Values of Veiling – Part 2: Meaning of the Veil

Meaning of the Veil

The modern, western construction of the veil as a symbol of oppression is made even more acute in its particularity, when we take into account meanings of the veil outside the modern, western world, or devoid of any specific cultural association. In its essential sense, veiling is the act of covering; the act of concealing something precious or sacred, usually from the eyes or minds of others. Veiling, therefore, has an inherent sense of mystery attached to it, which complements the spiritually inclined themes to which it is often attached. Historically, veiling has also been associated with class and respect. An Assyrian legal text estimated at around 1450-1250 BC states that veiling was compulsory for noble women, but not for servants, except when accompanying other noble women. From the same text, slave girls were forbidden to veil, and “hierodules” (sacred prostitutes) could only veil after marriage. In this context, the veil not only marked the upper classes, but signalled which women were under the protection of a man through marriage and therefore, not sexually available (Ahmed 1992: 15). The Assyrian tradition thus demonstrates a historical example in which veiling was linked to social stratification with dignifying value. Implied status was raised by the veil, not demeaned. Even in modern examples of veiling outside religion  – whether in the form of veiling one’s car with a physical sheet, or in the drawing of house curtains – the concealing is not, by default, linked to any sense of oppression or subordination, but rather, to the intent of protection from the prying eyes of those who may be drawn to what should not concern them. A parallel can be made with the intent of pre-Islamic handsome Arab men, who would veil to protect themselves from the harms of envy, or women’s clothing in classical Greek society (550-323 BC), which served the function of concealing them from the eyes of strange men. In these instances, the common theme is that veiling is about the visual protection of what can be envied or desired, not about segregation or oppression. 

Fadwa El Guindi (1999) comes to the understanding that the veil, far from being ‘indiscriminate, monolithic, and ambiguous’ can be appropriated to different cultural contexts to have different meanings from modesty and isolation to identity and political resistance. Similarly, Faegheh Shirazi (2001) points out that interpretations and representations of the veil across various cultures and contexts shows that its symbolic significance is constantly defined and redefined. This social constructionist approach to the veil gives the impression that its meaning is malleable according to whatever purpose is required: ‘the veil has been exploited by advertisers of Western products in the United States and in Saudi Arabia, by publishers of Western erotica, by filmmakers in the East and West, by Iranian politicians and clergy, and by militaries and militias in countries such as the United Arab Emirates, Iran, and Iraq’. To elaborate one example, Shirazi argues that many popular Bollywood films use the veil and the fantasy of hidden beauty to draw the male gaze by titillating the audience. There is a basic assumption that the female form has more power to arouse its viewer when it is veiled than naked. Both imagery and song lyrics are used to attract sensual interest to a veiled heroine who is beseeched by an eager hero desiring to see her unveiled. In such contexts, the veil is used as a means of sexual empowerment for the heroine, and as a tool for creating sexual tension in general (Shirazi 2001). This is in contrast with the veil in Iranian cinema, which, under the rules of state censorship following the Islamic revolution, prohibited the sight of uncovered female bodies in public and on screen. The veil is thus used to divert the male gaze away from sexualizing female characters. Both representations sit firmly within a spectrum of sexuality; one embellishing it, and the other obscuring it. For Homa Hoodfar (1992), the ability for the veil’s meaning to be changed and re-defined is in no way symmetrical between the East and West. She argues instead that the meaning of the veil in the West has been ‘static and unchanging’ while in Muslim cultures, the significance and social functions of the veil have varied tremendously, especially during times of rapid social change. She explains how some women in Iran have even used the veil to undermine certain men in their presence: while in dispute with a male non-relative, a Muslim woman might drop her veil to show that she doesn’t perceive him as a real man.

These expressions and functions of the veil challenge the blanket ‘symbol of oppression’ narrative that is commonplace in the UK and Europe, demonstrating the narrowness of the western discourse, and by implication, reflect the prevalence of the structures that keep such a discourse in place.

