Liberal Democracy and Religious Freedom
Democracy is committed to the right to political freedom—by which I mean principally the right to vote and the right to freedom of expression. No country is a genuine democracy unless it recognizes and protects, as a fundamental legal right, the right “[t]o vote … at genuine periodic elections which shall be by universal and equal suffrage and shall be by secret ballot, guaranteeing the free expression of the will of the electors” (Article 25 of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights [ICCPR]). Similarly, no country is a genuine democracy unless it recognizes and protects, as a fundamental legal right, the right to the freedoms of inquiry, speech, and press, which we may call, for the sake of simplicity, the right to freedom of expression. Obviously, a citizenry cannot participate meaningfully by voting or otherwise in the political life of its country unless it enjoys, as a matter of right, freedom of expression, which, according to Article 19 of the ICCPR, comprises “freedom to seek, receive and impart information and ideas of all kinds, regardless of frontiers, either orally, in writing or in print, in the form of art, or through any other media of [one's] choice.” The right to freedom of expression is not—as a real-world matter it cannot be—absolute; according to Article 19, one's freedom of expression may “be subject to certain restrictions, but these shall only be such as are provided by law and are necessary: (a) For respect of the rights or reputations of others; (b) For the protection of national security or of public order (ordre public), or of public health or morals.”
Just as no country is a genuine democracy unless it is committed to—unless it recognizes and protects, as a fundamental legal right—the right to political freedom, no country is truly a liberal democracy unless it recognizes and protects, as a fundamental legal right, the right to religious freedom—the right to freedom of religious practice—which is a core liberal-democratic right. As I explain later in this article, the right to religious practice is the right, which of course is not absolute, to worship and otherwise practice and bear witness to one's religion in public, even to the point of proselytizing.
It is widely agreed that the right to religious freedom is a sine qua non of liberal democracy. But whereas the case for democracy's commitment to the right to political freedom is straightforward and familiar—“An informed citizenry,” said Thomas Jefferson, “is at the heart of a dynamic democracy”—the case (the rationale, the argument) for liberal democracy's commitment to the right to religious freedom, although not unfamiliar, is more complicated. In denying religious freedom to its citizens, is government violating its citizens? In doing some things to a human being—for example, in torturing him prior to executing him—we may safely assume that government is violating him implicitly if not explicitly, by doing to him what one would not do to him if one genuinely perceived him to have inherent dignity. However, as I am about to explain through a fable about a country named Elysium (which has much in common with the policy of the pre-Vatican II church), in denying religious freedom to its citizens, government is not necessarily violating its citizens even implicitly.
Elysium
Elysium, like Saudi Arabia, has a population of about 25 million. Approximately 80 percent of Elysians belong to a religion known as The One True Faith (TOTF); the other 5 million belong to various other religions. TOTF vigorously affirms, and gives a theological ground in support of, the morality of human rights: according to one of TOTF's fundamental teachings, every human being has inherent dignity and is inviolable because every human being is a beloved child of God and a sister/brother to oneself. Like many other religions, TOTF teaches that individuals cannot be coerced into accepting—truly accepting—a religion (religious beliefs) as their own religion; and, indeed, the Elysian constitution, inspired in part by an argument John Locke makes in his Letter Concerning Toleration, forbids government to try to coerce anyone into accepting TOTF as her religion.Footnote 1 Likewise, the Elysian constitution forbids government to prohibit anyone from practicing her religion in private.Footnote 2 Elysian statutory law specifies the private places where non-TOTFers may worship and otherwise practice their religion, including their own homes.
