Tarik Ramadan: un discurso claro y práctico
Tuesday, December 26th, 2006The website Webislam.com (spanish) has published an article about the latest EMN-presentation in Barcelona.
The website Webislam.com (spanish) has published an article about the latest EMN-presentation in Barcelona.
The subject of citizenship (citoyenneté in French) is much talked of today, from those on the established political right, centre and left, to migrant and settling communities looking for a place in the political landscape. The purpose of this short essay, written from a Muslim perspective, is to encourage a critical engagement with the concept.
The term citizenship connotes a legal status – “the belonging of an individual to a political unit (usually a state) which awards him or her a particular status and series of rights and duties.” This is of fundamental importance as it concerns the place of each and every person in relation to the power that is around us. It is of special importance to Muslims as issues of loyalty, belonging and identity are so pronounced today. To talk of citizenship is to discuss identity, democracy, the state, human rights, civil society, government, social contract, etc. because citizenship was always seen as a function rather than as a political end in itself, i.e. it is not something to be attained but to be done, and practiced. Elaboration of this notion of belonging is hence crucial.
According to Theodor Marshall, citizenship has three essential rights: civil, political and social . Marshall viewed that each of these rights were gained in roughly the eighteenth, nineteenth and twentieth centuries, respectively. Gerard Delanty suggests that a fourth dimension could be culture – this is especially relevant in contemporary discussions of how cultural pluralism can be addressed by citizenship (see later). For Delanty there are four components of citizenship: rights, duties, participation and identity.
But why has citizenship become so topical? A number of reasons can be identified including:
In order to understand the concept of citizenship, we need to first look at Greece, the cradle of democracy and citizenship. “Man is a political animal”, Aristotle (384 – 322 BC) is said to have famously declared. This statement encapsulates the Greek concept of citizenship, that the natural place for man is the public arena. ‘Man’, here, literally means man – as opposed to woman, or indeed slave, young (below 20) or foreigner (anyone from another city). For Greek citizenship was denied to the latter four categories, thus excluding the vast majority of residents. For Aristotle slaves were “without the faculty of deliberation”, and women “indeed posses it, but in a form which remains inconclusive” , hence their task was to tend to the duties of the household leaving the free male to concentrate on affairs of the polis (the city-state). This would leave a lasting imprint on suffrage – the right for women to vote being attained in the twentieth century. How did the polis come about? Around 800 BC settlements grew in the coastal areas of Greece and small farming communities were established. The communities were initially based on clan and tribal loyalties and probably ruled by single individuals or small groups of people (tyranny). As these unconnected communities in each of the settlements grew and farming, landownership and military duties became more organised, especially when slave labour expanded and freed people from mundane tasks, the system of government evolved to became more advanced. With the growth of learning and literacy a number of city states (poleis) began to establish democratic forms of rules, albeit with variations. The first democratic city was probably Chios in the sixth century BC. Of all the poleis Athens was probably the largest and remains the most well-known. Athens had a citizen population of around 40,000, around 80,000 slaves and a total population of close to 200,000 people. Popular rule was established in Athens around the early 5th century BC and remained in place until the defeat by Macedonians around 322 BC. At the core of the structure of the polis were three institutions: the Assembly (Ecclesia), the Council and the Committee. The Assembly had a quorum of 6,000 citizens and met at least 40 times in a year, it was the place of direct, personal democracy. All major issues were to be brought here and everyone had the right to speak. Unanimity was sought but where it was essential matters were put to a majority vote. The Council consisted of 500 citizens, men over 30 years of age, and functioned as an executive to the Assembly. The Council was assisted by the Committee, a group of 50 citizens, which met daily, each citizen serving for one month. The leader of the Committee was changed every day and its basic function was to suggest proposals to the Council. The courts were also open to citizens, a jury sometime involved over 500 citizens. Citizens were elected to office by lot and terms of office were expected to be short and definitely not permanent. There was even some remuneration for office bearers.
Citizenship in Athens was thus a serious business and shaped the whole ethos and culture of the polis. The ideals of Athens – equality for citizens, liberty, respect for the law and justice have shaped political thought ever since . Aristotle felt that citizens should know each other and therefore a polis should be a small community. He felt that Athens at his time was too large. Citizens should be virtuous people who are publicly active. This spirit of public activity is eloquently expressed by Thucydides:
Here each individual is interested not only in his own affairs but in the affairs of the state as well: even those who are mostly occupied with their own business are extremely well informed on general politics – this is a peculiarity of ours: we do not say that a man who takes no interest in politics is a man who minds his own business; we say he has no business here at all.
Athens is often compared with a rival polis, Sparta, where authoritarian rule prevailed during the time of Aristotle. In fact Aristotle viewed Sparta with some degree of respect, as a city that was strong and able to educate its citizens well. For Aristotle, a democracy was not the ideal form of Government, in fact he saw it as a transgression of good government. The ideal ruler would be a virtuous king, not the masses who may not be well trained in matters of virtue. It is interesting that almost all the major philosophers of the time (whose teachings have reached us) looked at popular rule with a degree of disdain. Plato (~420 – 347 BC), Aristotle’s mentor, was even more categorical. Although he was willing to contemplate that women could attain the necessary qualities for leadership, his ideal form of rule would be that wielded by a Philosopher-King, a man so wise that he would know how best to lead the polis. (Incidentally, this notion of Philosopher-King seems to resonate with the Shiah notion of Wilayat-e-Faqih, where the rule is placed in the hands of the learned scholars of the community.) Plato was always somewhat sceptical of popular rule, but he was deeply affected by the execution of Socrates, his friend and teacher, in 399 BC. To him this was a clear example of how power in the hands of the masses could be a dangerous thing. In his Republic Plato considers the merits of democracy, oligarchy (rule by the aristocracy), timocracy (rule by the wealthy), and tyranny (dictatorship) and concludes that only one devoted to philosophical contemplation would be able to see right from wrong, bring real justice to the people and have integrity amidst the confusion of the world. Plato was perplexed how on mundane issues such as building, specialist would be consulted, yet when it came to important issues of right and wrong, it was left to all and sundry. The only solution was hence that Philosophers should become rulers, or the existing rulers should become philosophers. In pursuit of this Plato set up his academy.
It is interesting to note that the Greek model of citizenship was born in a city-state, just as in Madinah, a somewhat different model of citizenship was established by Muslims nearly a thousand years later.
The views of Plato and Aristotle were inherited by Cicero (106 – 43 BC) and other Romans scholars. Roman citizenship was the legal status defining membership of the political community, the res publica. It was now the legal status that defined the rights and duties of the individual and the actual attendance of the Assembly to perform the function of a citizen was de-emphasised. Delanty says that “from then onwards the link between citizenship and democracy was broken” . This is to be expected as society under Roman rule was far more complex than the Greek polis. Along with the legal definition of belonging, the other main indicator of citizenship during Roman times was ownership of property. Though this was always implied during Greek times, it took on greater prominence among the Romans . The Romans also developed the concept of the outsider to a more sinister ‘barbarian’, a process of exclusion that possibly roots some of today’s prejudice. As the works of Greeks had reached the Romans, perhaps just as importantly, they were translated from Arabic to Latin in the thirteenth century and formed a significant influence in the Renaissance.
Before we go onto the Renaissance, it is worth looking at how the political scenario in Western Europe was developing and some of the historical factors that may explain the differences we see, to this day, in different political cultures across Europe. This will help to understand how, in the current time, states have adopted different policies in trying to accommodate migrant Muslim communities. On the whole there have been three main models by which EU states have tried to deal with migrants:
An important factor in how a nation treats its minorities is rooted in the self-image of that nation. Germany historically had a notion of blood decent that forms the nation, perhaps due to the legacy of the Germanic tribes that were so influential in European history. It may be for this reason that Germans could not accept for so long that a foreigner (Ausländer) could be a citizen. The boundaries of the contemporary German state were formed after there was already an established notion of the German people (Volk), hence the notion of Volk is seen as more far-reaching than the formal political boundaries of the state, so a person of German blood descent settled in Italy is still seen as German. Furthermore German nationalism was partly formed in the defence of its realm against Napoleon, an external force, whereas French identity was forged in the struggle against its own Monarchy, ruling class and religious establishment. For France it is therefore the Republic and the notion of Republican Unity, the pride in the culture where all are equal that defines the self. By contrast, the UK has long been a country of ‘migration’, in which many different groups of people have settled, each of whom have left something of their traditions, culture and language. It has also had an experience of diverse Christian religious traditions and has had perhaps the broadest contact with other cultures through colonialism, factors that have forged a nation of polite, pragmatists.
While the nation states mentioned above were coming into existence, Europe was ravaged by wars; wars pitting religions against each other, kings and against other kings, states against states. The heritage of the Ancients was for some time lost to Europe, but it was being studies in the Muslim world, debated, annotated, extrapolated and eventually re-translated to Western Europe. David Held suggests that the medieval Christian emphasis on the life hereafter, especially as extolled by St Augustine, may have been a barrier to citizenship and the evolution of more democratic forms of government . During this time Feudalism and rule by Divine right (Papal and Monarchical) prevailed. It was Thomas Aquinas (1225 – 74 CE) who took up the writings of Aristotle and attempted to reconcile them with Christian teachings, emphasising the ‘common good’ and ‘natural law’. The Reformation challenged the singular truth of the Western Christian world and this led to an exploration and renewed interest in the wisdom of Greece and Rome. The writings of Cicero and Livy (59 BC – 17 CE), were influential in the development of Italian city states such as Florence and Venice (the latter survived until the late eighteenth century). Machiavelli (1469 – 1527) read about the strength and courage of Rome with eagerness and at the same time lamented the situation of weakness he could see around him. This led him to develop a very sceptical view of human nature and conclude that only the ruthless Prince, prepared to violate ethical norms, could succeed amidst the chaos of the day, a Prince who possessed strong will and courage.
