Category: Civil liberties

Political religion

The blurring of tolerance for personal belief and acceptance of political positions is not an accident

What equal marriage really boils down to for the people it affects.

Same-sex relationships only received legal recognition in the UK within my adult lifetime. Equal marriage in Great Britain had to wait until I reached my late 20s; Northern Ireland held on until my early 30s. By the time it was delivered, it felt long overdue. That it commands such support, and that Britain is now (in the main) so relaxed about people like me, is an extraordinary political and social shift.

Still, a minority of opponents remains. The fact that Scotland’s Finance Secretary is among them is no surprise. The real surprise is how many of her erstwhile backers seem surprised. In any event, we now know she would have voted against equal marriage had she been an MSP. We also know she would do the same again today — though we are assured she won’t actively seek the chance to do so.

Opposing her on this basis would, you might think, be as reasonable a ground as any. Some tell us equal marriage is a settled issue and so we shouldn’t worry. But a politician’s opinion on one issue often gives a clue to how they might act on something else. We know Kate Forbes would ideally restrict the right to marriage. What would Kate Forbes as First Minister say about LGBT inclusion in schools? How would she approach conversion therapy (on which she already sounds distinctly evasive)?

More generally, we don’t usually accept ‘it’s a settled issue, so you shouldn’t worry’ when it comes to equalities. You could also describe equal pay legislation as a settled issue. I doubt ‘I would vote against equal pay today, but it’s a legal right and so I would uphold it’ would wash with anyone at all, quite rightly. And yet, a striking number of people seem happy to argue that position here.

I suspect some treat this differently for two distinct but intertwined reasons. First, there is still more room for open dislike of homosexuality than many other protected characteristics. Second, Kate Forbes’ view on the legal right to marry — not just on religions’ freedom not to perform it — is determined by her theology. Because most religions traditionally regard same-sex relations as sinful, some see her view on gay and bi people’s marriage rights as a matter of private conscience.

Sir Tom Devine said, ‘If Kate Forbes is hounded out of the opportunity to obtain high office in our country because of her personal beliefs we can no longer be seen as a tolerant and progressive nation.’ One might note that being the Scottish Finance Secretary is hardly a junior role. Even setting that aside, this is absurd. First, declining to vote for or endorse a candidate you disagree with is the very stuff of politics. Second, Kate Forbes’ personal beliefs, properly understood, are not the real risk to her ambitions. The real risk is that, given the chance, she would vote to shape the law according to her beliefs on private morality, at least some of the time.

A vote in the Scottish (or any other) Parliament is not, by definition, a private matter. In voting on a Bill, MSPs legislate for the whole of Scotland. Even when passing motions, they send a message from the Parliament to and on behalf of voters. When Kate Forbes says she would vote against equal marriage today but uphold current legal rights, she is not making a personal statement. She is making a political calculation that this is a fight she cannot win. She has given gay and bi people good reason to doubt her support for their rights, now and in future. Anyone who cares about that has every right to say as much and vote accordingly.

Does there have to be some compromise from gay people in the name of religious freedom? Yes, of course. We accept religions’ right to discriminate in who they marry, and often in who they appoint. We accept safeguards in hate crime laws to protect their right to denounce our specific sins. Bluntly, in many contexts we afford a level of courtesy to beliefs we would otherwise label rank bigotry when affirmed in the name of God.

That is tolerance in action. Do I think the belief in a requirement to follow the Word is a defence against the charge of homophobia? Frankly, no. But I accept, in the name of rubbing along together and the rights of others to live freely, that it is often better not to spell that out. And if a politician is a religious conservative, but has no wish to give that legal force, we should accept that. Forbes’ views on sex outside of marriage are personal: she does not wish to force them on the rest of us. The same goes for Tim Farron, who should have been treated more kindly, and equal marriage.

Forbes’ defenders, however, ask more of me. They imply I should, in the name of tolerance, give a politician a pass on the civic rights of people like me — to treat opposition to those rights more gently than I otherwise would when affirmed in the name of God. But whether and how far religion should shape the law on private morality is political. The claim that opposing a candidate when they cite their faith to justify their policy is somehow ‘intolerant’ is also political. It demands some deference to politicians’ views if, and only if, they cite a religious basis for those views. It is not a call for tolerance: it is a call for religious privilege.

Neither religions nor their adherents can have it both ways — though plenty will try. Those Anglicans in England who express horror when MPs step into their Church’s rows over sexuality, but want to keep their bishops in Westminster and their special status in law, are playing a similar trick. Where politicians want to legislate in the name of God, they place His relevant dictates in the political realm. Yes, secular atheists should be more careful to respect the place of private conscience. But the religious have no right to turn that into political impunity in disguise.

This post was originally published on Medium.com on 25 February 2023.

