The Debate So Far: Analysing the Tension between Autonomy and Toleration in Contemporary Liberal Theory
‘There is a large and growing debate amongst liberals about whether autonomy or tolerance is the fundamental value within liberal theory’
It is not clear when the current age of man began, or when it will end. But liberalism, wrought from the fires of a Europe torn by bloody conflict, is the pre-eminent ideology of our age. The past three centuries allowed liberalism to blossom from its Enlightenment roots, but a central dedication to the value of human liberty has remained throughout. However, as liberalism has been slowly evolved, the world has not been so patient. When Montesquieu passed away in 1755, the Earth held 791m persons. Today, we will soon welcome the seven billionth living human, as every twelve years adds another billion to our number. Political philosophy, tasked with locating 'a moral basis for social co-operation’, is now faced with radically new challenges. Cultures sharing their most essential resources, whether physical or social, with others is no longer a desirable possibility but utterly necessary. Even previously homogeneous societies will experience novel diversity in the languages, religions, values and beliefs with which they must deal. How would liberal theory encourage us to meet such challenges? As in much of political philosophy, the response is far from uniform. This dissertation will attempt to analyse the terms of one major disagreement amongst liberal theorists: the tension between autonomy and toleration.
Liberalism, as a theory extolling the virtue of human liberty, naturally attracts those who hold autonomy to be primary in the pantheon of virtues This is found when a person follows his own law, making rational decisions according to his or her judgement of best interests. Perhaps, therefore, we should actively root out and undo the damage to liberty we see in the world, in the best interests of those whose freedom is denied. However, might this imposition of liberal values on others not be illiberal itself? What if some value traits other than autonomy, and so live in societies we disapprove of? This consideration is the essence of another branch of liberalism, containing those who view toleration as the fundamental liberal notion. It advises us to permit practices we may disapprove of, in order to avoid a deeply illiberal discrimination. Of course, there is a difference between that which rates our disapproval, and that which is entirely abhorrent. No liberal theorist who values toleration writes in favour of permitting murder, as there is a self-evident rationale for its prohibition. Rather, such theorists argue that where there is space between our own practices, and that which may be considered utterly wrong, we should attempt to 'live and let live’.
Thus, if a liberal society is faced with an illiberal group, should it react by enforcing autonomy, or tolerating diversity? This dissertation will examine the question with respect to two major areas, both of critical importance to the world today. The former is the issue of language, where scholars debate converging all citizens towards a single vernacular, or allowing communities to maintain their various dialects. The latter is religion, which, despite the best attempts of Enlightenment thinkers to prevent further conflict, remains a great cause of tension today. How can a liberal state react to the illiberal nature of many organised religions, both within and beyond its borders? My conclusion to both chapters, and indeed to the dissertation itself, is that our greatest hope lies in accepting the value of both autonomy and toleration, in order to construct an enlightened synthesis between the two. The way forward is to encourage liberty while tolerating the illiberal, thus crafting a liberal world by most liberal means.
‘Scientia potentia est’ - For also knowledge itself is power.
And, one might continue, the medium of knowledge is language. Its importance is self-evident, and needs no explaining here. But how can liberal theory guide the response to complex linguistic issues? These cause political, cultural and economic tensions, from the rights of national minorities to maintain cohesive communities, to an immigrant’s interaction with the judicial system, to the language of the state itself. Finding a solution to such issues of minority rights has been called the 'greatest challenge facing democracies today.’ At first glance, the most tolerant response to such diversity would be active support of all existing languages and their associated cultures, giving whatever support they required to survive. However, encouraging such a 'Tower of Babel’-esque situation could damage the autonomy of the citizens involved, depriving them of social mobility, democratic interactions and cultural cohesion. To meet these problems, one might advocate converging towards a single language, thought this clearly brings up serious issues of cultural identity and liberal freedoms. This chapter will evaluate the possible responses of a liberal state to language issues, and argue that neither of the main solutions caricatured above offer the best way forward. Rather, liberal theory should advocate a more nuanced view of language rights, and attempt to 'negotiate the tension between the unity it needs and the diversity it feels morally bound to respect’.
When liberalism was beginning life in the 16th and 17th centuries, theorists from largely polyglot countries worked towards the advancement of a mainly 'homogeneous ideal’ . The Ancient Greek polis was often taken as the exemplar society, which required little consideration of linguistic difficulty beyond limited trade and interacting with slaves. The commitment was to 'national rights rather than individual’, with autonomy coming through 'membership of one’s national group’ . With such a focus on national rights and relatively limited immigration, language rights were not widely discussed. Minority rights were praised largely for pragmatic reasons, bringing peace to troubled lands by promoting 'equality between the minority and majority’ . Early liberalism was also marked by widespread ethnic nationalism, such as Mill’s claim that 'half-savage’ minorities, such as the Basque or 'Scottish Highlanders’ should join more 'civilized and cultivated people’. After the Second World War, initiated in part by an abuse of the concept of minority rights in Central Europe, liberals turned away from minority rights, preferring to concentrate solely on the individual as the unit of analysis. Indeed, the UN’s Universal Declaration of Human Rights, a landmark post-war document, makes no direct mention of ethnic or group rights. These few points highlight the distance liberal views of linguistic issues have travelled, and remind us of the likelihood of further great changes.
