Ibrahim Negm
“I am the son of two civilisations that at a certain age in history have formed a happy marriage. The first of these, seven thousand years old, is the Pharaonic civilisation; the second, one thousand four hundred years old, is the Islamic civilisation.” – Naguib Mahfouz
A civilisational milestone for Egypt
Egypt has witness a momentous occasion on November: the official opening of the Grand Egyptian Museum (GEM) – a project decades in the making. This was no mere museum launch; it feels like a national festival of self-discovery. Situated within sight of the Great Pyramids of Giza, the sprawling 120-acre complex will be the world’s largest antiquities museum, housing over 100,000 artifacts spanning 7,000 years of history. Egyptian officials anticipate millions of visitors each year, and the November 2025 inauguration is set to draw dignitaries and history enthusiasts from around the globe. The atmosphere was one of pride and celebration – a celebration not only of Egypt’s ancient treasures but of Egypt’s enduring spirit.
For Egyptians, the GEM’s opening was a pivotal national moment. It symbolises a renaissance of cultural heritage, affirming that the story of Egypt did not begin with the Islamic era, nor with the modern republic, but extends back through Pharaonic, Greco-Roman, Coptic, and many other chapters. Yet this is not just Egypt’s story – it’s part of humanity’s story. The museum’s grand galleries display, for example, the entire treasure of King Tutankhamun’s tomb for the first time, alongside massive statues and relics of figures like Ramses II and Hetepheres I. Such treasures are a patrimony of all mankind, and Egypt’s act of preserving and sharing them marks a civilisational achievement. As an Islamic scholar who also cherishes my country’s ancient heritage, I saw this moment as profoundly affirming: it showed how a modern nation could honour its ancient identity while looking to the future.
Heritage as a sacred trust (Amanah) in Islam
Crucially, the fanfare around the GEM was not just about national pride – it is also about ethical responsibility. In Islamic thought, the concept of amanah, or sacred trust, charges humankind with stewardship of God’s creation. Typically we think of stewardship in terms of caring for the environment or upholding justice, but it also applies to preserving cultural legacies. Protecting Egypt’s ancient heritage is, in this view, part of fulfilling our trust. We have been entrusted with the relics of past civilisations so that we and our children may learn from them. The Qur’an itself often urges believers to reflect on the ruins of earlier peoples: “Have you not considered how your Lord dealt with [the people of] ‘Aad… and with Thamud, who carved out the rocks in the valley?” These verses remind us that ancient monuments and their stories carry moral lessons. By preserving monuments, we keep these lessons alive – a duty entirely in harmony with Islamic ethics.
Indeed, from the earliest days of Islam’s arrival in Egypt, Muslims understood the value of Egypt’s pre-Islamic antiquities. History tells us that when the Arab companions of Prophet Muhammad entered Egypt in the 7th century, they did not embark on a campaign to destroy the pagan statues or tombs they found. On the contrary, Egypt’s Dar al-Ifta (the official Islamic legal authority) notes that “the Companions did not order the destruction of the monuments they found in the countries they entered but preserved them”. Some of these early Muslims even prayed in the shadow of the pyramids, regarding them with curiosity and respect, reportedly saying that the pyramids’ precincts might have been a “prayer place for earlier prophets.” Such anecdotes speak volumes: those closest to the Prophet did not see Egypt’s pharaonic monuments as a threat to their faith. Rather, they seemed to intuit what many Egyptians feel today – that honouring our ancient history is fully compatible with our Islamic belief.
From an Islamic perspective, caring for these artifacts is an act of gratitude for God’s bounty of knowledge. Each statue or tablet is a repository of wisdom – about artistry, governance, spirituality, and the rise and fall of nations. To safeguard them is to uphold an ethical trust. Egyptian authorities often invoke this principle. The Grand Mufti’s office and scholars of Al-Azhar University frequently describe antiquities as a collective amanah – a trust we must manage wisely for future generations. In fact, a major conference of Al-Azhar scholars in 2020 declared unequivocally that ancient artifacts “constitute a property for the next generations”, and that preserving them is a duty of the state and society. They affirmed that these relics “are not idols as promoted by the extremist groups”, but rather cultural heirlooms that educate and benefit humanity. In Islamic law, anything that serves the public good (al-maslaha) and does not violate core tenets of faith is not just permissible, but often encouraged. Preserving our heritage clearly falls in this category.
Shattering the extremist myths about “idols”
It is important to address, head-on, the extremist narratives that have occasionally cast a shadow on this topic. In recent years, radical groups – from the Taliban in Afghanistan to Daesh in Iraq and Syria – have destroyed historical statues and monuments under the banner of “preventing idolatry.” They claim that Islam mandates the destruction of pre-Islamic statues or that preserving them is a form of shirk (idolatry). Nothing could be further from the truth. Such assertions are a gross distortion of Islamic teachings, and Egypt’s highest religious authorities have been vocal in refuting them.