Thomas Hobbes (1588 – 1679) was almost as sceptical about human nature as Machiavelli and in a famous ‘thought experiment’ postulated that if people were allowed to pursue the right natural to them, do whatever they pleased, there would be “war of everyone against everyone” leading to a life that is “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short”. In order to safeguard against this people would need to follow natural law, to balance their natural rights. The expression of this would be for individuals to willingly surrender their rights to a strong, single authority (the Leviathan), in whom the individuals would be represented. Therefore consent, contract and will are all present. It can be seen that both Machiavelli and Hobbes expressed a mix of profoundly liberal and illiberal views at the same time.
John Locke (1632 – 1704) criticised Hobbes for his views on Leviathan, which he saw as a potentially greater evil than the anarchy that could ensue from the masses expressing their will. For Locke, government was all about preservation of life, liberty and estate. And in order to preserves these essentials there must be a separation between the legislative and the executive bodies of government to avoid corruption. As people cannot directly represent themselves in government, they must choose an assembly to represent them and if this assembly betrays the people, then they have the right to rebel. Government is hence entrusted in an elected group of people. Locke articulated what would become the tenets of modern liberal thought in Europe, that government exists to safeguard rights and liberties of citizens and it should be restricted in scope to ensure the maximum freedom for individual citizens. Locke argued for religious freedom, but this did not include the right to believe in no religion. For Rousseau (1712 – 1778), who was more influenced by Greek than Roman thought, Hobbes and Locke were completely wrong. For Rousseau, all citizens should meet together to enact laws and decide what is best for themselves, Sovereignty cannot be represented.
The people’s deputies are not, and could not be, its representatives; they are merely its agents; and they cannot decide anything finally. Any law which the people has not ratified in person is void; it is not law at all. The English people believes itself to be free; it is gravely mistaken; it is free only during the election of Members of Parliament; as soon as the Members are elected, the people is enslaved; it is nothing.
However Rousseau’s views on democracy are ambivalent. One can hear the resonance of Plato and Aristotle in his words:
How can the blind multitude, which often does not know what it wants, because it seldom knows what is good for it, undertake by itself an enterprise as vast and difficult as a system of legislation?
Rousseau had said that “Man was born free, and he is everywhere in chains” but he didn’t necessarily want to break those chains. In the words of Derek Heater “he wanted to make them legitimate, to achieve their mutation into a linkage that would provide mankind with a moral, positive form of freedom: the republican way.” It seems that Rousseau preferred small city where citizens could meet and know each other as in the Greek polis and that he held the ideal form of government to be an elected aristocracy. But Rousseau stressed that this body could never be Sovereign, that was left to the General Will of the people, albeit an abstract function of the people. One of Rousseau’s most contentious ideas was about ‘civil religion’ through which he launches a scathing attack on Christianity and its role in history. As he was speaking of an alternative religious ideal, he attracted criticism from both Christians and secular Enlightenment figures such as Voltaire. Rousseau’s ideas were of prime importance during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries especially as some of his views were taken up by the French Revolutionary leaders.
Perhaps the most radical and powerful critique of the liberal capitalist tradition has come from Marx (1818 – 1883). Marx held that the state can never be neutral – it will always be ideological orientated. There can never be true equality while there are so many social and economic inequalities abound. And democracy can never be viable in a capitalist society. People are not individuals as such but are constantly interacting with other. For Marx and Engels, class is the key to understanding relations between people. Class will eventually disappear once the bourgeois are smashed. Even the division between state and civil society is dubious because if the means of production are owned privately then power and hence government is intertwined with ‘civil society’.
Heater describes two main strands of citizenship: the liberal tradition and the civic republican tradition . The former in the vein of Locke, Hobbes etc., with emphasis on rights and which has prevailed today and the latter, in the vein of Plato, Rousseau, etc., with emphasis on duties. The liberal tradition stresses the individual’s rights and in response to this there has been a rise in what has been broadly classed as ‘communitarian’ formations of citizenship advocated by Amitai Etzioni, Alasdair MacIntyre and others, especially in the US.
For Marshall the contemporary fascination with rights is due to the development of capitalism. Since capitalism is based on consumption and freedom, he suggests that the development of rights and law was essential to business success. Turner critically mentions that “the growth of modernity is a movement from de jure inequalities in terms of legitimate status hierarchies to de facto inequalities as a consequence of naked market forces where the labourer is defined as a ‘free’ person.” The communitarian school emphasises responsibility and community in an attempt to counteract what it sees as a selfish, liberal, rights-based culture. This in turn is challenged by feminist critiques of communitarianism which attacks the notion of ‘family values’ etc, as upholding the patriarchal structures that have oppressed women. During the 1990s with a decline in the political support for the traditional left and right, it is an influence of communitarianism that is central to the ‘Third Way’ politics of Dewey, Giddens et al., taken up by Blair and Clinton.
As equality is one of the fundamental tenets of modern conceptions of citizenship, we need to ask how this is to be manifest? What is equality in the context of, say, a number of newly arrived migrants living in a modern nation state in Europe? Or, to look at the whole world where there are around 200 states, at least 5,000 ethnic groups and over 600 living languages. How does one apply the notion of citizenship which has traditionally meant to be ‘us’ and not ‘them’. Does equality in this context imply equal access to law? Participation in politics? Recognition of individual and collective rights? Access to employment, education, welfare, health, etc? What about one’s heritage? Is there a right to protect or even promote one’s heritage, whatever that may be? Can equality be something that is blind, or does it mean that diversity has to be heeded to as well? For example, the need for an appreciation of difference is touched upon in one of Aesop’s Fables, The Fox and the Stork:
At one time the Fox and the Stork were on visiting terms and seemed very good friends. So the Fox invited the Stork to dinner, and for a joke put nothing before her but some soup in a very shallow dish. This the Fox could easily lap up, but the Stork could only wet the end of her long bill in it, and left the meal as hungry as when she began. “I am sorry,” said the Fox, “the soup is not to your liking”. “Pray do not apologise,” said the Stork. “I hope you will return this visit, and come and dine with me soon.” So a day was appointed when the Fox should visit the Stork; but when they were seated at table all that was for their dinner was contained in a very long-necked jar with a narrow mouth, in which the Fox could not insert his snout, so all he could manage to do was to lick the outside of the jar. “I will not apologise for the dinner,” said the Stork, “One bad turn deserves another.”
This well-known story demonstrates, inter alia, that different groups may have needs that are specific. It was referred to by Lord Lester of Herne Hill in a presentation to the House of Lords in the UK on proposed Discrimination legislation. In light of this notion of specificity, could different groups be treated differently while maintaining the principle of equality? If so, on what criteria? And is positive discrimination or affirmative action useful, or is it unfair for the majority? These are some of the questions that are pertinent to contemporary notions of citizenship vis-à-vis diversity. While considering the subject of difference within citizenship, we should remember that there can be a tension between culture and citizenship, the former tends towards diversity, while the latter tends towards integration and homogeneity. How far are the bounds of difference and if difference is not entertained, how far can you homogenise / assimilate?
The way out of this for some is to refer to, or develop, post-modern views of citizenship to challenge the traditional unified theories. While this is a clear departure from classical notions of citizenship it allows for dual (although this has been around since Greek / Roman times), multiple or concentric modes of citizenship, even extending to citizenship of the cosmopolis, the world. To quote Delanty again, “In so far as democracy rests on citizenship – along with representation and constitutionalism – and to the extent that citizenship entails participation in political community, then minority rights are essential….clearly democracy must find a way of dealing with the reality of ethnoculturalism, as very few states are, or can be, mono-cultural.”
The notion of citizenship is important because it legitimises the polis, the state. Therefore the survival of the liberal democratic state depends on its success in creating the citizens it is run by and whom it is established for. As Muslims we must engage with the notion of citizenship; in fact this is not a choice, for we already are citizens in the vast majority of cases in Western Europe. However while on the practical level, adoption and application is one thing, we must also be conscious of the ideological, philosophical and political dimensions of the subject. Just as liberals and republicans, capitalist and Marxists, or modernists and post-modernists approach citizenship with their own values, own conceptions and offer different forms, emphases, and critiques to mould the notion to their requirements, so must Muslims critically engage with the notion to make their citizenship meaningful and genuine. Perhaps even new forms of citizenship could be evolved, and need to be evolved. For it is true that much of the contractual approach to defining the relationship between the ruler and the ruled is coherent with Islamic political values. The concept of bay‘ah is a contract and there are now numerous voices advocating how the mechanisms of democracy and rule of law can be deemed compatible with Islamic values . The ethos of the Greek polis and direct participatory democracy stands very close to the origins of the first Muslim state in Madinah which, 1,400 years ago, went beyond the European liberal model to grant individual suffrage and right of ownership of property to women, and also allowed for instant naturalisation of migrants, whether from a relatively near city as Makkah, or as far off as Rome, Persia or Abyssinia. The concepts of hajj, ihram and daily prayer created a notion of equality that is still exemplary and deeply profound. Yet, it is true that Muslim rule also took the line of despotism, tyranny and rule by inheritance. And while Muslims may have excelled in mathematics, science, art and other fields, political and economic theory is somewhat stale and stagnant, inadequate to deal with the realities of the day. So, not only can we contribute, but we can also learn much by engaging.