However, TOTF teaches that no human being can achieve eternal salvation who does not freely embrace TOTF as the one true faith. It is not surprising, therefore, that TOTF is the politically/legally favored religion—in that sense, the established religion—in Elysium. Accordingly, the Elysian constitution forbids the government to enact any law or adopt any policy that is inconsistent with the teachings of TOTF. Nonetheless, because Elysians have taken to heart James Madison's Memorial and Remonstrance against Religious Assessments, the Elysian constitution embraces a part of Thomas Jefferson's Statute for Religious Freedom and forbids the government to require any citizen to support, financially or otherwise, TOTF.Footnote 3 So, the establishment of religion in Elysium is, in some respects, much less severe than it has been in other places at other times. The establishment of religion in Elysium is certainly less severe than it is in Saudi Arabia today.Footnote 4
We now come to the heart of the matter. John Locke wrote, in his Letter Concerning Toleration, that “the whole jurisdiction of the magistrate … neither can nor ought in any manner to be extended to the salvation of souls.”Footnote 5 The government of Elysium, however, disagrees with Locke. Elysian law bans any public practice of, and any proselytism on behalf of, any religion other than TOTF; it also bans any proselytism of positions, like atheism and agnosticism, that challenge theistic religion generally. The rationale for this policy is simple—and un-Lockean: By banning practices that will predictably cause some Elysians to abandon, and other Elysians not to embrace, TOTF, the policy is aimed at maximizing the number of Elysians who will achieve eternal salvation.Footnote 6
In denying to non-TOTFers freedom to practice their religion in public and to proselytize on behalf of their religion, are Elysian officials violating them, either explicitly or implicitly: explicitly, by denying that non-TOTFers have inherent dignity, or implicitly, by not acknowledging the inherent dignity of non-TOTFers? To the contrary, it is because they insist that all Elysians, non-TOTFers no less than TOTFers, have inherent dignity—that every Elysian is a beloved child of God—that Elysian officials are trying to maximize the number of Elysians who will achieve eternal salvation. In denying to non-TOTFers freedom to practice their religion in public and to proselytize, Elysian officials are acting out of a deep respect and concern for all Elysians; they are not violating non-TOTFers.
The Elysians obviously differ from the contemporary church in the extreme narrowness of their version of the doctrine extra ecclesiam nulla salus (outside the church no salvation). Elysian TOTFers believe that the denial of religious freedom is justified, and the suffering it causes, therefore, warranted as a loving effort to protect all Elysians, including non-TOTFers, from the worst fate, the most horrific fate, imaginable: the loss of eternal salvation.
However, we citizens of liberal democracy are not TOTFers. Even the Roman Catholic Church no longer subscribes to such a crabbed—literalist—reading of extra ecclesiam nulla salus. “For centuries it was the teaching of the Roman [Catholic] Church that the majority of human beings went to hell, and that only Catholics, and most likely only a minority of them, went to heaven. … Pope Boniface VIII concluded his Bull Unam Sanctam, 1302, with the words ‘We declare, say, define, and proclaim to every human creature that if they are to be saved they must of necessity be subject to the Roman Pontiff.’”Footnote 7 But in 1964, by contrast, Joseph Ratzinger, who is now Pope Benedict XVI, could proclaim in a sermon that “we are convinced that God is able [to save non-Christians] with or without our theories, with or without our perspicacity, and that we do not need to help [God] do it with our cognitions.”Footnote 8
Religious Freedom and Historical Experience
How can we understand the change in the church's stance toward religious freedom? Religious liberty scholar Douglas Laycock has observed that “in history that was recent to the American Founders, governmental attempts to suppress disapproved religious views had caused vast human suffering in Europe and in England and similar suffering on a smaller scale in the colonies that became the United States.”Footnote 9 It is easy enough to identify the kinds of serious human suffering that attend a war of any kind, including a war animated by religious differences—and the kinds of serious human suffering that attend the punishment government imposes on human beings, or threatens to impose on them, in consequence of their violating a criminal ban on one or more of their religious practices. But even in the absence of a religious war or other serious religious conflict, and even if no one violates the ban on religious practices, the ban, nonetheless, causes serious human suffering: the emotional suffering, often traumatic, that attends one's being legally forbidden to live a life of integrity—legally forbidden, that is, to live life in harmony with one's religious conscience, in harmony with one's convictions and commitments. The kind of suffering human beings endure in consequence of being legally forbidden to practice their religion consists of the disintegration of a central aspect of their lives. Why might government believe itself justified in imposing such suffering?