When Daesh militants infamously rampaged through the Mosul Museum in 2015, smashing Assyrian artifacts, Egypt’s Dar al-Ifta responded with an unambiguous condemnation. It labeled the extremist opinion prohibiting the preservation of monuments as “weak, misleading and legally unfounded”. Dar al-Ifta’s statement noted pointedly that “the honorable Companions [of the Prophet]… did not issue any fatwa or legal opinion allowing any assault on the priceless historical monuments they found” in lands like Egypt and Iraq. Furthermore, the statement declared that “whoever dares to destroy an ancient artifact or calls for the destruction of monuments under the pretext of religious prohibition expresses extremist inclinations aberrant from the true teachings of Islam.” In other words, those who would bulldoze a temple or dynamite a statue are the ones betraying Islamic values, not upholding them. Such acts of cultural vandalism are seen as sins, not piety.
Authoritative scholars have also dismantled the faux-theological arguments extremists use. Yes, Islam strictly forbids idol-worship – but there is a world of difference between worshipping an object and preserving it as a historical artifact. Dar al-Ifta has explicitly clarified this: Islamic law forbids venerating anything as a deity, but it “does not generally prohibit venerating other than God” in the sense of showing respect or appreciation. One may honour a pharaoh’s statue as a masterpiece of ancient art and a link to our ancestors without ever imagining that it possesses any divine power. That is not shirk; that is scholarship. The extremists, as Dar al-Ifta put it, “do not understand the concept of shirk” at all . In a striking analogy, our scholars recall how the angels in Islamic tradition bowed to Adam – not as an act of worship of Adam, but as an act of worship of God’s command. Context and intention are everything.
Al-Azhar – the 1000-year-old centre of Islamic learning in Cairo – has been equally forceful. In its 2020 declaration on renewing Islamic thought, Al-Azhar stated that attacks on antiquities are categorically forbidden. These monuments “are not idols… Therefore, it is not permissible to attack antiquities or change their original form by any means.” The document goes on to urge countries to enact strong laws against trafficking or vandalising artifacts. In line with this, Egypt’s parliament in recent years has indeed stiffened penalties for artifact smuggling, treating it as a crime against national heritage. The consensus of the Islamic scholarly community is crystal clear: the preservation of cultural heritage is lawful, encouraged, and often obligatory. What a fringe militant might say on this subject carries no weight against the likes of the Grand Imam of Al-Azhar or the Grand Mufti of Egypt, whose positions are rooted in deep scholarship and historical continuity.
It’s heartening that many ordinary Muslims instinctively reject the extremist stance. When the Taliban blew up the ancient Bamiyan Buddhas in 2001, or when Daesh wrecked Palmyra’s temples in 2015, the outcry from Muslim-majority countries was as loud as anywhere. Those acts felt like an assault on human memory – something our Islamic conscience could not accept. Here in Egypt, even the most conservative communities take pride in the pyramids and statues as part of our identity (though we revere only God, not stone). Now, with the Grand Egyptian Museum opening, Egyptians send a message to the extremists: our faith is not so fragile that it fears the relics of history. On the contrary, our faith demands that we protect these relics as a trust.
The Grand Egyptian Museum: Rooted modernity in action
One of the most striking aspects of the Grand Egyptian Museum is how seamlessly it blends tradition with innovation. The building itself is a marvel of modern architecture – all glass, triangles, and light – yet it is consciously designed to complement its ancient neighbours at Giza. Standing in the museum’s Grand Hall, visitors can see the pyramids framed majestically by floor-to-ceiling windows . The architects incorporated subtle echoes of pharaonic design (for instance, triangular motifs evoking pyramid geometry) into the museum’s façade. In the atrium, a visitor is greeted by a 36-foot tall statue of Ramses II, over 3,200 years old, which was painstakingly relocated there as if to serve as the museum’s eternal host. Walking through these spaces, you can feel ancient history and cutting-edge technology not in conflict but in conversation. It is a physical manifestation of what some call “rooted modernity” – a modernity that grows organically from ancient roots, rather than attempting to erase them.
Egypt today is a country striving for development and global integration, but it does so while carrying the weight of one of the world’s oldest continuous cultures. The GEM symbolises that balance. As the museum’s director has said, “This will be the museum of the 21st century… [with] all means of modern technology… but at the same time provides the best possible environment for the artifacts.” High-tech climate control, augmented reality guides, and interactive displays will bring ancient Egypt to life in ways previous generations could only dream of. Yet all this innovation is in service to the preservation of tradition, not its negation. The better our science and engineering, the more faithfully we can conserve a fragile papyrus or reconstruct a pharaoh’s chariot. In this way, modernity becomes an ally of heritage.
