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"Remember what Amalek did to you,’” he said. “We remember and we fight.” Netanyahu is a secular Jew, but he is also a student of the Bible, often alluding to it in his public statements. Here is the context of that biblical quote, Deuteronomy 25:17–18, which refers to an enemy clan that pursued and murdered the Israelites: “Remember what Amalek did to you on your journey, after you left Egypt—how, undeterred by fear of God, he surprised you on the march, when you were famished and weary, and cut down all the stragglers in your rear.” The Bible then enjoins the Israelites to “blot out the memory of Amalek.”

In the days since, this seemingly straightforward reference to a surprise attack on the innocent and the need to punish its perpetrators has been adduced as evidence of Netanyahu’s genocidal intent. The allegation has appeared in outlets including The New York Times and Mother Jones, as well as in South Africa’s arguments at The Hague. But to make the leap from Netanyahu’s citation to genocidal ambition, all of these accounts conflate the biblical story he cites about Amalek with a completely different one in another book of the Bible that takes place hundreds of years later. The verse from Deuteronomy that the Israeli leader quoted—which is explicitly cited in the official translation of his speech—recounts the time of Moses. Netanyahu’s critics mistakenly source his words to the book of Samuel, in which King Saul is commanded to wipe out every member of Amalek, down to their children and livestock. Tellingly, none of those citing Samuel ever quote the verses from Deuteronomy that Netanyahu actually referenced, which clearly illustrate his intended meaning.

“Speaking Hebrew, he’s comparing Hamas to the nation of Amalek in a passage from the Book of Samuel,” reported Leila Fadel, incorrectly, on NPR. The BBC similarly misattributed the passage in its interview with Defense Secretary Shapps, quoting from Samuel and not Deuteronomy. “Netanyahu urged the soldiers to ‘remember what Amalek has done to you,’” the South African lawyer Tembeka Ngcukaitobi argued in the Hague. “This refers to the biblical command by God to Saul for the retaliatory destruction of an entire group of people known as the Amalekites: ‘Put to death men and women, children and infants, cattle and sheep, camels and donkeys.’” This was not, in fact, what Netanyahu was referring to.

Since ancient times, Amalek has served as Jewish shorthand for a foe that seeks to exterminate the Jewish people. Yad Vashem, Israel’s Holocaust memorial, makes regular reference to “remember what Amalek did to you,” both in its documentation and in its public exhibition. Israel’s previous president invoked Amalek when critiquing remarks made by then-President Jair Bolsonaro of Brazil about the Nazi genocide. Ironically, The Hague’s own Holocaust memorial is called the “Amalek monument,” and its plaque cites the same Hebrew verse as Netanyahu did. Obviously, these allusions to Amalek refer to the Nazis, not their extended families or the entire German people. The collapsing of this traditional Jewish concept into its worst possible interpretation echoes similar misrepresentations of Muslim terminology, such as jihad. Jewish extremists have sometimes cast all Palestinians as Amalek, but that no more defines the term for everyday Jews than the use of “Allahu akbar” by Muslim terrorists like Hamas defines the phrase for everyday Muslims.

Amalek was not the only one of Netanyahu’s basic biblical references to be miscast as malevolent in the current conflict. In late October, the Israeli leader cited a verse from Isaiah at the end of a speech. “This was a biblical reference to God’s protection of the Jewish people,” wrote the Financial Times editor and columnist Edward Luce. “It also served as a dog whistle to Netanyahu’s allies in America’s evangelical movement … Such talk from Israel’s leader and America’s de facto leader of the opposition deprives Hamas of its dark monopoly on theocracy.”

Here is what Netanyahu said: “With deep faith in the justice of our cause and in the eternity of Israel, we will realize the prophecy of Isaiah 60:18—‘Violence shall no more be heard in your land, desolation nor destruction within your borders; but you shall call your walls Salvation, and your gates Praise.’” Anyone familiar with the original Hebrew verse understands that Netanyahu here was not making a messianic pronouncement, but rather a play on words. In one of history’s great ironies, Hamas is the biblical word for “violence.” (This is why Israelis typically pronounce it with a guttural kh, following their modern pronunciation of the biblical word, to the frustration and amusement of Arabic speakers who correctly pronounce the group’s name with a soft h.) Puns are often objectionable, but they are not theocracy.

I’ve written extensively about Netanyahu’s profound failures. He welcomed the far-right into Israel’s government and gave its members titles and ministries. He has regularly refused to rebuke their extremism because he fears losing power. He is the reason Israel is reduced to arguing that it is innocent of genocidal intent, not because its politicians haven’t expressed it, but because those politicians aren’t military decision makers. In other words, Netanyahu is the one who created the context in which banal biblical references could be understood as far-right appeals. But Jewish scripture should not be distorted by journalists or jurists in an erroneous attempt to indict him.

These omissions and misinterpretations are not merely cosmetic: They misled readers, judges, and politicians. None of them should have happened. The good news is that they can be avoided in the future by making sure to check translations at their source; pressing writers to link to primary sources when possible; and placing scriptural citations from any faith into their proper theological and historical context. Certainly, no outlet or activist should be cavalierly accusing people or countries of committing genocide based on thirdhand mistranslations or truncated quotations.

Neutral principles like these can’t resolve the deep moral and political quandaries posed by the Israel-Hamas conflict. They can’t tell readers what to think about its devastation. But they will ensure that whatever conclusions readers draw will be based on facts, not fictions—which is, at root, the purpose of journalism.