The Meaning of the Veil in Arab/Islamic Space and Culture

In considering such discourses surrounding the veil, it is important to emphasise the paradigm to which the Muslim veil is predominantly attached. In this vein, El Guindi allows the Islamic tradition to play an important part in dictating the meaning of the veil. In doing so, she stresses the “multiple dimensions”, that is, the different layers of meaning that can be attached to religious customs, seeing Muslims as living rhythmic lives, which alternate between the sacred and the secular. She combines these ideas with philosophical and sociological assumptions about the private and the public realm, highlighting how privacy in Arab and Islamic contexts differs from the secular, western context. Where privacy is usually understood as the right to not be intruded upon in the modern secular world, Islamic culture, for El Guindi, harbours an added theological dynamic whereby an individual or collective may be in some spiritual activity in communication with God, or be going about some relational (often gendered) activity with God in mind. From the women-exclusive private residential quarters of the harem typical to pre-modern Islamic Caliph residences, to the all-female dhikr circles of Sufi orders, the notion of gendered privacy has been a social fact of Muslim history: 

Arab privacy does not connote the “personal” or the “secret” or the “individuated space.” It concerns two core spheres – women and the family. For both, privacy is sacred and carefully guarded. For women it is both a right and an exclusive privilege, and is reflected in dress, space, architecture, and proxemic behavior. 

To see and not be seen: mashrabiyya in Islamic architecture

 

El Guindi also makes a comparison of the Muslim face-veil to “mashrabiyya” (lattice woodwork screens and windows) in urban Arab architecture, which serves to guard the family’s right to privacy. The creative sophistication of the wooden architecture permits the insider to see what is public, but denies the outsider visual access to what is private.  This connotes a right to see and not be seen, rather than the sense of seclusion or social invisibility. But whereas the mashrabiyya is stationary, the veil is mobile and able to carry a woman’s privacy and sanctity into public spaces. Similarly, Bullock (2007) has argued that the hijab is not intended to stifle women, nor smother their femininity or sexuality, ‘rather, it regulates where and for whom one’s femininity and sexuality will be displayed and deployed’.

The dichotomy of public and private has been argued to be grounded in western European formations of society, and should not be imposed upon the Middle East. For El Guindi, Arab culture ‘is nuanced and dynamic, so much as to accommodate privacy in public’. The western polarity between public and private is too rigid and static to accommodate Arab and Islamic senses of space, which are characterised by a daily interweaving of the sacred and the mundane. She cites the example of the Muslim prayer, which can be performed in any location, instantly rendering sacred an otherwise ordinary space. Sacred space switches freely between the public and the private, meaning the appearance of a woman in niqab on the street is a normal sight, symbolic of this rhythmic and sacredly entwined way of structuring society.  

Veiled Muslim woman in public

Further references to veiling are also found within Islamic literature, detached from subordination or even gender. The ‘ultimate veil’, draped over the House of God in Mecca (the Ka’ba) is a recurrent theme in classical Islamic literature, as is God’s Veil over Himself, which would otherwise burn the entirety of existence (hadith, Ibn Majah). Here, the veil is ascribed to the Divine, indicating the sublime and formidable power maintained within; while over the House of God, the veil is almost all one sees of it, serving as the ultimate visual manifestation that veiling signifies precious and sacred value. Amongst Muslims themselves, religious and spiritual reasons for wearing the face-veil or hijab – fundamentally, for the sake of a relationship with God – are generally overlooked in the media, yet clearly present in the answers of Muslim women in explaining their choice to wear it.

Veiling the House of God

In a ‘progressive’, materialist and secular society, ‘spiritual’ value attached to the veil is misplaced within the dominant culture. This aspect doubles the ‘absurdity’ of the veil insofar as it is both a covering – in a society that likes to reveal, and in that it has a spiritual notion in a culture where metaphysics does not inform public discourse. There is little wonder, then, why the veil’s sacred meaning is far removed from general non-Muslim consciousness and the mainstream media. Not being looked at or judged by commercial standards of beauty is another common reason offered by Muslim women as to why they feel more comfortable in hijab or niqab. This issue, in particular, concerns the tradition of the ‘male gaze’.

In the third and final part, I will consider the male/European gaze, and how this is deeply linked to modern western attitudes towards the Muslim veil. I will also highlight the relevance of a lost moral virtue: the ‘ethics of looking’ within the Muslim tradition, which is another necessary competent to understanding the place of the veil in public life.

