The Shifting Dynamics of Sunnī–Shīʿī Leadership in the Gaza Crisis: Iran’s Political Theology as a Lens

Abstract

This article explores the evolving roles of Sunnī and Shīʿī political actors in the current Gaza crisis, with a focus on how Iran has come to occupy the rhetorical and symbolic space once dominated by Sunnī Arab leadership. Historically, since the establishment of Israel in 1948, Sunnī regimes positioned themselves as the primary defenders of the Palestinian cause. However, recent shifts—originating in the late 1970s and evolving into the current wave of normalization agreements between Arab states and Israel—have weakened this leadership role. In this vacuum, Iran has articulated a theological-political narrative grounded in Shīʿī doctrines of resistance, martyrdom, and moral duty toward the oppressed, reframed through Khomeinist ideology to legitimize its regional geopolitical ambitions. Drawing on political theology as a theoretical framework, this article analyzes how sacred history shapes Iran’s foreign policy discourse and legitimizes its regional role. This article argues that the current Gaza crisis illustrates a significant transformation in the religious-political landscape of the Muslim world, as Iran leverages its Shīʿī identity to assert moral and political leadership over a cause once firmly associated with Sunnī solidarity. This study concludes that Shīʿism, led by Iran, has shown unwavering support for the Palestinian cause through its backing of Hamas in its latest conflict, despite Iran’s simultaneous pursuit of wider regional drives and ideological goals. Still, Iran’s foreign policies cannot be separated from the historical incidents that gave rise to the Shīʿī tradition of protest and resistance, which remain integral to how Iran’s Shīʿism positions itself in the present conflict.

1. Introduction

The 7 October 2023, Hamas-led attacks—referred to as the Al-Aqṣá Deluge—have been condemned as violations of human rights and serious international crimes (Human Rights Watch 2023; International Criminal Court 2023). Israel’s overwhelming retaliation has since marked a new and devastating chapter in the ongoing crisis in Gaza. Many international observers, legal scholars, and human rights organizations have increasingly described this phase as genocidal in both scale and intent (Human Rights Watch 2024; Amnesty International 2025; United Nations 2025; Bartov 2025). The unprecedented scale of destruction in Gaza and the killing of thousands of women and children, including the assassinations of Hezbollah leader Ḥasan Naṣrallāh and Hamas’s senior leader Yahya Sinwar (both killed in 2024), sparked a wave of global outrage and widespread expressions of solidarity with the Palestinian people—from mass protests to diplomatic condemnations.

This sudden escalation not only brought the Palestinian issue back to the forefront of global attention—after it had nearly faded from the regional and international agenda due to the ongoing normalization process with Israel led by Sunnī governments—but also exposed stark contrasts in how Sunnī Arab regimes and Shīʿī political actors interpreted and responded to the conflict and the accompanying genocide. While some Sunnī states issued generic calls for de-escalation and participation in peace negotiations, including the recently signed peace agreement between U.S. President Donald Trump, Egyptian President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi, Qatari Emir Tamim bin Hamad Al Thani, and Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan at the Sharm el-Sheikh Summit for Peace (The National 2025), Shīʿī groups framed the events as part of a broader struggle against Western imperialism and Zionist aggression. Sunnī Arab regimes’ restrained stance reflects a longstanding pattern of disengagement from the Palestinian question. Since King Hussein of Jordan relinquished his claim to the West Bank in 1988 and signed a peace treaty with Israel in 1994, regional approaches have prioritized stability and regime survival over ideological confrontation. Similarly, Saudi Arabia’s recent normalization efforts with Israel—halted only by the 7 October attacks—reflect a pragmatic, security-oriented posture that contrasts sharply with Iran’s ideological framing of the conflict. These reactions therefore draw a clear line between those seeking diplomatic engagement with Israel and its chief supporters—the United States and the West—and those, led by Iran and its Axis of Resistance, who advocate continued resistance as a form of regional defiance.

In order to better understand these divergent responses, it is essential to situate them within their modern historical context. Since Israel’s establishment in 1948, the conflict has remained a central concern for Sunnī states, shaping both policy and public discourse. Although political ideologies and strategic interests often dominated decision-making, religion consistently framed the identities of the peoples involved and the narratives surrounding the conflict (Rosen 2012, p. 442). Secular leaders such as Gamal Abdel Nasser and David Ben-Gurion clashed primarily over nationalist objectives rather than religious ideology (Modongal 2023, p. 71), yet religion remained a persistent element in mobilization and perception.

Historical responses to major conflicts illustrate a recurring pattern of pragmatism. Anwar Sadat’s limited war in 1973, for instance, was aimed at restoring national pride and undermining Israel’s image of invincibility, ultimately paving the way for the Camp David Accords in 1978 (Sheafer 2017). Similarly, Saudi Arabia under King Faisal wielded both economic and symbolic power—most notably through the 1973 oil embargo against the United States and his explicit rejection of the division of Palestine (Conflict Echoes 2024). Although religion remained a motivating factor, these examples indicate that pragmatism extended beyond diplomacy and economic policy; Sunnī Arab states also pursued military engagement when strategic interests required it, as illustrated by Egypt, Jordan, and Syria’s participation in the 1967 Six-Day War and Egypt’s subsequent campaign in 1973. These precedents demonstrate that Sunnī Arab regimes historically adopted a flexible mix of military, diplomatic, and economic strategies in support of the Palestinian cause—an adaptability that helps explain the divisions observed in their contemporary responses.