Today, minority language issues are more often the concern of sociologists and political scientists than theorists , but not for want of material. The world has around 'six thousand languages and 184 independent states’ , so an expectation of even national linguistic homogeneity is unrealistic. In turn, basing a long-term philosophy on 'language diversity’ would be unwise, as a second condition, 'language shift’ , renders the situation unstable. Half of the world’s languages have disappeared over the past five hundred years , and we are currently losing a language every six days. As some die others expand exponentially, with English and Mandarin Chinese in particular showing explosive growth over the past century. In areas such as the Balkans and South-East Asia, perceived lack of linguistic respect has greatly contributed to violent conflicts and regional tensions. Even in the calmer climes of the European Union, language is a major bone of contention among member states. Larger countries baulk at the cost of translation, such as in 2005, when twenty official languages enforced 380 possibilities for translation . With the list expanded to twenty-three by 2009 and more on the horizon, such costs have only increased further. At the same time, other countries with less-pervasive languages demand equal rights, and attempt to halt the current shift towards a de facto dominance of English and French. The response of modern liberal theorists to such diversity has been equally varied.
If we can generally agree that humans enjoy being understood when they communicate, then presumably it would be undesirable to live in a state overly dominated by another linguistic culture. If we look at the recent example of Bo , a language from India’s Andaman Islands which appears to have died out, there were numerous problems for members of its community. Quite apart from the media scrutiny of Boa Senior, thought to be the last living speaker of Bo, individuals faced symbolic and material disadvantages compared to members of the 'native’ culture. (Even the use of 'native’ is often problematic, when the minority may well have been a nation conquered by the now dominant group). Speakers of Bo could simply have abandoned their culture for economic and social benefits, but to their minds the benefits of such culture outweighed the almost inevitable costs. The question of interest here reveals itself: how should liberal states deal with minority languages, from Bo in India, to Gaeilge in Ireland, or Spanish in the United States? A number of possibilities will be considered.
Perhaps the first point worth considering is: should the state act at all? The political philosophy of John Rawls is often used to justify a negative answer to that question. For Rawls, the primary duty of the state is to allow their citizens to 'choose their own conception’ of the 'good’ life, and enable them, if later desired, to be 'capable of revising and changing this conception’ . As he was primarily interested in the foundational structure of societies, Rawls didn’t outline precisely how a 'Rawlsian state’ might look, but one can make general comments from his work. For example, if it is conceivable that a citizen’s life plan might include a specific language, then it would be inappropriate for the state to dictate which that should be. The moral autonomy of persons is considered paramount, and the state has no good reason in this case to interfere. This concept of 'liberal neutrality’, most associated with Rawls and Ronald Dworkin, is strongly related to praise of 'benign neglect’ as a positive course of action, notably by Nathan Glazer and Chandran Kukathas. This, a 'recent arrival in the liberal tradition’ , is defined by the latter thinker as a 'refusal to be guided by the goal of equality in social policy or institutional design’. It is not that such thinkers necessarily see neutrality as a valuable target in itself, but that any meaningful understanding of equality cannot dependably be achieved, or even that equality itself is not 'capable of a coherent description.’ They point to the complexity of modern life, that achieving equality in one sense may damage it in another. For example, should equality be based solely on economic factors, or examine the full environment of a person’s position? Also, the historical record of intervention in language matters, which has 'not been benign’ , aids their case. It isn’t that no state has manipulated language for positive purposes, but that the numbers are stacked heavily against such a possibility.
How useful is this concept of liberal neutrality? Certainly, it superficially ticks the liberal box of encouraging individual autonomy, but I believe it can be questioned a number of grounds. One could take issue with the very foundation of Rawls’ work, such as Putnam’s 1993 study disagreeing with the emphasis on institutional structure. However, 'liberal neutrality’ can also be doubted on its own merits, such as whether neutrality is desirable for a liberal state. Writers in this area often argue that language should be considered analogous to religion, requiring the same disassociation from state as witnessed during the Enlightenment. Citizens should be free to practice the language of their choice in private, but keep such tensions out of the public sphere. The liberal culturalist Will Kymlicka argues that the analogy with religion, 'makes no sense’ . While it may be possible for religion to be removed from the public sphere , Kymlicka questions whether we can say the same about language. Ultimately, however 'atomistic, materialistic or instrumental’ this era may be, the state must communicate with its citizens, and as resources are finite, institutions must choose a language to accomplish their business. Even if no formal declaration is made of a language’s official nature, its usage by state bodies 'unavoidably promotes certain cultural identities’ . In this way, while attempting neutrality, the state is inherently advantaging the dominant culture (or cultures) to the detriment of others. I may be technically free to use whatever language I choose, but if I must learn a specific language for any interaction with a government service, my freedom is greatly limited.
