The inclusion of nonreligion in religion and human rights

Abstract

An aspect of the protection of religious belief and expression is the protection of those who are nonreligious. Though this may seem counter-intuitive, the rising number of ‘nones’ in many countries reveals the extent to which religious establishments shape day-to-day life in a manner that is experienced as coercive by the nonreligious. Examples include: the recitation of prayers in state spaces (municipal councils, legislatures); the display of religious symbols in schools or legislative bodies; the performance of religious rituals such as baptism to ensure one’s children have access to schools and so on. This article examines the growing area of tension between ‘the religious’ and ‘the nonreligious’ using the examples of the display of majoritarian religious symbols in public spaces and religion in education to explore: (1) the contours of religious establishment; (2) the narratives of exclusion that are woven through contests between the religious and nonreligious; and (3) the coercive impact of majoritarian religion.

Introduction

The ever-increasing ¹ number of individuals identifying as ‘nonreligious’ has led to an expanding body of scholarship whose aim is to understand this sizable portion of the population in greater detail. Though there is certainly debate about the meaning of religion in scholarship (which is too voluminous to rehearse here), ² an even more perplexing quagmire is the category ‘nonreligion’. Intended to capture the growing number of people who self-describe as ‘none’, atheist, agnostic, humanist, or indifferent, nonreligion is, as Linda Woodhead (2016) argues, a placeholder. ³ Thus, there is no universally accepted definition of what constitutes nonreligion, which is demonstrated by the numerous ways nonreligion is used in current scholarship (Lee, 2015). ⁴ Simply stated, nonreligion is often considered ‘that which is not religious’ (Cragun, 2016). ⁵

Our concern is that there are numerous ways in which the nonreligious are coerced into religious participation or behaviour and that this is a human rights issue. We believe that in most cases freedom of religion and freedom from religion can exist harmoniously, so our intention is not to present an either/or scenario. We also acknowledge that setting up ‘the religious’ and ‘the nonreligious’ creates a binary that is much less rigid in social life. However, given a significant portion of the populations of a number of countries now identify as ‘none’, there are new human rights challenges on the horizon. These challenges extend beyond the equation of nonreligious beliefs as ‘deep commitments’ with religious beliefs for the purposes of protection. ⁶

Our core focus is what we describe as ‘coerced religion’, a notion we associate with the ‘will to religion’ which assumes that we all have religious, or spiritual needs, and that ‘those needs are available for scrutiny, examination, correction, regulation, and addressing both by ourselves and by others’ (Beaman, 2013: 145). ⁷ The ‘coerced’ element is in the normative assumption that everyone is religious or spiritual. Sullivan’s research on prisons (2009) and veteran’s hospitals in the United States (2014) illuminates this trend, with religious programming in these institutions framed as representing ‘universal values’ so as to avoid violating the non-establishment clause in the United States. By allowing religious organizations to become ambassadors of ‘universal values’, the patient, prisoner, student or citizen is by default assessed on the basis of a religious framework which can act coercively. Discrimination against the nonreligious has been documented by Hammer et al. (2012; Edgell et al., 2006, 2016), though their research focuses specifically on atheists and atheist identification. We broaden nonreligion to include humanists, agnostic, and the indifferent. Atheist conflicts, which are where nonreligion is most visible, reveal the contours of coerced religion that impact on those who identify more broadly as nonreligious. ⁸

Though the terminology of coerced religion may seem to be unduly harsh, and it could be argued that nonreligious people are simply making strategic choices in, for example, baptizing their children to access better schools, it is our contention that social resources are more easily accessed if one can demonstrate religious belonging, thus the use of the phrase ‘coerced religion’ is appropriate. Moreover, if one fears for one’s safety or experiences social alienation by expressing nonreligion, religious belonging may be a default position. ⁹ We focus here on regulation by religion rather than the regulation of religion. ¹⁰ How are human rights issues manifesting in relation to nonreligion?