While Sunnī Arab states historically took serious steps to support the Palestinian cause, the decades following major peace agreements saw a gradual shift toward cautious engagement and strategic accommodation with Israel, reflecting evolving regional dynamics and the rise of Iran as a strategic concern. In the decades after the Camp David Accords of 1978, the Oslo Accords of 1993–1995, and the 1994 peace treaty between Jordan and Israel, many Sunnī Arab regimes shifted from confrontation to cautious engagement with Israel, culminating in formal normalization in the early 21st century. While these regimes had once championed the Palestinian cause and fueled widespread anti-Israel sentiment across the region, the 1979 Iranian Revolution gradually redirected their strategic concerns toward Tehran.

With Iran’s influence growing after the Arab Spring, Gulf states increasingly viewed Israel as a potential partner against a common threat. As Ahn (2025, p. 287) contends, normalization became a calculated move aimed at preserving regime stability in an evolving regional order. For Maghraoui (2025), the year 2020 marked a wave of normalization between Israel and the UAE, Bahrain, Morocco, and Sudan, despite Israel’s continued disregard for the 2002 Arab Peace Initiative, which called for withdrawal from the 1967 Occupied Territories, the creation of a Palestinian state, and a resolution to the refugee issue. It is worth remarking that this was by no means part of a completely new policy (p. 259); it had long been underway behind the scenes. Dennis Ross, a key negotiator in the Oslo and Arab Israeli agreements under the Clinton administration, revealed that he “set up a number of discreet meetings between Israeli officials and their Gulf state counterparts in the 1990s”, noting that while they “involved security cooperation and built on intelligence contacts… the scope of these private discussions was clearly expanded”, (Ross 2022). The Abraham Accords, as an essential element of the normalization agreement, generated mixed public responses—some praised them as a breakthrough for Middle East peace, while others condemned them as a betrayal of the Palestinian cause driven by political and economic interests (Hallward and Biygautane 2024, p. 25). As Sunnī regimes distanced themselves from the Palestinian struggle, this shift created political and ideological space that Iran readily sought to occupy.

Iran, in particular, seized this opening. In April 2011, Ayatollah ʿAlī Khamenei declared: “We intervened in anti-Israel conflicts, leading to Hezbollah’s victory in the 33-day war and Gaza’s success in the 22-day war. From now on, we fully support any group or nation fighting the Zionist regime, and we say this without hesitation” (Shahidsaless 2023). Yahya Sinwar, a key architect of the 7 October 2023 attack on Israel, similarly expressed gratitude for Iran’s unwavering support, stating: “All thanks and gratitude go to the Islamic Republic of Iran, which has never withheld money, weapons, or expertise from us or from the other Palestinian resistance factions over the past years” (AlHadath 2021). Likewise, Hezbollah leader Ḥasan Naṣrallāh underscored Iran’s central role in Lebanon, noting that his party’s salaries, expenses, food, drink, weapons, and rockets are all funded by Tehran (Ekhbariya TV 2016). This support extends beyond the Levant. Yahya Saree, the brigadier general and official military spokesperson of Yemen’s Houthi-aligned Ansar Allah forces, warned that if the United States attacks Iran, his forces would target all U.S. ships in the Red Sea (Alaraby TV News 2025b). Together, these statements highlight Iran’s decisive transformation into the principal patron of the “Axis of Resistance”, providing financial, military, and ideological support to regional allies committed to opposing Israel, the United States, and the West.

However, it is important to note that Iran’s messaging varies depending on its audience. Domestically, Tehran invokes explicitly Shi‘i theological concepts—such as the martyrdom of Imam Ḥusayn—to justify resistance and sacrifice. However, when addressing the broader Sunni world, Iranian rhetoric becomes more universal, emphasizing justice, anti-imperialism, and solidarity with the oppressed, while deliberately avoiding sectarian imagery that might alienate Sunni audiences. This was evident in Ayatollah ʿAlī Khamenei’s elegy following Ḥasan Naṣrallāh’s assassination, which he described as a loss for the entire Muslim ummah—both Shīʿa and Sunnī. Khamenei hailed Naṣrallāh as a martyr who followed in the footsteps of the “Master of Martyrs”, Imām Ḥusayn ibn ʿAlī. He praised him for raising the banner of resistance against “demons, aggressors, and looters” and for being the voice and defender of the oppressed. Khamenei concluded by urging the Muslim ummah to resist injustice and pursue jihād against foreign imperialism, promising that such struggle would bring victory and end oppression (Aljazeera 2024). Thus, Khamenei’s elegy simultaneously employs explicit Shīʿī martyrdom imagery to mobilize domestic audiences while framing Naṣrallāh’s death in universal anti-imperialist terms designed to resonate with—and not offend—Sunnī publics.

While this messaging strategy reinforces Iran’s ideological and theological authority within its borders, it has been met with suspicion and criticism by external actors. Arab leaders and Western policymakers frequently interpret Tehran’s regional activism less as principled resistance and more as geopolitical maneuvering. Leaders from Egypt and Saudi Arabia, as well as some in Washington, have described Iran as actively leveraging Shīʿī groups to undermine Arab states (Wimberly 2014, p. 300). Contrary to these external perceptions, Sheikh Naim Qassem, the new Secretary-General of Hezbollah, emphasizes that Iran’s support for Hezbollah and the Palestinians is driven by opposition to occupation rather than by an intent to advance a Shīʿī agenda in the region (Alaraby TV News 2024). Iran is undoubtedly an ambitious state—seeking to project ideological legitimacy, ensure regime survival, counter U.S. and Israeli influence, undermine rival Sunnī powers, maintain proxy networks, and promote a revolutionary Islamic identity. Nevertheless, I argue that its foreign policy is fundamentally shaped by Shīʿī theological worldview rooted in resistance and protest, which have been re-enforced by modern Khomeinism.

