Authority and Authenticity at Sites of Contention

Issues surrounding religious groups often boil down to a few key ideas: authority, authenticity, representation, legitimacy. These all feed into one another. A group gains authenticity through representation, and with authenticity they have authority over what is or isn’t legitimate. Authority allows a group, or a few select people, to control the narrative of what is authentic and how different people are represented. One arena where these ideas are clearly at play is among indigenous peoples and the contested lands that they hold sacred.

For years in Australia, the Anangu people have worked to regain authority and control over Uluru, a large red rock in the heart of Australia that is central to many Anangu creation stories.[1] They consider the rock their home, a sacred space meant to be private to outsiders. For years, however, the rock has been a national symbol of Australia, attracting thousands of tourists to climb its face, an activity that was emotionally and spiritually harmful to the Anangu. It was not until 2019 that the Anangu were able to gain enough voice and authority to ban the climbing of Uluru.

Since 1985, when they were granted ownership of the land encompassing Uluru, the Anangu people had to work to prove that Uluru was authentically sacred and that outsiders climbing the rock was culturally harmful. This rock is a home to them, to their culture, and to the spirits of their ancestral beings. Thus, for people to climb on that home and treat it like an amusement park was deeply hurtful. So, the Anangu worked to shift the narrative around tourism to the Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park, encouraging visitors to learn about and appreciate the Anangu people. They developed cultural tours to showcase their art, traditions, and beliefs, and encouraged visitors to sign a book at the cultural center, “attesting that they shunned the climb”, rather than log their names at the summit of Uluru.[2] The Anangu worked to reinforce their claim that the rock is sacred to them, changing how they and their beliefs are represented to the Australian people.

There are still those who contest the authority of the Anangu over the land. One man who campaigned against the climb’s closing claimed that, “everyone has a right to experience this place on their own terms without being bothered by petty bureaucracy and the religious views of others.”[3] Clearly, this man and many others doubt the authenticity of the Anangu claims that the climb is culturally harmful. However, the Anangu have proven their authenticity to enough of the Australian population to assert authority over Uluru and its visitors.

While the Anangu people have achieved a victory in asserting their authority and the authenticity of their beliefs, other groups are on the reverse side of that struggle. Kanaka Maoli, the native Polynesian people of the Hawaiian Islands, are actively protesting the construction of the Thirty-Meter Telescope (TMT) on Mauna Kea. Mauna Kea, also referred to as Mauna a Wakea, is sacred to Kanaka Maoli, and is central to their religion’s creation story.[4] However, about a dozen observatories have already been built upon its summit because the authorities with control over the mountain deem claims of the mountain’s scientific value more authentic than the Kanaka Maoli claims of Mauna Kea’s sacredness. Now, as a new and massive observatory is being constructed, further desecrating Mauna Kea, Kanaka Maoli are fighting to prove that Mauna Kea is genuinely sacred to them.

One of the ways that people supporting the TMT have justified the project is by denying “that Mauna a Wakea is sacred and questioned the authenticity of ceremonies on and for the mountain on the basis that the Hawaiian religion is defunct.”[5] These claims clearly come from outsiders, which makes you ask, what authority do they have to make this claim? The assumption that Hawaiian religion is a thing of the past, and that there is no reason that science should not take precedence, is wrapped up in issues of settler colonialism and U.S. occupation of Hawaii. A variety of American authorities, including the government, scientific organizations, and universities, have imbued themselves with authority over the people, culture, and resources of the Hawaiian islands.

The assumption of American authority over Hawaii has had a variety of consequences. The overthrowing of the Hawaiian kingdom – recognized by the US as illegal in a 1993 Apology Resolution – firmly established this notion of American authority, taking control of the land away from Kanaka Maoli. The US has since utilized the islands for a range of uses, including the appropriation of sacred sites for science and tourism. Kanaka Maoli and their culture were painted as a thing of the past, reenacted for the sake of foreign tourists, viewed more as a theme than a living culture.