However, to temper this optimism there is also room for caution. On the ideological level, we should acknowledge that citizenship i) bears an Enlightenment ethos, ii) relies heavily on the nation-state, iii) is used, at least in its liberal form, to encourage consumerism and free market behaviour, and iv) tends towards individualism. While it is true that the Enlightenment experience of Europe need not be the archetypal model for the relationship between reason and religion, for it is the case that in the Muslim world there was an entirely different relationship between scientific enquiry and faith, we cannot deny that the Enlightenment experience has left the West with a scepticism and suspicion of not only Christianity, and Western Christianity at that, but all religious tendencies. Hence, while there may be a valid argument for an Islamic Modernity that is different to the West experience, the reality of the day is that we are facing the challenge of dealing with European notions of Citizenship, Enlightenment, Secularism, etc., and hence Modernity. Part of the challenge of Muslim intellectuals is to articulate exactly how Islam deals differently with reason and how Islamic religious experience would be distinctive.
In terms of the nation-state, it is true that we have accepted the de facto existence of nation-states, and that will mean that we also have to take on board much of the paraphernalia that comes with the nation-state, such as the discourse of Human Rights to protect the individual from the state. But while this pragmatic stance is enacted, we must also lead a principled examination of how the ideals of justice, equality, liberty can be practiced in post nation-state societies, for it would seem that Globalisation is taking us in that direction anyway. Similarly, and with special reference to Globalisation (and the trends of anti and alter-globalisation), we need to appreciate the economic consequences of free market consumerism, that we could be unwitting contributors to through the creation of citizens-as-consumers. With respect to individualism, every religion has a sense of community and we must be careful that the notion of community is not eroded among Muslims who see themselves in purely individual citizen terms. As a Muslim community that is still in the process of settlement in Europe we need to develop shared narratives, common identities, not for sectarian reasons or to differentiate ourselves, but for our mere survival. How can this be made possible in the face of liberal individualism? Perhaps we could use the communitarian models of citizenship from the US, but that may not be acceptable in countries like France, for example. We must also acknowledge that by submerging ourselves as individuals we will not get rid of the problems of communal living, ghettoes, etc. as is often the object of assimilationist policies. We cannot merely close our eyes to the realities of under-achievement, poverty, low self-esteem etc, whether in Paris or London. These ‘communities’ are formed because of more complex social, demographic and political reasons than can be tackled by the assimilationist mirage of equality through individual citizenship. Having said this, recent discussions around cohesion in society do raise important concerns about the unity of society within a nation state and about the reality and potential of fragmentation, isolation and ‘parallel lives’. For a religion that places so much emphasis on human interaction, this needs to be given much greater concern.
Finally on a practical level we must be aware of i) the political climate that is driving the push for integration (or assimilation) as citizens, e.g. the fear that immigrants may dilute the culture of the country or that they are a security threat, and also ii) the reality of the social contract that we have entered into. Despite some overlap, it is important that concerns around security and counter-terrorism, which are legitimate for any society, are discussed distinct from the wider concerns around citizenship, integration and identity. As regards the second point, I would argue that, in many ways, Muslims have tried to live up to their part of the contract; they pay their taxes as others do, they are largely law abiding as others are, they are trying to work hard despite discrimination and other challenges; yet, has the state lived up to its part of the contract? On the whole, across Western Europe, I would argue that while Muslims benefit enormously from open and relatively free societies, states do not always treat Muslims (and others) as equals, as real citizens; rather, the sense of being foreign and ‘other’ remains pronounced. The socio-economic data that is available shows that ethnic minorities (and particularly those of a Muslim background for some reason) suffer disproportionately from inequalities in basic service provisions such as education, housing, employment, health, etc. The onus cannot wholly be placed back on individuals – to integrate or assimilate further, we must remember that as this is a contractual relationship and the state, being the more powerful and resourced party, should have the greater onus. An onus to crate a society where ‘new’ citizens are accepted, if not welcomed, and treated with dignity and equality. Yet all too often, the reality is that xenophobia is often the order of the day. Hence we must bear in mind that citizenship is not just a tool towards enhanced civic and political participation, but is a political issue in itself.
Dilwar Hussain
Shortened version - 3.rd Sept 2006
This paper deals with the interaction between religion and politics at the legal and institutional level, modalities of regulating relations between state and religious organizations in Europe and the USA, and the consequences of those models for religious organizations and religion itself.1 In contrast to the United States, two main features of those relations on the Old Continent are: plurality of models, with almost complete absence of the liberal / secular one; and preferential treatment of traditional religious organizations, though new religious groups are usually recognized. One may also observe a tendency of state voluntary withdrawal from the doctrinal and administrative affairs of religious organizations. This trend is partly explained by the transformation of religious organizations from organized mass religious movements, potentially threatening to the state’s legitimacy, into politically integrated interest groups with a moral agenda but far fewer members. In this connection, researchers have long pointed to the phenomenon of a far more rapid decrease in the numbers of ‘church-goers’ in the traditional religious organizations in Europe than in the United States. This is, somewhat paradoxically, explained by the privileged status that those organizations have in the European states. The paper ends with a section on the implications for the state-church relations in the Balkan region.
This paper has the humble aim of providing a short survey of the current state of theory and practice of state-church relations in Europe and the United States. More precisely, the topic of this essay is the relationship between two hierarchies, two systems, the religious and the governmental; and not the interaction between religion and politics in general. At the end we will discuss the implications for state-church relations in the Balkans, and in ex-Yugoslav countries especially. Historically, state-church relations have been a significant source of political conflict. Attention is drawn at this early stage to the significant differences between European and American tradition in this regard. Mainstream Western European tradition is much more in favor of state accommodation of and cooperation with religious organizations, while the American tradition leans towards separation. Both models are essentially different from both theocracy and from the open state antagonism towards religious organizations that was the reality in all Communist countries and still is in North Korea, Cuba and China. There are many, mainly historical and social, reasons for these differences. The relations between religion and politics in general, and between the state and religious organizations in particular are so complex that they have produced a variety of regulatory mechanisms. This complexity stems from a wide spectrum of vital areas and aspects of social life that feature prominently in the relationship between state and religious organizations. Those, inter alia, include: the legitimacy of the state itself, monopoly on truth, administrative autonomy (previously of the state, today of religious organizations), education, financing of religious organizations, religion in the armed forces, religious freedoms and rights, especially of minorities, etc. In comparison with the Middle Ages, contemporary interaction between religious organizations and the state unfolds in completely new circumstances, which have essentially changed the terms of that dialogue. Those new circumstances lie in the fact that power, which could be (mis)used against other religious organizations, previously lay in the hands of religious groups, while today it rests mainly with secular governments. Exceptions notwithstanding, it has become more likely that political authorities will use force against religious groups than the other way around.2 Understandably, in the past the main preoccupation of thinking men was how to secure the state in its development from an aggressive church. Today, in contrast, it is usually the modern state that represents a potential threat to the religious and other rights and freedoms of its citizens and their groups. Generally speaking, when it comes to the relationship between state and religious organizations there are four clearly differentiated possibilities: 1) complete integration / fusion of the two, 2) a state church, 3) separation with various degrees of strictness or cooperation between state and religious organization, and 4) antagonism. Each of these possibilities has produced a series of modalities both in theory and practice. They are best viewed as a continuum, which spans from the theocratic state on one side to the Erastian state,3 hostile to religion, on the other side. Models in this latter part of the continuum are result of the long secularization process, which – like secularism itself – varies from moderate models (separation) to ‘state fundamentalism’, ‘leftist secular fundamentalism’, an extreme, aggressive and hostile state.4 We will briefly address each of these models, their main variations and examples. Theocracy In short, theocracy is a relationship between state and religious organizations in which one religious institution has supremacy over religious and worldly affairs, where that institution controls the political system. Today in Europe there is one theocracy – the Vatican. Another state that could – with some reservations – be qualified as theocratic is Andorra, since one of its two constitutional rulers is bishop.
A state church exists where the state grants one religious organization or institution a privileged position and monopoly over public religious life. In this arrangement, the church is often a part and parcel of the state administration, and where it is not, the state usually retains a certain level of control over it, especially in the area of finances and highest official appointments. The church, in return, legitimizes the political system, stressing obligations of loyalty and solidarity, as well as the believer’s duty of obedience to the civil authorities. A modified version of ‘state church’ is the ‘established church’ which differs from the previous inasmuch as its privileged status rests upon the fact that majority population belongs to it. Consequently such religious organizations are usually capable of maintaining a higher level of autonomy in their relations to the states than ordinary ‘state churches.’
This model is most often found in the protestant European countries (primarily for doctrinal reasons), although some concordats between the Vatican and predominantly Catholic secular states come close to establishing the Catholic Church as a state church. Such was once the case with France (1801–1905), Spain (1945–1978) and Italy (1848–1984). In Protestant societies it was believed that the state, when legislating, should be guided by Protestant ethics. Membership in the state church was considered to be a civic duty; the ideal was religious monism. In Sweden, for instance, until 1860 it was impossible to leave the church, while the law granted full religious freedom only in 1951. State churches are in principle involved in public administration, especially in keeping of birth and marriage records, supervision of the educational system, and provision of social services. They have been the main expression of ‘the sacred position of the secular ruler’.