These theological worldviews are not modern manifestations but originates in the crisis of succession following the Prophet Muhammad’s death (570–632), when a smaller group of Muslims upheld ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib and his descendants—Imām Ḥasan and Imām Ḥusayn—as the divinely sanctioned leaders of the Muslim community. Dabashi (2011) argues that Shīʿī political theology preserves the Prophet’s charismatic authority through the institution of the Imamate. Central to this theology are the figures of ʿAlī and Ḥusayn, who serve as revolutionary archetypes martyred in the struggle against tyranny. Their legacy forms the core of a political narrative that portrays history as a continuous conflict between legitimate authority and usurping power—a framework that continues to shape Iran’s regional posture (p. 57). This long-standing tradition of resistance, rooted in early Islamic history, continues to inform how Iran frames its regional commitments and legitimizes its involvement in contemporary conflicts.

Scholars such as Wilferd Madelung, Hamid Dabashi, Talal Asad, Hashemi and Postel, and Mahmoud Ayoub have emphasized the central role of historical memory in Shīʿī political theology. This article advances the argument that Wilāyat al-Faqīh, in its contemporary political expression, reactivates and instrumentalizes classical Shīʿī narratives of resistance, suffering, protest, and martyrdom. Viewed through this lens, Iran’s post-1979 foreign policy—and particularly its steadfast support for Palestine—emerges as a continuation of these reinterpreted doctrinal traditions. The discussion proceeds by addressing two central questions: To what extent does Iran’s engagement with the 2023 Gaza crisis embody Shīʿī narratives of resistance, martyrdom, and justice, and how do these narratives assist Iran in shaping regional and Palestinian perceptions of its role? The study contends that Iran’s regional posture is best understood through a long-standing Shīʿī ethos that frames opposition to unjust rule as a paradigm for modern political resistance. This article further contributes to the existing literature by incorporating official statements from leaders within Iran’s Axis of Resistance, thereby illuminating how Tehran’s narratives are echoed, adapted, and amplified across the region. Including these voices is crucial, as it not only highlights the extent to which Iran’s discourse of resistance transcends national borders and operates as a unifying ideological framework but also reveals the shared political theology that binds these movements together under Iran’s influence.

As a religion of protest, Shīʿism originates with Islam itself, though its immediate causes are rooted in the succession crisis that followed the Prophet’s death in 632 (Madelung cited in Dabashi 2011, p. 58). The political dimension of Islam, however, can be traced even earlier to the Hijrah of 622, when the Prophet Muhammad led a band of followers from Mecca to Medina, establishing the first Muslim community and launching a revolutionary challenge to the Meccan establishment (Dabashi 2011, p. 58). For Madelung, Shīʿism emerges as a response to deviations from rightful leadership after the Prophet, whereas Dabashi interprets Islam itself as founded in dissent, with the Hijrah marking the beginning of both religious and political resistance. Together, their perspectives frame Shīʿism as the institutionalization of Islam’s enduring impulse to challenge illegitimate authority—a theme later woven into the collective memory of the Prophet’s family’s trials.

Central to Shīʿī identity is the experience and commemoration of suffering, particularly among the Twelver (Jaʿfarī) Shīʿa of Iran. This includes the tribulations of the Prophet’s family, preserved in hagiographical accounts and ritual practices… For the Shīʿa, these trials epitomize the suffering of the pious throughout history (Ayoub 1978, pp. 23–24). Kohlberg (1980), reviewing Ayoub, emphasizes the martyrdom of Husayn b. ʿAlī and his companions at Karbalāʾ (61/680 CE) as a watershed moment, generating a legacy of grief, resistance to tyranny, and hope in the awaited Mahdī (p. 543). This theology of suffering functions not only as a spiritual narrative but also as a political framework: it provides the moral vocabulary through which injustice is condemned and resistance legitimized. Commemorative rituals thus serve simultaneously as acts of piety and as vehicles for political identity formation and mobilization.

This article is structured into five sections. It begins with a theoretical framework on political theology. It then turns to Iran’s involvement and its proxies in the 2023 Gaza crisis, demonstrating how Hezbollah, the Houthis, and Iraqi Shīʿī militias operationalize Tehran’s discourse of resistance. The third section examines the responses of Sunnī leadership and Islamist movements, contrasting Arab states’ diplomatic pragmatism with the diverse stances of Islamist groups. The fourth section interrogates whether Tehran’s backing of Hamas and Islamic Jihad stems from genuine solidarity or broader geopolitical ambitions. Finally, the conclusion situates Iran’s role at the intersection of strategic interests and political theology, arguing that its influence cannot be fully understood apart from the theological narratives that sacralize resistance while legitimizing its regional ambitions—an approach characteristic of the modern political theology underpinning Wilāyat al-Faqīh.

2. Theoretical Framework on Political Theology

Political theology—first formulated as a modern concept by the German jurist and political philosopher Carl Schmitt in the 1920s—examines the relationship between theology and politics (Raschke 2018). Although Schmitt’s notion of political theology remains notoriously ambiguous and difficult to define (Godefroy 2025, p. 85), at its core the field posits a close connection between political and theological concepts, suggesting that the former are, in many respects, derived from the latter (Campanini 2011, p. 35). In Islamic political thought, political authority has historically been grounded in explicit theological foundations, particularly within Sunnī traditions, which locate the legitimacy of the caliphate in the community’s duty to appoint a leader who safeguards religion and justice. Shīʿī doctrine, particularly in its Twelver form, conceives legitimate authority as divinely designated through the lineage of Imams, who are regarded as infallible, especially in spiritual and juridical matters.