A corollary of this argument is that, even if keeping language out of the public sphere were possible, it may be complicated by linguistic realities. It has been argued that it is 'difficult for languages to survive’ when kept out of the public realm. 'Private’ languages, kept to the home but not used outside, are often seen in immigrant communities. However, by the second generation they are often considered secondary to the dominant tongue, and by fourth they may well have disappeared altogether. The children, generally schooled in the dominant language, will have a vested economic and social interest in integration, despite the loss of the previous culture. If we can foresee that liberal neutrality will most likely lead to the death of many minority languages, it is highly debatable whether it can be termed 'neutral’ at all. Indeed, we can re-read Rawls’ work to provide a justification for non-neutrality in language matters. He writes that we should compensate for 'morally arbitrary disadvantages’ , particularly if 'present from birth’ so that each can achieve the 'fair equality of opportunity’ so central to his theories. It could be argued that being brought up in a minority language community forms such a disadvantage, as the language learnt from one’s parents is not chosen in any meaningful sense. However, while this provides hope for opponents of liberal neutrality, it doesn’t furnish any details for how the 'disadvantage’ can be rectified. It could be argued that convergence towards a single language would the best way to rectify the situation, or perhaps we should try some variant of multilingualism. These possibilities will be considered below.
One option can broadly be termed 'convergence’, and refers to the promotion of a single language (or small number of), to further liberal ideals. This initially seems entirely antithetical to the promotion of individual autonomy, but may be in fact be a great asset to such a cause. The myriad of modern languages imposes great costs to autonomy, such as diminishing democratic deliberation, narrowing career choices, restricting the free spread of ideas, etc. For some, the great value of language is self-evident, but the 'intrinsic’ value thereof is less so. In other words, that I have a language is valuable to me, but perhaps 'my’ language has no particular value. If someone willingly emigrates to a new country and becomes fluent in the new language, to the point of forgetting the old, have they experienced a tangible loss? Would Canadian culture be any less vibrant if it were conducted in Japanese/Tagalog rather than English/French? This is the instrumentalist argument, that language has instrumental but not intrinsic value. For Weinstock, languages compete over “communicative efficiency” in a global marketplace, as their usefulness is restricted to their ability to communicate ideas.
Whether the instrumental position is tenable is considered below, but for now it suffices to say that a single language would have certain advantages. For a state which currently practices some degree of multilingualism, which many developed countries do, there would be a fairly clear reduction in the cost of public institutions, but this is a minor point. More importantly, liberal democracies place great value on social mobility, and having minority languages can lead to 'linguistic ghettos’ as such speakers are barred from the economic and cultural mainstream. In the Roman Empire, Latin was the preferred tongue of the elite, with opportunities afforded to non-Romans within the Empire only if they could command it . Even in parts of the world today, language forms a major part of caste systems, where economic and social chances are improved for the those considered linguistically correct. In Karnataka, India , the local government wanted to remove the teaching of English from schools, as they felt it was damaging local culture. However, children leaving school with a good grasp of English have vastly improved opportunities to continue studies or employment than those solely versed in Kannada. One could read Allen Patten to argue that enforcing the teaching of Kannada, even if culturally beneficial, has too high a cost to pay in terms of social mobility. In turn, the 18 official and over 1600 unofficial languages in India have a negative economic impact, restricting the members of each culture to their own area, or the costly process of converting to another tongue. Perhaps it would be in India’s interest to mandate and promote a single national language, e.g. Hindi or English, for the benefit of its citizens’ autonomy. Indeed, the most common criticism of such an arrangement, i.e. the cultural damage of converting to English, may be less realistic than often feared. The spread of English is powerful, with more than half of the world’s population expected to command it by 2050 . However, the associated infringement of Anglophone culture is less clear. There are hints that English is becoming a 'lingua fraca’ , taking on a new guise as 'Global English’ , which is economically useful but culturally neutral. The transfer of most of the world to English may even, paradoxically, damage Anglophone countries, as they are slower to adapt to the changes of a language no longer under their control.
