for Resisting Empire: Seeking Community, Belonging, and Peace in a Dehumanizing World. Downers Grove, IL: IVP, 2023.

Augustine. The City of God.

Du Bois, W.E.B. The Souls of Black Folk. Chicago: A.C. McClurg, 1903.

Falola, Toyin, and Christian Jennings. Sources and Methods in African History. Rochester: University of Rochester Press, 2003.

International Energy Agency. Global Oil Market Report. 2025–2026.

Jennings, Willie James. The Christian Imagination: Theology and the Origins of Race. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010.

Kaldor, Mary. New and Old Wars: Organized Violence in a Global Era. 3rd ed. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2012.

King, Martin Luther Jr. “Beyond Vietnam: A Time to Break Silence.” Riverside Church, New York, April 4, 1967.

Mbembe, Achille. “Necropolitics.” Public Culture 15, no. 1 (2003): 11–40.

Mbiti, John. African Religions and Philosophy. Oxford: Heinemann, 1969.

Niebuhr, Reinhold. Moral Man and Immoral Society. New York: Scribner, 1932.

Robinson, Cedric J. Black Marxism: The Making of the Black Radical Tradition. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1983.

Said, Edward. Culture and Imperialism. New York: Vintage Books, 1993.

The Holy Bible. New Revised Standard Version.

Tutu, Desmond. No Future Without Forgiveness. New York: Doubleday, 1999.

Williams, Chad L. Torchbearers of Democracy. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2010.