Within modern Shīʿī thought, Ayatollah Khomeini’s doctrine of Wilāyat al-Faqīh (Guardianship of the Jurist) represents a major reinterpretation of this tradition. While Khomeini revived the political dimension of Shiʿism by asserting that clerics could assume temporal authority in the absence of the Hidden Imam, this view does not represent a historical or theological consensus within Twelver Shiʿism. Scholars such as Mohsen Kadivar argue that the authority of the Imams is primarily spiritual and moral rather than political (cited in Sayyed Al-Sayyad and Alwadai 2021, p. 7). Similarly, Arjomand (1984, pp. 55–62) maintains that Shiʿi authority evolved toward a juridical and devotional orientation, emphasizing the cleric’s interpretive rather than executive role. Prominent non-Khomeinist figures—including Grand Ayatollah ʿAlī al-Sīstānī, Sayyid Ṣādiq Ḥusaynī al-Shīrāzī, and Muḥammad al-Badr—uphold the religious authority of the ʿulamāʾ while rejecting the direct political involvement of the clergy (Brunner and Ende 2001, pp. 23–27; Louër 2008, pp. 41–45). Collectively, these perspectives reveal that Khomeinism constitutes a distinct, activist strand within modern Shīʿī political theology rather than a reflection of its mainstream doctrinal tradition.

Building on these theological distinctions, it is important to situate both Sunnī and Shīʿī conceptions of authority within their broader historical and political contexts. The debates surrounding Wilāyat al-Faqīh and clerical authority, for instance, reflect enduring questions about what constitutes legitimate rule in Islam. Given the complexity surrounding the concept of an Islamic state, the Sunnī caliphate and the Shīʿī Imamate stand as two distinct historical institutions that have shaped and reflected the divergent identities of Sunnī and Shīʿī political thought. As Talal Asad reminds us, however, what we call religion and what we call politics are modern categories constructed through a history of power relations rather than timeless essences (Asad 2003, p. 200). In this light, as Ruston argues, “theology can no longer proceed without a close examination of the role that it has played in the past and even now plays in the political determinants of human life” (Ruston 1980, p. 304). This observation is crucial for political theology, as it underscores that Sunnī and Shīʿī models of authority are not static legacies but historically situated frameworks continually reinterpreted in response to shifting contexts of power. These contrasting models of governance emerged as responses to the political crisis following the death of the Prophet Muhammad in 632 CE. In this regard, Dabashi (2011) highlights this historical split as follows:

After the Prophet’s death communal councils selected Abu Bakr (632–634), Umar (634–644), Uthman (644–656), and then Ali (656–661), thereby establishing the caliphate accepted by the majority of Muslims. A smaller but vocal minority contested this consensus, developing a theology that leadership is divinely ordained—as they read the Prophet’s pronouncements at Ghadir Khumm1—and maintaining that Ali was the rightful successor (pp. 59–60).

These succession disputes entrenched in Shīʿism a collective memory of resisting what it viewed as illegitimate authority, fostering a self-image rooted in protest. This legacy evolved into a distinct political theology that frames opposition—and, when necessary, revolution—as sacred duties in the struggle for justice.

Yet, as Hashemi and Postel (2017) argue in their sectarianization thesis, invoking the seventh-century schism to explain present-day conflicts distorts the realities of Middle Eastern politics. Sectarianism, they contend, is not a primordial or timeless hatred but a political process shaped by authoritarian regimes and regional rivalries that instrumentalize sectarian identities for strategic ends (pp. 2–4). Sectarian conflict, therefore, reflects less immutable theology than the political manipulation of religious symbols to preserve power. This ethos—reinterpreted under modern conditions—was central to the leaders of the 1979 Iranian Revolution, who recast historical narratives of martyrdom and resistance into a revolutionary ideology that they sought to export to Sunnī populations perceived as oppressed by their own regimes. Within this framework, Wilāyat al-Faqīh emerged as both a modern political doctrine and an institutional mechanism to ensure governance aligned with Shīʿī principles of justice and resistance.

Following the victory of the Iranian Revolution, its leader, Ayatollah Khomeini (d. 1989), incorporated his doctrine of “the guardianship of the jurist”—formulated in the late 1960s and early 1970s—into the state’s constitutional framework (Akbar 2023, p. 302). As a political theory, Wilāyat al-Faqīh vests ultimate authority in a qualified Islamic jurist to govern in accordance with divine law, in contrast to Western political theory, which grounds legitimacy in popular sovereignty rather than religious mandate. As Sayyed Al-Sayyad and Alwadai (2021) note, whereas Western political legitimacy may draw on tradition, social consensus, and legal authority, Shīʿī political thought—particularly in its Wilāyat al-Faqīh form—derives legitimacy solely from religious texts. The interpretation of these texts is entrusted to clerics and jurists trained in this field (p. 8). This framework not only structures the Iranian state’s internal governance but also informs its foreign policy, providing both the theological rationale and political motivation for involvement in conflicts such as the 2023 Gaza war, where support is framed as a broader sacred duty to resist oppression.

For some scholars, the ideological use of Shīʿī martyrdom in Khomeinist discourse—particularly the association of Imam Ḥusayn’s sacrifice at Karbalāʾ with modern revolutionary struggles—reflects a symbolic and political reinterpretation rather than a purely historical continuity. The elevation of martyrdom as a revolutionary ideal during the Iran–Iraq War, for instance, served to mobilize nationalist sentiment and religious duty, though this linkage remained largely rhetorical. As the following scholars have argued, the Khomeinist reappropriation of martyrdom functions primarily as an ideological instrument rather than a theological necessity (Keddie 1981, pp. 229–32; Dabashi 1993, pp. 112–18; Mervin 2010, pp. 107–11). The invocation of Ḥusayn’s martyrdom within Khomeinist ideology thus reveals not a straightforward continuation of historical religious practice, but a deliberate instrumentalization of sacred memory to galvanize political allegiance and shape collective identity.