It’s worth noting that Egypt’s approach to heritage is inclusive. The Grand Egyptian Museum focuses on the Pharaonic era, but just across Cairo, the Museum of Islamic Art and the Coptic Museum celebrate the later chapters of our story. Our heritage is a rich tapestry, and each thread is precious. The new museum adds a brilliant new strand to that tapestry, without supplanting the others. As Egyptian archaeologist Omar Hadri put it recently, “This is not just a museum… It’s a symbol that retells Egypt’s cultural heritage to the world”. It stands alongside the pyramids themselves and our other great museums to “add a new dimension to the country’s historic landscape.” In the GEM’s children’s museum and education centre, schoolkids can learn how ancient Egyptian science and art still inform our lives. In its grand halls, researchers can conduct conservation labs to ensure these treasures last generations more. This is tradition and progress hand in hand – precisely the synthesis that defines “rooted modernity.”
Pharaonic and Islamic – A dual identity embraced
No discussion of Egypt’s civilisational moment would be complete without reflecting on our unique identity. The Nobel-winning author Naguib Mahfouz captured it best in the quote that opened this essay: Egyptians see themselves as children of both Pharaonic and Islamic civilisations. In the popular imagination, these two inheritances are not at odds; they are like two entwined rivers feeding the same fertile valley. Mahfouz spoke of a “happy marriage” between the ancient and the Islamic in Egypt’s soul. We live that marriage daily. Our country’s official name is the Arab Republic of Egypt, yet our leading newspaper is called Al-Ahram (“The Pyramids”). Our capital, Cairo, boasts splendid Fatimid-era mosques and, just a short drive away, the 4,500-year-old Sphinx calmly surveying the horizon. Far from causing an identity crDaesh , this dual heritage inspires a sense of wholeness and pride.
The opening of the Grand Egyptian Museum is, in a sense, a public affirmation of Mahfouz’s philosophy. It says: We do not have to choose between our Pharaonic past and our Islamic present – we are heirs to both, and we celebrate both. By showcasing the splendors of Pharaonic Egypt in a country that is overwhelmingly Muslim, the GEM sends a powerful message of civilisational continuity. It reminds the world that Islamic civilisation, at its zenith, was never about cultural erasure; it was often about absorption and enlightenment. Early Muslim scholars in Egypt and elsewhere studied the wisdom of the ancients (from Egyptian herbal medicine to Greek philosophy) and built upon it. The great library of Cairo (Dar al-Ilm) in the 10th century held manuscripts on pre-Islamic history alongside religious texts. This intellectual openness is part of our legacy.
Today, when an Egyptian Muslim family takes their children to see the mummies of pharaohs or the towering statue of King Khafre, they do so with fascination and reverence – much as they might visit the mosque of Imam Hussein or the Hanging Church with devotion and respect. These are not contradictory impulses. They stem from the same root: a love of heritage, a quest for understanding, and a humility before the vast sweep of history. As Mahfouz implied, Egypt’s identity is a synthesis. And in that synthesis is a strength – a cultural balance – that extremists utterly lack. The fanatics who wish to reduce identity to a single dimension, who would smash anything outside their narrow vision, misunderstand Egypt and misunderstand Islam. Egypt’s approach, exemplified by its new museum, is to embrace the fullness of our history. In doing so, we uphold the Quranic idea that God made us “nations and tribes so that we may know one another” – across ages and cultures – not so that we may destroy one another’s legacies.
Ethical benefits: Tourism, jobs, and shared prosperity
Beyond the philosophical and religious arguments, let us not forget the very real social and economic benefits that preserving heritage can bring – benefits that Islamic ethics heartily applaud. The Grand Egyptian Museum is not just a cultural venue; it’s also an engine of opportunity. By drawing millions of visitors, the museum will boost Egypt’s tourism revenue and create livelihoods for countless families. Officials predict at least 5 million visitors annually at the GEM, a surge that could increase Egypt’s overall tourism by 30–40 per cent and help the country reach 18 million tourists by the end of 2025. This translates into guides, drivers, hoteliers, artisans, and restaurateurs all finding more work. It means “thousands of new job opportunities for locals,” from museum staff to service industries around Giza. In a nation where youth unemployment is a challenge, such job creation is nothing short of a blessing.
