I have long forgotten the name of the children’s book, which was from our school library, but one of the illustrations is etched into my memory and was revived recently with the controversies swirling around the art exhibit “Kulo” at the Cultural Center of the Philippines, especially the work of Mideo Cruz.
The book was meant to have children emulate Sun Yat Sen, regarded as the father of republican China. It praised Sun Yat Sen’s virtues, with an incident from his youth used to highlight how he fought for his principles.
The year was 1882 and Sun Yat Sen, aged 18 then, had just returned to his home village in Canton after three years in Hawaii living with relatives and studying. In Hawaii, he had apparently been influenced by Protestantism, and wanted to convert. His alarmed relatives sent him back to China before he could be baptized.
Back in his home village, Sun Yat Sen got into trouble when he defaced religious images. It is not clear what exactly he did: one account I read says he broke off the arm of one of the images, a “fertility god,” in an attempt to prove to villagers that the images had no power. The illustration from the book I read as a child was more dramatic, showing Sun Yat Sen destroying what looked like a Buddha—with a devil inside the image.
Iconoclast
Thinking back now, the book in my school library probably came from a Christian religious group, focusing on Sun Yat Sen’s courage to literally smash idolatry. The accounts I read to prepare for my column are more secular, highlighting Sun Yat Sen as the rebel, the man who dared defy tradition. Sun Yat Sen was an iconoclast (someone who questions the sacred symbols of culture) or, literally, an idol-smasher. “Sacred” here can be religious or secular, with emphasis on dogma, on what society has come to regard as absolute and inviolable.
Sun Yat Sen was banished from his village, temporarily at least. Today his village and his province are full of monuments honoring him—not just as a leader of the revolution but for his San Min political philosophy: nationalism, democracy, social welfare.
It’s probably easy for us to just smile now and say Sun Yat Sen was young then, and impulsive. But what if it had been Jose Rizal who smashed or defaced one of our Christian religious images? Rizal never went that far but he is still attacked today by conservative Catholics for writings where he attacked the abuses of the friars as well as what he felt were backward beliefs and practices of Catholicism.
It’s always different when it’s our religion, our religious images.
There are many countries that have laws against blasphemy, sometimes prescribing death penalties for violators. Blasphemy is loosely defined, from taking the name of God (or Allah) in vain to actual destruction or vandalism of religious images. But the definitions of blasphemy are always made by the leaders of a dominant religion in a country, often accompanied by intolerance of other faiths.
The Afghan Taliban regime, representing an extreme fundamentalist Islam (more liberal Muslims will say they’re not Islamic but Islamist) even blew up ancient Buddha images (dating back to the third century B.C.) they considered idolatrous and offensive to Islam. These stone images were considered world heritage objects.
Christians vary, too, in their interpretations of what constitutes blasphemy. Simply swearing by the name of God is seen by some as blasphemy. More orthodox Protestants see Catholics as idolaters, what with all the religious statues being “worshipped.” Catholics will retort and say the statues are only venerated.
On the Internet there are furious accusations against Cruz, mainly that he has insulted Christians with his use of the crucifix. But outrage has many triggers. It can be a naked Christ. It can be, as in the case of several films, a Christ depicted indulging his sexual desires. It can even be poking fun at men of the cloth. I don’t know if our Catholic bishops are aware of how often priests are depicted as lechers in Filipino films.
Just last month the UN Human Rights Committee released a “General Comment” (www2.ohchr.org/english/bodies/hrc/docs/GC34.pdf) on the way the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights was being enforced in different countries. One paragraph is particularly relevant to our ongoing debates:
“Prohibitions of displays of lack of respect for a religion or other belief system, including blasphemy laws, are incompatible with the Covenant, except in the specific circumstances envisaged in article 20, paragraph 2, of the Covenant.”
What is this Article 20? It is a provision that prohibits “advocacy of national, racial, or religious hatred that constitutes incitement to discrimination, hostility, or violence.”
Was Cruz’s work an advocacy of hatred? Was it inciting discrimination, hostility or violence? It did elicit an attack that resulted in the destruction of some of the exhibit works.
The UN General Comment goes on to state that restrictions should not violate other articles in the Covenant, such as a guarantee of equality before the law, as well as freedom of thought, conscience and religion. Clearly, while there’s a desire to respect religious beliefs, there’s also a concern that members of one religious group, usually the dominant one, might try to impose its beliefs on all others.
With such a perspective, it can be argued that the Cultural Center of the Philippines, precisely because it is funded through taxpayers’ money, must not allow one group to impose its ideas on all others. Art exhibits and performances must allow ideas, and representations, to compete.
Advocacy art
I did want to give my views about this whole genre of advocacy art. Cruz clearly wanted to send a message out about religion becoming oppressive. It is a valid message, but for art to be effective as advocacy, it must not just catch people’s attention but must allow them to look hard at the issue. Many artists try to attract attention through shock, but when that shock makes people turn away, then the message is lost. Even if controversies erupt, bringing in renewed attention, the focus is lost, releasing more heat than light.
Out in the streets, in popular culture, there are existing representations that are not being tapped enough, not being drawn in and re-represented to get people to be more introspective and reflective. I’m thinking, for example, of the “Hubad na Santo Niño,” actually a “Hubong Santo Niño” because it’s a completely naked Infant Jesus with—I will be polite lest I be chastised—morning hard wood. I have been told by no less than Gilda Cordero Fernando this used to be known as the Santo Nino de —-, a more explicit four letter word.
While we drag our debates on blasphemy into congressional halls, life goes on for the man and woman on the street; and the sacred and the profane are constantly being played out in language and in popular art, in the religious fertility dances of San Pascual, Batangas and Obando, Bulacan (to name a few), in the anting-anting and gayuma (love charms) of Quiapo.
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Email: mtan@inquirer.com.ph