3. The Involvement of Iran and Its Proxies in the 2023 Gaza Crisis

Iran’s pronounced presence in the current regional conflict—particularly in Gaza—manifests both through indirect involvement via the “Axis of Resistance” (comprising Lebanon’s Hizbullah, Yemen’s Houthis, and Iraq’s Shīʿī militias) and through direct military engagement, as exemplified by the 2025 twelve-day war with Israel. Following 7 October, Tehran called on resistance leaders to coordinate their support for the Gaza front, emphasizing that in addition to southern Lebanon and Iraq alleviating pressure on Gaza by diverting Israeli military efforts, the opening of the Red Sea front has significantly disrupted global maritime traffic en route to Israel (Al-Ḥāʾī 2024); an involvement that underscores Tehran’s self-proclaimed role as a defender against oppression, which it frames as embodied by Western imperial projects and Israel. Matthiesen (2024) affirms that Hamas’s most prominent regional supporters have been Shīʿa Islamist groups, notably Hizbullah, the Houthis, and factions of the Islamic Resistance in Iraq. These groups have engaged militarily in support of Gaza, framing their actions as moral, humanitarian, and religious obligations to defend the oppressed under the ideological banner of Wilāyat al-Faqīh—a pledge of allegiance to Iran’s religious leadership. Although the majority of attacks were carried out by Shīʿa Islamist factions, not all such movements participated; more nationally oriented groups that reject the Wilāyat al-Faqīh doctrine—such as Iraq’s Daʿwa Party and the Sadrist movement—refrained from armed involvement… Those that did engage were predominantly wilāyī (adherents to Wilāyat al-Faqīh), highlighting the centrality of ideological allegiance in shaping participation (Gunning and Valbjørn 2025, p. 388). This ideological alignment became especially apparent in the immediate aftermath of the 7 October attacks, as wilāyī Shīʿa groups rapidly mobilized to provide direct, coordinated armed support to Hamas, situating their actions within a unified framework of resistance endorsed by Tehran.

For decades, Hezbollah has stood at the forefront of Iran’s Axis of Resistance, with its military and political influence in Lebanon serving as a strategic extension of Tehran’s regional ambitions. Although not involved in the planning of the 7 October 2023 attack, Hezbollah swiftly mobilized along Lebanon’s southern border to exert pressure on Israel and express solidarity with Gaza. On 8 October, it launched missile strikes targeting the occupied Shebaa Farms, both as a demonstration of support for the Palestinians and as a calculated attempt to capitalize on Israel’s preoccupation with Gaza (Saban 2024). In a televised speech in 2023 following Hamas’s attack—and after praising the Palestinians for their bravery, along with the support of other members of the Axis of Resistance in Iraq, Yemen, and Iran—Ḥasan Naṣrallāh asserted that the war with the Zionist state is existential, legitimate, moral, and humanitarian. He argued that the Palestinians have endured oppression and injustice at the hands of their oppressors for more than seventy-five years. Therefore, he maintained, this war is aimed at ending the injustice (Alaraby TV News 2023). Following over a year of hostilities marked by casualties, widespread destruction, displacement, and significant economic repercussions, a ceasefire agreement between Hezbollah and Israel came into effect on 27 November 2024 (Reuters 2024).

Yet, even as hostilities apparently subsided with the November 2024 ceasefire, the political and ideological battle over Hezbollah’s future persisted, particularly regarding its weapons and its self-styled role as the guardian of resistance. In response to the Lebanese government’s approval to disarm Hezbollah, Sheikh Naim Qassem affirmed that “the resistance will not surrender its weapons, and we will engage in a Karbalāʾ-like battle if necessary” (Alaraby TV News 2025a), invoking a central symbol of Shī‘ī martyrdom and divine struggle. This invocation of Karbalāʾ—where Imam Ḥusayn stood against tyranny despite overwhelming odds—reinforces Hezbollah’s theological framing of resistance as not merely political but sacred, positioning armed struggle as a religious obligation to uphold justice. Together, Naṣrallāh’s and Qāsim’s statements illustrate how the group situates geopolitical confrontation within a Shīʿī political theology that sacralizes resistance as a moral, historical, and eschatological duty, thereby mirroring Khamenei’s modern political discourse grounded in Shīʿī historical narratives.

In parallel, the Houthis in Yemen—another central actor in Iran’s Axis of Resistance—demonstrated their support for Gaza by launching several ballistic missiles and drones toward Israel and targeting ships bound for Israeli ports in the Red Sea. These actions were framed by the group as both a strategic measure to disrupt Israeli supply lines and a moral duty to confront what they describe as systemic injustice and oppression against the Palestinian people. Houthis promised not to stop the attacks on Israel and its interests in the Red Sea until the genocide in Gaza stops. Amid Israel’s ongoing killing and starvation of Palestinians, Houthis promised to intensify their attacks on inside Israel and any ships dealing with it in the Red Sea. Yemen’s Houthis announced that they would target merchant ships belonging to any company doing business with Israeli ports, regardless of nationality. They framed this escalation as a new phase of their operations against Israel and as an expression of solidarity with the Palestinian people. Gambrell (2025) confirms that over the past two years, Houthis’ attacks have significantly disrupted shipping in the Red Sea, a vital trade route through which an estimated $1 trillion worth of goods passes annually.

Unlike Hezbollah, which signed a ceasefire agreement with Israel in 2024, the Houthis have refused to do so until the ongoing genocide ends. Their only ceasefire agreement was with the United States, in which they pledged to stop targeting U.S. vessels in the Red Sea and the Bab al-Mandab Strait—explicitly excluding Israel from the deal. In response to why the Houthis decided to close the Red Sea, Yahya Saree stated: “We only closed it for the sake of supporting our brothers and sisters in Palestine, as we did not take this decision even during our own war that lasted nine years” (Aljazeera 2023). He was referring to the protracted conflict involving Saudi Arabia and its coalition, including the UAE, Bahrain, Egypt, Sudan, and others. This statement underscores the Houthis’ prioritization of the Palestinian cause in their broader struggle to confront tyranny, affirming their commitment to continue their resistance until Israel ends what they regard as a genocidal campaign in Gaza, as reflected in their political theology as Zaydi Shīʿīs2. This tradition emphasizes standing against oppressive rulers, rooted in their revolutionary heritage dating back to Imām Zayd ibn ʿAlī ibn al-Ḥusayn ibn ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib’s uprising against the Umayyad caliph Hishām ibn ʿAbd al-Malik in the 8th century.

