Criticising religion is not racism

By David Brittain

When David Brittain criticised an aspect of Islam during a family conversation, he was surprised to find himself accused of racism. In this personal reflection, the founder of Humanistically Speaking argues that a liberal society must distinguish between criticism of ideas and prejudice against people if it is to defend both freedom of expression and equal respect for all.

I was enjoying an evening meal with my daughter and son-in-law the other day when I made a critical comment about Islam. I can't recall exactly what I said, but it was probably something about the fear of social isolation, family estrangement or even personal safety that some Muslims face if they announce a change or loss of faith. I half expected a passing nod of broad agreement, so I was surprised by their disapproving – even shocked – reaction. They had always thought of me as a rather leftish, green, tolerant liberal (which is how I see myself), but making a critical remark about Islam apparently made me a racist!

I was shocked and hurt that anyone would accuse me of that, because I do not believe that criticising a religion justifies being labelled a racist – least of all by my own family. “Islam is not a race”, I protested. “It is a faith, a philosophy and a culture.” But on reflection, I realised that their reaction reflected a wider tendency in media and public debate to conflate criticism of religion with racism. To my mind, that is not only mistaken, but also a convenient way of stalling and blocking an honest dialogue about the harm that religious dogma can sometimes do to an otherwise healthy and tolerant society.

I think I'm saying something that should be obvious. Race is an innate characteristic – beliefs are not. We can't change the colour of our skin, but ideas, values and cultures can change and, in a liberal society, should be open to criticism and debate. Skin colour does not, in itself, constrain or harm others. Beliefs, however, can influence how people live, how they treat others, and how they respond to those who disagree with them. Some religious traditions have imposed severe restrictions on their followers and harsh penalties on those regarded as apostates.

Yet some politicians seem reluctant to criticise illiberal religious practices within the UK, perhaps fearing that such criticism will be portrayed as prejudice against the communities concerned. The attempted murder of the novelist Sir Salman Rushdie is a reminder that criticism of religious ideas can sometimes carry very real risks.

When concerns about culture, religion and integration cannot be discussed openly for fear of causing offence, they do not simply disappear. They can fester beneath the surface, breeding mistrust and resentment. The riots that followed a knife attack in Belfast in June, allegedly carried out by a Sudanese asylum seeker, illustrate how quickly such tensions can erupt into violence.

I did not witness the events myself, and I do not question reports that some in the crowd called for the expulsion of foreigners. Yet my own experience of Belfast has been very different. Having visited the city several times, I have found it to be a generous, tolerant city with a heart that is open and welcoming. Like many places in the UK, however, it also carries anxieties about cultures or beliefs that are perceived to reject those who are different. I believe that fear was one of the forces driving the unrest, just as fear fuelled much of the division during the Troubles. Fear breeds more fear, creating a cycle of mistrust that benefits extremists on all sides.

Confusing criticism of culture or religion with prejudice against an ethnic group is not only mistaken – it is dangerous. There is no predisposition in Pakistani DNA to sexually abuse girls, just as there was no predisposition in Christian DNA to torture and burn heretics during the Inquisition. Such behaviour is not inherited through our genes but learned through the beliefs, values and social norms that shape us as children and continue to influence us as adults.

The good news is that this problem can be addressed, but only if we are prepared to distinguish between race and ideology – a distinction that everyone, whatever their views, should be willing to make. We cannot change the colour of our skin, but cultures can evolve. There is hope, but it requires the courage to tackle illiberal ideas wherever they are found.

That means ensuring that every child receives an education that equips them to think critically, respect the rights of others, and participate fully in a liberal democratic society. In my view, all children should attend state-approved schools that meet these standards and are properly monitored. Where religious or cultural practices undermine these principles, the state has a duty to intervene in order to protect children's rights and uphold the law.

Education alone may not be enough. Where there is credible evidence that individuals or organisations are promoting violence, intimidation, or the denial of the fundamental rights of others, the authorities must be prepared to intervene firmly and within the law. Only when threats of violence and abuse are confronted will fear begin to subside, allowing us to rebuild the open, tolerant society that I believe Britain can and should be.

But let's begin that dialogue now. If you would like to comment on what I have said – whether you agree or disagree – please email me at humanistically.speaking@gmail.com. It's high time we had an open and honest discussion about race, religion, culture and how a liberal society should respond to ideologies that do not themselves embrace liberal values. George Hewson's Perspectives for a New Enlightenment, reviewed elsewhere in this issue, provides one thoughtful contribution to that wider conversation.