Islamic thought places great emphasis on combating poverty and promoting welfare. Providing honest employment and improving people’s standard of living are seen as acts of virtue. The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) famously said that feeding the poor is among the best of deeds, and that “the upper hand (that gives) is better than the lower hand (that takes)”. When cultural heritage generates income and dignity for citizens, it fulfills the Islamic principle of maslaha – serving the common good. Importantly, the economic boon from tourism is not pursued out of greed, but out of a sense of hospitality and mutual benefit. In our tradition, a guest is a gift from God. Welcoming tourists to enjoy our heritage resonates with the Prophetic tradition of honoring the guest. Modern Egyptian authorities have even cited religious duty in protecting visitors: an entry visa, they note, is like a covenant of safety that must be respected – an idea grounded in Islamic law’s respect for treaties and promises.
Furthermore, cultural exchange through tourism can foster understanding and peace, outcomes very much in line with Islamic ethics. When a visitor from a far country comes to the GEM, they are not just pumping money into the economy; they are building a bridge between cultures. They leave with a deeper appreciation for Egypt and, one hopes, for the Islamic world’s respect for knowledge. In an era of global tension, these human-to-human connections are priceless. The Qur’an’s vision of humanity encourages knowing the “Other”; by sharing our ancient wonders with the world, we live out that exhortation in a tangible way. It’s a soft power that can counter prejudice and ignorance far more effectively than polemics can.
In sum, the museum’s success will translate into ethical gains: reduced poverty, increased education (as museums inspire learning), and enhanced global goodwill. No serious Islamic scholar would argue that there is anything un-Islamic about such outcomes. On the contrary, they are to be celebrated. When Pharaoh Tutankhamun’s mask inspires a young Egyptian to study archeology, or when a foreign visitor marvels at the artistry of a Quranic manuscript in a museum in Cairo and feels respect for Islamic civilisation, we see a positive ripple effect of preserving heritage. These are barakat – blessings – that come from doing the right thing by our history.
Conclusion: Faithful to the past, hopeful for the future
With the grand opening of the Grand Egyptian Museum, it opens a new chapter in Egypt’s story – one that demonstrates how a nation can be deeply rooted and yet dynamically modern. The fanfare, the crowds, the gleaming displays of ancient glory in high-tech glass cases – all of it reinforces a simple truth: there is no inherent conflict between our faith and our history. In fact, our faith and our history enrich one another. An observant Muslim gazing at a statue of Ramses II can reflect on the Quran’s account of Moses and Pharaoh; a secular tourist can admire the same statue purely as art – and in that same space, both can find inspiration and insight. The museum thus becomes almost a metaphorical sacred space of its own: a place of reflection, learning, and humility before the vastness of time.
The strident calls of extremists to shun or smash our ancient patrimony have found no purchase in the hearts of Egyptians. How could they, when Egypt itself is a living testament to the harmony of civilisations? We are the people of Ammun and Moses, of Cleopatra and Omar ibn al-Khattab, of Ibn al-Haytham and Naguib Mahfouz. We carry all these identities comfortably. Our ancient monuments and our Islamic values are twin pillars holding up the same Egyptian sky.
In Islamic theology, there is the beautiful concept of khilafah – stewardship or vicegerency – which teaches that human beings are entrusted by God to take care of the earth. Part of that trust is to remember and preserve the lessons of those who came before us. Egypt’s treasures are not idols; they are mirrors held up to history, reflecting both our triumphs and our follies. Preserving them is a duty we undertake with reverence. With the opening of the Grand Egyptian Museum, we are fulfilling that duty in an unprecedented way, offering the world a gift of knowledge and beauty.
In doing so, we also send a message of defiance to those who trade in hatred and destruction: that message is “Our faith builds – it does not destroy.” Here stands a billion-dollar, state-of-the-art institution, built by a Muslim-majority society, expressly to honour pre-Islamic heritage – could there be any more powerful repudiation of the extremist narrative? The GEM is a monument to continuity, wisdom, and peace. It invites all of humanity to engage with Egypt’s 7,000-year-old story. And it stands as a beacon showing how a nation can revere God by cherishing God’s gifts of culture and memory.
As a senior Islamic scholar privileged to advise on such matters, I am proud of the stance our religious institutions have taken: unequivocally backing the preservation of heritage and condemning its destruction. Al-Azhar and Dar al-Ifta are, in effect, the heirs of a long tradition that marries faith with enlightenment – the very tradition that extremists have lost sight of. When the ribbon was cut at the Grand Egyptian Museum, I silently offered a prayer of thanks. Thanks that I have lived to see this renaissance of our heritage. Thanks that the false idol of ignorance has been, for a moment, subdued. And I will pray that we carry this spirit forward. May we remain true to our amanah, guarding the traces of the past so that they may illuminate our future. Inshallah, the Grand Egyptian Museum will shine not just as a gallery of ancient wonders, but as a testament to an Egypt – and a humanity – that knows who it is, where it came from, and where it is going.
Ibrahim Negm
Senior advisor to the Grand Mufti of Egypt