Alongside Hezbollah and the Houthis, several Iraqi Shī‘ī armed factions have declared their readiness to escalate militarily in support of Gaza, portraying themselves as part of a united “Axis of Resistance” against Israel and its biggest ally, the United States. As of 25 April 2024, the self-proclaimed Islamic Resistance in Iraq (IRI) has reportedly carried out at least 65 attacks targeting Israel and 155 against US interests in Syria and Iraq (Knights and Malik 2024). Despite its name implying a cohesive organization, the IRI (Islamic Resistance of Iraq) functions more as an overarching entity that unites various Shi‘a state-aligned and non-aligned Islamist factions operating under a shared banner (Rudolf 2025, p. 428). The IRI is a vanguard group of armed actors operating in Iraq and Syria. Despite being closely aligned with Iran, it at times acts in its own interests and with its own agency (Salhani 2024). The “Islamic Resistance in Iraq” emerged after Israel’s 7 October 2023 assault on Gaza, aiming to support the Palestinian resistance. It is part of the Iran-backed “Axis of Resistance”, a coalition of armed groups in Lebanon, Iraq, Syria, and Yemen that opposes U.S. and Israeli influence in the region (Aljazeera 2024). Through the IRI and similar proxy groups, Iran has extended its strategic depth, transforming localized conflicts like Gaza into theatres of regional confrontation. These proxy militias serve Tehran’s long-term strategy of leveraging indirect alliances to deter adversaries, project power beyond its borders, and gradually erode U.S. and Israeli influence across the Middle East.

For the Axis of Resistance, support for Gaza serves a dual purpose: it is both religious praxis and strategic messaging. Hezbollah’s coordinated strikes, the Houthis’ disruption of global trade routes, and Iraqi Shī‘ī militias’ persistent attacks on U.S. and Israeli targets collectively demonstrate that resistance is not just a political choice but a religious obligation. This framing allows these groups to blur the distinction between spiritual piety and military engagement, casting their interventions as acts of worship as much as warfare. Through this lens, Gaza becomes not only a site of suffering but a proving ground for faith, resolve, and ideological purity. Moreover, their sustained military campaigns send a regional message: resistance is alive, morally justified, and transnationally coordinated. In elevating the Palestinian struggle to a matter of divine justice, the Axis reasserts its moral authority within the Islamic world, challenging what it sees as the illegitimacy of Western-aligned Sunnī regimes and positioning itself as the true defender of the oppressed. As resistance factions intensified their campaigns, the line between proxy warfare and direct confrontation blurred—culminating in Iran’s overt involvement following Israel’s initiation of the 12-day war in mid-June 2025, purporting that the strikes were targeting Iran’s nuclear infrastructure.

Israel’s strike on Iranian territory, framed as a pre-emptive measure against nuclear proliferation, constituted a breach of Iran’s sovereignty and prompted a swift Iranian retaliation, with drones and ballistic missiles targeting the heart of Tel Aviv. From Tehran’s perspective, the attack provided both legal and moral grounds to invoke the right to self-defense under Article 51 of the UN Charter. By responding militarily, Iran not only reasserted its deterrent posture but also sought to legitimize its actions as a necessary defense against external aggression, bringing it into direct conflict with Israel. Beyond these strategic and legal considerations, Iran’s foreign policy is also shaped by religious motivations. Central to Twelver Shiʿism is the establishment of justice for the oppressed, a principle that informs both domestic and regional policy. This theological worldview includes the eschatological belief in the return of the Twelfth Imam, al-Mahdi, who is expected to appear at the end of time to fill the earth with justice. As Zein (2025) observes, while both Sunnīs and Shīʿīs believe in the Mahdi’s return, Shīʿism uniquely emphasizes the necessity of preparing for his emergence through the development of military strength—a principle clearly reflected in Iran’s regional and military policies. Supreme Leader ʿAli Khamenei has explicitly affirmed this ideological stance, calling for active efforts to establish the Mahdi’s future just state.

This theological lens frames contemporary conflicts as part of a cosmic struggle between justice and evil. The Mahdi—the final successor of the Prophet Muhammad—is expected to defeat the forces of evil, and in modern Iranian political theology, Israel is portrayed as the embodiment of that evil (UOJ 2025). The United States is considered the primary source of global injustice, with Israel functioning as its proxy to suppress resistance in the region—an outlook prominently featured in slogans such as “Death to America”, which resonate deeply in Iranian political discourse and public demonstrations. According to Azizi and Veen (2023), Iranian political elites strategically invoke the Palestinian cause to reinforce their narrative of resistance against Zionism and colonialism. This serves both a moral-theological purpose and a geopolitical function: asserting Iran’s regional leadership and securing regime survival under the banner of anti-imperialism. As Shahidsaless (2023) emphasizes, Iran also seeks to maintain its image as the leading external force defending the Palestinian struggle—particularly in light of the continued devastation in Gaza.