Are there strong arguments for the opposite view, that we shouldn’t converge towards a single language but instead celebrate our linguistic diversity? Multilingualism has numerous points in its favour, of which I will discuss three: intrinsic value, democratic requirements and the application of fairness. I have previously touched on the instrumentalist debate over the value of language, around whether the value possesses an intrinsic nature. Those who advocate convergence will generally answer to the negative, but is there a case to be made that it does? In other words, does 'my’ language have a unique importance I would lose under a different tongue? To take one reading of Rawls, we could argue that our language forms a 'primary good’, as everyone presumably values speaking in their own language. There is a noted pleasure in the use of a language, and indeed a pride in the achievements of other speakers, which cannot be ignored. For Joseph Raz, membership in one’s culture is utterly essential, to 'provide meaningful choices’ and 'anchor identity’ . Language forms an important, constituent part of any modern culture, and so it can be argued that we have a 'right to culture’ . Without it, our sense of self is irrevocably damaged, and the reference points of our worldview are lost. For Leslie Green, 'language is a concrete marker of community.’ Réaume takes this idea further, arguing that language is a 'repository of the traditions and cultural accomplishments of a community’ , and so should be kept to maintain such heritage. In this sense culture and language form a loop, influencing and evolving each other over time. This strongly contradicts instrumentalist ideas, that language is simply a communicative tool. Indeed, for Réaume language is a 'kind of cultural accomplishment itself’ . This brings the loop of culture and language full circle, to give language an inherent value as it reacts to a community’s trials and tribulations.
One point that should be mentioned here is the common instrumentalist response to non-instrumentalists, that if language has such intrinsic value, why would someone voluntarily change? This question can be answered in a number of ways, such as the, admittedly weaker, question of whether most changes of language are actually voluntary. When looking over the historical record, one sees a trend of the general populace changing language or culture, while elites maintain their existing societal norms. Even today, many 'voluntary’ immigrants, as opposed to involuntary refugees, are moving to escape economic underdevelopment in their home states. Massive global inequalities mean that the existence of migration hardly provides a strong justification for instrumentalist thinking. A stronger answer is that immigration can only, at best, prove that some people find other factors in their lives to value higher than their native tongue. Remember that non-instrumentalists only claim that language has intrinsic value, not that it is the sole holder of that title. That economic welfare or political reality may occasionally come higher in one’s priorities does not, by itself, disprove the intrinsic value of language.
Perhaps, whether we agree with non-instrumentalist thinking or not, there is a simpler political reasoning for multilingualism. For Kymlicka, by its very nature politics will always have an 'inescapably national dimension’ , better known as the assertion that 'democratic politics is politics in the vernacular.’ He is arguing that, at a foundational level, 'all politics is local.’ We converse and debate about taxes, education and health not through the eternal terms of political philosophy, but with a colloquial vocabulary which itself shares our heritage and culture. There is a ritual element to our politics which cannot be translated into a neutral tongue, without losing important context and nuance. This is a problem with all translation, but is particularly acute when failure will mean damage to the principle of democratic politics. Of course, one way of avoiding such deficiencies would be the millet system , favoured by the Ottoman Empire for most of the 15th to 19th centuries. This attempted to maintain, to differing degrees over the years, the main Orthodox and Jewish minorities. They were allowed to keep to their own areas, build their own churches, teach their own children. As long as they kept to exceedingly basic standards, they were left alone. One might see a modern corollary in the Belgian system of government, where the Flemish and Walloon people largely keep to their own community when choosing a place to live, electing politicians, etc. However, these systems may present a 'static and impoverished view of human nature’ , with broad and often unhelpful labels applied to great swathes of society. Humans are more complex than Flemish or Walloon, Christian or Jew, no matter how their actions may occasionally infer. The answer to a multilingual society desiring democratic government is therefore not to tightly section each community, but provide simple help at each interface to encourage social cohesion and well-being.
If we have seen value in attempting multilingual democratic politics, how might we organise such a system? Alan Patten gives a list of oft-used justifications such as toleration and accommodation, but for him the ultimate reason is 'fairness’. For example, we should be careful to avoid the subconscious assumption that minority languages are somehow inferior or less valuable. If we examine the historical record for the circumstances which let certain languages prevail over others, some notion of linguistic quality does not appear high on the list. Ancient conquests, colonialism, famines and plagues have all reshaped the language map, but none seem sensible metrics to judge the 'value’ of a language, if such a judgement can even be made. For Patten, we should at least give minority languages the same chance to survive as dominant ones, by removing the barriers to their use and adjusting for the inherent advantages of size and power. He doesn’t argue that all languages should be kept alive indefinitely, but simply that all linguistic communities should have the same chance at success. In other words, the state should counterbalance the inherent benefits which accrue to the dominant language. For example, if Indian children are clamouring to learn English because there are few economic opportunities in Hindi or other languages, the state need not ban English, but should provide better opportunities for Hindi-speakers. This is an attempt to follow the principle of fairness, which Rawls famously gave as the best way to reconcile equality and freedom.
