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Facing the violence of contemporary terror, many intellectuals have spoken in our present times about a return of political theology and religion in its violent forms. Attention to the concept of martyrdom has reappeared due to an increasing interest in religious conflicts.

What does it mean to be a “martyr” from a political and religious point of view? Does it mean to die for any abstract cause or for one’s faith? Should it be considered a legitimate act to let oneself die in order to bear witness to one’s own “truth”? And what happens when the readiness to die for a cause becomes a political, even violent, weapon? Should we consider the contemporary practice of “killing while being killed” as an example of martyrdom, or should this religiously charged definition be abandoned? And how does research on martyrdom contribute to discussions of political theology?

These have become questions of great interest in the last two decades due to the resurgence of language addressing the concept of “martyrdom” on the political scene and in public media coverage of the terroristic acts that characterized political aggressions and resistance strategies around the world. As a “human weapon” against the security state, the sacrifice of one’s own life for the achievement of political goals has become a frequent strategy in asymmetrical wars and conflicts. In these contexts, some intellectuals have referred to these suicide strategies as acts of “martyrdom”.

The concept of martyrdom is a religious idea that maintains – through its etymology and throughout history – a link to another meaning of the word, namely that of testimony (from the Greek, μαρτυρ, Eng. witness). In Western Christian tradition, the religious figure of the martyr defines an individual who is willing to die to bear witness to his faith. This definition finds its origin in late antiquity. In the memorial texts of early Christian persecutions, the concept was used for the first time to define individuals’ practice of non-violent resistance against a political authority. Christians are described as “martyrs” when confronting death in order to bear witness to the truth of their faith despite the brutal sentences of Rome.

Since late antiquity, the meaning of the concept has changed. During the Crusades, the term described not only practices of non-violent resistance to authority, but also the heroism of Christian soldiers that were willing to die and kill for Christianity and the conquest of the Holy Land (Flori, 2002). In its modern secularized use, martyrdom refers to military heroism and, more generally, forms of self-sacrifice as well as non-violent political resistance (Kantorowicz, 1951). In this secular turn of the definition, “martyrs” became not only figures that were willing to die for a transcendent and religious promise or victory, but also warriors or partisans who died for immanent values like freedom or the fatherland.

In short, martyrdom as a political and religious concept has a problematic double definition. On one hand, a martyr is considered to be a passive victim of violent acts, and on the other, an active, even violent, witness of a transcendent “truth” – someone who is ready to face their own death at the hands of enemies, performing an act of self-sacrifice in order to witness to an abstraction, e.g. to their religious faith, a concept like the nation, or a political idea like democracy.

Facing the problem of defining this concept, many scholars have brought attention to the fact that martyrs are not so much defined as made (Middleton, 2006). As Elizabeth A. Castelli writes: “the designation ‘martyr’ is not an ontological category but a post-event interpretive one” (Castelli, 2006). In fact, martyrs are not primarily defined by their act – an act in which the real intention is only known by the martyr themself and preserved in their inscrutable interiority. Rather, martyrs are produced by the stories and political or religious narratives that are told about them.

From a phenomenological point of view, we could say that martyrdom is a paradoxical phenomenon, an act of public testimony that ends with the destruction of its subject. In order to be a true witness to one’s own death, one must be able to survive it (Derrida, 1998). That’s why martyrdom always involves the intervention of a second witness, a survivor to the death who is a witness of the testimony/martyrdom. And it is based on this second witness’s narrative, and their historical, cultural, political, and religious interpretation, that the martyr will be “made” and defined in his act.

But what has this historical and etymological ambivalence of the concept to do with the study of political theology? Within the debate over the use of “political theology” as a category to describe the process of secularization of theological concepts into modern political ones, there is a less-known debate that has to be read between the lines. This latter debate is centered on the political and theological interpretation of martyrdom, conceived on one hand as an act of resistance against a political enemy and on the other as a non-violent testimony of a transcendent value or truth. Schmitt, Peterson, Benjamin, Kantorowicz, Taubes, and others untangle the paradox of martyrdom in different ways.

