Debating, not dictating: Why the Religion/State divide appears to be working

I recently visited the Richmond’s Hope charity in Niddrie, Edinburgh. The charity aims to help children cope with bereavement, allowing them to deal with whatever feelings they are experiencing – grief, guilt, anger, and so on. I spoke with the head of the organisation, who is also the minister of the Richmond Craigmiller Church. The Church shares its facilities with the charity. I asked the minister whether this sharing of resources meant that Richmond’s Hope brought religion into their work. Did the charity have a Christian agenda? Were children being helped with the Christian message?

I asked these questions with some foreboding. Despite having heard what the charity had done and was doing, this issue had gone unmentioned. If the charity, linked with a Church, had a Christian focus, then they would potentially be excluding the other religious communities in the area. Could atheists, Hindus, Jews, Muslims or Sikhs learn to cope with bereavement if they were being consoled with Christian teachings about death? The Minister emphasised that the charity was separate from the Church, helping children from all backgrounds. There had been no objections expressed over children attending the sessions on church property. The only Christian element in the operation, said the Minister, was her personal drive to help people.

This emphasis on separating the Church from the charity got me thinking about the wider issue of the separation between church and state. On 14 February, the Cabinet Minister w/o Portfolio, the Baroness Sayeeda Warsi wrote a special comment piece in The Daily Telegraph entitled ‘We stand side by side with the Pope in fighting for faith’. In her article, published on the same day as she travelled to the Vatican to meet with the Pope, she called for faith to increase its role within public life, adding that religious adherents need “to feel stronger in their religious identities and more confident in their creeds” in order to “create a more just society”. This type of rhetoric is familiar, but it was her next set of comments that sparked some controversy. Baroness Warsi wrote:

“My fear today is that a militant secularisation is taking hold of our societies. We see it in any number of things: when signs of religion cannot be displayed or worn in government buildings; when states won’t fund faith schools; and where religion is sidelined, marginalised and downgraded in the public sphere.”

“For me, one of the most worrying aspects about this militant secularisation is that at its core and in its instincts it is deeply intolerant. It demonstrates similar traits to totalitarian regimes – denying people the right to a religious identity because they were frightened of the concept of multiple identities.

“That’s why in the 20^th century, one of the first acts of totalitarian regimes was the targeting of organised religion.”

I should make it clear at this point that whilst I am no Tory, I do like Baroness Warsi and am glad that she is in government. There is truth in her argument. Faith can and often does play a positive role in society. From the Christian minister running the inclusive (and, as such, arguably ‘secular’) charity, to influential figures such as writer Karen Armstrong (a former nun) who have done much to encourage interfaith understanding in the Western world, we can observe faith playing a role within public discourse.

Britain is not officially a secular state as the Queen is also the head of the Church of England. Instead, Britain is a secularising society with a self-imposed divide has been created between the realms of the political and the religious, where debate between the two has been encouraged whilst dictation by one to the other has not. Baroness Warsi’s rather clumsy term ‘militant secularisation’ referred to those who wish religion had no role in society. Instead, there appears to be a tendency amongst some secularists to immediately discard the opinions and role of the religious. This cannot be the right course of action in all circumstances. As a secularist, I can’t help but think that our democratic process would be poorer if we ignored the Jewish, Christian, Muslim or atheist voices which contribute to the national debate, provided that it sticks to debating, rather than dictating.

Let’s look to the example of the ‘secular’ USA, especially as she readies herself for the Presidential election. The American Constitution made the separation between church and state official in the late 18^th century, yet during the Republican Party Presidential nominee contest the race has come to be dominated by issues such as abortion, same-sex marriage, contraception and the Catholic beliefs of Rick Santorum versus the Mormon beliefs of Mitt Romney – evidence of religion dictating political outcomes. In the UK, elections and party leadership contests just aren’t fought along these faith-based lines, despite the Church’s connection to the state through the Queen and the presence of Bishops in the House of Lords. It appears that in Britain a balance has been struck between religion and state, between the private and the public. Should religion dictate public policy? As a country, we seemed to have answered this with a reasonably resounding ‘No’. Should religious and non-religious communities be involved in debating public policy? I would say so.