With these issues in mind, how can we navigate between the ambitions of convergence, liberal neutrality and multilingualism? I believe that the arguments of Will Kymlicka provide a useful guide, who spends more time than most political philosophers examining how his theories might apply to the modern world, rather than an 'idealized model of the polis’ or hypothetical future state. In this area, his main idea is that the toleration of minority rights is not only compatible with, 'but can actually promote’ , autonomy. He argues that we should supply every human with an 'adequate context of choice’, which occurs when someone is part of a 'societal culture’. This exists when members of a language community have a 'sufficient’ level of choices which 'cover the full range of human activities’ , and so can enact a reasonable degree of autonomy. For example, a Turkish speaker in Berlin, while part of a minority, can find employment, socialise, receive government services and shop, all in his native tongue. An Irishman in North Korea, on the other hand, would have no such options, and so would lack an appropriate 'societal culture’. This matters because autonomy, for Kymlicka, is dependent on 'social practices, cultural meanings, and a shared language’ . Therefore, the Turkish community in Berlin deserves protections to aid their autonomy, but an Irishman in North Korea would not. There are a number of criticisms of Kymlicka’s 'context-of-choice’ argument, particularly around the definition of 'protecting’. To many, it involves the state choosing a variant of a language as 'real’, and relegating any minor offshoots. This can serve to stifle innovation within the community and hold it back, as seen with restrictions on First Nations peoples in Canada. There is a fine line between protecting the 'existence’ of a community, which Kymlicka advocates, and freezing its particular spatio-temporal character. However, I believe these criticisms can be avoided in the particular implementation of the theory, and do not cut to its core. It is possible to protect a language group without enacting millet-esque internal restrictions on its character.
‘It is a shibboleth of contemporary American political analysis that religion and liberalism are mutually antagonistic’
A formative assumption of this dissertation has been that some aspect of liberalism is desirable to humanity. Indeed, the overall goal of political philosophy is to provide the best framework to advance some conception of human flourishing. Liberalism has grown along with such concepts as democracy, secularism and capitalism, but the nature of the relationship between each is unclear. Does the observance of liberal principles commit us to or autonomy or toleration? More simply, 'how should liberals respond to illiberal’ institutions? This chapter will examine the question as it relates to the eternal issue of religious toleration. It will examine the arguments for singularly advancing individual autonomy, or preferring a more tolerant system of religious pluralism. Should the religions we consider illiberal be restricted and banned, to safeguard the liberty of their members? Or does the freedom of religious conscience extend to the joining and continuing of groups we deeply disapprove of? I will conclude that a valuable synthesis of these positions can be found, advancing the liberal cause through the interplay of its two most desirable tenets.
It has been noted above that modern liberalism was developed during the religious wars which blighted the European continent for much of the 16th and 17th centuries. Its early advocates desired the removal of religious arguments from public discourse, to avoid a repeat of such grisly scenes. Indeed, one might argue that the advance of liberalism, secularism, and possibly even atheism over the past three centuries has been more than coincidental, with the rationalist world-view shaping religious temperament. If 'moral autonomy is the dominant purpose of a liberal theory’ as Emily Gill believes, we could view religion as a drain on individual autonomy, putting otherwise rational free will in the hands of a mysterious creator. The extreme reaction to this would be 'coercively imposing liberalism’ by establishing a strong hegemony of personal liberty. We can imagine this as a kind of inverse police state, dedicated to eradicating all drains on autonomy, such as religion. Of course, no major political theorist holds such a view, but it serves as a point of reference for further evaluation of hegemonic liberalism.
If we can reject strong hegemoniy out of hand for its highly illiberal coercion, perhaps a milder variant of the concept will be more successful, such as 'moderate hegemony’. It receives support in some liberal circles, and holds that, if we are sold on the value of liberal theories, it is entirely logical for liberal policies to dominate others in our political life. For example, Joseph Raz has argued that the liberal state has a duty to make liberalism an option, but also to protect that option. Would it be sensible view liberalism as the surest method for economic, political and cultural success for a community, but for the state to allow it to wither away? Stephen Macedo, a particular advocate of moderate hegemony, argues that the liberal system should not only allow people to lead liberal lives, but also help ensure that they are 'satisfied’ leading lives of 'bounded individual freedom’ . Perhaps we have rationally determined that, at least for the foreseeable future, liberalism is the best way forward, but people are not born into a liberal mindset. In that case, it would entirely sensible to 'shape’ citizens to ensure that autonomy is what they truly desire. While this may have undesirable connotations with social engineering, it should be made clear that what Macedo advocates is not state-sponsored brainwashing; rather ensuring that citizens can live a liberal life to the fullest. If it was found that ultimately people aren’t interested in such a life, the entire liberal project would have to be re-examined.
Of course, this still raises certain questions about the lack of autonomy in state-sponsored aid to liberalism, but I believe the theory can at least be partially defended. Critics of Macedo could argue that his plan would prevent a 'level playing field’ , unfairly tilting towards a goal which may or may not be universally desirable. This is almost trivially true, but may not be a particular problem if we accept that the 'field’ in question, political philosophy, is never flat. In every recorded society, the state and related institutions of national culture shape people in certain directions. In the early 20th century, John Dewey wrote of the patterns in American education which were reinforcing a democratic ethos amongst future citizens. Indeed, it is hard to formulate an education system, never mind an entire state apparatus, where the 'field’ is not somewhat tilted towards the normative goals of the dominant culture. If such tilting is to occur in any case, it seems sensible to ensure that the best possible ethos, in this case a liberal one, is being inculcated.