With the advent of the modern age, state churches were not – in most cases – separated from state. However, they did go through a transformation process ending usually as ‘established’ or – in Scandinavian parlance – ‘folk churches’. Thus a church serves as the bearer of national tradition and as a spiritual center towards which a majority of the population gravitates. This status leaves the church with certain privileges and autonomy in its relation with the state. Similar changes could be discerned in countries with a Catholic majority.5 A subtype of state church is the Erastian model, in which the state attempts to make the church one of its departments with no autonomy in policy making. This model was characteristic of Protestant German states in the Reformation age and of England during the reign of Henry VIII. In this model, the state must engage, among other things, with the problem of internal religious changes, often expressed in the form of disputes about liturgy and doctrinal issues. In such situations the state can either tolerate differences to some extent, or try to arbitrate. Either way, both the state and the religious organization risk their credibility.6 Separation of Religious Organizations and State Separation of state and religious organizations, sometimes called the ‘liberal model’, denotes detachment of religious organizations from secular authorities in all forms. Although as a theoretical model, it was conceived in Europe, it has been rarely practiced on the European soil. Professor Silvio Ferrari observes that the structures supporting such a separation could not be found in the legal systems of most European countries.7 Hence this model is often considered to be an American contribution to liberal political theory and a core value of American political life. However, there are those who think that this is an oversimplification of reality and that it presumes a much clearer understanding of the principle than the one that really exists. It is said that this principle owes its wide acceptance even in the United States to its ambiguousness and multiple meanings. Some of those specific meanings are even contradictory, which in turn has created a series of legal controversies.8 Paul J. Weber has identified five forms of separating religious organizations from the state: structural separation, absolute separation, trans-valuing separation, accommodation, and equal separation or neutrality. Each of these deserves a brief comment.
Structural separation is a minimalist form of separation with a huge area of overlapping authority or claims to it. For instance, secular rulers almost regularly try to influence the selection of religious leaders and application of religious laws, while clerics do their best to manipulate the appointment / election of secular rulers. This model can even coexist with the model of an ‘established church’ as is the case in England where the monarch is a titular head of the Anglican Church. Structural separation is the oldest and most important. In theory, this form of separation has its roots in the Biblical dictum: “Render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s; and unto God the things that are God’s” (Matthew 22: 21). As part of Western political culture, structural separation could be considered an outcome of the theory of ‘two swords’ (spiritual and temporal power) formulated by Pope Gelasius I (pope 492–496). A good portion of the western political history developed around the dialogue/conflict of ‘two swords’: the pope and different temporal rulers. However, while the battle for domination as well as cooperation over certain issues – such as fighting non-Christians – went on simultaneously, the structures of religious and state organizations developed independently in such fields as the recruitment and education of professional administrators, legal systems, and property.9
Absolute or strict separation evolved as a consequence of strict interpretation of the First Amendment to the US Constitution, which states that Congress “shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.” One of the advocates of this model, the U.S. Supreme Court justice Hugo L. Black, stated in the1947 Everson v. Board of Education case that: Neither a state nor the federal Government can set up a church. Neither can pass laws which aid one religion, aid all religions, or prefer one religion over another… No tax in any amount, large or small, can be levied to support any religious activities or institutions, whatever they may be called, or whatever format they may adopt to teach or practice religion. Neither a state nor the Federal Government can, openly or secretly, participate in the affairs of any religious organizations or groups and vice versa. This reading of the First amendment is in line with the President Thomas Jefferson’s words from 1802 that the First Amendment (1791) aims to “erect a wall of separation between church and state.” However, this model has never been thoroughly applied even in the United States. The best example of its violation is the Supreme Court’s decision to allow financial support to the elementary and high school of religious background.10
Advocates of this form of separation, which is based on the cessation of all religious influence on public education and the nation’s political culture, see religion as a strictly personal, private affair that has no role to play in public affairs of society. In a way, this form of separation was built into the constitution of the Soviet Union, which had an overt atheistic leaning. On the other hand, this kind of separation has little appeal to the American public, for instance. The best-known advocacy group that supports this model in the United States is the American Humanist Association, which sees every attempt on behalf of religious organizations to influence national legislation as violation of the First Amendment. The Supreme Court rejected such an interpretation of the Founding Fathers’ intentions in Harris v. McRae (1980), clearly refuting the argument that any religious influence on legislation is unconstitutional.11 This model can easily turn into complete expulsion of religion from public discourse and life.
A very different model of separation is that of supportive separation or the accommodation principle, which holds that state and religious organizations may support each other as long as state does not give preference to one religious organization over others in administering such a support. Although polls show that many American citizens favor this model, it never gained the support of the majority of Supreme Court justices. On the European soil, however, everything indicates that this is the model of the future. Although in Europe today religious movements with an antagonistic attitude towards politics and the state generally attract more attention, state and religious organizations today cooperate more than they clash. Accommodation can also take the form of silent understanding as well as agreement behind the scene. Yet the tendency is that state and religious organizations openly recognize their complementary roles.12
Equal separation is sometimes called the neutrality or nondiscrimination principle. Paul J. Weber summarizes the concept in the following way:
It rejects all political or economic privilege, coercion, or disability based on religious affiliation, belief, or practice, or lack thereof, but guarantees to religiously motivated or affiliated individuals and organizations the same rights and privileges extended to other similarly situated individuals and organizations. … It treats the right to religious belief and practice as a human right to be protected along with other human rights in an even-handed manner. It protects the right of religiously motivated groups and individuals to participate in the political process and the economic system in the same manner and to the same extent that it protects the rights of other similar groups and individuals to participate.13
The father of this theory is American president James Madison. Lately, a number of scholars and judges in the USA have actively worked on building a consensus centered on the neutrality of state and equal treatment more than around strict separation. They are trying to avoid what they see as a trap set up by some liberal advocates, which has it that expulsion of religion from public sphere is neutrality. Thus one of the advocates of this new consensus, professor of law Douglas Laycock, reads the First Amendment to mean that “the religion clauses require government to minimize the extent to which it either encourages or discourages religious belief or disbelief, practice or non-practice, observance or non-observance”. According to this understanding, religious organizations may receive government funds for social services the same way other similar agencies do.14 It is interesting to note that separation of state and church in the United States was achieved thanks to a most unusual alliance of secularists/rationalists and religious leaders. The paradox lies in the fact that the first group, led by Thomas Jefferson (president 1801–09), wanted separation in order to prevent oppressive and divisive religious tendencies from taking roots in the federal American government, which they wanted ‘clean’ of any religious activity or influence. On the other side, some religious leaders, with Roger Williams (1603–83) being very vocal on the issue, promoted the wall of separation between the ‘garden of belief and the wilderness of the secular world.’ According to him, the separation was supposed to prevent intrusion of the corrupting influence of power into religious affairs and enable religious organizations to freely exercise their mission.15 So, the first group wanted to protect the state from religion and the second to protect religion from state. Although with different goals in mind, two groups agreed on a common method for achieving them. Anti-Church Model The anti-church model is a form of state-church relations in which the state not only wants to control religious organizations, but has a critical and even hostile attitude towards the religious hierarchy and religion in general. The previous East European systems fall under this category, as well as China today or France and Mexico in the early 20th century. State hostility towards religious organizations often expresses itself as prosecution of religious leaders, confiscation of religious property, and prohibition of religious activities. After writing this paper I came across a different and more complex typology developed by Veit Bader, which is worth noting. Veit Bader discerns five major models: Strong establishment (Serbia, Israel, Greece), weak establishment England, Scotland, Scandinavian states), plural establishment (Finland), non-constitutional pluralism (Netherlands, Belgium, India, Australia, Austria, and Germany), and non-establishment and private pluralism (allegedly, the USA). He prefers the fourth model on both practical and moral grounds. That model combines constitutional disestablishment with restricted legal pluralism, administrative institutional pluralism, institutional political pluralism, and religio-cultural pluralization of the nation. The author should be commended for drawing our attention to the important but often-neglected difference between constitutional regulation and legal regulation, administrative, political and cultural interference, as well as to the fact that aims of states in relation to religion and religious organizations vary widely.16
This section aims at exploring possible consequences of state regulation of religious organizations for the state itself, for religious organizations, and for religion in general. As has already been said, Western Europe has never been a very hospitable place for the liberal model of separation of state from religious organizations. The models applied differ from state to state and they are evolving. During last fifty years many churches in Europe have achieved an enviable degree of administrative autonomy, keeping or acquiring at the same time the right to financial support from public funds. Paradoxically, however, the participation of believers in traditional churches in Europe today seems at an all-time record low. At the same time, in the USA where the Supreme Court jealously guards a ‘wall of separation’ between state and religious organizations, public opinion polls consistently show significantly higher percentages of both self-declared and practicing believers.17 Similarly, in Eastern Europe, where religion was a victim of state repression for decades, certain religious organizations keep raising the levels of membership. Although there are some other factors that influence religiosity beside state support, one question poses itself: can it be that state neutrality or hostility towards religious organizations strengthens religion and religious organizations, while state support weakens them?18 In the following paragraphs we will shed more light on this question.
