Disclaimer: I read the Quran in the light of science, philosophy, ethics, and public policy. This is not a theological discussion; however, some rational thinking is shaped by the Quran
In 2012, suddenly, a German provincial court had ruled that the ritual circumcision of a young boy amounted to grievous bodily harm and was therefore illegal.
The court ruling had put the Jews and Muslim communities in the country in a very difficult position alike. In Germany, there is a large Turkish diaspora.
After months of public debate, finally the German federal parliament overruled the verdicts and granted the parents their right to authorise the ritual circumcision by a trained health professional.
While lawmakers resolved the legality of the problem, it raised once again the wider question of how far the multiculturalism could or should go?
Once I asked a British colleague what she knew about ritual circumcision. Her reply was “not much”. She only knew that this was something that Jewish people do for their baby boy.
I was indeed surprised. She did not know that Muslims around the world also practice circumcision. When I told her, she didn’t realise that it should be as important for Muslims as for Jews.
From a theological perspective she was right. For Jewish people, circumcision is a religious obligation. It symbolizes the Abrahamic covenant with God.
Though for Muslims, this is categorised as a recommendation, not an obligation. Nevertheless, all Muslim families around the world practice circumcision as faithfully and as dutifully as Jews.
It is a cultural Must. Most probably, this is because it bestows a permanent identity upon that child.
Since 1947, after the division of India and Pakistan, there were many riots between Hindus and Muslims. During all these riots, often whether a person was circumcised or not was used to identify the enemy, elevating the practice from its initial purpose of mere personal hygiene to a hallmark of national identity.
Culture is complex and sometimes contradictory. Muslims are highly prudish people. Nevertheless, the complete lack of privacy during a traditional circumcision ceremony is only a minor detail because nobody considers it as a medical procedure, but rather a ritual of becoming a full member of a denominated humanity.
However, for an outsider of the culture, the complete lack of privacy could feel quite embarrassing or even offensive.
Between 2004 and 2007, I lived in Germany. In my first year, I was living in a neighbourhood called Istanbul of the town with very large Turkish diaspora.
I had no prior knowledge of the German language. I enrolled myself in German public school for an evening language class and ended up in a class with only Thai housewives with German partners.
They were extremely slow during lessons and after a few classes, I noticed I was not learning anything new. I stopped going to the classes and started learning on my own.
I found a German lady at the café near my house who was quite chatty. She also knew a little English. I started practising German with her.
After few days, a very important thing happened to German national life. A German bishop, Cardinal Ratzinger, became the new pope. Suddenly whole nation was in official celebration of “wir sind papst” (we are pope). For a few days, the only news on all television was the Holy See. I was living in Kiel in Northern Germany, where people were predominantly non-Catholic. Overall, the people of Kiel were less enthusiastic about the new pope.
That evening, I found the lady at the café already tired of the continuous television coverage. I asked her if she was a Catholic. Her answer was in the negative. I was trying to force the conversation. I asked if they had something like Catholic baptism, Primera communion and confirmation. She told me they had baptism and something like Primera communion but no confirmation.
Then she asked me about my religious traditions? With my very limited German vocabulary, instead of telling her the Islamic equivalents, I chose an easy answer, “I’m a Muslim. We have none of these.” With a voice of frustration, she replied but you have “beschneidung”. I did not know the word. While I was thinking what the word could be, the lady started describing her woeful experience of attending a “beschneidung” party. Because she knew my poor language capacity, she was also trying to explain with gestures. When she said “armes kind” meaning poor child, I got it. She was talking about a Turkish circumcision party.
In Turkey, the circumcision ceremony is like a big wedding party. They have a specialised community hall with a makeshift operating theatre. They organise a circumcision parade in a special vehicle in the neighbourhood. The procedure is done while all the invitees, men, and women, are singing and dancing in front of the boy trying to distract him from the fear of pain. In Turkey, there are circumcision palaces for affluent people. Poor families come together to share the expenses.
I’ve very limited knowledge of Turkish movies, but from the few I’ve seen, it seems to me that the hammam (public bath) and circumcision ceremonies are two of the most common social ingredients. Famous circumcision palaces are listed amongst the cities’ tourist attractions. Interestingly, circumcision is a taboo topic for art, literature, or movies in my native Bangladesh.
In Germany the Turkish diaspora organise mass circumcision ceremonies in every town on fixed dates. Families wait for the big day, and they even bring traditional circumcision practitioners from Turkey. The lady at the café was talking about her dislike of her experience of attending one of those ceremonies. After her excited description what I understood was that she was not altogether against circumcision or the ceremony. Her point of disgust was the complete absence of privacy for the boys.
