I want to say something about the destruction of the great Buddha statues. Perhaps you've heard the story: the Taliban, the extreme fundamentalist Islamic movement calling the shots in Afghanistan, recently proclaimed its next step in the nationwide purge of all things not Muslim is to be the destruction of all statues, including two great Buddha statues carved into Afghan mountains. I assume the decision has its roots in a Muslim prohibition against creating human images, the rationale being that such art presumes to imitate or usurp God, who, of course, created mankind. The international community is in a tizzy over the matter. National governments, including Muslim nations, are begging the Taliban to change their mind. Art museums and religious organizations have offered in vain to remove the offending ? if that is the word ? monuments at their own expense to preserve what they consider national treasures.
I've wanted to say something about the destruction for several days. I haven't yet because no commentary seems adequate. How does one describe the emotional response to such gross vandalism? How does one do so without simply repeating what news commentators have already said? It is a great crime against art, against religion, against the human community, against peace. It is hateful, it is shortsighted, it is offensive, it is wrong. I am appalled. The decision to destroy great and ancient labors of art is fundamentally incomprehensible to me.
I'm aware of other gross acts of destruction by other cultures, but can generally see why they were performed. The destruction of historic buildings to make room for another strip mall, or the clearing of forests for timber or for oil lying beneath are almost daily occurrences, but, though they may be poor decisions, they make some sense. The destroyers aren't so much smashing something beautiful as making way for something useful; if they could get the oil or the strip mall while preserving everything else, they would. The suppression of art critical to a regime, while reprehensible, makes sense. The government wishes to preserve itself, whether out of selfish power hunger or misplaced faith in their programs; if it could preserve itself without choking off free expression, it would.
But the Taliban's decision to destroy expresses a positive, active preference to destroy. The council has refused to allow others to remove the statues from the Taliban's sight, and refused a pretty penny in the bargain. The statues aren't in anyone's way, hide no resources, cost nothing to maintain. We can only decide the Taliban relishes the act itself, or its symbolic import, a gesture of defiance and scorn for the human spirit. Anything in the name of pure religion, and if the Taliban get to defy the world with the same act, so much the sweeter. With such an absolutist mentality, living people could be the target just as well as statues. It reminds me of the crusaders' rape of Constantinople. It reminds me of the French mob cheering the guillotine. It reminds me of Nazi book burnings. These groups, too, lost sight of principles in blind, furious, fanatical desire to destroy.
Fear fanatics. Try to reach them, try to understand them, but never forget fanaticism is dangerous, even in the name of your own cause. Never apologize for the excesses of fanatics. Never rationalize their fury.
Fanaticism is horror.