An example is the case of Mozert vs Hawkins County Public Schools, from 1987. Seven fundamentalist Christian families were unhappy that their children were being taught from textbooks containing competing philosophies to their own, and so sued in an attempt to prevent them coming into contact with such material. The court rejected their plea, holding that, while toleration of religious values is important, it cannot be allowed when it may “foreclose the possibility of critical reflection on one’s projects and goals.” For the families, their religion was absolute, and such textbooks reflected only the leading of their children into undesirable temptation. However, open-mindedness and the possibility of reassessing one’s goals is a critical part of the liberal tradition, and so the court had no problem with such promotion continuing. Macedo would simply argue further that, beyond making such ideas available, it would be helpful for the teacher to point out the probable superiority of liberal thinking.
Of course, there are numerous alternatives to the variants of hegemonic liberalism outlined above. One major option is liberal neutrality, which for Rawls meant the 'establishing of fair background conditions’ . Liberal neutrality traces its roots back to the birth of liberalism in the 17th century, when theorists came to believe that the best way to avoid religious conflict was to remove it from the essential fabric of the state. This applied to both relations between and within states, allowing dissent and eventually atheism amongst citizens. Liberal neutrality itself follows the Rawlsian notion that each citizen should be allowed to form a personal conception of the 'good’ , without the state proselyting on behalf of its favoured religion or culture. But how should a liberal state fashion itself? Robert Audi gives three directives; that it should be 'libertarian’ in allowing any reasonable religion, 'equalitarian’ in not officially preferring any religion over another, and 'neutral’ in its treatment of the religious and non-religious . These concepts have notable deficiencies (e.g. how can one define 'reasonable’?) but give a solid basis for further evaluation of liberal neutrality. It also ignores the essential question of whether state neutrality with respect to religion is even minimally possible, but this will be explored later. Clearly, modern-day Iran violates the principle of liberal neutrality with aggressively state-backed Islamism, but perhaps less obvious examples fall foul as well. It could be argued that Macedo’s liberal hegemony, a bastion of good liberal intentions, denies its citizens true autonomy by decreeing certain central truths on their behalf. Can we be truly free if we have to be told to want to be free in the first place? Of course, advocates of both moderate hegemony and liberal neutrality could argue that theirs the more 'truly’ autonomous theory, but what becomes apparent is that neither can stake an unassailable claim to such a title.
Another major argument for the priority of autonomy is forcefully advanced by numerous theorists, particularly Susan Moller Okin and Martha Nussbaum . This argues that, while toleration as a concept may be quite positive, when applied in the real world it almost inevitably disadvantages certain groups. For example, liberals and liberal nations spent decades forcefully arguing against the case of apartheid in South Africa, seeing the alternate treatment of white and black men as utterly unacceptable. However, often under the cover of tolerating religious differences, some liberals allow discriminations which are arguably more illiberal. The most obvious example when considering religion is the treatment of women, which remains a serious problem today. In the last century, hundreds of millions of women are estimated to have died, not because of medical failings, but simply because they were given inferior treatment to equivalent male citizens. This year, around two million women (one every fourteen seconds) will experience genital mutilation , generally either clitoridectomy or infibulation. Both inferior medical treatment and genital mutilation are often given for religious reasons, such as the latter being mentioned in an Islamic hadith. It is listed as 'makrama’ , a non-essential item, but more fundamentalist religious leaders have enforced the practice and helped it become endemic across parts of Africa and the Middle East. Certainly, liberal states do not endorse such unacceptable actions, but their dedication to ending it has been lukewarm at best. Nussbaum is essentially arguing that, if we allow autonomy to trade-off with religious toleration, old discriminations flare up and the most vulnerable in society become more so. This is especially the case in the private sphere, which Moller Okin highlights. Most anti-discrimination legislation is aimed at public issues, such as employment and provision of government services, but this ignores a great swathe of inequality within the home and family. In the UK, forced marriages only became illegal relatively recently, and little attention is paid to the treatment of Muslim women within British society. This is often justified as sensitivity of religious difference, but may be covering for practices we would otherwise consider entirely unacceptable. Therefore, the way forward may be to declare certain activities, such as inciting hatred towards women or justifying female genital mutilation, illegal and unacceptable, whatever the religious justification.
