Discussions in India on whether a particular religious practice offends the principles of secularism get embroiled, ironically, in the coils of religion. In good faith, Indian law-makers have often given themselves the difficult task of deciding if a certain practice is “essential” to the religion concerned before opening the secular gates to it.
For starters, all religions have sectarian differences, so there are nearly as many texts as there are sects. This is why searching for textual unanimity about the “essence” of any faith is like poking a bear. Second, pressuring religion to tell us what secularism should accept puts a thumb on the scales. If a revered text were to actually advocate that unbelievers be persecuted or that child marriages be promoted, should a secular state allow them in?
The French model of secularism, or laicite, steers clear of all religious considerations. No allowances are made here for any demonstration of religious affiliation by public officials on duty. Let alone the hijab, it does not even permit the Cross to be worn, or, if worn, cannot be shown; almost like a private body part. As the French, in 1905, moved against their own God first, it gave laicite an intellectual appeal where the head rules the heart.
In India, and in many other democracies, secularism has more heart than the laicite in France. This puts them in a delicate place as they must decide, case by case, if a certain community practice is against the core principles of secularism, or not. Consequently, they look to compassion and tolerance for a solution, and now also to a reading of texts, to determine a religion’s essence. Note, we are in the zone of belief here where no road tests are allowed.
The multiplicity of instruments employed to implement secularism is really the problem. As Jan Tinbergen had famously said, every policy needs but one steadfast instrument for its implementation. In our case, it is the tenets of citizenship that alone should guide state policy on secularism. A quick review of how this might work, without prejudice to current applications, can be illustrated with a few instances.
Banning cow slaughter, for example, does not “harm” citizenship in any way. It does not degrade public space, nor inhibit acquiring educational and health facilities, nor impairs the functioning of public institutions. In addition, as eating beef is not compulsory for Muslims and is abhorrent to Hindus, it seems a perfect fit, a “no loss-loss” solution, to ban cow slaughter.
It was probably for this reason that the Directive Principles of our Constitution recommended it. As citizenship attributes are not involved, let alone being harmed, a beef ban is clearly an optimal solution, unless we want to talk our way into trouble. Remember, even without engaging with religion, different countries prohibit the slaughter of different kinds of animals for food without in any way harming citizenship.
Let us now turn to issues such as loudspeakers in mosques and temples, the immersion of idols in rivers and the wearing of the burqa and hijab. All of them enliven citizenship concerns and must, therefore, be examined in that context. There can be no disagreement that air, water and public spaces belong to all and, therefore, compromising their access and quality harms public health and efficiency.
Should a religious ceremony take up such spaces and damage public resources, then that would certainly alert the watchdog norms of citizenship. The result might be banning these practices, or, if permitted, then with firm guardrails in place, perhaps even with hefty fines as top-up. This is regardless of whether the practice is deemed “essential” to a religion, or not, nor of any majority-minority considerations.
For example, loudspeakers are an invasion of public space and a health hazard because they contribute to noise pollution. These rules of public propriety and property also power the Central Pollution Control Board’s directive to make idols, say of Goddess Durga or Lord Ganesh, of eco-friendly material. This may inconvenience some artisans but it prevents the waters from being polluted when the idols are ceremonially immersed.
Likewise, with the burqa and hijab, we should ask not whether wearing them is essential to Islam but if they impair the functioning of public institutions. Does the burqa restrict vision, mobility and communication over and above creating barriers in socialisation and cooperation between men and women as equal citizens? Would all of this impact the proper functioning of public institutions?
The hijab, obviously, is not the burqa as it does not cover the face, just the head. Oddly enough, many don’t know the difference between the two. There are other culturally preferred headdresses, adornments too, but they have not yet muddied the water under the bridge. However, let us enquire again if the hijab undermines institutional efficiency by restricting mobility, interaction, and so on, between equal citizens.
These are the kind of questions that are relevant when the issue of “harm” is raised, and not if a particular practice, or headdress, is “essential” to a religion, or not? The verdict on this matter should be based on citizenship considerations alone. The laicite model could also use this instrument, especially as France 2022 is vibrantly multicultural and not the France of 1905. French secularism need no longer be so headstrong.
Now, at last, with the principles of citizenship at work, we no longer have to choose between the heart and the head.
The writer taught for nearly three decades in the School of Social Sciences, Jawaharlal Nehru University