The coordinated military actions of Hezbollah, the Houthis, and Iraqi Shi‘i militias reflect not only religious and ideological commitments but also Tehran’s calculated strategy of leveraging nonstate proxies to project power across the region. Iran’s interventions in Iraq and Syria demonstrate a similar pattern: while presenting itself as a champion of Muslim unity against U.S. influence—a core element of its outreach since 1979—Tehran has systematically used anti-American militant proxies to advance its strategic goals. Following largely unsuccessful efforts to engage the broader Islamic world, Iran has, since the Arab Spring protests of 2011, focused on expanding and consolidating the Shi‘i nonstate proxy model, which has proven largely effective. Unless the costs outweigh the benefits, this proxy-centered approach is likely to remain a cornerstone of Tehran’s regional policy under the decisive guidance of Supreme Leader ʿAli Khamenei (Vatanka 2018, pp. 1–20). As a result, Sunni leaders increasingly perceive Iran itself—not merely its proxies—as the primary strategic threat in the region.

4. Responses of Sunnī Leadership and Islamist Movements

While Iran and its proxies openly embrace armed resistance, many Sunnī-led governments have increasingly favored diplomatic engagement, often aligning with U.S.-Israeli interests and distancing themselves from direct confrontation over the Palestinian cause. As noted in the introduction, Sunnī leadership and Islamist movements historically engaged in armed struggle as a central religious and political duty in defending Palestine, elevating it as their primary cause. Over time, however, this stance shifted, influenced not by changing religious interpretations but by external pressures, including alliances with the United States and the imperative to maintain regional security and economic ties. Deena (2025) illustrates this position of Sunnī leadership as follows:

Palestinian resistance is portrayed as a threat to Arab political, security, and economic ties with Israel, providing Arab regimes a pretext to suppress dissent. Political institutions—from parties to parliaments—have been hollowed out, while laws, media, and state policies criminalize solidarity with Palestinians. Popular protests are weakened, and grassroots movements struggle to mobilize beyond state restrictions. Western aid, linked to Arab–Israeli relations, frames Palestinian support as “terrorism”. Fundamentally, the problem is regime legitimacy: governments dependent on foreign backing are constrained, while those rooted in popular support act in line with public sentiment.

Once vocal supporters of the Palestinian struggle and militarily opposed to Israel, most Arab states have now shifted their position, framing Hamas as responsible for the crisis in Gaza. This reflects a broader Sunnī leadership strategy: consolidating regional alliances, maintaining legitimacy with Western partners, and countering the influence of Iran-backed groups. Their position extends to calling for Hamas to disarm and relinquish power—an unprecedented move formalized in the 29 July 2025, UN conference declaration. The declaration signals not only a diplomatic break with Hamas but also a strategic recalibration of Sunnī-led states in the region, reaffirming support for a two-state solution—a stance strongly opposed by Benjamin Netanyahu (CNN Arabic 2025). Netanyahu has gone further, declaring in a televised interview with Middle East Eye that he is on a “historical and spiritual mission” to build a Greater Israel—an ambition that, according to him, goes beyond occupying the West Bank and Gaza to seizing large parts of neighboring Arab lands, including Syria, Jordan, Lebanon, Iraq, Egypt, and Saudi Arabia (Middle East Eye 2025). This bold statement underscores his expansionist intentions and disregard for the sovereignty of neighboring states, raising the risk of regional destabilization. Commenting on Netanyahu’s colonial agenda, Mustafa Barghouti, a Palestinian physician and political analyst, described him as the “new Adolf Hitler” who has effectively declared war on many Arab and Muslim states. For Barghouti, such declarations must be taken seriously, and instead of issuing mere condemnations and statements of denunciation, Arab Sunnī leadership should adopt concrete measures such as boycotting Israel and imposing sanctions, since symbolic rhetoric alone cannot deter Israel (Qudsuna 2025). This shift in the Arab Sunnī states’ position is therefore deeply questionable, as it marks a sharp reversal from their longstanding support for Palestinian resistance to a stance that blames Hamas while failing to confront Israel in any serious way.

As Sunnī leadership shifted toward diplomacy and disengagement, Sunnī Islamist movements responded in diverse ways, reflecting contrasting perceptions of the Gaza crisis. According to Gunning and Valbjørn (2025), their responses ranged from condemning Israel’s actions to calling for its eradication. Some groups, such as al-Jama‘a al-Islamiyya and Jordan’s Muslim Brotherhood, endorsed the 7 October attacks and praised Hamas as legitimate resistance. Others, including many Salafis, offered only qualified support, framing the conflict as defensive jihad without explicitly backing Hamas. Al-Qaeda celebrated the attacks as part of a global jihad but refrained from praising Hamas, while the Islamic State (IS) denounced Hamas outright, branding it an “apostate movement” aligned with the “Iranian axis” and urging instead that Jews be attacked worldwide (Bunzel 2023). In contrast, certain Islamist actors and ordinary citizens limited their engagement to non-violent activism, most notably boycotts and protests organized with both Islamist and non-Islamist groups in Morocco and across many Arab states (El Atti 2023; The New Arab 2023).

5. Iran’s Support at a Crossroads

Official Iranian financial, military, and technical support for the Palestinian resistance movements—Hamas and Islamic Jihad—began in 1992. This support became evident during the 2006 conflict between Israel and Hamas, when Hamas, having been democratically elected to lead the government in the Gaza Strip that same year, emerged as a key actor. Iran’s backing has since intensified, becoming even more visible in the current Gaza crisis, particularly as Iran and its entire “Axis of Resistance” have been militarily engaged for almost two years since the outbreak of the conflict on 7 October 2023. This full and “unconditional” support raises critical questions about what strategic benefits Iran derives from it and how genuine such support truly is—especially given Iran’s and Hezbollah’s roles in Iraq and the Syrian civil war, where they sided with Bashar al-Assad, a dictator under whose regime significant Sunnī Arab blood was shed. Iran’s involvement in global conflicts, such as its military and technical support for Russia in the Ukrainian war, further illustrates the Islamic Republic’s readiness to back allies beyond the Middle East when it aligns with its strategic interests, inviting political observers to investigate how genuine Iran’s foreign policy is in supporting the oppressed.