There seems to be a strong case for liberalism promoting the ultimate priority of autonomy, but the arguments so far considered have largely come from secular-minded, agnostic or atheist theorists. Unsurprisingly, some religious thinkers, and others, have argued that some form of toleration can be viewed as 'closely related, both historically and conceptually’ to liberalism. It is often claimed that secular liberals wilfully ignore the positives of religion, preferring to focus on largely historical negatives which are irrelevant today. Charles Larmore essentially argues that the alternative to secular liberalism is religiously-motivated civil strife, a view which others totally reject. They commonly point to the non-religious nature of the 20th century’s main conflicts, and the overlooked advantages of religion. For example, it has long been argued that religion aids the development of certain desirable characteristics among a populace, such as 'cohesion, vitality and justice’ , whereas a world based on rationality is 'cold, egotistical and morally empty’ . These claims are hard to quantify, but it does seem plausible that religion could encourage positive traits, such as a work ethic or public service. Indeed, John Coleman argues that 'discipleship is a stronger motivator than citizenship’ , and so we should be encouraging religious belief for a better-unified state. This is the general idea that, while nationalism may arouse powerful passions and initiate lasting bonds, these pale in comparison with the all-encompassing nature of religious faith. Adherents will, on occasion quite literally, walk over hot coals in defence of their faith; a dedication largely missing from secular pursuits. Voluntary death, perhaps the ultimate sacrifice a human can make, has been oft-performed throughout history for theological ends, but rarely for others. The psychological basis for such a difference is not entirely clear, but Coleman’s statement seems entirely justifiable. However, is it useful? While it may be true that many of the world’s population would consider their religious affiliation of greater importance than their nationality, I’m not sure if this is a particularly valuable as either theory or application. As a theory, it may simply reflect the long-term after-effects on our culture of an older world, when religions dominated the relatively young Westphalian states. In other words, perhaps the effect will be rendered moot as we enter an era of increasing dissatisfaction with organised religion. In terms of application, Coleman’s idea may fail the test of prescription, i.e. perhaps 'discipleship’ is stronger but undesirable. Encouraging religion for stronger bonds could, rather than enabling a better community, simply leave us attempting to mould a liberal state with citizens uninterested in worldly benefits.
Another argument for religious toleration can be found in Rawls’ 'A Theory of Justice’. He argues that 'self-respect is perhaps the most important primary good’ , referring to how we should believe that our goals are worthwhile and achievable. The relevance here is that, at least for adherents, religion arguably forms a large part of human identity. It is not merely an association, on the same level as supporting a sports team or musician. It intertwines with their social and cultural history, and so cannot be removed without damaging their identity, and therefore their self-respect. Avishai Margalit makes this point when he argues that illiberal groups deserve to retain their cultural identity, even if it imposes costs, such as a reduction in autonomy, on their members. A recent example of this is the controversy surrounding the kirpan in Britain; a short knife and one of five articles of faith for practising Sikhs. The Sikh religion makes a strong case for the theological and cultural reasons to wear the kirpan, weighed against the squeamishness of a largely secular public, especially on certain modes of transport. Others may feel safer on aircraft if they know that, regardless of faith, no-one will be carrying a knife. However, forcing the kirpan’s removal may do unreasonable damage to the practising Sikh’s self-respect, as a reminder that his religious items are less acceptable than those of other faiths. If Rawls is correct that self-respect is the most important good we should strive for, then it seems that we should be prepared to put up with some minor worries in exchange.
A variant on the above argument asks: where does the self-respect lie? For example, most in the West see the niqāb as damaging to a woman’s sense of worth, relegating her to unnecessarily restrictive clothing. However, many Islamic scholars regard the niqāb as mustahabb , as it protects a woman’s awrah from the eyes of men. This tension is most obviously visible in France, where the Parliament is considering a draft law which outlaws wearing an outfit in public 'whose effect is to hide the face’. This is directly aimed at the niqāb, generally referred to in France as a burqa. While there are tinges of anti-immigrant and racist sentiment in the discussion, self-described liberals within France have mixed feelings about the ban. Fadela Amara, a Muslim government minister supports it, calling the niqāb a 'prison’ , whereas Laurent Joffrin, editor of Libération, is against, because the state shouldn’t arrest women 'who are victims more than they are guilty’. The truly oppositional view, that religious toleration should freely allow the wearing of the niqāb, is hard to find within France, possibly because of a strongly republican ethos. Barack Obama outlined a version of this when speaking in Cairo, saying that Western countries should avoid telling Muslims 'what clothes a Muslim woman should wear’ . These differences of opinions among liberals highlight a difficulty: knowing whether our idea of self-respect is culturally-derived or some sort of universal truth. Is the niqāb an affront to women’s rights, or is the West’s treatment of a woman’s sexuality doing greater damage to female self-respect? This is an essentially contested point, drawing on fundamental notions concerning gender roles, or lack thereof. What is clear is that the issue of religious dress creates a particular problem for liberal theory.