Carl Schmitt’s The Concept of the Political (1932) depicts the martyr as a “political” figure, the thesis being that one can be a martyr only if they are part of a religious community that claims to be victimized by a common enemy.  Erik Peterson’s Witness to the Truth (1937) gives a religious interpretation of the figure, which becomes crucial in testifying against the absolute power of the political order. If in one perspective the martyr is conceived as a sort of warrior, even if non-violent, an individual who is part of a community that is in conflict with another, from another perspective, martyrs are interpreted as part of a transcendent eschatological order that is in religious, but not necessarily political, contrast with the powers of this world.

As Jacob Taubes states in The Political Theology of Paul (1987), martyrdom can have an ambivalent political meaning. It is an act of subordination toward the violence of state power, and it introduces a subversion of the political order by referring to a transcendent “truth,” an abstraction that is external to state power itself. In Christian tradition, martyrdom can be linked to both Romans 13 – where Paul argues for submission to governing authorities – and Revelation 13, where John calls for patient endurance and faithfulness against the apocalyptical Beasts that represent political power. The martyr is therefore a disruptive apocalyptical figure that submits themself to the political authorities. In a Nietzschean spirit, we could say that the ambivalent power of the martyr lies in his weakness, his resistance in submission and his victory in defeat.

In Achille Mbembe’s recent book, Necropolitics (2019), which draws on Hegel’s concept of the negative and on Bataille’s concept of “depense,” the contemporary martyr, whose strategy consists in taking the enemy down with himself, is associated as an opposite and complementary figure to the sovereign power. As we see, the figure of the martyr is centrally relevant when we are dealing with problems of political theology and even biopolitics. Interpreted as a warrior or a victim, as a sovereign figure or a saint, the ambivalence of the martyr’s destiny is that their triumph occurs in agony, their victory in the suffering of violent death.

But as stated previously, martyrs are related to the accounts, memories, and narratives that rise after their death. It is not in the act of the martyr that we should untangle the meaning of its “testimony”, but in the powerful political and religious explanations – or even the esthetical representations – that emerge around it. As deep-rooted and very present religious figures in our common language and culture, martyrs are constantly evoked or created when it comes to describe the “sanctity” or heroism of victims. This is why we should continue to interrogate this ambivalent political and religious figure whose death in this world is interpreted as a sign of victory in the next one.

Annotated bibliography

Asad, T., On suicide bombing, Columbia University Press, New York, USA, 2007

Asad presents a deconstruction of the Western idea of Islamic jihadism as the essence of modern terror. It shows how Western liberal Democracies give their justifications for war as a fight against evil using the idea of a “just war”.

Castelli E. A., Martyrdom and Memory, Columbia University Press, New York, USA, 2004

In her book, Elisabeth A. Castelli highlights the fact that martyrs are produced by the stories that are told about them. Using Halbwach’s theory on collective memory, Castelli shows how memorial practices are also used today to render tragic suffering meaningful and redemptive.

Peterson E., Witness to the Truth, in Theological Tractates, Stanford University Press, Stanford, USA, 2011, 151-181

In this text, Erik Peterson gives a theological interpretation of the figure of the Christian martyr as a witness to the truth referring to the Book of Revelation and its political symbolism.

Schmitt C., The Concept of the Political, The University of Chicago Press, Chicago, USA, 2007

The Concept of the Political is a crucial text that, together with Political Theology, defines Schmitt’s concept of the ‘political’. It is centered on the problem of justification for sacrificing oneself for the state.

Taubes J., The Political Theology of Paul, Stanford University Press, Stanford, USA, 2004

This book contains the last lessons held by Jacob Taubes in Heidelberg before his death. It is an original interpretation of Paul’s Letters with a constant attention to the ‘political theology’ of Carl Schmitt and in some passages Erik Peterson’s interpretation of Paul.