When I was trying hard to understand what she was saying, suddenly she asked me how it was in my country. With my little vocabulary and considering her disgust, I carefully chose the answer: not like Turkish. It is more private these days over there. Gute Sage (good thing). The lady seemed relieved.
Before going to Germany, I lived for six years in Spain. For an average Bangladeshi, the cultural cliché is all white people are same and supposedly speak in English. Once in Europe, I found there is not a single English-speaking country in the whole of continental Europe. People in Southern Europe, especially Mediterranean people, are warm, reluctant, always “de fiesta” and socially more conservative.
When one of my Spanish friends went, for the first time, to Germany, she was surprised seeing the Germans change in the open air at the beach. It was quite a point of note for her that the Germans in general don’t use change rooms at the beach. The cultural irony is that for the German lady in the café, who does not require any privacy at the beach crowded with all sorts of people, the lack of privacy at the circumcision ceremony was completely unacceptable.
Another point of shock for a cultural outsider is that ritual circumcision is not considered a medical procedure. Traditionally it is done without any anaesthetics. Normally it is the job of a strong uncle from the neighbourhood to immobilize the boy for the procedure. The whole scenario would appear violent. I found many western friends of mine were in utter disbelief when they knew the procedures. While they are respectful with other’s cultural practices, they find it very difficult to understand how parents can impose such violence on his/her young boys!
When I was asked for the first time in Spain by some friends, it took me some time to understand the question. When they told me that they had seen news footage on TV about a village circumcision from our region (don’t remember if it was Bangladesh, Pakistan, or India), which went wrong I could understand the point. When someone sees something from inside a culture, he or she sees things very differently to someone who is seeing the same things from outside the culture.
For me, the main element of violence is not the physical pain but the psychological hostility. It may or may not include physical pain. Traditional circumcision includes moments of physical pain but the whole ambiance is full of love, affection, joy, and cultural pride. Everybody is there to help the boy to distract him from the pain. The boys are also eager participants because circumcision gives them a superior status in the boys’ club. Nevertheless, we must admit that the traditional procedure is not medically safe. Nowadays, parents are taking more to the doctors for the procedures. Safe medical condition must be ensured without any excuses.
I consider myself a privileged person. I got the opportunity to live in four different countries, see two world religions and learn four major languages in addition to my own. Gradually I concluded that corporal shame is a cultural construct. Every culture defines a fine line between what is private and what public. Transgression of that line is called shame or shameless. This line varies not only between different cultures but also at different settings in the same culture. Before considering someone or something shameless we must understand where his/her fine line is located.
Once a Moroccan lady told me that the woman’s dress shari in my native Bangladesh is a shameless dress because when a woman wears it, one can see her belly. The belly seemed to be the most sensual body part for them. I had been so used to seeing women wearing a shari, I hardly noticed that it did not cover a woman’s belly. That day, I also understood why belly dancing was so popular in the Arab world.
My second conclusion is that religion has two parts: doctrine and rituals, and its cultural derivatives. While the doctrine and rituals remain exclusively for its devotees, the cultural derivatives spread through the masses and become even stronger and more widely spread than the religion itself. The circumcision parties in popular cultures are one big example.
This brings us to a very difficult question: as a multicultural society, how far should we accept this cultural relativism? We must distinguish first between harm and pain. What is painful is not always harmful. We should not accept something harmful in the name of culture; reason should prevail. Nevertheless, we must also understand that culture carries baggage, both good and bad. While an outsider should show more empathy towards the culturally different and give them space, the insiders should always offer scrutiny to ensure reform moves towards the common good.
I agree with Yuval Noah Hariri who suggested in his book for the creation of a narrative of “my culture is unique” instead of “my culture is the best”. Let our unique cultures live together side by side in harmony and cross fertilize for a better and greater humanity.
Your plea for multicultural tolerance has but one snag: the mutilation of *female* genitalia, for traditional cultural reasons, is comprehensively criminalised throughout all Australian states and territories (even where it was once practiced by dispossessed First Nations peoples). Granting concessions to Abrahamic religions (such as a de facto Medicare rebate) furnishes an unfair advantage that various other religions and cultural groups are systematically denied. In terms of international law and children’s rights, the Cologne court made a valid ruling in 2012. All children, even those born with “male” sexual organs, have equal rights — in theory. To the extent that it is non-consensual and medically unnecessary, male circumcision is incompatible with modern bioethics, as well as foundational principles of international and common law.
Parents can’t cut any other normal healthy living tissue off a boy, and even a pinprick on a girl’s genitals is illegal. Why don’t boys get the same protection? His body, his decision.