A third major justification for toleration would be if the Rawlsian neutral state, with regard to religion, was found to be an impossibility. If we re-examine the arguments given for the non-neutrality of a state with regard to language, it may be that they also apply to language. Kymlicka argued previously that religion can be kept as a private matter as opposed to the public nature of language, but can it? Religion pervades even ostensibly secular states, influencing historical record, public holidays, ethical values, etc. Attempting neutrality with respect to religion may simply privilege the best-established church, with little benefit for autonomy. Church and state are strictly constitutionally separated in the United States, but this has not prevented a number of Protestant churches from amassing great 'political, social and cultural’ power. Perhaps, if neutrality was the desired aim, minority religions should have been aided, to counterbalance the economies of scale found in modern Protestant churches. This demonstrates how difficult a concept 'neutrality’ really is, appearing almost impossible to achieve to any meaningful degree.
It should be noted here that various parts of Rawlsian doctrine, so influential among modern liberal thinkers, may be entirely incompatible with even the most sensible of religious believers. For Rawls, being reasonable forms a foundational part of his philosophy, but his definition appears to 'alienate the religious’ . For a Christian, truth can be equated to 'agape’ , the love of God for his creation. But, Rawls’ notion that only publicly acceptable reasons can be used may bar them from public debates. If their fundamental political philosophy is based on a belief in God, but they can’t share such a notion in the public sphere because of its religious nature, how can they join the democratic process? A way forward would be to find a separate Christian or generally religious foundation for Rawlsian philosophy, but I do not believe this has so far been sufficiently accomplished. There is also the more general problem that, while attempting fairness for all, Rawls’ attempt to keep religion out of the public sphere may well be damaging to people of faith. When members of the LGBT community parade in American cities, they are not asking for their desired activities to be made legal, as they have been for some years now. Many such people do not want to be tolerated, i.e. 'permitting practices we disapprove of’ . They want their lifestyle to enter mainstream society, rather than hiding part of one’s identity in a bedroom. In much the same way, it could be argued that religion should not be asked to follow Barry’s 'strategy of privatization’ , but be allowed a seat at the societal table. Indeed, Sanford Levinson notes that asking people 'not to present religious arguments is censorial’. For many religious believers, their faith forms a central, if not the primary, part of their identity, so it seems unrealistic to assume they can leave such convictions at the door of any political debate.
These arguments for both autonomy and toleration when dealing with religious affairs show little sign of a clear victor, but I believe there are useful principles to be found within both philosophies. A little historical context should be kept in mind, such the general movement in Western religions from privileging doctrinal belief to valuing moral action. Before a relatively recent change of heart in the 1960s, the Catholic Church was often 'an obstacle’ to democratic developments. As I tried to demonstrate throughout the previous chapter, one should avoid viewing political philosophy as entirely abstract, beyond the reach of culture or circumstance. As Kymlicka notes, liberalism has been shaped by 'historical contingencies and political exigencies.’ It would be entirely 'ethnocentric and ahistorical’ to assume that currently illiberal religions will remain so, as all major religions, even those now lauded for their toleration, have 'deeply illiberal pasts’ . Furthermore, one must keep in mind that often the popular view of a particular religion is shaped not by the belief of its median member, but by the 'long tail’ of extreme fundamentalism. Both the ability of religions to evolve, and the possibility of their abuse by extremists, were justifications for Dr. Tahir ul-Qadri recently issuing a six hundred page fatwa against terrorism and suicide bombing, branding al-Qaeda an 'old evil with a new name’ . His work takes apart the religious justification such groups give for their actions, and argues that they entirely misrepresent the Muslim faith in pursuit of their immoral aims. Whether Dr. ul-Qadri’s particular brand of Sufism will be the vanguard of a Muslim Reformation is a question for later thinkers, but it does neatly demonstrate my preferred response to religious issues. Liberal states and institutions 'should promote the liberalization of’ illiberal groups 'by offering various incentives for liberal reforms’ , perhaps by 'thinning’ the more disagreeable aspects of the culture while keeping its essential core. I believe that such a path, aligned with an absolute rejection of certain practices on strong moral grounds, can provide a solid way forward.
Conclusion
The size and breadth of this particular debate within liberal theory has certainly been demonstrated, but what has been learnt from such analysis? Advocates of both autonomy and toleration have made strong defences of their positions, deeply rooted in liberal tradition and practice. As varied as they may seem, all of the liberal theorists mentioned above are working from the same basic premise, and so finding agreement should not be an impossible task. Indeed, it may be that many disagreements in this area arise from talking at cross-purposes, between what how the world ought to look in the future, and what can reasonably be achieved in the short time-frames with which humans are so enamoured. It is sensible to both advocate toleration in today’s world while encouraging autonomy to shape tomorrow’s, as we should avoid ‘consistency purchased at the price of distortion’. Finally, it is reassuring to know that much work is being done in these important areas, and that the next three centuries may rest on more solid liberal foundations than the last.