“How many divisions does the Pope have?” Joseph Stalin is said to have asked contemptuously during the buildup to World War II, five decades before Pope John Paul II played a key role in ending Soviet control of Eastern Europe. Would it be a mistake to similarly underestimate the power of the Aga Khan, spiritual leader of the world's 15 million Shia Ismaili Muslims, in dealing with Islamic radicalism?
Living in a palace outside Paris with stables of thoroughbred racehorses, the Aga Khan is one of the world's wealthiest men. Noel Coward memorialized the Aga Khan's father, Prince Ali Kahn, in a version of Cole Porter's “Let's Do It, Let's Fall in Love,” and Rita Hayworth was for a time his stepmother. A direct descendant of the Prophet Muhammad, this imam generally dresses in sober business suits rather than flowing robes. A British citizen who grew up in Kenya, studied at Harvard, and now maintains offices in Switzerland, the 71-year-old personifies a contemporary, liberal Islam. His followers—of various ethnicities and nationalities, mostly living in Central Asia and Africa—revere their hereditary leader, a consummate cosmopolitan if there ever was one, as a blend of royalty and pontiff.
The official website of the Ismaili Muslim Community refers to its “ethos of self-reliance, unity, and a common identity” and stresses the importance of philanthropic endeavors: “In a number of the countries where they live, the Ismailis have evolved a well-defined institutional framework through which they have, under the leadership and guidance of [the Aga Khan], established schools, hospitals, health centres, housing societies, and a variety of social and economic development institutions for the common good of all citizens regardless of their race or religion.” In this vein, the Aga Khan has sought over the past 30 years to elevate the quality of architecture in the Islamic world through one of the profession's most prestigious prizes.
The Aga Khan Award for Architecture repeatedly demonstrates that Islam and modernity can coexist, while seeking to harness thoughtful design to the process of transformation in Islamic nations. This goal was a focus of the most recent award ceremony, held in September in Kuala Lumpur, the 10th since the triennial prize was established in 1977. There are typically seven to 12 winning projects per award cycle, chosen from hundreds of nominations by a panel of experts. Among the winners—Muslims and non-Muslims both—the jury apportions prize money totaling $500,000, which makes this, in cash terms, the biggest architecture prize in the world.
“The award has a simple objective—to enable people of all backgrounds, all faiths, to live a better life,” the Aga Khan told the prize recipients in the Malaysian commercial capital. Architecture, he insisted, has the power to transform the world, since happy physical environments create a sense of comfort and well-being, and unhappy ones produce the converse. “We need the courage to continue the process of critical thinking,” he said, adding that among many Muslims, “there are fears that critical thinking amounts to disloyalty. I do not believe this … The moment we stop asking questions, we'll fall asleep.”
The prize is also aimed at avoiding what the Aga Khan calls the “exaggerated submission to the past” and the “irrational fear of modernism” to which he says the Islamic world is often vulnerable. As a counterpoint to this trend, the latest awards ceremony took place in the concert hall at the base of Cesar Pelli's Petronas Towers, erected 10 years ago by Malaysia's state-run oil monopoly. The shimmering twin towers, their floor plan generated by the traditional Islamic eight-point star, stand as a potent emblem for the Southeast Asian country and received an Aga Khan prize in 2004. Previous Aga Khan award ceremonies have been held in historically rich settings like the Topkapki Palace in Istanbul, the Alhambra in Granada, and the Aleppo Citadel in Syria. The Petronas Towers ceremony was the first at a contemporary site.