We can easily imagine the powers that be declaring, “Certain religious teachings are true—for example, the teaching that one who embraces Christianity has a much better chance of being savedFootnote 10—and no government should lack authority to ban practices, religious or not, that may lead some people to reject those teachings.” We can also anticipate a secular version of the position: “Certain antireligious teachings are true—for example, the teaching that ‘religion is unscientific, superstitious, and an enemy of progress’Footnote 11—and no government should lack authority to ban practices, religious or not, that may lead some people to reject those teachings.” Neither the religious nor the secular version of this position is persuasive to those of us who, after reflecting on historical experience, concur in John Locke's judgment that “[n]either the right nor the art of ruling does necessarily carry along with it the certain knowledge of other things, and least of all true religion.”Footnote 12 (To Locke's “does necessarily carry,” we may add “or has ever carried.”) “The one only narrow way which leads to Heaven,” said Locke, “is not better known to the Magistrate than to private persons, and therefore I cannot safely take him for my Guide, who may probably be as ignorant of the way as my self, and who certainly is less concerned for my Salvation than I my self am.”Footnote 13 In our (Lockean) judgment, government is not to be trusted as an arbiter of religious (or antireligious) truth. Or, because we are talking here specifically about government in a liberal democracy, we may say that a political majority is not to be trusted as an arbiter of religious truth. As Locke put it, “the business of laws is not to provide for the truth of opinions, but for the safety and security of the commonwealth, and of every particular man's goods and persons.”Footnote 14
That is, government is not to be trusted as an arbiter of religious truth beyond a certain point. As I have explained elsewhere,Footnote 15 a liberal democracy is committed to the proposition that every human being has inherent dignity and is inviolable; in the political culture of a liberal democracy, this proposition is axiomatic. In a liberal democracy, government should act in accord with the proposition. Even in doing so, government is implicitly rejecting the position of some (e.g., racist) religions and thereby, in that limited sense, acting as an arbiter of religious truth. (“The world is one in which every human being has inherent dignity and is inviolable; if God exists and created the world, then the world created by God is one in which every human being has inherent dignity and is inviolable.”) Moreover, certain governmental interests are undeniably legitimate, and government must be legally free to serve such interests—for example, protecting the lives, health, and safety of the citizenry—even if in doing so government is sometimes implicitly rejecting the position of some religions and thereby, in that limited sense, acting as an arbiter of religious truth.
A court orders a state to desegregate its schools, the country goes to war, educational funds are made available equally to men and women. The government has implicitly rejected religious notions that (1) God wishes rigid racial separation, (2) all killing in war violates God's commandments, (3) all women should occupy themselves with domestic tasks. A vast array of laws and policies similarly imply the incorrectness of particular religious views.Footnote 16
But beyond that certain point, government is not to be trusted as an arbiter of religious truth. In particular, government need not act—and we are understandably and justifiably wary about its acting—as an arbiter of religious (theological) disagreements that do not implicate any legitimate governmental interest. We affirm, with Locke, that “the business of laws is not to provide for the truth of opinions, but [only] for the safety and security of the commonwealth, and of every particular man's goods and persons.”Footnote 17 Henceforth, when I say that government is not to be trusted as an arbiter of religious truth, I mean that government is not to be trusted as an arbiter of religious disagreements that do not implicate a legitimate governmental interest.
One can imagine the Roman Catholic Church of an earlier time replying to Locke that “so long as the state accepts the Catholic Church as the arbiter of religious truth, there is no problem, because the Catholic Church has ‘certain knowledge’ of religious truth.” By the time of the Second Vatican Council (1962–1965), however, the cardinals and bishops of the Catholic Church—a large majority of them—had come to accept that the era had ended during which the church could realistically expect to wield the kind of influence over a state—any state—it had once wielded over some states, and that the church too, therefore, should not trust any government, including any political majority in a liberal democracy, as an arbiter of religious truth.