John G. Francis from Utah University, whose findings we follow here, holds that regulatory regimes developed in Europe after the World War II have motivated European religious organizations to neglect recruitment of members for participation in institutionalized religion and even their mission, and instead focus on their newly acquired social role: education, humanitarian work and political lobbying.19 He claims that contemporary state regulation influences religious organizations’ priorities and activities irrespective of the religiosity of population.20 Religious organizations react to regulatory incentives and inhibitions the same way they react to the political environment. In the same vein, Roger Finke concludes that deregulation of religious organizations in the USA has promoted religious individualism: In order to survive, a religious organization in the USA has to win over believers in the open religious market, by responding to the understanding of religion as individual conversion.21
Regulation of religious organizations used to be a result of state intention to impose its beliefs on its subjects, to redistribute social resources, or to prevent a possible challenge by religious organizations to the existing political system. Today, however, much regulation is a result of state reaction to the initiative of religious organizations which try to secure funding for their activities when faced with dwindling numbers of membership. Seeking financial support in exchange for a degree of regulation appears to be a new strategy on the part of religious organizations in Europe.[22] This trend certainly represents a considerable departure from the ‘liberal tradition of state neutrality.’
There are many factors that motivate religious organizations to actively seek regulation in times when states are loosing interest for it. First, a religious organization may conclude that regulation is to its competitive advantage in competition with other religious organizations. This is most often the case in countries where one church enjoys special status for historical reasons or because a majority of the population nominally belongs to it, or where other religious organizations, for various reasons, are not in a position to capitalize on the opportunity to conclude agreements with the state that would grant them the same status.[23] Second, some religious organizations are simply worried about fulfillment of their obligations towards their officers, institutions and educational programs. This concern, combined with decreasing numbers of believing members, understandably pushes those organizations towards the negotiating table with the state.
As a result of this accommodation to different regulatory regimes, churches in different European countries have become identified with different activities. So, for instance, in France, where the church has been separated from state for the better part of the 20th century, the Catholic Church has succeeded in building up a reputation as an institution that provides good education, rather than as a political advocate. According to some observers, the support that schools run by church in France receive from the government stems not from the latter’s conviction that those schools are bastions of morality, but from its satisfaction with the quality of secular education that they offer. In Germany, religious organizations pay special attention to social services and health care. Both major churches are actively involved in these sectors and receive significant state funds in return. In Eastern Germany, Protestant churches had a pronounced political role due to the absence of alternative political forces. However, with the fall of the Berlin wall the political environment was radically changed; the church is no longer in a position to attract political forces, and therefore is expected to follow the example of churches in Western Germany and focus on social services and health care as well.
The Anglican Church has over time built an image of “official clerical opposition”; an assessor of social conditions and public policy. In Italy, the Catholic Church has been trying for decades to distance itself from the Christian Democratic Party which it helped establish. In Spain, however, the Church receives considerable financial support for the services it provides to Spanish society, even from the Socialist government, which two generations ago advocated an end to its privileged position as an established church.[24]
The experience of religious organizations with regulatory frameworks in Europe indicates that opportunities created by those frameworks quickly attract religious organizations, which then reorganize their priorities in line with the opportunities at hand. Where they are denied a political role, or where they conclude that their intervention in politics is counterproductive, religious organizations refocus on social work, provision of health services, education or advocacy of specific political measures in selected areas of public policy.
It has also been observed that religious organizations, thanks to previously mentioned factors, have succeeded in achieving a substantial level of administrative autonomy, while maintaining their previously achieved level of state financial support and sometimes even their privileged status vis a vis new religious organizations. Thanks to such a course of developments, religious hierarchies have become independent from the support of their believers more than at any earlier time.[25]
Although strict separation of religious organizations from the state is a model with many advocates on the European soil, it does not capture the reality of the political relationship between them in Europe’s recent history. On the contrary, European states have so far experienced a number of those models. Relations between states and religious organizations there have always been intense. Sometimes they have cooperated and at other times they have clashed, but their relations have never been insignificant. Historical experience and social reality have pushed European states to secure privileged status for traditional, mainly Catholic and Protestant churches until today. In Spain, Greece, Belgium, and Luxemburg, the dominant religious organizations are financed from the government budget. So was the case until recently in Italy, which is now shifting to a system of religious taxes collected through public administration as is the case in Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Denmark, Sweden, and Finland.[26] Some religious organizations receive indirect support from the state in France, the United Kingdom, the Netherlands, and Sweden. Free access to TV and radio is another privilege granted to some religious organizations in parts of Europe.[27] Yet, despite enviable financial security and administrative autonomy, churches in Europe are generally not successful as centers of gravitation in their societies. Thanks to the ever-increasing number of small non-conformist churches and non-Christians in once monolithic Christian societies, the situation is slowly tilting in favor of the recognition of non-traditional religious organizations as well as Islam. That process is often very slow and incremental in nature. These new organizations in most cases advocate greater distance between religious organizations and the state, although there are examples to the contrary, as is the case with some Muslims in Britain who support the establishment of the Anglican Church. Alternatively, they ask that the privileges of the dominant religious organization be extended to others.[28] States are increasingly withdrawing from doctrinal and administrative affairs of religious organizations even when these are closely connected to the state. One reason is the complexity of such intervention. The risk of over-regulation leads to its actual reduction. The explanation for such state behavior could, among other things, be found in the decreasing number of ‘church-goers’ in the traditional churches, a phenomenon that is partially explained by the privileged status of those churches in European societies. As a result of overall social changes during the last fifty years, most importantly secularization, religious organizations in Europe have come a long way since the time when they represented themselves, and were seen, as the organizational expression of religious movements which saw the state as protector of the religious society and, on that basis, supported or denied the legitimacy of existing states. Rarely, today, do political circles in Western Europe take religious organizations as representatives of comprehensive ideological movements. Religious organizations are more often viewed as interest groups with a moral agenda that, like other interest groups, compete for resources and legal privileges. This does not necessarily mean that religious leaders do not provide independent comment on everyday issues of wider public interest. To the contrary, it could be said that many of them believe that today they enjoy more freedom of expression regarding those issues than ever before. However, those leaders speak as moral authorities, not leaders of mass movements which question or support main tenets of the state.[29] The withdrawal of European states from internal affairs of religious organizations could be interpreted as a sign that after this transformation of religious organizations into interest groups, they feel secure enough to let religious organizations alone.
Ex-Yugoslav republics shared the same anti-church model from 1945 until 1990. State and church were formally separate, but religious communities were closely monitored and their activities strictly regulated even after relative liberalization of Yugoslav society in the 1970s. In the late 1970s, Yugoslav republics passed more or less similar laws on religious communities regulating their status and activities. Although those laws were fairly flexible compared to Socialist states, their provisions failed to meet international standards of religious freedom on numerous accounts. Those laws were initially taken over by newly established states, sometimes amended and sometimes simply flexibly applied since their strict application was impossible in new circumstances. Today, however, only Slovenia has such a law still in place albeit amended.
Generally speaking ex-Yugoslav republics have been cautious and even slow in enacting new laws regulating the state-church relations and relatively respectful of international standards in this regard. Perhaps, in societies so divided along secular/religious line(s) the process could not be faster. There were anomalies such as the case of the Republic of Srpska, which adopted a constitution whose Article 28 reads in part:
… The Serbian Orthodox Church shall be the church of the Serb people and other people of Orthodox religion. The State shall materially support the Orthodox Church and shall cooperate with it in all fields and, in particular, in preserving, cherishing and developing cultural, traditional and other spiritual values.