Khaled Mashal, Hamas’s political leader from 1996 to 2017, illustrates Iran’s motives in supporting the Palestinian resistance. He explains: “First, when Iran supports Hamas, the well-known Sunnī resistance movement, it helps Iran polish its image among the Arab and Muslim population, the majority of whom are Sunnī. Second, Iran sends a message to the West that its relationship with Hamas is strong, and that whatever you want from Palestine, we ready to support its cause” (Abou 2024). Likewise, Saleh al-Arouri, a senior Hamas leader, commented on Iran’s role, contrasting it with Arab governments that, in his words, “support and conspire with Israel”. He emphasized that Iran, together with Hezbollah, stood with the resistance against the Zionist entity. Hamas, he insisted, “is not and will not be against the peoples’ aspirations for freedom”, but instead calls for support of any efforts that strengthen resistance to the Zionist project (Aljazeera 2018). Yet, Iran’s backing is not entirely unconditional; it is shaped by strategic calculations tied to its broader regional ambitions, as will be discussed presently.

The official statements made by Hamas’s leadership sparked controversial arguments on Iran’s support for Hamas and the Islamic Jihad Movements. Palestinian Islamist writer Yasser al-Zaatreh argued that “excessively praising Iran is highly offensive to the Muslim ummah”, calling such speech unwise despite Hamas’s difficult situation under siege. Beyond Palestinian circles, Kuwaiti politician Walid al-Tabtabaei denounced “praising the criminal state of Iran”, likening Tehran and Israel to “two sides of the same coin”, while still affirming that the entire Muslim ummah fully supports Hamas’s struggle (as cited in Sabri 2018). In questioning Iran’s genuine support for the Palestinian cause, Al-Faqih (2021) answers as follows:

Iran’s support for the Palestinian resistance cannot be explained as simple concern for Islamic causes. Its regional actions often contradict such claims: pursuing a “Shi‘i crescent” in the Arab world, backing loyal groups that serve the Wilāyat al-Faqīh, facilitating the U.S. occupation of Iraq, propping up Assad in Syria, building Hezbollah as its arm in Lebanon, fueling the Yemen war through the Houthis, and even cooperating with the U.S. in Afghanistan. Moreover, Iran occupies Ahvaz and three Emirati islands and aligns with Armenia against Muslim Azerbaijan. These actions suggest its support for the resistance is driven by strategic ambitions, not genuine solidarity with the ummah.

Al-Faqih (2021) further emphasizes that Iran’s revolutionary leadership mastered the art of using slogans and icons as tools of mobilization. Central to this strategy was the appropriation of the Palestinian cause, framed as part of the global fight against Western dominance. Khomeini’s establishment of “Quds Day” in 1979 further amplified Iran’s influence, projecting its revolution as a model for Islamist actors and liberation groups opposing pro-American dictatorships.

For observers of Iran’s foreign policy, although Tehran presents its support for Hamas and Islamic Jihad as an expression of solidarity with the Palestinian cause, evidence indicates that this backing serves broader geopolitical objectives rather than purely ideological or religious commitments. By instrumentalizing the Palestinian struggle through symbolic rhetoric and strategic alliances, Iran expands its regional influence, challenges rival Arab regimes, and consolidates its image as the leader of the “Axis of Resistance”. Yet, persistent skepticism among these observers highlights the contradiction between Iran’s proclaimed defense of the Palestinian cause and its wider, often controversial, involvement in regional conflicts. Still, while Shīʿism underpins Iran’s political theology, there is no evidence of any organized attempt to convert Palestinians. Instead, Tehran’s outreach to Hamas and Islamic Jihad remains primarily strategic and political rather than proselytizing, as such efforts would almost certainly be rejected by Sunni resistance movements.

6. Conclusions

Iran’s growing prominence in the current Palestinian crisis illustrates a fundamental shift in the religious and political landscape of the Muslim world. Whereas Sunnī Arab regimes historically claimed leadership of the Palestinian cause, their gradual retreat—accelerated by normalization with Israel—has left a vacuum that Iran has actively filled. Through financial, military, and rhetorical support for Hamas and Islamic Jihad, Tehran has successfully positioned itself as the principal patron of the Palestinian resistance. Yet, this support is not without controversy: while it bolsters Iran’s regional influence and consolidates its image as the leader of the “Axis of Resistance”, skepticism persists across the Arab world, where many continue to view its interventions as opportunistic and self-serving.

At the same time, reducing Iran’s involvement to geopolitical opportunism would obscure the deeper currents that animate its foreign policy. As this article has shown, Shīʿī political theology—rooted in narratives of martyrdom, protest, resistance to illegitimate authority, and the moral duty to defend the oppressed—provides the conceptual framework through which Tehran legitimizes its role in Palestine and beyond, even as these narratives are instrumentalized by modern Khomeinist policy. From Khomeini’s institutionalization of “Quds Day” in 1979 to the contemporary discourse of leaders such as Ḥasan Naṣrallāh, Yahya Sinwar, and the rest, Iran has consistently fused sacred memory with political action. This fusion underscores that Tehran’s engagement with the Palestinian cause is not simply instrumental but also embedded in a theological worldview that sacralizes resistance and frames it as a religious duty.

Taken together, these dynamics highlight the dual nature of Iran’s role: simultaneously strategic and theological, pragmatic and ideological. Its political theology enables Tehran to project its influence beyond national interests, positioning itself as a moral authority in the Muslim world despite contested legitimacy. The Palestinian crisis has revealed the shifting dynamics between Sunnī and Shīʿī actors in the Muslim world, revealing how Iran has positioned itself as the principal defender of the Islamic cause while many Sunnī regimes, through normalization or political disengagement, appear to have abdicated this role.