We are in a storefront in Gaza City. It is noisy both inside and out.¹ The place is called New Sound, and it sells tapes, DVDs, and videos. On the shelves customers find two kinds of materials. There are audio tapes proclaiming the greatness and generosity of Hamas, of Fatah and the Islamic Jihad. Right next to these are the products of Western popular culture. There is the latest Jennifer Lopez CD. There are DVDs, including You Don’t Mess with the Zohan, Adam Sandler’s comedy about a Mossad (Israeli intelligence) agent turned hairdresser who works in a salon in New York City run by a Palestinian woman.
Noor, the Turkish TV soap opera. Image - ρяιиcεss нαиσσσғч.
You can guess which ones sell and which don’t. Apparently Gazans love these Western cultural products or their close imitators. Consider the way the streets are cleared at night, not because of any curfew, but because everyone is home watching Noor, the immensely popular Turkish soap opera. At the core of the plot is the romance between the two lead characters, Noor, the woman, played by Songül Öden, and Mohannan, the man, played by Kivanc Tatlitugl. Both are Turkish actors. Unlike Arabic soaps, which are not so popular, Noor features some kissing, luxurious homes and expensive clothing. It was a flop in Turkey when it first came out, but here, an instant success.
Why are these shows and movies so well-liked in a place like Gaza City? One obvious answer is escape. Life is bleak on the Strip and these romantic stories offer a look at another, very different, forbidden world. Also, they portray a more human, comfortable world, something Gazans may aspire to in a better life. Arab viewers report that they like it because it is “romantic and aspirational.”
Not everyone approves of Noor. In an interview, a man named Alifranji described his son’s condemnation of it. He agreed with his lad that the soap was in poor taste. The one time Alifranji visited a café in Gaza he left because Noor was on TV. He is not against popular culture. He told the journalist he prefers Jackie Chan movies and some rap to singers or even soaps, because in soaps they don’t know the difference between what is acceptable and what is taboo. With that, his cell phone went on. The ringtone? The theme song from Noor.
As one might expect, the religious authorities take a negative view of Noor. Sheikh Abdel Aziz Bin Abdullah, head of the senior clerics’ council in Saudi Arabia, has denounced the series in no uncertain words. He recently declared that it was banned for all Muslims because it contains “material which contradicts the principles of Islam,” it “spreads evil” and because it has “a devastating moral effect.” At the same time, Hamas, which officially governs the Strip, is more cautious. It must officially disapprove, yet it will not take serious measures to remove the soap from television.
Something deeper than escape is going on here. Both the dominant culture of the Hamas-controlled territory and the subordinate culture of Western videos actively represent (and inform) Gazan consciousness. We have here, among other things, an example of what Antonio Gramsci calls “hegemony.” According to this view the dominant culture is in competition with subordinate forces in society. In this context, popular culture often plays the role of giving its participants a measure of freedom, while at the same time embracing some aspects of the dominant culture. Why this “compromise?” First, popular cultural products must bow to some degree to dominant values in order to survive. Also, popular culture is not absolutely opposed to the values of the dominant one. Gramsci’s understanding of this back and forth is limited to a sort of class warfare model where alienation is countered by selective attempts to gain one’s freedom, if only for the duration of an episode of Noor.
How might Christians understand this reality more deeply? We should begin by fully recognizing the reality of oppression and the striving to gain a measure of freedom, but we should also add other crucial dimensions. Oppressors are sinful human beings who nonetheless are kept from pure tyranny by God’s common grace. The oppressed are sinful human beings (like us) who are nonetheless victims of a dominant culture.
Christians should think carefully about how to engage peoples from parts of the world where freedom is at risk. How should we approach both the dominant Hamas government and the marginalized population it controls? How should we understand the proper role of media or the arts in a situation like this?
While the arts and media are a legitimate form of diplomacy, it is important to avoid two prime tendencies Christians often display in using them. The first involves creating stories of an ideal Christianized reality, in which the complexity of living in a fallen world is soft-pedaled. On the contrary, characters and settings may be grotesque, to use Flannery O’Connor’s term, in order to showcase the gospel. The second tendency is to confuse redemption for rebellion. Though it strongly opposes oppression, the gospel does not endorse just any kind of oppositional culture. Grace and justice must be translated into the local culture. They must come incarnationally, not simply endorse Western tradition. Christian efforts in this area have often lacked a prophetic consciousness, and as a result, unthinkingly identified with ways of life that demand scrutiny.
In that way, Noor is not entirely foreign to gospel values. Unlike the rather moralistic and pristine image of Islamic religion projected by the officials, the soap explores and surfaces some of the taboos of Arabic culture, including romance, difficult relationships, and even such unmentionable subjects as unwanted pregnancies, and divorce. As such it may liberate its viewers to admit the reality of these issues, always a first step in the process of redemption. In some ways it does so within a framework where certain absolutes are honored. For example, while Noor herself is a lovely woman, she is faithful to her supportive husband, Mohannan. There is an underlying assent to the virtue of fidelity. And respect for the elders is a constant. At the same time, Noor never goes too far beyond a fascination with beautiful people. There is very little deep, horrific evil.
One finds much more realism in the other popular Turkish soap, Sanawat addaya’. Here, while the lead characters are beautiful people, the soap raises issues of economic challenges that Noor generally does not. Neither soap is Christian in any strict sense. There is no savior, and ultimately no real grace. The notion of a Christian response to the situation of media spectatorship on the Strip might seem far-fetched. But doing the work of contextualizing the gospel, addressing the truths of grace to human lives, does not happen in a generalized reality. It happens in a gritty, overdetermined, somewhat opaque world. The Gazan video store provides one way into understanding the inner lives of a people. Even in this brief initial glimpse, we can see the layering of human experience as God’s creatures hear or don’t hear the gospel. As such, Gaza provides a poignant lesson at the beginning of a much longer journey.
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¹The story upon which this essay is based was reported by Michael Kimmelman in the International Herald Tribune, September 7, 2008, iht.com, http://www.iht.com/articles/2008/09/07/mideast/gaza.php. <11.01.2008>
William Edgar is Director of The Gospel & Culture Project as well as Professor and Chair of Apologetics at Westminster Theological Seminary in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