The last paragraph, which was not surprising in the constitution of an entity established in a war of attrition against all non-Orthodox peoples of Bosnia, was deleted in 2002 by the decision of the High Representative.[30] There was also a draft law on religion, churches, and religious communities in Republic of Srpska, drawn up by the Ministry of religion, which provided for the establishment of Orthodox, Roman Catholic, Islamic and Jewish communities/churches. The law was never passed.[31] Instead, in January 2004, Bosnia and Herzegovina completely overhauled its legal framework for regulating state-church relations. The basic principles of the new Law on Freedom of Religion and the Legal Position of Churches and Religious Communities in today’s Bosnia are:
This law was drafted in an unusually wide process of consultation between Bosnian churches and religious communities, public authorities, as well as international experts and organizations.[32] The result is a relatively good law that takes into account the highest international standards of religious freedom, although some of its provisions seem to favor registered religious communities and their leadership. For instance, Article 5.f prohibits formation of associations of religious officials or believers without the consent of the relevant church or religious community authorities, while Article 18 requires 300 members for registration of new churches / religious communities. The Law can safely be said to uphold the principle of separation with adjustment and cooperation. Many of the provisions of this law are left intentionally vague. What they mean will be seen when the Ministry of Human Rights and Refugees of Bosnia-Herzegovina issues its long overdue Instruction for the implementation of this law. It would also be interesting to see what will be the future of the Concordat between Bosnia and the Vatican. Reportedly, the reluctance of the Islamic Community and the Serbian Orthodox Church to endorse the signing of the concordat caused a rift between the Catholic Church in Bosnia and these religious communities in early 2004.[33] Religious education is an optional subject in Bosnian elementary schools and in some parts of the country in the first years of the secondary schools. (The issue of religious education in schools has so far been the most publicly debated issue from the state-religion set of issues). Chaplains are present in the army and in some prisons. There is no state law on holidays yet. The law on holidays of the Republic of Srpska adopted in November 2005 clearly prefers Orthodox Christianity by proclaiming Orthodox saints as official holidays of the Republic of Srpska, its police and army units. Bosniak members of the Parliament strongly protested the adoption of the law. The Republic of Croatia adopted the Law on the Legal position of Religious Communities in 2002.[34] Pursuant to Article 9 of the Law, during 2002 and 2003 the Croatian government made contracts on issues of mutual interest with most religious communities in the country including the Serbian Orthodox Church and the Islamic Community. Before that, from 1996 to 1998, Croatia concluded four treaties with the Holy See on spiritual instruction in Croatian army and police, cooperation in education and culture, legal issues and economic issues. It has already been observed that this way of regulation has produced legal pluralism with several classes of religious communities in Croatia; by virtue of Concordats signed before the law was adopted, the Catholic Church is a religious community sui generis. The Treaty on cooperation in Education and Culture gives preferential status to the religion of the majority – Christianity. It states that “the system of upbringing and education in public upbringing institutions… shall be respectful of Christian values.”[35] Based on these treaties and contracts, the Croatian government gives a substantial amount of money to the Catholic Church (ca. 0.4% of the state annual budget).[36] However, this practice has not provoked a reaction from other religious communities because the government has under contracts concluded with them - recognized them the rights that surpass the rights granted by the Law on religious communities. Those rights include a substantial financial support for those communities as well. In Serbia the issue of state-church relations has not yet been regulated by law. The old law passed in 1977 was abolished in 1993. The Charter on Human and Minority Rights and Civil Freedoms, which is an integral part of the Constitutional Charter of the State Community of Serbia and Montenegro, regulates the matter to some extent. The remaining task was to be done by the new law which so far has not been passed. The draft that was prepared after the fall of Miloševi? in 2000 especially mentions the historical role of the Serbian Orthodox Church in the development of national identity. Reportedly, however, the SOC has lately advocated the idea that this law is unnecessary and that the state and religious communities should enter into separate contracts, where the Orthodox Church would have the best negotiating position of all the communities.[37] The Constitution of Serbia states that religious communities are equal and separate from the state. However, despite the lack of new law on this issue, religious education was introduced in 2002 after a joint effort of Orthodox Church and other churches and communities, including the Islamic Community. The Constitution of the Republic of Montenegro (Art. 11) also proclaims that religious communities are equal, separate and independent from the state. Macedonian constitution also stipulates that religious communities are separate from the state and equal before the law (art. 19). A Law on religious Communities and Religious Groups was adopted in 1997. Later, in 1998, the Constitutional Court of the Republic of Macedonia struck down several of its provisions conditioning the exercise of the freedom of religion on the registration of religious group with authorities (art. 3), requiring 50 members for the registration of a new religious community (art. 10 and 11, par. 2), and requiring concrete authorization from a government organ in several cases (art. 13, 14, and 22, par. 2). Religious holidays of the major religions are public holidays (Law on holidays), while religious education is allowed neither in the elementary nor in the secondary schools (laws on elementary and secondary education). The Slovenian constitution, too, stipulates that religious communities are equal and separate from the state (Art. 7). The Republic of Slovenia has not adopted an entirely new law on religious communities, but rather amended the Law on Legal Status of Religious Communities in the Socialist Republic of Slovenia (from 1976) in 1991. Slovenia has concluded bilateral agreements with the Catholic Church, the Evangelical Church of the Augsburg Confession, and the Holy See. The government has prepared a draft law on religious groups, but it has not been passed yet. It provides for the registration of religious groups of at least 100 adult members, as well as financial support from the Republic. Outside ex-Yugoslavia, in the Balkans only Bulgaria has passed a new law on religious communities, in December 2002. Only the ‘official’ Bulgarian Orthodox Church has been satisfied with this law. Other religious communities fiercely opposed it. This law seems to be a good example of how not to regulate the relations between state and church and status of religious communities in general. The aim of the state was to resolve the problem of two Bulgarian Orthodox Churches, which severely affected the solutions adopted. The law was prepared and passed without sufficient consultation with religious communities or international organizations that strongly criticized the law as favoring the Bulgarian Orthodox Church and allowing the Directorate for Religious Communities to interfere in the internal affairs of religious communities, and to punish them and their leaders. What is more, the critique from the Muslim community has led to a new wave of Islamophobia in the country.[38] The Republic of Albania has regulated state-church relations by the constitution, which provides for agreements between the government and religious communities. So far only the Catholic Church has reached an agreement with the Albanian state, through a Concordat of 23 March 2002. The Constitution stipulates that there is no official religion; that state is neutral on questions of belief or conscience; that religious communities are equal and independent from the state and vice versa (Art. 10); that religious freedom is guaranteed.[39] From this brief survey it is clear that Balkan countries are currently at different stages of regulating state-church relations, with Croatia being almost at the end of the process. The most controversial developments have been in the Serb-dominated part of Bosnia and in Bulgaria. It is quite obvious that all the states want at least to appear to respect international human rights standards, while also attempting to please most of the local religious communities, especially the dominant ones – a practice that sometimes borders on discrimination. Given the heavy heritage of state-religion relations in the region, states are careful not to antagonize religious communities or very strong secular circles. Separation in its various forms is the general rule, with strict separation being almost absent. Despite the numerous similarities between the situations in these states, differences are still significant. Most of the states have one predominant church with a number of smaller ones; others have to regulate real religious pluralism. Some states are well off enough to be able to provide financial support to all communities and thus appease them, as is obviously happening in Croatia; others do not have the necessary resources. It is encouraging news that the process of overt discrimination of one church/community was stopped soon after its initiation in the Republic of Srpska, BiH. Given the pluralistic nature of the region, the communist past, and the contemporary trends in this area of Europe, it seems that the model that suits these countries best is the model of non-constitutional pluralism or separation with cooperation between state and religious communities. The established church model is outdated, while strict separation would in many states recall bad memories of the Communist era, and alienate many religious people. The challenge, of course, is to meet the expectations of big religious communities and their members, while not infringing on the rights of others, including atheists. The recipe for success in this endeavor – at least on the legal plane – seems to be to have a wide consultative process in designing and drafting legislative and other solutions. The Bosnian and Bulgarian cases are illustrative in this regard. In Bosnia, although still working under the memories of war, four traditional religious communities have been able to take a common stand on most of the issues at hand, though not on all, as the concordat issue shows. However, what has been achieved is commendable when compared to the Bulgarian case, where one would expect much more cooperation between the relevant parties. Given the richness of the European and American experience in regulating these issues, it can safely be claimed that if there is enough will on the part of the state, religious communities, and civil society, there will be a way that will be acceptable to all. The problems most often seem to lie in unrealistic demands of religious communities (with regard to religious education and financing, for instance), on the one side, and in ignorance and prejudice towards any significant presence of religion in public life, on the other side. Finally, it should be noted that religious rights are most often not specifically targeted for violation. They simply partake in the destiny of other human rights in a region with weak administration, weak judicial systems, and a weak tradition of tolerance, although the situation is obviously not same everywhere, and has been improving under international pressure which will be essential for maintaining the achieved level of religious freedom and other human rights protection in the years to come. Acknowledgement This research was funded by a grant from the Norwegian Ministry of Foreign Affairs to the Kotor Network on Religion in Plural Societies coordinated by the Department of Culture Studies and Oriental Languages in Oslo. Author also gratefully acknowledges numerous suggestions and improvements made by Christian Moe.
Ahmet Alibašic
Let me state at the outset, that after having read the discussion paper, I agree with what Dr. Tariq has written very clearly and concisely about the issue of religion in the public sphere. I have been thinking about this issue in my research and wanted to add some points as well as echo some of the arguments already put forward. Sections of the writings below were constructed together with two Christian colleagues, Rev. Angus Ritchie, (Anglican) and Séverine Deneulin (Catholic), during the process of collective research on this topic.
It is important that we begin by considering the complexity of the debate. For the term secularism, which lies at the heart of debates around the appearance of religion in the public sphere, is a debated term and is defined in a number of ways, for example:
Peter Berger: “By secularization we mean the process by which sectors of society and culture are removed from the domination of religious institutions and symbols.”
Alistair Maclntyre: secularization is “the transition from beliefs and activities and institutions presupposing beliefs of a traditionally Christian kind to beliefs and activities and institutions of an atheistic kind”.
The term secularism is thus used differently based on the context and there are different shades of opinion related to the meaning of the word.
In philosophical terms secularism is the stance that life can be best lived by applying ethics, and the universe best understood by the process of reasoning, without reference to deity or other ‘supernatural’ concepts. Hence there are distinct undertones of atheism or agnosticism associated with the term secularism when used in a philosophical context.
In government and political science secularism is more mechanical and often refers to a policy of creating distance between the state and religion, of non-discrimination among religions and of guaranteeing human rights of citizens, regardless of their creed – Peter Berger’s notion of ‘Objective Secularism’.
In practice secularism has taken on many different forms in government ranging from secular orders with an Established Church, such as the UK to total separation, such as the case of French Laicite.
The rationale of secularism finds its roots in enlightenment values as well as the desire to rid Europe of centuries of religious conflict and tension. In this spirit it is also assumed that the public arena will also be free of religious interference. Muslims are hence seen to be ‘disturbing’ the stability of European secularism by reminding society of the medieval past it wants to forget. However, while these assumptions are understandable, they both need to be examined critically.
