To begin with, I’m a bit wary of announcements that humanity has entered some new macro-historical phase that can be captured with some kind of ‘post’ prefix. Examples of this kind of thing include the Marxist notion of ‘post-capitalism’ and the more recent idea of ‘postmodernity’ in the sense of a supposed wholesale abandonment of the values and outlook of the Enlightenment. These overblown claims don’t inspire confidence in the whole enterprise of spotting ‘post’ epochs. I wish I could announce the coming of ‘post-postism’, but even that would be doubtful. However, it would be reasonable to say that in recent times there has been, in many places around the world, something of a reassertion of religious ideas in the public sphere. An example almost too obvious to mention is the rise of radical Islamism, together, perhaps, with the assertion of less radical forms of Islam in many countries. This is, to some extent, mirrored by the continued vigour of the Christian right in the US, exemplified by the policies and rhetoric of the Bush administration. ‘Even in tragedy’, President Bush said in his State of the Union address after 9/11, ‘God is near’.

Other English-speaking countries might be inclined to dismiss this as another piece of ‘American exceptionalism’, but even in a normally secular political environment like Australia’s there has been a certain amount of attention recently to the social and political role of religion. The new leader of the Labour opposition, Kevin Rudd, has not been shy of revealing and talking about his (Catholic) religious roots, or of claiming that these have been important to the formation of his sense of social justice. Rudd was subsequently confronted by the Minister of Health in the current Liberal (i.e. conservative) federal government, Tony Abbott, another Catholic. Abbott accused Rudd of playing politics with religion, and made an effort to reclaim religion for the politics of market liberalism and social conservatism. Should religion have a greater role in public debate? The traditional stance of liberal democracy is that bringing religion into politics is dangerous.

This view goes back, of course, to the European wars of religion which gave rise to the precursor of liberalism, the movement towards religious toleration. Surveying the destruction wrought by attempts to force religious orthodoxy on the unbelieving, proto-liberals like Locke and Bayle recognised that religion was a site of widespread, strong and permanent disagreement. To continue, despite this, to insist that others accept one’s own religion is both cruel and futile. The sensible and humane response is to allow people to agree to disagree in this matter: to leave religious belief up to the private conscience, and to restrict the coercive authority of the state to ‘public’ matters, such as the basic conditions of personal and collective security, that are more likely to attract consensus.

In more recent times, the doctrine of toleration has been developed by liberal theorists (such as John Rawls) into a principle of ‘state neutrality’, in which the liberal state claims to avoid favouring any particular conception of the good life, whether religious or secular, justifying its policies on grounds that are intended to be wholly uncontroversial in this sense. This kind of view might be understood as a theoretical expression of the American ideal of maintaining a strict ‘wall’ between church and state, although something of the neutralist ideal is also found in the practice elsewhere of allowing public support of religious institutions as long as this is done in a fairly even-handed way. I believe that the broad tendency of liberalism in relation to religion is basically correct: bringing religion into politics, especially into constitutional principles and basic institutions is indeed dangerous, for the reasons given by liberals from Locke to Rawls. The issue doesn’t quite rest there because sometimes the following problem is raised: Isn’t the liberal position itself the expression of a particular conception of the human good – one based on the values of individual freedom and toleration? If so, isn’t it true to say that liberalism is not, indeed cannot be, entirely neutral, but rather grounded in a specific, ‘comprehensive’ account of the human good that might be reasonably disputed from other perspectives?

To some extent this is true. It’s true that liberalism is not wholly neutral. But then, no political system is entirely neutral philosophically and ethically. Liberalism, nevertheless, can fairly claim to express an unusually, indeed uniquely accommodating configuration of values, within which it’s possible for many different religious and other conceptions of the good to coexist peacefully. This accommodation is not unlimited – there will be practices that liberalism cannot tolerate – but it’s the best we can do. The key liberal value that makes this possible, I think, is personal autonomy: the capacity for critical reflection on one’s own way of life, so that chooses one’s way of life (including religion) for oneself. Some people think that this is incompatible with the religious sensibility, but I’d argue that critical reflection is consistent with all except the most fundamentalist and irrational beliefs. If personal autonomy is the heart of liberalism, then liberalism is compatible with the accommodation of religion. But to accommodate religion is not the same as allowing it to determine basic principles and public policy; indeed, the accommodation of multiple religions is possible only if that is not the case. This needn’t prevent political leaders from making public statements about their personal beliefs, as long as they are prepared to see those beliefs critically challenged, and as long as they are able to justify their views in terms accessible to all citizens.

Regarding Böckenförde’s dilemma, I don’t find it very clear, and I’m not sure I’ve understood it. But so far as I understand it, no, I don’t agree with the way Böckenförde sets up this ‘dilemma’. The liberal state doesn’t promise people complete freedom in the sense of unfettered self-determination according to conscience. That’s just to say, liberals don’t promise anarchism. Although they certainly value individual liberty very highly, liberals also recognise that people often disagree about important matters (e.g. religion), and consequently there have to be ways of resolving disputes – ways of resolving disputes that appeal ultimately to coercion where necessary. However, the passage does hint at a deeper question about liberalism. On the one hand, any society needs ethical and cultural underpinnings; on the other hand, the liberal state is often thought of as tending towards moral neutrality. The suggestion seems to be that the moral abstemiousness of liberalism threatens to undermine the conditions for its existence.

This is a familiar worry that has been expressed many times before: for example, in the 19th century by some of the critics of Mill’s On Liberty and by Tocqueville in Democracy in America, and by thinkers like Burke in the 18th century who believed that any threat to religion was a threat to a society’s moral fabric. It’s a point found in many Marxists and socialists, and is especially a stock-in-trade of conservatives. It’s also a source of concern for some liberals too, in particular some contemporary theorists in the US. Again, though, I’d suggest that Böckenförde overstates the point, as do many of the other critics I’ve mentioned. It’s true that liberals try to prevent the state preaching particular, controversial moralities, especially religiously-based moralities. But that doesn’t mean that liberalism has no moral basis at all. On the contrary, the idea of human rights is an especially rich and inspiring moral doctrine. Further, the ideals of personal autonomy, equal treatment and toleration (or, more recently, mutual respect) are themselves substantial ethical ideals that people have made great sacrifices for.

Moreover, the general values of liberalism are often expressed in particular, local forms that people come to identify, and identify with, as facets of their own culture. For example, what are often celebrated in Australia as ‘Australian values’ (the ‘fair go’ and ‘mateship’ are favourite instances) turn out, on closer inspection, to be simply liberal-democratic values (equality of opportunity and mutual assistance) that have been given a local inflection. Historically, liberal societies have been proven quite capable of defending themselves, against both external and internal opponents, on both a military and an ethical level. None of this requires a religious basis – although, again, liberalism accommodates most religions. And believers may well be able to support liberal values for their own religious reasons. This is a point made by Rawls in his later work, and it overlaps the claim of Amartya Sen that recognisably liberal streams of thought can be found in many prominent cultures. Liberalism is not just a neutral container, it’s a substantial vision of morality and politics. But at the same time it has a uniquely universal potential.

George Crowder teaches at the School of International Political Studies at Flinders University (Adelaide, Australia). Amongst his books: Classical Anarchism (1991), Liberalism and Value Pluralism (2002), Isaiah Berlin: Liberty and Pluralism (2004), and The One and the Many: Reading Isaiah Berlin (with Henry Hardy, 2006).

This article was published in Reset, Number 101.