Undoubtedly, a General Election looming on the horizon pervades all areas of life. Like olives in a salad, or the aroma of egg sandwiches, there is no escape or side-stepping, and even school nativity plays have found themselves dragged into a pre-election fracas.
Interestingly, a while ago, the Education Secretary, Gavin Williamson, wrote to election officers asking them to avoid using schools as polling stations for the election on December 12th, because of the potential for it to interfere with nativity plays. The election officers were not pleased to receive this missive, and the Association of Electoral Administrators hit back with complaints that the message had come too late, as venues had already been booked and posters printed. They also pointed out that in many areas, especially rural ones, the local school was the only available suitable and accessible building to be had.
In fairness, it is entirely possible to see both sides in this debate. On the one hand, given the emotional investment in these festive plays for young children, their teachers, parents and carers, minimizing disruption seems a humane and reasonable strategy. Equally though, organizing the logistics of an election at local level is a labour of Hercules, even without receiving last minute surprises or impossible demands. Election officers cannot magic an alternative venue out of thin air, and if the choices in your district are basically a school or a free-range turkey farm, you are going to plump for the former.
Our blog this week is not concerned with how this dilemma could or should be resolved. The reason for discussing the nativity play debacle was that the whole saga reveals just how complicated the interplay between culture, religion and politics can become, even over what at first sight appears to be a simple, practical question. Although taking part in a nativity play is still seen by many families as a rite of passage for infant school children, there are also strong feelings from some quarters that religious narrative is inappropriate, as well as an equally fervent backlash from others wishing to keep the reenactment of the Christmas story. The latter category asserts that axing it would be to privilege the anti-religious views of the predominantly secular/humanist voices objecting, over and above the rest of the community.
It is a minefield, but the point which we wish to draw out, is that there is no such thing as a neutral stance on nativity plays in state schools. In light of the huge weight of history, tradition and prevailing cultural expectations, whatever approach is taken, it is allied to an ideological perspective and making some form of statement. It is a reflection, in microcosm, of the dilemma which nations face over arrangements with regard to the relationships between public authorities and religious bodies, as there is simply no such thing as a neutral position. In other words, whatever formal stance is adopted, a set of collective norms and values is being embraced.
The United Kingdom has a religious Constitution: England and Scotland have established Churches, with special ties to the State, and even Wales has a quasi-established Church, with Anglicanism having retained a number of legal benefits and burdens after formal disestablishment in 1920 (by virtue of the Welsh Church Act 1914), as well as an unique social role in many places. Yet it is critical to appreciate that having a religious Constitution does not make the State less neutral or equitable than any other nation, and when it comes to equality, we need to look deeper than the surface to make a meaningful judgement call.
In technical terms, commentators often classify public authorities/religious denominations arrangements into one of three types: Establishment, Separatist, and Hybrid/Cooperationist. In the first, one denomination has a special relationship with the State; in the second, organs of the State adopt a secular character and stance, and in the third, despite the fact that the State does not recognize any official faith, there are some mechanisms for working with religious groups, and allowing faith to play a role in at least some official, public occasions. It has been observed by commentators like Doe and Sandberg that this tripartite division has flaws when examined closely, and in reality, all countries, at least in Europe, are cooperationist. In functional terms, it is hard to deny that any liberal democracy is going to be cooperationist, because public authorities have to accommodate the religious views and needs of all citizens, and this means working alongside faith groups for some purposes. Nevertheless, our view would be that throwing out the three-fold division entirely is perhaps going too far: labels do matter, as formal expressions of collective values have undeniable symbolic impact, and they clearly influence the way in which citizens and Governments both think and operate. However, it is also correct to assert that labels are not the be all and end all. Ultimately perhaps, to quote a famous jazz number, it’s ain’t what you do, it’s the way that you do it.
Therefore, it is possible to imagine a primary school which dispensed with its nativity play, but gave pupils who were religiously or culturally invested in Christmas, plenty of space to express and celebrate that (e.g. making greetings cards or decorations, reading books with Christmas themes). Equally, a school down the road could keep its nativity play, but at the same time could make Humanist, Muslim, Pagan, and Jewish pupils felt fully included and respected. As a result, we can have either a religious or separatist system which is mindful of the liberties and needs of all citizens. In a less starry-eyed moment, it is fair to note that the Article 9 case law of the European Court of Human Rights demonstrates that all regimes face problems and controversies, whichever of the three models is in play, and it is inaccurate to suggest that one type of relations between public authorities and religious bodies faces vastly more claims than another.
The kind of Establishment which came into being in the different nations which would become Great Britain in due course, was squeezed through the Enlightenment mill. In a country which embraced limited Monarchy in the 17th century, and gradually made its way to increasing participation in what eventually became a democratic process, legal and constitutional treatment of religion had to adapt to changing norms and values. There was never a revolution (on British soil anyway, there was of course the small matter of the Boston Tea-party and ensuing American Revolution/War of Independence) and the Church of England was never rejected, but it became less and less acceptable to see non-Anglican citizens denied rights and privileges given to members of the Church of England. So, the solution was to gradually, in a haphazard and piece-meal fashion, broaden out the perks enjoyed by the Church of England to other faith groups, e.g. the right celebrate marriages binding in State law, the right to become an MP etc.
Needless to say, there were bumps in the road, but generally speaking the pattern was one of sharing rather than snatching, and there was societal (or at least Parliamentary elite) consensus that the sharing was right and just. This also led to the system, slightly unexpectedly, coming to embrace and protect freedom of conscience beyond the spiritual sphere. Once it was accepted that it was not fair to discriminate against a person for adopting a different religious viewpoint, and that all matters of religious conscience had to respected, it was a natural step to conclude that all other questions of conscience deserved equal recognition. By the time of the First World War, it was not seen as rational or fair to accommodate the Quaker pacifist, but not the Marxist who refused to fight his brother workers. The legislation on conscientious objection was, therefore, religiously and ideologically equal.
Consequently, the unique history and context of the United Kingdom resulted in a religious Constitution, which although not without its flaws, is in the main positive and respectful of the rights of all citizens. Crucially, the concept of freedom of religion and conscience as a fundamental liberty was firmly embedded even before the Human Rights Act 1998. It is not the label attached to a Constitution which determines its fitness for purpose in the twenty-first century, but the way in which the collective values which it enshrines are understood and interpreted.
Faith and religious beliefs are a universal reality of human societies and collective life. Constitutions, as a result, have to deal with them, and there is no such thing as a religiously neutral form of relations between public bodies and religious groups. Yet within each of the models it is possible to achieve a framework within which the rights of all members of society can be acknowledged and honoured. The way in which British history has played out means that this has happened within an Establishment paradigm, and in later years this model has often served to enhance, rather than limit, the rights of citizens outside of the established denominations.
Related Articles
Nativity Play School Polling Station Row Deepens (BBC News 7/11/19)
Why the Constitution Treatment of Religion in Great Britain Matters in Religious Disputes (Javier García Oliva, UK Constitutional Law Association Blog, 26/9/17)
Law Religion and the Constitution: Balancing Beliefs in Britain (Javier García Oliva and Helen Hall, Routledge 2017)- Available electronically from Manchester University Library