Values of Veiling – Part 1: Changing Discourse

The following 3 parts constitute what are basically philosophical and socio-politcal notions and reflections surrounding the Muslim face veil, in response to its western media focus in recent years. The aim of this, unlike some of my other work, is less about building an argument, but more, to simply explore certain issues which play into, but are hardly ever mentioned, within the mainstream media regarding the face veil. This piece of writing acted an an introductory section to a core chapter within my PhD thesis, after which, I went on to analyse and discuss what the public perception of the veil was/is in the UK, through a study of hundreds of online comments on particular news sites. I enjoyed researching and writing this section and hope that you might enjoy reading it. I would really appreciate any comments you have. Part 1 introduces the subject of the Muslim veil within the general fascination of western writers regarding ‘women in Islam’, and gives insight into how such negative discourses/debates are (quite arbitrarily) constructed in society.

Part 1.

News reports in the British (and non-British) media are scattered with articles concerning Muslim women and the face-veil (niqab or burqa) in particular. In a corpus study of 200,000 articles from the British Press from 1998-2009, the term ‘Muslim women’ was found almost twice as frequently as the term ‘Muslim men’, and when it was used, it was most often in context of whether or not they should wear the veil (Baker et al. 2013). News items found by a Google Alert notification service with terms “burqa” “burka”, “veil” and “niqab “ from November 2014 to July 2016 found repeated points of coverage usually themed around the veil being a social problem and nuisance; for example, reporting criminal activity such as assault or theft being carried out by people wearing the niqab. Also common has been the reporting of cases in which the niqab is worn by a female court attendant or by teachers in schools, supposedly hindering their ability to carry out their respective roles. Such cases are used to demonstrate how the face-veil simply does not fit into modern secular society. Less common but also recurring are reports of women in niqab being attacked by perpetrators of anti-Muslim hate, as well as experiences of women wearing the niqab including non-Muslim women who wear the veil as a trial temporarily. The most common UK coverage regarding the niqab, however, centres around the debate as to whether or not it should be banned due to its cultural misplacement, as well as its alleged status as both a symbol of oppression and security risk.

In what follows I will be considering a number of sociological and theological issues surrounding the veil, which, although not focused upon in popular discourse, are critical to understanding the controversy of the Muslim veil in the West. It is hoped that these considerations will give a more insightful perspective on modern debates such as the ‘burqa-ban’, and reveal the extent to which modern discourses are problematic.

Benjamin Jean Joseph Constant, Arabian Nights (French 1845-1902)  

‘Women in Islam’ is one of the longest on-going and most contentious topics within anti-Muslim discourse. Writers since the Victorian period have been consistent in singling out the position of Muslim women as a point of contention, particularly in contrast to European attitudes towards women idealised around values of equality and liberty (Daniel 1966, Ahmed 1992). Such comparisons continue today, with shifting focus from orientalist perceptions of the exotically sensual harem and polygamous lust, to the oppression of women under religious patriarchy, and an othering-obsession with Muslim women’s dress (El Guindi 1999, Bullock 2007). Indeed, the Muslim veil itself has been associated with oppression by European thinkers since at least the 18th century, but gained particular focus in the 19th century when European colonialism settled in the Middle East (Ahmed 1992, Bullock 2007). Over the last decade or more, the veil – in both its hair and face-covering guises – has become the most controversial issue within the subject of women in Islam, and is one of the most significant ‘symbolic threats’ (Stephan et al 2009) denoting a major sign of the ‘problem of Islam’ in Europe (Scott 2007).

Within popular media, the Muslim veil conveniently fits into a pre-existing paradigm within anti-Muslim discourse in Europe. That is, that Muslims are backward, statically traditional, anti-enlightenment/progression, and oppressive to women. Poole (2002) conceptualises this in a comparative framework wherein Muslim practices are made to look archaic and strange in comparison to the majority culture, while the practices of the dominant group are generally not challenged, but presupposed. The condition of Muslim women and their veils are therefore used as a ‘proof’ of the backwardness of Muslim culture, cementing such perceptions in the minds of the social majority. The way in which Islam is criticized tends to reflect the opposing values of the critiquing community (Flood 2012). In the current context, emphasizing Muslim discrimination against women, does not only discredit Islam, but simultaneously highlights and celebrates western values of gender equality and liberation. 

