jordan pulse -

​By Dr. Laith Abdullah Al-Qahwiw
​Karak did not need a tragedy to remind us that it dwells in the heart of Jordan, nor did Jordanians need the shedding of innocent blood to discover that what binds them is deeper than their differences. Yet when the hand of terrorism reaches out to people gathered to bid farewell to a loved one, turning a moment of mercy and peace into a catastrophe, the wound does not strike the victims' families alone; it touches the entire national conscience. What took place at St. George’s Church in Humud is not merely a news report that fades when bulletins end, but a heavy human sorrow and an event that demands a deeper reflection on what we seek to protect in Jordan, and what we must prepare for in a future where the nature and boundaries of threats are shifting.
​In Karak, the victims were no strangers to anyone. They were children of a shared land, history, and memory—people with unfulfilled dreams, homes that will never be the same, and loved ones whose absence will forever surpass the power of words to comfort. When we lose a Jordanian, we do not lose an individual from a specific social or religious component; we lose a part of ourselves. The Jordanian Christian is not a guest in their homeland, nor do they require a certificate of acceptance from anyone. They are an authentic partner in its history, identity, and destiny. This is not merely a slogan of solidarity in an hour of grief, but a national truth that must never be subject to compromise or testing.
​However, true loyalty to the victims demands that we do not reduce the catastrophe to expressions of condemnation, however sincere they may be. Terrorism, in its broader implications, does not target human life alone; it attempts to strike our sense of security and trust in society, turning differences into fear, fear into isolation, and isolation into a fracture in the national fabric. Therefore, the most dangerous consequence following such a crime is for it to succeed in generating impacts far beyond its direct victims, or to push society into doubting itself rather than examining the roots of its strength and vulnerabilities.
​Reading what happened requires distinguishing between three distinct levels: a crime that warrants uncovering and prosecuting its perpetrators, an extremist ideological environment that demands confrontation and prevention, and a volatile regional landscape that requires vigilance and foresight. We must not confuse these levels or assume organizational or regional connections that investigations have not established. Sound strategic analysis is not built on inflating possibilities, but on understanding them and preparing for them without turning them into pre-established facts.
​Violent extremism has evolved into a challenge that transcends the traditional image of organizations with clear hierarchies. We now face risks related to lone-wolf radicalization, digital incitement, cross-border networks, and the potential presence of sleeper cells or individuals who adopt takfiri ideology without apparent organizational ties. These possibilities must remain part of ongoing security and strategic assessments, rather than being used to interpret a specific crime before evidence is complete. What is required is not to stoke fear of an unknown enemy, but to develop our national capacity to understand changing threat patterns and distinguish between genuine indicators and perceptions driven by shock.
​At the regional level, contemplating Jordan’s future security cannot be separated from an environment intertwined with conflicts, political shifts, and protracted crises, where extremist ideas increasingly cross borders via the digital space. Not every regional disturbance is a direct source of internal threat, but ignoring the potential for transferred incitement or the reformation of extremist networks would be a failure in proactive planning. Hence, Jordan must maintain a renewed reading of regional risks—one that connects political, security, and social variables, treating the future as a domain for active preparedness rather than passive waiting for surprises.
​As for takfiri ideology, it is far more dangerous than mere extremist rhetoric; it begins by invalidating the legitimacy of difference, strips the other of their right to belonging, and ultimately culminates in justifying assaults on human life. Therefore, confronting it is not solely a security mission, but a battle of awareness, values, and institutions. The school that teaches respect for humanity, the university that protects critical thinking, the religious institution that counters distorted concepts, and the media that rejects incitement all constitute vital lines of societal defense no less important than direct security capabilities.
​Yet intellectual confrontation is ineffective if reduced to general slogans or superficial programs. We need policies that measure their impact rather than the number of activities held; an education system that reinforces genuine equal citizenship rather than merely repeating its vocabulary; and a religious and cultural discourse capable of engaging young people's contemporary questions and challenges rather than simply condemning the aftermath. National resilience is not built by fearing ideas, but by building society's capacity to expose their falsehood and reject the violence they justify.
​Herein lies the responsibility of the state and its institutions in developing a comprehensive concept of national security. Security efficiency is an indispensable necessity, but it becomes sustainable only when integrated with justice, the rule of law, public trust, and preventive policies. National security is not merely the ability to confront danger when it appears, but the capacity to read its transformations, minimize its likelihood, contain its impact, and institutionalize lessons learned. Calls for review must not be interpreted as a presumption of failure, but as the natural commitment of any system striving to enhance its readiness.
​Within this framework, foresight becomes a practical necessity. There is a path where the crime's impact can be contained, societal cohesion reinforced, and lessons translated into preventive policies. There is another path where manifestations of incitement and extremism might persist sporadically, necessitating a review of preventive tools and community communication. The most complex path involves the potential intertwining of regional pressures with shifting forms of extremism, requiring broader institutional and societal readiness. These are not predictions of what will happen, but scenarios that guide responsible reflection on what must be anticipated.
​For this reflection to translate into action, Jordan needs clear national indicators measuring the effectiveness of countering extremism, the prevalence of incitement to violence, levels of societal trust, the impact of citizenship programs, crisis response efficiency, and the implementation of lessons learned. The true value of foresight lies not in predicting every risk—an impossibility—but in building institutions and a society more adaptable when circumstances shift.
​At the heart of all this, national unity remains a daily responsibility rather than an occasional rhetorical exercise. It does not mean denying differences, but ensuring those differences never turn into discrimination, fear, or exclusion. It means not falling silent on difficult questions for the sake of maintaining an appearance of cohesion, but discussing them with confidence and responsibility, affirming that protecting freedom of belief, human dignity, and equal citizenship is core to protecting Jordan itself.
​Above all analysis, we must never lose sight of the primary truth: there are grieving Jordanian families—mothers, fathers, and children—facing an absence that words cannot heal. They do not need their tragedy turned into fodder for competitive national discourse; rather, they need justice that vindicates them, care that supports them, and a public memory that does not abandon them when attention shifts elsewhere. The truest moral standard for any national response is to keep the human being at its center, before calculations, analyses, and headlines.
​Karak has been wounded, but it did not make its pain its own private affair. The Jordan we know was not forged by a uniformity of likeness, but by a unity of destiny; its identity was not shaped by erasing diversity, but by a long history of partnership and belonging. This truth deserves more than words of affirmation today—it deserves policies that protect it, institutions that safeguard it, and generations that believe in it, defending it through awareness, law, and respect for life.
​May God have mercy on the martyrs of Karak, grant their families patience and solace, heal the injured, and protect Jordan and its people from all harm.
​True loyalty to Karak is measured not by the volume of grief we express today, but by the weight of the responsibility we carry tomorrow. Nations do not triumph over terrorism merely by confronting its perpetrators, but by depriving its ideology of the power to tear society apart, by protecting human beings before they become victims, and by preserving the trust that makes citizens feel that the destiny of one is the responsibility of all.
​Karak has wounded the heart of Jordan, but the greater wound would be if this tragedy passed without leaving in our awareness and policies a heightened capacity to protect life. The greatest tribute we can pay to those we lost is not simply to declare that we are one nation, but to make that truth an unshakable guarantee against hatred, fear, and division.
​Source: Rum News Agency