Since the 1970s, however, there has been a movement often referred to as the Hawaiian Renaissance. This has involved a reclaiming of language, religion, and land – essentially, a reclaiming of identity, authenticity, and authority. In the case of the TMT protests, Kanaka Maoli have used ceremonies, chants, offerings, and other religious traditions, showing that the religion is still active.[6] By asserting their culture as a living entity, they are removing it from its status as simply a tourist amusement. Others have taken an academic approach, writing to prove the continued existence of Hawaiian religion. Scholars like Marie Alohalani Brown, Assistant Professor of Religion at the University of Hawaii, have written treatises on the evolution of Hawaiian religion, utilizing her authority as a recognized scholar at an American university to argue that her people’s religion had not become defunct, but is still alive and worthy of spiritual and legal protection.

Not only have protestors been arguing the authenticity of their religion, but they are also pointing out how groups in positions of authority or with more representation have more control over what counts as authentic. Marie Alohalani Brown points out in her treatise on Hawaiian religion that major world religions, with their greater representations, do not have to justify the authenticity and validity of their beliefs and traditions in the same way that Kanaka Maoli have had to do.[7] She also acknowledges that, in the case of Mauna Kea, “the people in power have determined that science trumps perceptions of the sacred.”[8] Thus, she acknowledges how authority feeds into ideas of what is authentic or legitimate. Since the Hawaiian religion lacks representation and authority, their claims of sacredness are deemed inauthentic.

Both Uluru and Mauna Kea are sites of contention between the religious and secular worlds’ claims to authority and authenticity. This type of contest is found all over the world, whether the disagreement is over the use of a location, women’s rights, or the validity of gender and sexual identities. Sometimes it is a fight between for authority between religion and science, or religion and the government. Sometimes it is even a fight between or within religious groups, such as the highly contested Temple Mount in Jerusalem, which has at least 3 different religions claiming authority over this site, arguing that their claim to the site is more authentic than any other. Regardless of what is being fought over, it boils down to the cyclical notions of authority and authenticity, with the achievement of one typically ensuring that the other will follow.


[1] Jaime Tarabay, “A Climbing Ban at Uluru Ends a Chapter. But There’s More to This Australian Story,” NYTimes, published October 24, 2019. https://www.nytimes.com/2019/10/24/world/australia/uluru-climbing-ban.html?searchResultPosition=13

[2] Tarabay.

[3] Marc Hendrickx, quoted in “A Climbing Ban at Uluru Ends a Chapter.”

[4] Michelle Broder Van Dyke, “’A new Hawaiian Renaissance’: how a telescope protest became a movement,” The Guardian, published August 17, 2019. https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2019/aug/16/hawaii-telescope-protest-mauna-kea

[5] Marie Alohalani Brown, “Mauna Kea: Ho’omana Hawai’i and Protecting the Sacred,” Journal for the Study of Religion, Nature and Culture 10, no. 2 (2016): 152.

[6] Van Dyke.

[7] Brown, 165.

[8] Brown, 165.

Draft of Final: Authority and Authenticity at Sites of Contention

Issues surrounding religious groups often boil down to a few key ideas: authority, authenticity, representation, legitimacy. These all feed into one another. A group gains authenticity through representation, and with authenticity they have authority over what is or isn’t legitimate. Authority allows a group, or a few select people, to control the narrative of what is authentic and how different people are represented. One arena where these ideas are clearly at play is among indigenous peoples and the contested lands that they hold sacred.

For years in Australia, the Anangu people have worked to regain authority and control over Uluru, a large red rock in the heart of Australia that is central to many Anangu creation stories.[1] They consider the rock their home, a sacred space meant to be private to outsiders. For years, however, the rock has been a national symbol of Australia, attracting thousands of tourists to climb its face, an activity that was emotionally and spiritually harmful to the Anangu. It was not until 2019 that the Anangu were able to gain enough voice and authority to ban the climbing of Uluru.