Baroness Warsi’s use of the term “militant secularisation” is unlikely to win her much support from secularists. Her message might have been stronger if she’d ignored that terminology and focused instead upon the themes she expressed towards the end of her comment piece:

“When we look at the deep distrust between some communities today, there is no doubt that faith has a key role to play in bridging these divides. If people understand that accepting a person of another faith isn’t a threat to their own, they can unite in fighting bigotry and work together to create a more just world.”

Some believers both fear and scorn the idea of ‘secularism’, often getting it confused with ‘secularisation’. The so-called “militant” secularists often overstate religion’s role in society, accusing it of trying to dictate public policy and criticising the role of Bishops in the House of Lords. Baroness Warsi’s comments outline the positives of interfaith dialogue, dialogue which includes those with and those without faith and which is occurring now. In Britain, at least, the role of religion in the public sphere is not to dictate, but to debate. The divide is working, and hopefully will continue to do so.

Have Your Say: What is Evil?

In a recent lecture, a question was asked about how one would define ‘evil’ and then, by extension, how would one label action as ‘evil’. What is ‘evil’? Can any actions be described as being truly ‘evil’? If so, which acts are ‘evil’?

A consensus was reached that ‘evil’ is a term dependent on context. What one society deems to be evil does not hold true to another society. It is a word that is often used clumsily or carelessly, with George W. Bush’s use of the phrase Axis of Evil being one such example. Of the actions considered to be ‘evil’, rape and paedophilia were suggested as ‘evil acts’, yet not all agreed with this. Some felt that whilst the acts themselves might be seen as being ‘evil’, the intention behind them might not necessarily be. As demonstrated, there is no consensus on what ‘evil’ is.

In 1963, political theorist Hannah Arendt published Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil, which focused on her perceptions of Adolf Eichmann during his trial over his role in the Holocaust. She found him to be ordinary, and not, as others made him out to be, psychopathic. He had simply been following orders and had chosen to do so. In short, Arendt argued that there was a banal aspect to evil. Eichmann had made a moral choice to do what he did, Arendt argued, and it was not to do with an ‘evil’ nature inherent within us all which can be brought out with the right ingredients. If one compares the work of Arendt (expanded upon in the video below) with literary works such as Conrad’s Heart of Darkness and Golding’s Lord of the Flies, which play on the idea of evil within (or ‘the darkness of man’s heart’ as Golding puts it), there gives further proof of the existence of the differing opinions over what ‘evil’ is, where it comes from and what actions it can be attached to.

There does not appear to be any concrete answers to these questions, but what do you think constitutes ‘evil’? Which acts can be described as being truly ‘evil’? Are there any such acts? What do the philosophies and the religions of the world have to say on the matter? RS Matters would like to hear your thoughts and reflections on the issue. Please submit your thoughts in the Comments section below or to rsmattersblog@gmail.com.  

Right Speech, the Right to Free Speech and the Rights of the Dead

The Leveson Inquiry has featured regularly in the news since it began in November 2011; the phone-hacking scandal which triggered the Inquiry has been in our minds for much longer. The revelations have come thick and fast and the Inquiry has, at times, been challenging to watch, be it the emotional oral evidence submitted by the Dowler and the McCann families or the holding-no-punches approach taken by ex-News of the World investigative reporter Paul McMullan.

The testimony of Jim and Margaret Watson was particularly hard-hitting. Appearing before the Inquiry on 22 November 2011, they recalled the murder of their daughter Diane in 1991 at the hands of Barbara Glover. Glover was found guilty of the murder and was subsequently imprisoned. Following Diane Watson’s death, the Herald newspaper and Marie Clare magazine published a series of articles investigating young offenders and these articles, according to Mr and Mrs Watson, appeared to paint Glover as a ‘victim’ in the whole affair. Herald journalist Mr Jack McLean wrote articles which Mrs Watson argued labelled her family as coming from “an upper working class background and Diane had looked down on Barbara with disdain”. This claim caused the Watson family considerable upset, and they have refuted the claim, pointing to remarks made by the Judge presiding over the trial which rejected such motives for the murder. For Mr and Mrs Watson, these articles served to defame the memory of their daughter.

