Religion and Freedom
January 9, 2012 http://www.thepublicdiscourse.
Threats
 to religious freedom endanger the health of religious institutions, 
enfeebling rather than enlivening the moral content of our culture--a 
content that we all, believers and non-believers alike, rely upon to 
exercise our freedom.
Religious
 freedom is in the headlines again. From federal healthcare policies, to
 changing marriage laws in the states, to employer regulations on 
hiring, firing, and benefits, an array of recent government actions has 
many religious organizations alarmed, not just about the underlying 
policies themselves, but about their impact on the right of religious 
believers freely to practice their faith. Many see a growing strain of 
domineering secularism at work in American culture, one that has 
otherwise very different religious groups facing common pressures to 
discard, modify, or at least keep quiet about their religious beliefs 
and practices. This is why religious freedom remains most directly and 
self-evidently important to religious believers themselves. They have 
the most to lose if its guarantees do not remain strong.
But
 beyond the very real protections it offers specific people of faith, 
religious freedom plays another vital role in the life of a free 
society, a role that helps make possible the liberty of all its members,
 believers and non-believers alike. Religious freedom is not just a 
particular type of freedom; it is a critical source of freedom itself.
To
 understand why this is the case, consider what freedom requires. Most 
obvious is a healthy dose of negative liberty--the view that we should 
have the ability to live our lives as far as possible without undue 
interference by our government or our fellow citizens. This is what 
individual rights, limited government, and the rule of law aim to 
provide. They create a zone in which we can be authors of our own lives 
without being involuntarily subject to the overbearing power of others 
trying to force us to live or act or think in certain ways.
Of
 course, religious freedom is often a significant element in this 
negative understanding of liberty. It protects my right to practice my 
faith and share its good news with you, just as it protects your right 
also to embrace that faith, or another, or none at all. Religious 
freedom's early champions played a key role in laying the foundations 
for constitutional democracy, and it is the first of the "shall nots" 
directed at the government in our Bill of Rights.
At
 the same time, however, religious freedom's importance in 
understandings of negative liberty is not always so secure. As just one 
of many individual rights, it can get lost in the shuffle and minimized 
by those more concerned with other ones, as when the secular media, 
always protective of freedom of the press, show scant concern for 
freedom of religion issues. And some understandings of negative liberty,
 focused as they are on external threats to individual freedom, are more
 concerned with how religious practices might oppress or discriminate 
against individuals, often making them more sympathetic to religious 
regulation than religious freedom.
Fortunately,
 negative liberty is not the whole story. Individual rights and limits 
on government are necessary to freedom but not sufficient. There is more
 to freedom than just non-interference by others. If we are to be 
authors of our own lives, then we each need the ability to decide what 
kind of person we want to be and what kind of life we want to lead. The 
mere absence of external obstacles will not make us free unless we also 
have the internal capacity to be genuinely self-directing persons. This 
is why even great defenders of negative liberty such as John Locke also 
argue that an individual's ability to act on that liberty is "grounded 
on his having reason." This is why we don't consider infants or those 
with severe mental disabilities to be fully free, or why we often refer 
to someone with a serious drug or alcohol addiction as being "enslaved" 
by it.
This
 internal dimension of freedom certainly requires the ability to reason,
 but there is more going on as well. It also requires what Charles 
Taylor calls "strong evaluation." By this he means the ability to 
exercise self-control by subjecting our desires and goals to qualitative
 judgments. Reason alone can calculate how best to achieve our goals, 
but strong evaluation is how we determine what goals are worth pursuing 
in the first place. Doing so, however, requires moral standards upon 
which to base this evaluation--judgments about what is higher or lower, 
noble or base, laudable or despicable. Moral judgments of this kind are 
an inescapable part of freedom. Without them we cannot truly live our 
lives from the inside.
Taylor's
 work reveals how human freedom is inseparable from our nature as moral 
agents. As human beings, we can't do without some orientation to the 
good. It may not always be the right orientation, or we may not always 
live up to its demands, but it is necessary to living as free persons. I
 can't decide what kind of person I want to be or what kind of life I 
want to lead without a moral language that makes sense of such 
decisions.
Here
 is where the internal capacity for freedom connects back to the 
external society around us. If we need moral standards to exercise the 
kind of self-evaluation, -control, and -direction that freedom requires,
 where do these standards come from? They don't appear out of thin air. 
And while some may claim to live according to nobody's standards but 
their own, this is actually impossible, for even this claim itself 
depends on moral ideas about autonomy and authenticity in the 
surrounding culture to make any sense. While we can make moral meanings 
our own, interpreting them, shaping them, combining them in different 
and sometimes even incoherent ways, we can't invent them entirely from 
scratch in our own minds. Instead, we draw them from the particular 
cultures, communities, and traditions around us. These sources furnish 
the moral materials we need to construct authentic lives for ourselves 
as free persons.
The
 broadest, deepest, richest, and most important sources of these moral 
materials, both historically and today, are religious traditions. Even 
in the contemporary United States, religion remains the most significant
 source of moral reflection and orientation to the good that our society
 has. And here is the crucial thing: while the religiously devout 
certainly draw on this source, so too do others. Those with loose 
religious connections or no connections at all still participate in a 
social ethos rich in religious meanings. Even avowed atheists inherit a 
culture deeply informed by religious sources of morality, sources they 
often wrestle with in defining their own moral orientations. Religion's 
abundant tide of moral ideas--on the nature of personhood, the just 
society, the good life, duties toward others, and so on--spills over for
 all to draw upon.
In
 order to perform this critical role in helping to furnish the moral 
materials necessary for freedom, religion certainly needs believers, but
 it also needs institutions where those believers are formed in the 
faith and put into contact with the wider culture. Churches, synagogues,
 and mosques; schools and universities; hospitals and clinics; 
newspapers, magazines, and websites; soup kitchens, adoption agencies, 
and drug treatment centers; youth camps, prayer groups, scripture 
classes, and social clubs: These are what cultivate and pass down the 
moral meanings embedded in religious traditions.
This,
 then, is why religious freedom is so important to freedom itself, 
including the freedom of those with little or no religious affiliation: 
It creates and protects a space in which religious voices can flourish, 
both individual and institutional. When civil society has a robust and 
vibrant religious dimension--when believers and their organizations can 
live their faith, worship, evangelize, and develop and communicate their
 own distinctive moral traditions--the public square is enriched. It 
becomes the site of religious traditions in moral dialogue with each 
other and the culture at large, a dialogue that helps create and sustain
 the moral language that citizens of all kinds require to construct 
freely meaningful lives for themselves.
So
 threats to religious liberty do not just harm individual believers. In 
seeking to corral, marginalize, and privatize religion, they endanger 
the health of religious institutions more generally, threatening to cut 
off a critically important source of moral reflection and orientation. 
This enfeebles rather than enlivens the moral content of our culture, a 
content that we all, believers and non-believers alike, rely upon to 
exercise our freedom.
David
 Carroll Cochran teaches politics and directs the Archbishop Kucera 
Center for Catholic Intellectual and Spiritual Life at Loras College in 
Dubuque, Iowa.
 


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