Native survivance, in [Gerald] Vizenor’s parlance, is a combination of the words “survival” and “resistance,” and it “creates a sense of presence.” According to him, “The suffix -ance designates a condition, a nature, or a quality that is more than a mere description of survival.”


Where relationality is most productive in critical projects is where it transcends its projects of critique and explores the possibilities—ethical, political, and theological—of its account of subjectivity and community.


Facing the violence of contemporary terror, many intellectuals have spoken in our present times about a return of political theology and religion in its violent forms. Attention to the concept of martyrdom has reappeared due to an increasing interest in religious conflicts.


In autopoiesis, there is no separation between what we do and the particular way in which the world appears to us.


Where state sovereignty as theology would have subjected groups accept their condition with its attending violence and suffering, the micro sovereignty I propose here – not merely as a futuristic idea, but more as a reflection on how subjected groups have dealt with subjection – invites us not to accept that violence and suffering, but to find creative ways out of it through the cracks of Empire.


Abolition is a process of imagining alternatives to the settler colonial, carceral present; it requires modes of kinship and care to replace prisons and policing.

Gratuitous Violence

Signifying a critical homology between the fields of Black studies and political theology, gratuitous violence is an important keyword for interrogating how religio-political concepts can afford unique insights into issues of slavery, race, and the human which continue to inform our world today.  


Asian American literary criticism’s analysis of contemporary orientalisms centered around the figuration of Asian subjectivities reminds political theologians that unconscious (white) fear and fascination with the Orient still guides political and theoretical engagement with the Asian “other.”


Thing as concept can be helpful to elucidate the specific yet ambiguous interaction of the religious and the political. Using recent thingly theoretical work within these two spheres, with an emphasis on body and shape, I will suggest ways through which thing (and things and thingness) both clarifies and challenges that interaction.


Diaspora might be a problem for political progressives for the very reason that it is so alluring. Diaspora promises both freedom and connection: freedom from national borders or the essentialisms of race and language, connection between people who affirm shared memory and heritage.
But heritage is never really free.


If there is one thing that can be said about blackness, it is this: blackness is unruly.

Black Reason

Black reason is propelled by a fantastic imaginary, a changeling animus that aggregates and transmogrifies the desires and fears of whiteness.

Racial Capitalism

The historical and theoretical relationships between race and capitalism are internally contested and in need of further exploration from theologians and scholars of religion.


Sometimes referred to as “population control,” other times “better breeding,” eugenics has been seen as a religious solution to social ills, and sometimes a new religion unto itself.


Gilroy’s “planetary humanism” contributes to political theology by offering more than a critique: in his work, humanism is a starting point, a concept to guide multicultural political projects today.


Official responses to the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic have encouraged us to understand risk in individual terms. They’re wrong: risk is all about interdependence.

Food Sovereignty

Food sovereignty represents a refusal of a globally commodified food system in favor of systems and institutions that support self-sufficient communities.


Doxa is a term used in sociology to contend with belief and orthodoxy without reducing either to behavior or cognition. It explores disposition and embodied belief—the gut sense of the world which is acquired through practice rather than discourse.

Settler Colonialism

I propose Decolonial Settler Theology as a contextual political theology that is uniquely the task of the settler, who must face their own complicity in narratives of ongoing colonization and aim at their undoing.


In an era during which police institutions and ideology are so fundamental to our cultural common-sense, how can theologians and critical theorists challenge this form of power?


This essay takes taboo as a critical term to trace the history of our modern present and as a conceptual companion with which to think through the complex entanglement of the ethical, the theological, and the political.


What is still nascent… is an explicit conversation between political theology and critical theories of affect, particularly in a way that might contribute to constructive projects. The sort of political theology that might emerge from such collaboration would consider how affective regimes intersect with theological constructions or religious performances.


While kinship has traditionally held a vibrant conceptual life in anthropological inquiry, more recent studies on kinship as a form of spiritual relationality have opened up a new space of interdisciplinary exploration for political theology.