Another imaginable, but illegitimate, claim of governmental interest is protecting the religious unity of society. We can easily imagine the power elite declaring, “In the long run, religious unity, understood as a kind of ‘glue,’ enhances the strength of a nation (‘strength’ as in ‘united we stand, divided we fall’); therefore, no government should lack authority to ban practices, religious or not, that over time may diminish the nation's religious unity and thereby weaken the nation.”Footnote 18 (In 1931, the fascist dictator of Italy, Benito Mussolini, proclaimed that “religious unity is one of the great strengths of a people.”Footnote 19) But that position, too, is belied by historical experience—not least, the historical experience of religious freedom in the United States. Indeed, given the suffering it causes and the divisiveness it precipitates, the coercive imposition of religious uniformity—if not necessary to serve some other, important governmental interest, such as protecting the lives, health, or safety of the citizenry—is more likely to corrode than to nurture the strength of a democracy, especially if the democracy is, as liberal democracies typically and increasingly are, religiously pluralistic.Footnote 20
This, then, is the fundamental warrant for liberal democracy's commitment to the right to religious freedom: political majorities are not to be trusted (i.e., beyond a certain point) as arbiters of religious truth; moreover, the coercive imposition of religious uniformity is (beyond a certain point) more likely to corrode than to nurture the strength of a democracy. The warrant, which is rooted in historical experience, is fundamental in the sense that it is ecumenical: both citizens who are religious believers and those who are not can affirm the warrant. And that the warrant is ecumenical is ideal: liberal democracies are religiously pluralistic; the citizenry of a liberal democracy typically includes not only religious believers—indeed, religious believers of various stripes—but also nonbelievers. It is ideal that all citizens of liberal democracy—believers no less than nonbelievers—have the same basic reason to embrace the right to religious freedom.Footnote 21
Dignitatis Humanae
Again, the Roman Catholic Church was famously late to embrace the right to religious freedom. We are now in a position to see that when at last the church did embrace the right, it did so, contrary to what some have suggested, without abandoning any of its fundamental theological beliefs.Footnote 22 We can see, in particular, that it is not the case that the church suddenly began respecting the dignity of the human individual in 1965. The church embraced the right to religious freedom on the basis of substantially the same, ecumenical rationale based on historical experience that I have elaborated in this paper. The story of the church's conversion is worth recounting because the story powerfully illustrates that all citizens—Catholics no less than non-Catholics, Christians no less than non-Christians, believers no less than nonbelievers—can consistently with their core theological or nontheological beliefs affirm the rationale.
In 1965, the cardinals and bishops at the Second Vatican Council (1962–1965), by a vote of 2,308 to 70, adopted the Declaration on Religious Freedom, known by the first two words of the official Latin version, Dignitatis Humanae. Later that year, Pope Paul VI promulgated the Declaration as the teaching of the Roman Catholic Church. In Dignitatis Humanae, the church finally embraced the right to religious freedom as a right that, given the inherent dignity and inviolability of every human being, should be universally legislated.
