A creative reflection on the European resistance to Islamic symbols, particularly minarets, and its implications on cultural identity and inclusivity. This letter explores the historical and contemporary challenges faced by visibly Muslims in Cyprus and across Europe, urging for a future where religious symbols are embraced as part of a shared humanity
Reflection on personal experience in Cyprus. Topic inspired by article by T.H. Green.
Reference:
Green, T. H. (2010). The resistance to minarets in Europe. Journal of Church and State, 52(4), 619-643. doi:10.1093/jcs/csq110
To the European Union,
As I explore the rich history and culture in Cyprus, I find myself reflecting on European attitudes towards Islamic symbols, particularly minarets. The resistance to these structures across Europe is rooted in fear of the permanence of Muslim populations, which raises questions about cultural identity and inclusivity. My time in Cyprus has not only made me question the institutions in place that lead to fear but has also led me to reflect on my identity as a visibly Muslim woman.
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Minarets have been a part of Islamic architecture for centuries, allowing the Muezzin to say the Adhaan, or call to prayer. It is a symbol of the Muslim community’s presence. Since being in Cyprus, we have learned about the Turkish occupation, and how the Ottomans came to Cyprus and converted several churches to mosques. Some key examples can be the Djami Kebir in Paphos, and the Arablar & Omeriye Mosques in Lefkosia. However, many of these mosques are now abandoned, as there are too few muslims in the area to utilize it. The minarets tell a complex story of cultural and religious transformation, and I find myself wondering how we can honor this history while fostering respect and understanding.
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Across Europe, the banning or limitation of the construction of new minarets reflects a deeper anxiety about the permanence of muslim communities. This fear manifests in policies that marginalize muslims and hinder their ability to construct religious structures that reflect their culture, often making adjustments to fit modern architecture and not become obvious.
As a visibly Muslim woman who wears the hijab, I wonder what my presence means to the people of Cyprus, or across the European Union in general. Walking through streets where abandoned mosques stand as witnesses to a divide, I wonder whether I invoke fear in others. Does my outward expression of faith make others uncomfortable, as do the minarets?
Article 2 of The Constitution of the Republic of Cyprus distinctly defines and separates Christians and Muslims. Rather than promoting harmony, the two communities are defined and outlined by culture and religion. It states, “the Greek Community comprises all citizens of the Republic who are of Greek origin and whose mother tongue is Greek or who share the Greek cultural traditions or who are members of the Greek-Orthodox Church” and, “the Turkish Community comprises all citizens of the Republic who are of Turkish origin and whose mother tongue is Turkish or who share the Turkish cultural traditions or who are Moslems.”
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The legacy of colonial powers in Cyprus is evident in these divides. Colonial rule worsened or intentionally created divisions to maintain control and exploit people across the world, as can be seen in the case of Cyprus with British rule. This strategy mirrors the British partition of India and Pakistan, where drawing borders and separating on the basis of religion created lasting conflict between previously coexisting communities.
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As I walk through the streets of Lefkosia I see reminders of the colonial divide-and-rule strategy, and the conflict it has created across the world, not just in Cyprus. I see graffiti on walls stating, “FREE GAZA’ and stickers posted on poles with ‘Free Palestine” on them. Colonial powers made promises to Jewish and Arab communities in Palestine, fueling the conflict that can be seen today. The ongoing destruction and genocide are a reminder of how colonists can create fear and hate between communities, allowing for easier exploitation. Examples of this can be seen around the world for those who keep their eyes open.
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There are examples of peace that people choose to ignore as they are captivated by fear and hate for other religions. When I visited Persiterona, a small village near the Trodos Mountains where Christians and Muslims once lived together, my eyes were opened to what could be possible for the world. Communities can live together peacefully, especially on a small scale. But, when broader political powers come into play, larger divides can foster fear and hostility. We can learn lessons from past examples of coexistence. I wonder if these examples can heal larger societal divides.
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The resistance to minarets is more than an architectural issue, or a political one as far-right individuals argue. It reflects societal prejudice put into place by colonial powers. The European Union has potential to create a more inclusive and respectful society. Cyprus has historical examples of interfaith coexistence. As I reflect on the history of Cyprus and my own identity, I hope for a future where religious symbols are not seen as a threat, but as a symbol of shared humanity. I hope for a day when people are not arbitrarily separated and where citizens are not brainwashed into believing that religious and ethnic cleansing are strides towards peace.
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