1.1 The Persistence of Materiality
On 26 February 2001, the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan under the leadership of the Taliban issued an edict regarding the destruction of religious images. It noted the presence of multiple âstatues and nonâIslamic shrines located in different partsâ of the emirate. âThese statues have been and remain shrines of unbelievers and these unbelievers continue to worship and respect them. God Almighty is the only real shrine [taghit] and all fake idols should be destroyed.â Thus, the edict concluded: âas ordered by the ulema [the council of religious and legal scholars] and the Supreme Court of the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan all the statues must be destroyed so that no one can worship or respect them in the futureâ. Arguably, the most highâprofile and controversial enactment of the edict was the destruction of the Bamiyan Buddhas. Standing at over 150 ft tall at the foot of the Hindu Kush in the central highlands of Afghanistan, the statues were not only amongst the world's largest figures of the Buddha, but also material evidence of the widespread circulation of Buddhism along the Silk Road, a transcontinental network that connected the Mediterranean with India and China. Built in the fifth century CE in the GrecoâIndian Gandhara style developed by the descendants of Greek artists who came to the region with Alexander the Great, the statues also underscored the key role of materiality in the encounter and crossâfertilization of cultures and religions along the Silk Road. A Taliban spokesperson characterized the efforts to demolish the Bamiyan figures in military terms, almost suggesting that the statues actively resisted the attempts: âOur soldiers are working hard; they are using all available arms against the Buddhas.â After 20 days of trying through various means to weaken the structures, including the use dynamite, antiâaircraft guns, and tank shells, the figures were finally destroyed, along with many smaller statues of Buddha housed at the National Museum in Kabul.
The demolition of the Buddhas brought widespread condemnation, not only from the West but from neighbouring Muslim countries, as well as those with large Buddhist and Hindu populations. The United Nations' General Assembly was âappalledâ by the Taliban's edict and actions and adopted a resolution stating that âthe artifacts being destroyed in Afghanistan, including the Buddhist statues in Bamiyan, belonged to the common heritage of humankind. Their destruction was an act of intolerance that struck at the very basis of civilized coexistence and was contrary to the real spirit of Islamâ. The resolution also âstrongly called upon the Taliban to protect Afghanistan's cultural heritage from all acts of vandalism, damage and theft. It also called upon Member States to help safeguard the unique Buddhist sculptures in Bamiyan, using appropriate technical measures, including, if necessary, their temporary relocation or removal from public viewâ.1
We start the volume with this case not to stress the radical iconoclasm of the Taliban, a strategy that, notwithstanding the UN's General Assembly's assertion that the destruction of the Buddhas âwas contrary to the real spirit of Islamâ, can easily be coâopted by a âclash of civilizationâ geopolitical gaze to portray Islam as not coeval with us, as a barbarian, uncivilized, and intolerant religion driven by a preâmodern traditionalism contrary to modern notions of human rights and universal cultural values. To begin with, the Bamiyan Buddhas and surrounding Buddhist monasteries were attacked before the arrival of Islam by Hephthalites (also known as White Huns), for example, who worshipped Hindu gods, such as Vishnu and Shiva, and Zun, a merging of a local mountain deity and classical Shaivism (Wink 1990, pp. 117â119). Moreover, the giant Buddhas had coâexisted with Islam for centuries, surviving the Mongol, Mughal, and British empires and the Soviet intervention. While there is indeed a proscription in the Qur'an against shirk (the elevation of anyone and anything to Allah's singular preeminent place), Jamal Elias (nd, 14) notes âthat there is no clear islamic [sic] condemnation paralleling the Biblical ban in the second commandment. Qur'anic condemnations are nowhere as explicit, perhaps the clearest being âAnd Abraham said to his father Azar: Do you take idols (aáčŁnÄman) as gods? Indeed I see you and your people in manifest errorââ (6:74).2 Finbarr Flood (2002, p. 652), furthermore, shows that historically Islam is not characterized by âa timeless theology of imagesâ. He points to the waxing and waning of iconoclastic âmomentsâ within Islam in response to socioâpolitical and cultural complexities, a similar dynamic that one can find in other religions, like Christianity during the Byzantine era, the conquest of the Americas, and the Protestant Reformation (see Kolrud and Prusac 2014).
Flood's and Elias's points dovetail with Webb Keane's observation that with its mistrust of institutional and ritual mediation and its emphasis on sola fides and sola scriptura, the Protestant Reformation reinforced an iconoclastic âentextualization of worldâ (2007, p. 68), as part of a âcreed paradigmâ that made the voluntary declaration of faith by the autonomous religious subject the core of authentic religion. âIn the preâReformation era, collective recitation of a creed was often linked to the penitential system that reformers rejected. The reformers instead stressed the sincerity and privacy of the creed. Religious materializations such as rituals, offerings, priesthoods, sacred sites, relics, communities, holy books, and bodily disciplines persisted but usually in a position subordinate to that of statements of beliefâ (p. 75). James Simpson (2010) goes further, arguing that in its professed aim of breaking radically with tradition, of shattering the prejudices and idols that kept humanity from exercising autonomy on the basis of rationality, Western modernity was driven from the outset by a strong iconoclastic impetus. More specifically, the Kantian separation of pure reason (science), practical reason (ethics), and aesthetics (art) into autonomous spheres, each operating with its own âtranscendentalâ principles, a separation at the heart of the Enlightenment and Western secular modernity, had profoundly deâmaterializing effects. For âtranscendentalâ here meant not just principles not derived from revelation (religion), but also that these principles are a priori conditions of human experience, conditions not affected by the contingencies and particularities of embodied existence.
We shall have more to say about the sources of what is, at the very least, a profound ambivalence towards materiality in Western modernity and in the discipline of religious studies, which is, after all, a modern regime of knowledge. But notice here that iconoclasm cannot be unproblematically attributed to the barbarism of the preâmodern religious Other. â[I]conoclasm is not âsomewhere else.â Instead, it lies buried deep within Western modernity, and especially deep with the AngloâAmerican tradition. This tradition insistently and violently repudiates idols and images as dangerous carriers of the old regimeâ (Simpson 2010, pp. 11â12). Thus, we see how French revolutionaries spurred by the universal ideals of fraternity, equality, and solidarity set out not only decapitate the leaders of the ancien rĂ©gime, but also its icons (Gamboni 1977). Comparisons of this sort demonstrate that when it comes to materiality, it is much too simplistic to oppose irrational, iconoclastic tribal religion to a rational, tolerant, and cosmopolitan modernity. While answers may differ widely, from various forms of iconoclasm to the celebration of the âthreatening, yet gloriousâ âpower of the material as materialâ (Bynum 2011, pp. 121â122), the question of materiality is an enduring and vital one across religions and cultures.
Flood argues that at the local level, there has been a far more nuanced management of religious materiality in Islam. The physical obliteration of religious images has been rare. Far more common has been âreâpurposingâ of images in prescribed ways through defacement, decapitation, mutilation, and substitution with âsafeâ depictions such as those of gardens and trees. Thus, to the extent that local and historical resources allow any generalization, âiconoclastic practice in the medieval Islamic world⊠was less an attempt to negate the image than to neutralize itâ (Flood 2002, p. 647). Furthermore, the ââdeanimatingâ [of] existing images by depriving them of a soul (ruh)â (p. 648) involved an implicit...