Why Do the Media Refer to ‘the Prophet Mohammed’?The title implies a particular view of a historical figure. By Ian Tuttle
The occasion of California senator Barbara Boxer’s announcing her retirement offers an opportunity to reflect on the strange life of titles. Mrs. Boxer — I mean “Senator Boxer” — was a stickler for her own, famously chiding a brigadier general for calling her “ma’am” while testifying before the Senate Environment and Public Works Committee: “You know, do me a favor, could you say ‘senator’ instead of ‘ma’am’? I worked so hard to get that title, so I’d appreciate it.”
One suspects that Boxer would be thrilled if her name were never uncoupled from “Senator.” That is unlikely to happen, Boxer’s political accomplishments being something less than world-historical, but the sharp distinction obvious here between the woman and her honorific is not made in another title-name combination in the news of late: “the Prophet Mohammed.” It has become routine to refer to the central figure of Islam with his title attached. But why?
Perhaps it is a simple conflation. That has happened throughout history. Consider “Caesar Augustus” and “Tiberius Caesar,” both of whose titles — “Caesar,” from the great Julius — have come down to us affixed to their names.
The same happened to Samuel Johnson, the great literary critic and subject of James Boswell’s unsurpassed biography, who is often just the illustrious “Dr. Johnson.”
For a more recent example, there is Tiger Woods — that is, Eldrick Tont Woods, who was quickly recognized to be a “tiger,” or outstanding golfer.
And, of course, there are religious examples in abundance: Mother Teresa, Mahatma Gandhi, Saint Augustine.
Perhaps “the Prophet Mohammed” is no different from any of these – “prophet,” like “mahatma,” a sort of meaningless but customary adjective.
Then again, there is the syntactically identical formulation “Jesus the Christ” — but when was the last time one heard that combination employed (non-ironically) on cable news? No, “Jesus” is just another single-namer — like Shakespeare or Churchill or Cher. (And, on more vulgar occasions, a perfectly common oath.)