Liberal political theory, assumes that the stability of Western democracies is best ensured when religious visions of what is good is kept away from the public domain. This assumption is at the root of the difficulties faiths face in expressing their views. John Rawls’s Political Liberalism is a leading example of the liberal approach. Rawls’s idea of public reason demands that public reasoning in democracies must be done according to principles that all should accept as being reasonable. Religious views in the liberal idea of public reason have no place, unless they can be reasonably endorsed by all.1 Public life is hence a matter of creating a (procedural) framework in which different groups can pursue their visions of the good. If religious views have to be kept away from the public domain to ensure the stability of liberal democracies, why, then, are faith communities gaining increasing attention from the liberal state? The answer is pragmatic. Whilst attendance at worship in some Christian congregations is indeed in decline in countries like the United Kingdom, there is a far more general decline in participation in voluntary associations. Congregations of faith remain by far the largest and best organised networks of citizens - particularly in inner-city areas where politicians are most anxious about declining levels of participation in the political process.
The organisation and mobilisation potential of faith communities make them attractive to politicians in two spheres. One is the sphere of community consultation and engagement. Churches, mosques and temples remain effective ways for reaching large segments of the population, thus in ‘community’ based models of citizenship, such as the British case, government is actively encouraging religious groups to become more organised.
The second sphere which makes faith communities attractive to the government is their role in service provision. With the government seeking an increasing role for volunteering in local communities, and an increasing role for voluntary organisations in service delivery, congregations of faith are amongst the best placed groups to be recruited to this task. For example in Germany a number of hospitals and schools are run by the Church.
Christian and Islamic thought on faith and public life are both in a period of transition. For Christianity, the 20th century saw the collapse of the Christendom model - the end of the vision of the entire governance of the state as a Christian project. The earliest Christian thought emerged in a context where the faith was regarded with deep hostility by the State - but the conversion of the Roman Emperor Constantine ushered in a lengthy period in which Church played an active role in governance. In the United Kingdom, at least, this role has diminished substantially in the 20th century. Much of the contemporary discourse around social change in Muslim thought was developed in the context of attempts in the early 20th century to re-establish the Caliphate after its decline through the 19th century and its official demise in 1924. Especially in light of the experience of colonisation this restorationist approach was adopted by a number of anti-colonial movements across the Islamic spectrum, creating a fascination with the (Islamic) state as the central pillar for the establishment of Freedom and Justice. However, 20th century Islamic movements’ experimentations with the state have not been a happy experience. Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, Iran, Sudan, Afghanistan and other states were built in the name of (different brands of) Islam and have all, in one way or another, not lived up their original ambitions, thus serving to remove some of the lustre from the pursuit of the state. In addition to this a large number of Muslims have began to live as minorities over the 20th century to whom the pursuit of an Islamic state is either irrelevant or not of local concern. Furthermore, a number of Muslim thinkers have begun to critique the adoption of the nation state in the context of an Islamic project.2
How do these communities of faith respond to a context in which the establishment of a theocratic state is either impossible or agreed to be undesirable? In Torture and Eucharist, his study of the relationship between Church and State, William, William Cavanaugh distinguishes two models.3 The first model, Humanism, sits very easily with liberal political theory. (Jacques Maritain and John Courtney Murray are its two main protagonists within Christian theology.) What characterizes Humanism is the separation between the state, which is endowed with the legitimate use of coercive force for the stake of public order, and civil society, which is that space of freedom between the state and families. Faith communities belong to the latter civic space, as groups which function independently from the political sphere.
For Humanism, people of faith influence the political sphere by ‘infusing’ it with their religious values. By being members of a faith community, they learn certain values (like loving one’s neighbour as one self), and try to apply these values to decisions that are taken in the public sphere. If for example, the government decides to allocate a higher proportion of its public spending to military expenditures, to the detriment of the education budget, it would be the duty of people of faith to speak out in the public sphere, to infuse the temporal world with the value of peace, and to influence in consequence the government’s decision. It is therefore important that the language being used to influence public policy is understandable and can be accepted by all, independently of their beliefs. In the temporal order, it is important that people of faith engaged in political action do not do so as Muslims or Christians as such, but do so inspired by those values, leaving the space for others to join them in their political action. The Church or Ummah are not allowed to speak and act as bodies in the temporal realm. They have to disappear as distinct social bodies.
The Humanist approach assumes that the values of a community of faith can be separated from both their narrative, and their vision of the human telos. It is such a divorce that Alistair MacIntyre has challenged, in a series of works beginning with After Virtue.4 In this work, he argues that the inability of post-Enlightenment culture to resolve moral and political disagreements comes precisely from their abandonment of teleology. Humanism is asking for the impossible: that communities of faith somehow ‘infuse’ liberal culture with their values - without allowing them to articulate the very teloi which give these values their coherence. Such an approach also resonates strongly with Muslim thinkers such as Ziauddin Sardar.5
MacIntyre and Cavanaugh conclude that communities of faith in fact have to be political bodies in themselves. Instead of trying to influence the public sphere, the Church and Ummah are themselves public spaces. For Cavanaugh, the Eucharist cannot but make political claims which contradict the liberal state. The Eucharist is a political act in itself, because “to participate in a communal and public discipline of bodies is already to be engaged in a direct confrontation with the politics of the world.”6 There is no split between the sacred and the secular. Cavanaugh goes further arguing that, “the Eucharist is the true ‘politics’ because it is the public performance of the true eschatological City of God in the midst of another City which is passing away.”7 The Church has to be a “contrast society”, i.e., “a counter-performance of the body to that of the state.”8 The Church gathered around the altar does not simply disperse into civil society, the liturgy does more than generating motivations to be better citizens. The liturgy generates the body of Christ which is a social body, a public presence irreducible to a voluntary association of civil society.9
In the Humanist model, the Church only provides values and inspiration. On that account entering the public realm involves going out from the worshipping community. Cavanaugh rejects this model: engagement with public life is “a question of what kind of community disciplines we need to produce people of peace capable of speaking truth to power.”10 Instead of “lobbying”, people of faith should be “witnessing”.
Examination of the way the term secularism was received by the Muslim world is quite revealing. The words, ‘Ilmaniyah (scientism) and La Diniyah (anti-religious) were originally used in Arabic as distinct aspects of and translations of the term secularism, resonating with the way Berger and MacIntyre differently defined two distinct versions of secularism as mentioned above. Although much of the contemporary view of secularism by Muslims is totally rejectionist, a nuanced and careful look at Islamic thought and Muslim history shows that there has always been some notion of separation of din wa dawlah (religion and state), din and muamalat, (the sacred and profane) as well as between Hukkam (rulers) and Ulama (scholars). Hence, Muhammad Abduh talks of tamyiz (distinction) rather than fasl (total separation). It is vital to look at complexity of this discussion rather than discuss secularism in simplistic terms as is often the case today amongst Muslims.
Muslim and Christian histories are a testimony to what can happen when political power is abused. Even very early examples of great scholars such as Imam Malik and Ahmed Ibn Hanbal shows that they were oppressed and pressured by the rulers of the day. Experience shows that after Prophecy, temporal rule needs to be balanced by the mechanisms of statecraft in order to minimise totalitarianism and despotic rule. The experience is restricted to the historical one of tyrannical figures such as Hajjaj bin Yusuf, but also a very contemporary phenomenon. Nor is the experience of only the rulers abusing their authority. Adulkarim Soroush, the Iranian thinker, argues passionately for reduction of the direct role of Clergy in the exercising of State political power following the Iranian example, as has Abdulwahhab El-Affendi argued the case for a division of powers in light of the Sudanese experiment. In this regard the separation of the institutions of ‘Church’ (meaning any religious order) and State seems to be healthy order, along the lines of the modern notion of ‘separation of powers’ of the executive, the legislature and the judiciary such that ‘rule of law’ is ensured.
However there are differences between this position and the liberal expectation of religion to have no place at all in the public realm. And furthermore, the philosophical opposition to a framework based upon revealed knowledge, in which (unlike for many Christians) the Qur’an is seen as the eternal, literal and unchanging Word of God. In this regard there is a problem, for this is a claim that Muslims simply cannot surrender.
But very much like Christianity, Islam regards theology as a discourse which needs explicit articulation in public space. The basic Objectives (Maqasid) of the Shariah are designed to protect life, faith, intellect, progeny, and property. They are the foundations of an Islamic understanding of social justice - in which the ordering of the public realm is necessarily based on submission to its Creator, and must be an embodiment of his care for all that he has made. The Qur’an asserts: “…Be just: this is closest to piety…” In fact man is viewed as God’s steward (khalifah) whose role is to care for the natural order and for life on earth. In a similar vein to the Eucharist, on a day-to-day basis, Muslims are reminded through the practice of the pillars of Islam: salah (prayer), zakah (alms), sawm (fasting) and hajj (pilgrimage) that actions that are deeply spiritual are not devoid of political consequences. The congregational prayer is often held as an example of a community in harmony with believers standing in rows and functioning as one body. Fasting and charity sensitise the believers to those who lead less fortunate lives and make the war against global poverty a vivid reality. The pilgrimage symbolises equality and the breaking of barriers between nations, classes and tongues. Muslims are urged to look beyond their own needs and rights, which are important, to realise that their true role is to be of service (khidmah) to all the people around them, “encouraging good and resisting the bad”.11
In fact this is consistent with European history, and this is where we come back to those two assumptions. For it is arguable that religion never did retreat completely from the public sphere, shattering the myth of secularisation. One only needs to look at European society today, indeed across the world, to see the inspiration of religious values. The welfare state and the National Health Service in Britain were inspired by Christian social teachings. Even the Labour Party had Christian support from the outset. The Polish Solidarity movement which was instrumental in the breakdown of Communism in eastern Europe was based on catholic social teaching and today we can see the influence of the Christian right in USA. We can also see many other such movements and influences:
For further examples and a fuller discussion of this, one can refer to Peter Berger’s writings12. For all these reasons, I would say we are not Secular Muslims, in direct answer to the question raised in the discussion paper.