#CharlieHebdo: why religion can’t be a sacred cow

I write this with trepidation and I worry about giving offence: but as a secularist and leftist, I wanted to give my own perspective on the atrocities committed against Charlie Hebdo.

Like almost everyone else, my starting point is horror that so many people have been killed either for their cartoons or for guarding the people who drew them. Nothing can justify that.

I am also very uneasy about the degree of focus on whether or not we approve of Charlie Hebdo’s cartoons. I worry about blurring the lines between lampooning religions, belittling individual believers and attacking ethnic groups. And I worry that in the process, we give a set of ideas a free pass, many of which secular leftwingers would – and should – vehemently oppose.

Charlie and the Church: a very French dispute

I think a lot of anglophone commentators have taken Charlie Hebdo out of context. I’m not fluent in French – and I’m certainly not fluent in French satire – but I do know a bit about that context. Charlie Hebdo comes from the anticlerical radical left. We don’t really have an equivalent in the UK (disestablishmentarianism has, sad to say, not got much further since 1920), any more than we have France’s tradition of laïcité. Opposition to the influence of the Catholic clergy played a significant role in the French Revolution, and it was a leitmotif of the left in the Third Republic.

Charlie Hebdo is partly in that tradition. As a result, it’s fiercely anti-religion in all its forms. As you’ll see from a brief google, the magazine has been pretty ruthless to all the Abrahamic faiths: their front page with an angry bishop, imam and rabbi will give you some idea (‘Il faut voiler Charlie Hebdo’ means ‘We’ve got to veil Charlie Hebdo’). It is also, importantly, rooted in a) a specifically French set of stories and references and b) particular stories at any point in time. As a result of the murders, a small-circulation magazine of the French far left which operated within that context and for a French audience (who would get the context in a way that we wouldn’t) is now being scrutinised by people who don’t speak the language, don’t get the context and don’t remember the news stories.

Charlie Hebdo is deliberately outrageous: that’s half the point of the magazine. That means people will have been offended by some or many of their cartoons – often reasonably. I’m not saying that none of their cartoons crosses the line in the French context: I don’t know them well enough for that. (In fact, as with most satirical or outer-edge publications, I imagine they probably have.) But it’s interesting that SOS Racisme, France’s largest anti-racist organisation, refers to the paper as ‘our friends’. They also came out in support of Charlie Hebdo in 2012, when it published cartoons of the Prophet Muhammad.

Beliefs and believers: two different things

Really, I’m less concerned about the rights and wrongs of the magazine. What worries me is the way in which theologically-derived taboos, from all religions, can become accepted limits upon all of us. One very thoughtful piece gave me that impression: ‘This crime in Paris does not suspend my political or ethical judgment, or persuade me that scatologically smearing a marginal minority’s identity and beliefs is a reasonable thing to do.’

Identity: fine. I have no quarrel with that. Beliefs? Sorry, but beliefs are ultimately opinions. However deeply-held, however central to how you see yourself, however ingrained by family and culture and community, they’re still opinions. (My sense of Britishness is central to my sense of self. But my support for the Union of 1707 is still an opinion and you have the right to attack it with all the rhetorical force at your disposal. The same goes for my sexuality as opposed to my views on equal marriage.) And opinions are fair game.

Once we start accepting that we can cordon people’s beliefs off from discussion, we get into dangerous territory. We get the kind of soft censorship that Martin Rowson talked about. We get people calling for ‘safeguards against vilification of dearly cherished beliefs’ (though the proposals were amended that time). It’s not just members of one religious group, either: remember the riots over Behtzi? (The play was cancelled: police ‘couldn’t guarantee their safety’.) Or when Christian groups tried to get Jerry Springer: The Opera judged as blasphemous?

Religion is not powerless

Ultimately, a major reason Charlie Hebdo got into hot water on a regular basis was that it aimed at religion without demur or restraint. They would, I think, say that it is precisely because they distinguish between the belief and the believers that they pull no punches. It is also true that Muslims in France, Britain and all of western Europe are a disproportionately marginalised and discriminated-against group. Attacking them is kicking down: agreed.

Religions, however, are powerful things, with millions of adherents around the globe. Many would die for their faith – and yes, a smaller number would sometimes kill for it. Of course, the vast majority of religious people would never dream of committing such atrocities. But taking aim at Islam when it enters the political realm is not, any more than taking aim at the Catholic Church or evangelical churches when they do the same, kicking down: it’s kicking up.

Nearer the mainstream, and in a British context, religions often seek to influence the public realm and often succeed. They have profound influence when it comes to faith schools, assisted dying (while not always giving full disclosure of their reasons), university seating and more besides. They have power, and power should always be scrutinised.

Religions aren’t just important parts of the identity of ethnic minorities, who are often discriminated against and badly treated. They’re a political presence; they’re a powerful social force; many of their believers campaign for their values in the public realm. They cannot be beyond criticism. And they certainly can’t be beyond reach of a cartoon.