Copycat monuments: Flattery or fakery?

Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, but would people really want to flock to Taaj Arabia (aiming to be four times the size of the original) in Dubai? Has the squat pink-and-white Taj Mohol outside Dhaka become a rival to Agra’s pristine medieval marble mausoleum? Does a Sphinx in some remote northern Chinese province have the potential to draw tourists thither from Cairo? Clearly, the latter has had some traction given that it has risen again — like a phoenix, admittedly, not a sphinx — a few years after being beheaded in deference to indignant protests from Egypt about copyright theft. But its re-emergence has certainly rekindled the debate about copyright of architectural monuments. India protested against the Bangladeshi Taj, but domestic replicas for the benefit of pilgrims — also tourists, after all — have met with only approval. Indeed, Sikkim’s idea of making replicas of the ‘Char Dham’ at Namchi is also sought to be copied.

No copyright lasts forever, and the views of architects and financiers of ancient buildings are not available. For all we know, they may have wanted their handiwork to proliferate elsewhere. But now a lot rides on landmark structures when it comes to tourism earnings, so it may be time to take another look at the Berne Convention on the issue — especially in the era of 3D printing.