Since 1985, when they were granted ownership of the land encompassing Uluru, the Anangu people had to work to prove that Uluru was authentically sacred and that outsiders climbing the rock was culturally harmful. The Anangu worked to shift the narrative around tourism to the Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park, encouraging visitors to learn about and appreciate the Anangu people. They developed cultural tours to showcase their art, traditions, and beliefs, and encouraged visitors to sign a book at the cultural center, “attesting that they shunned the climb”, rather than log their names at the summit of Uluru.[2] The Anangu worked to reinforce their claim that the rock is sacred to them, changing how they and their beliefs are represented to the Australian people.

There are still those who contest the authority of the Anangu over the land. One man who campaigned against the climb’s closing claimed that, “everyone has a right to experience this place on their own terms without being bothered by petty bureaucracy and the religious views of others.”[3] Clearly, this man and many others doubt the authenticity of the Anangu claims that the climb is culturally harmful. However, the Anangu have proven their authenticity to enough of the Australian population to assert authority over Uluru and its visitors.

While the Anangu people have achieved a victory in asserting their authority and the authenticity of their beliefs, other groups are on the reverse side of that struggle. Kanaka Maoli, the native Polynesian people of the Hawaiian Islands, are actively protesting the construction of the Thirty-Meter Telescope (TMT) on Mauna Kea. Mauna Kea, also referred to as Mauna a Wakea, is sacred to Kanaka Maoli, and is central to their religion’s creation story.[4] However, about a dozen observatories have already been built upon its summit because the authorities with control over the mountain deem science more authentic than the Kanaka Maoli claims of Mauna Kea’s sacredness. Now, as a new and massive observatory is being constructed, further desecrating Mauna Kea, Kanaka Maoli are fighting to prove that Mauna Kea is genuinely sacred to them.

One of the ways that people supporting the TMT have justified the project is by denying “that Mauna a Wakea is sacred and questioned the authenticity of ceremonies on and for the mountain on the basis that the Hawaiian religion is defunct.”[5] There is an assumption, tied up in issues of settler colonialism and U.S. occupation, that the Hawaiian religion is a thing of the past that is no longer practiced, and thus there is no reason that science should not take precedence. Thus, a major aspect of the protests against the TMT involve ceremonies, chants, offerings, and other religious traditions, showing that the religion is still active.[6] Scholars, such as Marie Alohalani Brown, Assistant Professor of Religion at the University of Hawaii, have even written treatises on the evolution of Hawaiian religion, arguing its continuity in order to protect in spiritually and legally.

Not only have protestors been arguing the authenticity of their religion, but they are also pointing out how groups in positions of authority or with more representation have more control over what counts as authentic. Marie Alohalani Brown points out in her treatise on Hawaiian religion that major world religions, with their greater representations, do not have to justify the authenticity and validity of their beliefs and traditions in the same way that Kanaka Maoli have had to do.[7] She also acknowledges that, in the case of Mauna Kea, “the people in power have determined that science trumps perceptions of the sacred.”[8] Thus, she acknowledges how authority feeds into ideas of what is authentic or legitimate. Since the Hawaiian religion lacks representation and authority, their claims of sacredness are deemed inauthentic.

Both Uluru and Mauna Kea are sites of contention between the religious and secular worlds’ claims to authority and authenticity. This type of contest is found all over the world, whether the disagreement is over the use of a location, women’s rights, or the validity of gender and sexual identities. Sometimes it is a fight between for authority between religion and science, or religion and the government. Sometimes it is even a fight between or within religious groups, such as the highly contested Temple Mount in Jerusalem, which has at least 3 different religions claiming authority over this site, arguing that their claim to the site is more authentic than any other. Regardless of what is being fought over, it boils down to the cyclical notions of authority and authenticity, with the achievement of one typically ensuring that the other will follow.


[1] Jaime Tarabay, “A Climbing Ban at Uluru Ends a Chapter. But There’s More to This Australian Story,” NYTimes, published October 24, 2019. https://www.nytimes.com/2019/10/24/world/australia/uluru-climbing-ban.html?searchResultPosition=13

[2] Tarabay.