This is an important question raised in the discussion paper and perhaps here the differentiation between the Qur’anic terms Qawm (people) and Millah (religious community) are important. In modern Muslim collective psyche, Muslims are highly distinct from non-Muslims and in fact Muslim identity has become reified and oppositional in a rather bizarre manner. This is both contrary to Islamic teachings and unhelpful on a strategic level. The Qur’anic concept of qawm means all the people that one lives among, Muslims and non-Muslims alike. The Qur’an relates the story of many messengers, saying that God sent the messengers ‘to their brethren’13, who were non-Muslims. The Prophets addressed their community as ‘my People!’14 (Qawmi). Hence there is a fraternal relationship between the Muslim and his community, regardless of their belief. The Muslim is one of ‘them’, ‘they’ are part of the Qawm. The Qur’an further clarifies this:
“O mankind! Behold, we have created you from a male and female, and have made you nations and tribes, so that you might come to know one another. Verily the noblest of you in the sight of God is the one who is most conscious of him…”15
Thus, plurality of cultures and ethnic groups is acknowledged as a positive factor to enhance human life, rather than be a cause of prejudice. Social and public action is not just among one’s Millah, but among one’s Qawm, : “…and join together in pursuit of good and pious things…”16
An interesting model for civil society engagement is provided by the Citizen Organising Foundation (COF), and its affiliated bodies, Young Citizens (in Birmingham) and The East London Communities Organisation (TELCO). These ‘broad-based organisations’ have managed to bring thousands of volunteers from different faith and non-faith backgrounds, including Muslims, together to work for issues of common local concern. The philosophy is to teach politics through action and to show that individuals can make a difference if they organise themselves together with others. Such partnerships of citizens who come together, to work together in the civil space, deserve much more explorations and emphasis across-the-board. The constriction of the civil space in recent times as government encroaches more on civil liberties is of great concern to Muslims, but it is of concern to many others. The prevalence of consumerism and the subsequent impact of the market on our lives creating consumers rather than citizens is difficult for Muslims to deal with, but again, is an important concern for numerous others. Likewise, a whole range of matters could be presented that are common challenges to many citizens and need common human solutions and alliances.
In summary, then, contemporary Islamic and Christian communities, especially in the West, have had to think beyond the patterns of Caliphate and Christendom. We have argued that while the distance between the formal institutions of Religion and Politics is healthy for society, the Humanist solution (in which theological discourse retreats from the public sphere) is unsatisfactory. The Church and Ummah must find a way of continuing to be public spaces in a pluralist world.
Dilwar Hussain
There is an urgent need to clarify our position regarding the idea that Islam maintains a confusion of categories when it comes to the religious, social, and political aspects of life. Two of the principles we have considered should be recalled here: (a) There is a difference in nature between the Islamic principles related to religious ritual and those that concern the affairs of the world and society: the first are very detailed and precise, while the second are, with very rare exceptions, general and give guidance in a certain direction, rather than fixing a restricting framework; (b) The methodologies in these two areas are the complete opposites of each other: only the text is to be relied on for deciding what is allowed in terms of ritual practice, while the scope for reason and creativity is very wide when it comes to social affairs, which are limited only by the prohibitions found in the scriptural sources, and these are in fact not numerous. Having differentiated the principles and the methodologies, we may take a step toward clarification by stating that although, on the level of ritual, the Islamic message provides a clear, fixed, and, so to speak, unchangeable framework, it is not at all the same on the social and political level, where principles and an awareness of the prohibitions inspire the type of commitment that individuals make in these two areas. They must decide what this should be individually and independently, using their reason, their freedom, and, more broadly, their imagination. There is in fact no confusion between the restraining authority of the religious and the civic independence of the individual, between the realm of dogma and that of reason, between the private and the public. Contrary to the widely held idea, Muslims have no particular problem with the principle of distinguishing the various orders of things, even within their sources, because they find these distinctions articulated in the first works of categorization of orders carried out by the ulama as early as the eighth to ninth centuries. In the history of Christianity, arriving at this “distinction of orders” led to the necessary establishment of a clear “separation” between the two spheres of authority (Church and State). This structuring, and the use of space that it assumes, is very accessible to Muslims because it is close to their way of conceiving of the nature of their relationship with God and the modalities of their acting in the world.
What appears to differ, however, is that for Muslims the source of reference remains the same, even if it speaks differently to the heart and mind. With regard to the first, it recalls the dimension of one’s dependence on God; with regard to the second, it sketches the paths to independence and freedom in relation to human beings. The original and natural principle of distinction in Islam has not had to go as far as separation, even divorce, as in the Christian era, in order to provide humankind with rational autonomy and the ability to confront the temporal evolution of societies. So Muslims continue to find in their scriptural sources principles that inspire their social and political commitment without ever imposing a definitive model, a timeless code, or, more broadly, a dogma for action. In fact, these principles form the body of an ethic that their constantly active reason must seek to respect as much as possible. On thinking about it, we realize that this approach, apparently particular to Muslims, is infact not so: many Christians, Jews, Buddhists, agnostics, and atheists are inspired in their social and political commitments by their religious, humanist, and ethical convictions and try to act in a coherent manner. They may quote their sources less often, or less directly, than Muslims, but they are perhaps inspired by them just as much.
The difficulties Muslims encounter in social debates in the West arise most with people who confuse “separation” and “conflict” or “mutual rejection” and project onto the secular space a militant ideology opposed to any form of religious expression. There really is a great difference between the normative constitutional order of laicity, or secularism, and the very tendentious and ideologically oriented reading of it that certain radicals, even extremists, would like to impose.1 To them, in order to be completely “integrated,” people should not express their faith at all and should become religiously invisible: any reference to Islam should completely disappear from the public arena, “Islamic” associations should not be so called, and essentially the exercise of one’s citizenship should never be inspired by religious convictions. Those who hold these extreme views justify them on the basis of fear of creating religious ghettoes, sectarianism, and the possible return of religious conflicts to the West. These fears are understandable, but we have the right to question the proposed remedies: Western societies have so changed and become so unhomogeneous that wiping out all allegiances in the name of national unity is a measure that maintains only a pretense, or hangs on an illusion. Moreover, the feeling of belonging to a community of faith, for example, is not necessarily a withdrawal or an intellectual and/or ethnic isolation and, on the contrary, depending on how it is conceived, may produce extra spiritual energy available to the society as a whole. We must provide some answers for those who maintain and nourish distrust of the real intentions of Muslims, which they think are hidden behind deceitful double talk.
The second confusion that must be removed is directly connected with this discussion. It exists as much among Muslims as among their fellow citizens and concerns the understanding of what Muslims mean by “the community of faith.” A debate on the principle of loyalty is needed here to distinguish among the various kinds of belonging and the way in which they are structured. Let us remember that the community of faith imprints the heart of believers with the collective dimension of their belonging with regard to spirituality, practice, and solidarity; it does not justify taking up a passionate, chauvinistic, or blind stance. Higher ethical principles should inspire the behavior of individuals, sometimes even against their own coreligionists if they are untruthful, treacherous, unjust, or oppressive. Spiritual community is an allegiance to a body of principles and a morality, not to a community united by blood or self-interest. One gets involved in politics not in the name of “my people” but before God and in conscience, in the name of inalienable principles.
As a result, the community of faith is essentially opposed to any form of communitarianism. Something must also be said about a confusion that is in its nature clearly sociological but that often arises in discussion about Islam and causes a disturbance in the debate concerning Muslims in the West. This debate often focuses on a mixture of vague considerations related to the problems of immigration, marginalization, violence, and drugs. First of all, the question of Islam has nothing to do with immigration as such, and many Muslims are now American or European citizens: Islam is a Western religion in the full sense of the word. If these social problems do touch many Muslims, this is obviously not intrinsically because of their religious allegiance. It is a matter of urgency to establish a clear distinction between the nature of the problems, their causes, and their consequences in order not to fuel the simplistic equations: Muslim-immigrant- violence. What should be called into question are the immigration policies of Western countries and their social and urban policies, which have catastrophic effects, spreading very negative images of the Other and giving rise to vexatious, discriminatory, and unjust administrative measures. These are complex problems, and there are many areas of overlap. They should therefore be dealt with as clearly as possible, and we should work toward reform not as “Muslims” but as citizens, inspired of course by a message and a morality, but above all aware of our responsibilities and determined that the right of every person to be treated justly and fairly (as the common law guarantees) should prevail. Partners are needed in this venture and should become more and more numerous. After all, this will be the best proof that the caricatures lie and that Muslim citizens are today among the men and women who are working against social breakdown and violence. As for those among them who are victims, like all other victims, they suffer the consequences of deficient social policies that become increasingly tight and and restrictive the more they refuse to act against the causes of injustice.
Dr. Tariq Ramadan
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