The modern state form itself is inextricable from the commandement, not just as an emblem for sovereignty in Schmitt’s sense, but also because the exemplary political form of modernity, the nation-state, has racist and exclusionary tendencies that can be understood as political-theological transfers of monotheistic principles.


That structural violence is always also relational, proximate, and personal is, perhaps, one of the core insights that the concept of mourning brings to the fore for political theology.


The conversation about nature’s personhood and rights is always political, often legal, and sometimes theological. Most importantly, it is a localized conversation about the boundaries of a given community – who is part of the community and who isn’t.


For political theology, we might find ourselves compelled by practices that seek to connect us with our ecologies, our communities, and our relations with ourselves – in ways that are more about humility and provisionality than finding cures or solutions.


Queer, I think, should remain different, differing, dissonant, and plural. It shouldn’t contract or calcify into anything singular or solid.


If theorizations of care are to more directly address the current “crisis of care,” we need not only to prioritize the kinds of embodied, particularized care that care ethics has highlighted in the past, but to explore a wider range of caring relationships and their diverse structures.


A preliminary question for political theology is how to understand the meaning and significance of matter. The response to this question shapes how a political theology does or doesn’t engage political economy and theological tradition.


The triangulation of money, sovereignty, and divinity is a good point of entry to study the mutual constitution of theological and political concepts and the questions about ultimate value and social form that they raise.


Refusal is a strong current resisting the structure of settler colonialism. It crashes, churns, and erodes the death-dealing dams of settler knowing. Its path turns away from the settler’s gaze.


Seva lends itself to easy appropriation across political and religious contexts, while also furnishing mutually intelligible tropes of service, welfare, and social betterment.


Political theology intimately understands that given reality teems with forms of life that remain opaque to us.


Spillers, Cheng, and Halberstam provide us with tools to approach the histories of violence, economics, relationships, desires, and contestation that infuse our experiences with flesh in its multiplicity. Flesh is never neutral.


It is not always possible (or advisable) to separate the “political” from the “religious” or “cultural” in Indigenous contexts. Indeed, all of these are concepts developed by outsiders to describe Indigenous life. Instead, Indigeneity invites scholars of political theology and related fields to consider the relationships between these threads of cultural life.


As we watch the illusion that was Man fall apart, we also see these more-than-human worlds that Man called “animal” disrupting and revealing the cracks and fractures in his own divine intentions.

Temporality I: History

William Apess, like Walter Benjamin a century later, sought to shift the paradigms of society with history and theology as orienting poles for colonial critique. Anticipating Benjamin, Apess looked to those who had been wrecked by the advance of colonialism as the grounding site for historical and political theological inquiry.

Temporality II: Futurity

Both Benjamin and Apess discern that historical narratives are imbricated with notions of futurity, that is, which bodies and polities are allowed to inhabit and thrive within the temporality in which the “not yet” and the “always already” co-constitute each other.


In this short essay, written from my perspective as a Jewish feminist, I draw together a plurality of engagements with natality to engender new conversations in political theology.

Critical Race Theory

CRT is a framework or an approach to understanding the way racism is foundational to systems of judicial, political, social, cultural, religious, and theological power.


[S]ituating demonology more fully in its religious and theological contexts furnishes resources that not only nuance understandings of movements for whom demonization is central, but also recontextualize discussions of core political theological concepts, including sovereignty, power, economy, subjectivity, and freedom.


From Myanmar to Mariupol, from the streets of Memphis to the waves and winds of the Mediterranean Sea: resistance to violence takes many forms. So does political protest against precarity. At which point does the unavoidable vulnerability of the living condition come to expression as political agency? Can such precarious politics constitute or configure an alternative community?

Hunger Strike

“Instead of neatly separating the forms of resistance to biosovereignty into life-affirming struggles and necroresistance and mapping them (and life and death) onto the reform/revolt dichotomy, I suggest that we conceive life and death as relational rather than oppositional categories. For every differentiation and intensification of death creates new possibilities of life; and every differentiation and intensification of life entails experiences of “death” that cannot be reduced to the power of one’s death.”

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