LONDON, 3 October 2005 — London’s Tate Britain decided last week to pull an artwork titled “God is Great” from its latest exhibition. The reason? The artwork might offend Muslims. And quite possibly it might. The artwork, by the British artist John Latham, consists of a large piece of glass into which have been placed pieces of the Qur’an, Talmud and Bible.
As a piece of art, I cannot comment on it. I’ve not seen it, I’ve only seen photographs and what I’ve seen leaves me rather baffled. The artist has described the concept for the artwork as showing that all religions have the same source. Of course he means the People of the Book as we call them, and it is the very books that define us that he has chopped up and displayed artfully in glass.
The concept of Judaism, Christianity and Islam having the same root is neither news, nor is it contentious to Muslims. But is this piece of art offensive to Muslims? As a concept I don’t think so. It does not attack Islam, neither does it portray Muslims in a derogatory manner, nor does it repulse or repel. If anything the idea that the artist is trying to express is laudable.
The problem is in the execution. I do take issue with Holy Scripture being used as raw material for art. God’s words are not paint or clay to be modeled by the artist’s hands. Our Book is sacred and should not be tampered with for the sake of art. Indeed the reason cited by Tate Britain for withdrawing the artwork is that the cutting of the Holy Book could be seen as offensive. I can see their point, but what I find more interesting is why a piece that was created ten years ago and which has been displayed in galleries in London, Oxford and Venice without attracting the attention of the book-burning brigade should now be deemed too offensive to display. And, more crucially, why this piece should be thought of as potentially offensive to Muslims, but not to Christians and Jews?
Somehow there is a pervasive belief that we Muslims are an easily-offended lot whose passions, once roused, can easily turn to violence and rage. It is notable that Tate Britain withdrew the piece not because it had received complaints about it but because it was worried that it might. This was purely a defensive move given the “sensitive” current climate since the terrorist attacks of July 7. And that is what I find worrying though not surprising: The way Muslims have been singled out as potential troublemakers.
You don’t have to go far to find the roots of this belief. There is a vocal Muslim minority who overreact to any hint of offense, underlined by a quiet Muslim majority whose religious sensibilities are easily offended. You have ample evidence of what happens when Muslims rightly or wrongly believe that their religion has been attacked. Link that with the terrorism that has now been associated with our name and you can see why the Tate was worried.
It has become too easy for us to talk hate and consequently easy for us to be feared.
But more fundamentally art is a cultural fault line, and the visual arts in particular. There is an important difference in the role that art plays in society. In Western culture, art is revered sometimes to the point of religion. It is seen as justification in its own right. By contrast in Middle Eastern culture art is not given this exalted role; art is more of a mirror than a process, its role more to illustrate than to challenge.
Similarly while Christian tradition ascribes to art a transcendental role, Islam takes the polar opposite view of seeing religious iconography as idolatry. Consequently we have radically different attitudes to art. The idea of art as a gateway to human development is not one that sits easily with Muslim thinking; we are far more likely to take art at face value. Perhaps that is why we tend to get offended. But are we being oversensitive? Is it not the meaning that matters? Take Latham’s piece. Its meaning is not problematic, it is the means he has used to express his artistic will that is difficult for us to accept. Had he painted a book rather than used a real copy of the Qur’an, no one would have raised an eye-brow.
I don’t like the idea of John Latham taking scissors to a copy of the Qur’an. Nor do I like the Tate pulling out an exhibit simply because it fears a potential Muslim backlash. But what I find most significant about this story is what it represents in terms of how the Muslim voice is perceived in Britain today. Muslim views and feelings have zoomed up to the center of the spotlight, but for all the wrong reasons.