The pre-Vatican II Catholic Church, notwithstanding its vigorous affirmation of the inherent dignity and inviolability of every human being, rejected the right to religious freedom as a right that should be universally legislated. Prior to 1965, the church rejected the claim that non-Catholics should everywhere have the same legal freedom Catholics themselves should have to practice their religion in public and to proselytize. As Michael Walsh has explained:
[In the 1940s,] Protestants had reason for their suspicion of Catholics. The “liberal” approach to the pluralism of religious practice found in the United States was certainly not replicated in Spain and some Latin American countries, or even, to some extent, in Italy. The Church had no problem with diversity of belief—it was accepted that no one could be coerced into Catholicism—but practice was a different matter. It was the duty of a Catholic state, the argument ran, to constrain public expression of religion other than Catholicism. Error, it was repeated mantra-like, has no right.Footnote 23
Unlike the pre-Vatican II Catholic Church, the post–Vatican II Catholic Church accepts—indeed, celebrates—the right to religious freedom. Walsh's article provides a good summary of the fierce debate among the cardinals and bishops at the Second Vatican Council that preceded what Walsh calls the Council's “u-turn” with respect to the right to religious freedom, namely, its adoption of Dignitatis Humanae.Footnote 24
Dignitatis Humanae's commitment to the right to religious freedom was—is—unmistakable and resounding. The human person is “not to be forced to act in a manner contrary to his conscience. Nor … is he to be restrained from acting in accordance with his conscience, especially in matters religious.”Footnote 25 “This right of the human person to religious freedom is to be recognized in the constitutional law whereby society is governed and thus it is to become a civil right.”Footnote 26 “Religious communities … have the right not to be hindered in their public teaching and witness to their faith, whether by the spoken or by the written word.”Footnote 27 “[G]overnment is to assume the safeguard of the religious freedom of all its citizens, in an effective manner, by just laws and by other appropriate means.”Footnote 28 Religious freedom “is to be recognized as the right of all men and communities and sanctioned by constitutional law.”Footnote 29 In its final section, Dignitatis Humanae declares, “The fact is that men of the present day want to be able freely to profess their religion in private and in public. Indeed, religious freedom has already been declared to be a civil right in most constitutions, and it is solemnly recognized in international documents. … This council [Vatican II] greets with joy [this fact] as among the signs of the times.”Footnote 30
In embracing the right to religious freedom, the church, in Dignitatis Humanae, abandoned a theocratic conception of political authority. According to Dignitatis Humanae, “[n]o merely human power can either command [acts contrary to one's religious conscience] or prohibit [acts in accordance with one's religious conscience].”Footnote 31 “Government … would clearly transgress the limits set to its power, were it to presume to command or inhibit acts that are religious.”Footnote 32
Although Dignitatis Humanae succeeded in explaining, in clear terms consistent with earlier papal pronouncements, the church's traditional support for the right to freedom of religious belief,Footnote 33 it failed to explain in such terms—indeed, it was impossible to explain in such terms—the church's u-turn with respect to the right to freedom of religious practice.Footnote 34 (Why didn't the authors of Dignitatis Humanae forthrightly acknowledge in the text of the document the impossibility of such an explanation? “Reticence to reject the past by explicit reference to the rejected doctrine was, no doubt, the price paid for the unity finally achieved.”Footnote 35) One fierce critic of the church's reversal has complained:
The new year of 1995 marks thirty years since the close of the Second Vatican Council, and without a doubt the confusion, division and loss of faith within the Catholic Church can be directly attributed to some of the decrees and declarations of the Council, and the most destructive of the Catholic Faith after the Council, was the decree Dignitatis Humanae on Religious Liberty. … The reason this decree was the most controversial and the most destructive is that it explicitly taught doctrines previously condemned by past Popes. And this was so blatant that many conservative Council Fathers opposed it to the very end; while even the liberal cardinals, bishops and theologians who promoted the teachings of Dignitatis Humanae had to confess their inability to reconcile this decree with the past condemnations of Popes.Footnote 36
Nonetheless, the Catholic Church now embraces the right to religious freedom. “In a striking twentieth-century reversal,” writes Catholic historian R. Scott Appleby of Dignitatis Humanae, “the Catholic Church abandoned its previous claims to political privilege, renounced the theocratic model of political order, and became a powerful proponent of religious liberty.”Footnote 37 Appleby continues: “It is difficult to overstate the depth and scope of the ecclesial transformation that occurred over the course of the twentieth century.”Footnote 38 What led to that “striking reversal”? (Again, much of what Dignitatis Humanae says makes sense as an argument, not for the right to freedom of religious practice, but only for the right to freedom of religious belief.) What led the church in 1965 to abandon its theocratic conception of political authority?