The issue of defamation and its effects upon the Watson family were not just connected to Diane. Following the publication of the defamatory articles, Diane’s younger brother Alan committed suicide. The Inquiry was told that cuttings of the articles in question were found by his body. The treatment of Diane’s memory since her death had had a profound and tragic effect upon the living. Mrs Watson told the inquiry: “Just because a person’s deceased you can write what you want, and they [the Herald and Marie Clare journalists] certainly did it”.

The evidence of Mr and Mrs Watson has not been the only evidence to raise issues over the rights of the dead. Ex-Daily Star journalist Richard Peppiatt delivered his oral evidence on 29 November 2011. He recalled the death of Kevin McGee, formally the ex-partner to actor and comedian Matt Lucas. Following an anonymous tip-off linking Mr McGee’s suicide to a costly drugs and alcohol binge, Mr Peppiatt took the story to the Daily Star news desk. They told him to write it up. Despite reservations about the veracity of both source and story, Mr Peppiatt wrote it up, and it was subsequently published on the front page of the paper. It was published unverified because, as Mr Peppiatt remarked, “There was certainly the consideration that the man was dead, therefore you can’t really libel him”. The Inquiry heard that with “McGee being dead, you can say pretty much what you want about him because he is dead”. Mr Peppiatt, who left the Daily Star prior to the Inquiry protesting against what he perceived to be its anti-Muslim propaganda agenda, apologised for the article saying, “I accept responsibility for the fact that nobody held a gun to my head and made me write that... hurtful story... I feel very ashamed.”

The testimony of the Watson family and Mr Peppiatt raises interesting questions about whether or not the dead should have rights. At present, one can write what they wish about the deceased, and this can cause considerable hurt to those left behind, especially when facts have not been properly investigated, have been misinterpreted or have just been fabricated to create a story. The Watson family are campaigning for a law against defaming the dead to be introduced, working with the Scottish Government. What effect would or could such a law have? Whilst it may act as a comfort to the bereaved, would it damage or limit the rights of our free press or the right to free speech?

The right to free speech will forever be enshrined in the words of Evelyn Beatrice Hall, writing under the pseudonym S.G. Tallentyre. In The Friends of Voltaire, she wrote, “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.” Compared to the principle of the right to free speech, it seems appropriate to consider the Buddhist principle of Right Speech, one of the aspects of the Noble Eightfold Path. In A Very Short Introduction to Buddhism, Damien Keown simply defines Right Speech as “telling the truth and speaking in a thoughtful and sensitive way” (2000 edition, p55). The Pali Canon argues Right Speech to be “abstaining from lying, from divisive speech, from abusive speech and from idle chatter: This is called Right Speech”. As such, the Buddhist message is clear: take care in what you say, think before you speak. This is not just a Buddhist truth, this is a universal truth. When one looks at the current media situation and take into account the evidence presented by the Watson family and Mr Peppiatt, we witness a culture where only the living appear to be afforded the respect of Free Speech.

As the Leveson Inquiry continues to receive evidence concerning the culture and ethics of the press, the debate about the right to free speech versus the rights of the dead will continue. I am sure many will agree that the right to free speech is an essential, or indeed ‘the’ essential, component of British democracy yet if those living are guarded by anti-libel legislation, should the dead also be afforded the same rights? A death, after all, does not just affect the individual concerned, but the family and friends left behind. They will cling to a memory, a reminder of a presence now gone. One solution could be to introduce a libel law that allows families to ‘approve’ any article or story that concerns the deceased. How easy this would be to enforce, I cannot say. There are obvious objections to such a law, with some viewing it to be a form of media suppression. It may be the case that the love we have for the deceased would cloud our judgement, leading us to gloss over the negative (and potentially newsworthy) aspects of their characters which might be deemed to be in the public interest. Such people may not be protecting the memory of the dead; instead, they might only be protecting themselves from future media intrusion.

These questions will be considered by the Leveson Inquiry, and hopefully a solution or compromise can be reached. A system based on the Buddhist principle of Right Speech is more than likely too utopian to be a serious proposal, yet its ethos can still remain. At the very least, if any system is to be put in place, it probably should allow the press and various news outlets room to consider the consequences of their reports on the deceased without impinging upon press freedom. There could even be legal processes in force aiming to ensure greater accuracy. It will not bring the dead back to life, but will go some way to ease their passing and preserve their memory for those left behind.