Whose edifice is this? Spain peels back the layers of its identity

As part of the government's antiterror initiative, Minister of the Interior José Antonio Alonso recently proposed a law - similar to those in Britain and France - that would regulate the country's estimated 400 mosques. Against these heightened tensions, the debate over the Mezquita carries heavier symbolic meaning.

Mansur Escudero, Secretary-General of the Spanish Islamic Commission, sees the opening of the Mezquita to Muslim worship as an especially significant gesture. "In these difficult times, it could be an important symbol for both Catholics and Muslims, an expression of willingness to enter into dialogue," he says. "We're not trying to take the Mezquita away from anyone, but simply open it up."

The Catholic Church has been unsympathetic to the request. Although Archbishop Michael Fitzgerald, the Vatican's president of the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue, declared that the matter must be decided by the local bishop, he also said that "Muslims must accept history."

Córdoba's local government has stayed out of the controversy. The city's lieutenant mayor, Andrés Ocaña, says the opening of the Mezquita is a "subject for dialogue between the two religions."

But in the wake of calls by Osama bin Laden to "reclaim Al Andalus," some Cordobans see the Mezquita petition as insidious. "It's a reconquest," says one local priest, who asked to remain anonymous. "Through force, through geography, through culture, they [the Muslims] are trying to take over."

His fear is shared by many Spaniards who believe that Muslims are a threat to local and national security. Eva Fimia, who runs a souvenir shop in front of the Mezquita, thinks that "the Moors," as she calls North Africans, "should go back to their own country."

Many non-Muslim Cordobans, however, support the Mezquita proposal. "Anyone should be able to pray there," says José Raval, a high school teacher. "The Mezquita has been named a heritage site for humanity, and aren't Arabs part of humanity?"

While fear of terrorism complicates Spain's efforts to integrate Muslims, many here still hope that a more generous public spirit - such as existed in the age of "convivencia," when Christians, Jews, and Muslims lived in relative harmony across the Iberian Peninsula - will prevail, and that a new, more inclusive, national identity will flourish.

Earlier this month, the bishop of Santiago de Compostela removed from that city's cathedral a 14th-century statue of Saint James "the Moorslayer," citing a wish to avoid "offending the sensibilities of some visitors."

It is a gesture that Isabel Romero, who directs the Halal Institute outside Córdoba, can appreciate. Spaniards have a habit of thinking of Muslim Spain as something foreign, she says. "We don't recognize that the Muslims were from here, that they were Andalusians too, that they are our roots."

And she sees the proposal to open the Mezquita to Muslim worship as a step in the right direction. "What remains from Al Andalus are not just the Mezquita's stones, but our culture itself," says Ms. Romero. "We have to reconcile ourselves with our history."

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