I suggested in the preceding section of this paper that the fundamental warrant for liberal democracy's commitment to the right to religious freedom is rooted in historical experience. The same historical experience helps to explain Dignitatis Humanae; it helps to explain why in 1965 the Roman Catholic Church finally came round to embrace the very right to religious freedom to which liberal democracy is committed—and to embrace the right on substantially the same basis liberal democracy embraces it. An overwhelming majority of the cardinals and bishops at the council (2,308 to 70) accepted an argument the church had long rejected: liberal democracy's argument for the right to religious freedom.
In particular, they accepted liberal democracy's claim that government is not to be trusted as an arbiter of religious (or antireligious) truth. By the time of Second Vatican Council, the era had largely ended in which the church could realistically expect to wield the kind of influence over a state—any state—that it had once wielded over some states. Moreover, a new era was well under way, one in which Catholicism and other religions rightly feared for their freedom at the hands of militantly atheistic, totalitarian governments. Dignitatis Humanae notes and then denounces, “as only to be deplored,” the fact “that forms of government still exist under which, even though freedom of religious worship receives constitutional recognition, the powers of government are engaged in the effort to deter citizens from the profession of religion and to make life very difficult and dangerous for religious communities.”Footnote 39 Clearly, the claim that government is not to be trusted as an arbiter of religious truth was reinforced, for the cardinals and bishops at the Second Vatican Council, by “the negative experience of terrible totalitarian regimes.”Footnote 40
Moreover, “the positive experience of religious freedom under the American constitution”Footnote 41 made it much easier for the cardinals and bishops to accept the claim that government is not to be trusted as an arbiter of religious truth. The American experience demonstrated just how well religion—not least, Catholicism itself—can flourish where government is not trusted as an arbiter of religious truth—where, that is, religious freedom thrives. As John Noonan has recounted:
Above all, there were the example and influence of the United States. Where else had Christianity thrived so well as in this nation where freedom of religion and the separation of Church and State were enshrined in the constitution of the country? For the bishops of the United States, freedom of religion was their issue. A bloc, powerful in their resources, the bishops had an articulate advisor and draftsman in John Courtney Murray, a leading American Jesuit, silenced in the years preceding the council, then shoehorned into its advisors by Cardinal Francis Spellman, archbishop of New York. The lustre of the American experience was not lost upon the Fathers of Vatican II.Footnote 42
The cardinals and bishops at Vatican II brought to bear the lessons of historical experience, both negative and positive; they—and, ultimately, Pope Paul VI—concluded that there was much to be gained and little if anything to be lost by joining the growing movement for universal religious freedom. (John Courtney Murray said that “the Church came late to a war that was already won.”Footnote 43) The small minority of cardinals and bishops at the council who refused to bow to the lessons of historical experience—who continued to reject liberal democracy's twofold argument for the right to religious freedom—“appear[ed] to be creatures from a cave where sunlight had never penetrated.”Footnote 44
Dignitatis Humanae demonstrates just how powerfully subversive a teacher historical experience can be: What “had [been] taught as the doctrine of the Church was now gone beyond recall. What had been folly for [earlier popes] now earned the praise of pope and council in 1965.”Footnote 45
The principal reason the magisterium of the Roman Catholic Church finally embraced, at the Second Vatican Council, the right to religious freedom—embraced it, that is, as a right to be universally legislated—was not specifically Christian, much less Catholic. That is not surprising because, again, all citizens of liberal democracy—Catholics no less than non-Catholics, Christians no less than non-Christians, believers no less than nonbelievers—have the same basic reason to embrace the right to religious freedom: Government—a political majority—is not to be trusted (beyond a certain point) as an arbiter of religious truth; moreover, the coercive imposition of religious uniformity is (beyond a certain point) more likely to corrode than to nurture the strength of a democracy. Religious believers do not have less reason than nonbelievers—instead, religious believers and nonbelievers have the same basic reason—to insist that government not ban (or otherwise impede) a religious practice unless the ban is necessary to serve a legitimate governmental interest, the weight of which is proportionate to the weight of the burden imposed by the ban.