[3] Marc Hendrickx, quoted in “A Climbing Ban at Uluru Ends a Chapter.”

[4] Michelle Broder Van Dyke, “’A new Hawaiian Renaissance’: how a telescope protest became a movement,” The Guardian, published August 17, 2019. https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2019/aug/16/hawaii-telescope-protest-mauna-kea

[5] Marie Alohalani Brown, “Mauna Kea: Ho’omana Hawai’i and Protecting the Sacred,” Journal for the Study of Religion, Nature and Culture 10, no. 2 (2016): 152.

[6] Van Dyke.

[7] Brown, 165.

[8] Brown, 165.

Authority Over Heritage

The essay from Porter about Fez’s cultural heritage goes back to the same idea of authority that has popped up all semester. Who has the authority to determine what should be preserved as Fez’s “heritage”? How does that idea of heritage match up with – or contradict – the historical and contemporary culture? Porter points out how the state attempts to erase the Sousi and other rural demographics from the notion of Fez’s cultural heritage, despite them continuing to be overwhelmingly active in preserving that heritage. Where the Sousi are active participants, they are considered almost as pseudo-Fassi, replacements that are trained to act properly according to Fez’s heritage, rather than acknowledging their rural background as a part of Fez’s culture.

Religion and Culture

The desire for European converts to Islam and their children to so strongly separate themselves from Moroccan Muslims, or any other Islamic culture, is very clear and very uncomfortable to face. I was really stuck on the notion of a “pure Islam” which was free from culture and tradition, when in almost any religion, culture and tradition are what makes the religion what it is. You can’t divorce religion from culture, because everything is informed by culture, and nothing is made in a vacuum. It is disconcerting that they can be so oblivious of the influence of culture on the Islam that they practice, whether it is the Spanish culture around them, the Moroccan immigrant culture which they mimic for authenticity, or they Arab cultures from which the religion came. For them to deny the heritage of the religion that they chose, claiming that their practice is more pure and righteous than that of other Muslims, speaks towards racism and classism against the Moroccan immigrants. They want to associate themselves with Granadan culture, often owning businesses that bolster the local tourist industries, but they claim that the culture is separate from the religion that they practice. What are they practicing, if not tradition and culture?

Reflection 4/20

I was talking to my mom at one point between watching episodes of Unorthodox and she asked me what I thought of it and its portrayal of Judaism. I commented that it felt as if they took all the negative aspects that could exist within such a community and put them onscreen. It felt as though the show writers were intentionally making Judaism and conservative religion as a whole look evil and cult-like. When reading the review of the show in Forward, I thought of Abby Stein, who is a trans woman who was raised in a very prominent Hasidic family in Williamsburg, and had even been a rabbi before leaving the community and transitioning. I was wondering if she had said anything about the show’s portrayal of the community in which she was raised, and it turned out that she had actually played an extra on the show. The only thing I found written by her about the show, however, focused on her own journey dealing with gender, Judaism, and choice/obligation, rather than the accuracy, or lack thereof, of the show. While I understand that television typically exaggerates for the sake of creating interesting content, I certainly agreed with the review that the characters seemed unrealistic and flat, and that the oppressiveness and possessiveness of the Hasidic community was unrealistically exaggerated.

Where did they go?

The “Marketing Convivencia” article further supported the notion that we have been discussing of molding history to create a curated public image. Just as the myth of a historically Christian Spain has been used to shape national identity, the history of Spain’s Jews has been revamped and retold, this time with the purpose of enticing and impressing foreign tourists. Spain developed tours specifically to market cities that once held vibrant Sephardic Jewish communities. However, they do not go on to elaborate what happened to those communities, or how Spain’s Jews live today. They market to foreign Jewish tourists, inviting them to come and view their own history and the culture of the past, all while ignoring the needs of the Jews who are still their. I was particularly struck by this quote: “While the museum director lamented the lack of space they could dedicate to the exhibition of (past) Jewish life in Spain, the Jewish community petitioned for permission to utilize either this synagogue or Santa Maria la Blanca (a second Toldeo synagogue that was transformed into a church in the fifteenth century) for Jewish religious ritual.” The community’s own resources were being taken away from them in the present in order to put the past on display for tourists.