The symbolic threat of the veil has become increasingly prominent throughout the 20th century. For Khiabany and Williamson (2008) the issue of Muslim dress in the media has classically been linked with patriarchal oppression and backwardness, but the discourse, they claim, has been transformed: ‘it is now a symbol of a stubborn refusal to accept ‘our’ culture or to embrace modernity; it is a sign of defiance and an image of menace’ (Khiabany and Williamson 2008: 70). Zebiri (2008) similarly argues that the hijab, along with other Muslim gender-themed issues, are ‘represented in much of the discourse as challenging or negating some of the most cherished and recently-won “Western” values of human rights, female emancipation, and sexual liberation’ (Zebiri 2008: 21). The perception fits the linearly progressive social paradigm wherein the western world allegedly advances while the Muslim world remains static and resistant to change (Said 1997, Samman 2012). Moreover, the veil has become an easily-identifiable and everyday symbol through which to channel other aspects of anti-Muslim discourse (Scott 2007). 

Construction of a Negative Discourse 

A number of key moments in recent history have contributed to the construction of the heightened negative perception of the veil/burqa in the UK, as well as its accompanying ban discourse. Former home and foreign secretary, Jack Straw, is believed to have ignited the issue in October 2006, when he had published an article claiming that the niqab is a ‘visible statement of separation and of difference’ which is ‘bound to make better, positive relations between the two communities more difficult.’ A statement from someone who holds such a position in society plays a powerful role in constructing boundaries of discourse (van Dijk 2015). Indeed, Baker et al.’s (2013) study looking at the appearance of the word burqa and veil, as well as their synonyms in the British press from the years 1998 to 2009, found that there was a strong increase in their usage in 2006, prior to which, little interest was paid. News reports following Straw’s 2006 article not only continued to address the veil-ban debate, but quoted his words repeatedly, embedding the discourse in the media narrative (Baker et al. 2013). Also significant to structuring the modern veil discourse was the precedent set by both Belgium and France – two of the UK’s nearest neighboring European countries – by banning the veil in 2010 and 2011, respectively. These bans, unprecedented in European history, have heavily helped shape the framework in which the veil is understood at the time of writing as a controversial and unwanted symbol of oppression with dubious legal status. Following Belgium’s ban, a UK YouGov 2010 survey showed that 67% of Britons also supported a ban in Britain.

Historically, the veil was not problematised the way it is today. Baker et al.’s (2013) research into 19th century British news articles shows that there was hardly any mention of the veil in the context of Muslim women, nor was it ever discussed as a topic of central focus. For example, a rare reference in a December 1881 issue of The Pall Mall Gazette addresses mountain life in Algeria, and praises the Berber people for being unlike the Arabs and more like the Aryan races of Europe: ‘They are more industrious and more agricultural than the Arabs; their laws and institutions are more democratic… [t]hey may confidently be said to be the least bigoted of any people professing Mohammedanism; they seldom go to the mosque… and their women go about freely without the veil of Islam.’ Here the veil is negatively portrayed as an attachment to Islam and Muslim practice in general, which is, a priori, framed negatively. A possible reason offered by Baker et al. (2013) for the lack of veil referencing up to the late 19th century is that women in both Muslim and western nations at the time were somewhat equivalent in status. It was not until the late 19th/20th century that feminist movements would begin to generate a distinction between cultures, allowing negative criticisms of Muslim women’s dress to ensue. Leila Ahmed (1992) adds the contributing factor of European colonial presence in Muslims lands, which continuously defined itself as culturally superior. The idea that Muslim men in colonised societies oppressed their women was used to justify the colonial project of undermining and eradicating cultures of colonised people. To this effect, the veil and segregation were characteristics which epitomized the oppression of women, rendering them primary targets of colonial forces. As feminism and perceptions of cultural superiority continued to develop in the West, so did the critique of Muslim women and their alleged oppression, in which the veil was its most obvious symbol. Still, domestically, there was no focus on the veil in and of itself until the 21st century. Studies of Islamophobia and religious references in the British media in the 80s and 90s show that neither the headscarf nor the face-veil typically made mainstream news (Poole 2002, Knott 1984), and even within academia, El Guindi notes the lack of exclusively focused study given to the veil prior to her publication, Veil in 1999. Despite a growth of research interest for women in the Middle East since the 1970s, such studies tended to focus more on gender roles, rather than on the veil itself. 

In Part 2, I’ll be considering the meaning of the veil more generally, and then specifically take a look at how it is understood within Arab/Islamic spaces and culture, in hope to widen one’s imagination regarding it.