Religion as a Social Function

This week’s readings provided a good look into the social role that religion plays, both contemporarily and in the retelling of history. Kamen goes over the secondary, social role that Catholicism played in Spain’s Golden Age. As he puts it, “Religious practice was traditional and sociable rather than theological,” (78). People had some relationship with the Church, and that relationship helped them categorize themselves socially and culturally, but they did not know, understand, or hold the Christian beliefs that priests hoped they would. Religious identity functioned, in this case, to define who was “us” and who was “them”. They were Catholics insomuch as it separated them from the Muslims and Jews who were not. The myth of Christian Spain provided a similar function as a social identifier for Spaniards from the 19th century on. The version of Spanish history that tells of a firmly and steadfastly Christian Spain use that Christian identity to separate themselves as true Spaniards, separate from the descendants of Sephardic Jews and Moriscos that try to claim a share in that identity. By insisting on the myth of Christian Spain as a true telling of history, these Spaniards set Christian identity as a stipulation in assuming Spanish identity, using religion to establish an “us” and a “them”.

Initial thoughts on my final topic

For my final project topic, I am considering various forms of sand art. So far, it seems that the most common forms of sand art that are of religious significance are Navajo sandpainting, Tibetan Buddhist sand mandalas, and Hindu rangoli. There is something about the temporality of all of these art forms that interests me. They are just as much ritual as they are art work, and they have varying functions across cultures despite seeming so outwardly similar. The obstacle that I am running into is research. I have been able to find a few encyclopedic entries on each of these art forms, but few scholarly works that are available to me. There are some that I’ve found, but the Trexler library does not hold them so I am hoping that they can acquire a digital copy of these sources for me. Despite my very preliminary research not turning up much, I have hope that as I dig deeper, I can find something. I am hoping to also find some sort of primary information from people who practice these art forms, as well as scholarly works looking at their ritualistic functions. My only worry, other than the availability of research, is that this is too narrow of a topic. I am hoping that by including three different versions of this art form, I will have enough material, but I may need to expand to include other forms of temporary art that function similarly.

Influential Architecture

Reading the pieces on architecture reminded me of an executive order that was drafted earlier this year, titled “Make Federal Buildings Beautiful Again.” This order would mandate future federal buildings to be built in the same Greek and Roman inspired style as the White House. While there are genuine criticisms of this order and how it would dampen architectural creativity and dismiss the knowledge and understanding of design and architecture that the experts hold. But some of the comments I heard from people were that they didn’t understand the point of the order, it just seemed like a trivial and wasteful endeavor. But, while I don’t support the order itself, it is not historically unprecedented. Rulers throughout history have used architecture as a means to establish a consistent authority and culture. Architecture has such a strong influence on how we feel in a space. It can inspire, intimidate, calm, and evoke so many more emotions in those who encounter it. This is what occurred in al-Andalus, as various architectural styles conveyed different political meanings as to who was in power, where their power originated, and the values that they hold.

Post-Class 3/18

Our conversations about the cross brought us to the idea of the cross, and other religious or religious-adjacent symbols, in modern jewelry. We used jewelry to talk about appropriation and presentation. The idea of how comfortable we are wearing certain symbols in certain contexts, as well as how comfortable we are seeing others wear certain symbols, was the central theme to our discussion. Why does it make us uncomfortable to see someone wearing certain symbols, whether it is their own, or a symbol that we identify with that we feel is being appropriated? Should our discomfort make them feel uncomfortable with the presentation of their jewelry? For instance, should a Catholic hide their crucifix so as not to make a Muslim uncomfortable? Should a non-Jew choose not to wear the Star of David, so as not to make a Jew uncomfortable? What I keep coming back to is this idea of personal discomfort. While the discomfort itself says something about the symbol and its meanings and appropriate uses according to some, I am not sure how strong of an influence that discomfort should have on others choices.

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