Cases involving the nonreligious fall into a number of categories: religious symbols and practices; ¹¹ matters related to education; economic inequities as a result of mandatory financial support to religious institutions along with preferential tax treatment; ¹² and the ability to express nonreligious beliefs, including the distribution of nonreligious materials. ¹³ As the new reality of a strong presence of nones in the population takes hold, other sites of conflict and coercion will undoubtedly be identified. Given space constraints, we will focus on two issues that illustrate some of the contours of coerced religion, first in relation to religious symbols and practices, second on the topic of religion and education. We suggest that nonreligion and human rights is an area ripe for study and also an area of concern that has the potential to heighten social conflict, the nature and shape of which will vary between contexts. Our discussion is intended to signal some of the possible contours those conflicts might take. The understanding of nonreligion is in progress, both in law and social science. In some instances, nonreligion is being framed as a replacement for religion, a sort of unsacred canopy (a deep commitment, for example). In others, it is portrayed as an amoral vacuum, eroding cultural values. Our analysis is intended to illuminate some of the coercive aspects of the residue of majoritarian religion, to contribute a discourse analysis of the framing of nonreligion within law and education. ¹⁴

In some measure, the plausibility of our argument is premised on the acceptance of some version of religious establishment as a given or default (see Sullivan and Beaman, 2013). If one rejects that interpretation and sees instead religions as embattled and the objects of discriminatory practices brought on by a secular world, our argument will be less than convincing. We contend, however, that both can be true: in some instances religion is unfairly targeted and that human rights violations occur, and that certain practices, often the residue of religious establishments, result in the coercion of nonreligious people. As nonreligion becomes a more commonplace identification, the positioning of this as a human rights issue is likely to increase. In the following sections we discuss two very different areas in which some of these issues are playing out: religious symbols and practices and education.

Religious symbols and practices

The presence of religious symbols and practices in public spaces has become a much-debated issue, particularly around religious minorities and religious clothing. Our focus is on the public presence of majoritarian religious practices and symbols, such as crucifixes, prayers and nativity scenes. Legal challenges have emerged in a number of countries and usually involve the nonreligious challenging religious practices or symbols, rather than a contest between religions. The best known case in Europe is Lautsi, ¹⁵ eventually heard by the European Court of Human Rights Grand Chamber, involving an atheist parent’s objection to a crucifix on the wall of her children’s public school classroom. Using the ‘margin of appreciation’ the Court allowed the crucifix to remain. ¹⁶ The Lautsi decision was cited with approval by Quebec Court of Appeal in the Saguenay ¹⁷ case, to which we shall now turn.

In 2007, the Mouvement Laïque Québécois, on behalf of self-identified atheist Alain Simoneau, filed a complaint with the Quebec Human Rights Commission. ¹⁸ Mr. Simoneau, a regular attender of municipal council meetings, objected to the practice of reciting a prayer at the beginning of the meetings. ¹⁹ The complaint also mentioned the presence of a crucifix and a sacred heart statue in the council chambers. The crucifix was over two feet high, a foot wide and five inches thick. The statue was of similar dimensions. The complaint was heard by the Human Rights Tribunal.

During the 2011 Tribunal hearing, ²⁰ the City of Saguenay claimed that these symbols and the prayer were not religious, but related to the heritage and culture of Saguenay and the province of Quebec. As such, they were symbolic of universal values, which the state had a duty to protect. The Tribunal rejected this position, found that Mr. Simoneau had been discriminated against, and that the prayer and artifacts had religious meaning, thus having ‘a non-trivial exclusionary effect that substantially stigmatizes people who do not share those values’ (Saguenay Tribunal, para. 251). It granted damages to Mr. Simoneau.

In 2013, the City of Saguenay appealed to the Quebec Court of Appeal, which held that: the prayer and artifacts were not really religious and were of cultural and heritage value; that the state could adopt a ‘benevolent neutrality’; that the expert called by the Mouvement Laïque was not reliable; and that any harm to Mr. Simoneau was trivial. The matter was appealed to the Supreme Court of Canada. ²¹

In 2015, the Supreme Court of Canada held that the recitation of the prayer before the council meeting violated state neutrality and Mr. Simoneau’s right to freedom of conscience and religion, effectively overruling the Court of Appeal decision. The Supreme Court held that the state cannot, through the ‘guise of culture and heritage’ (Saguenay SCC, para. 78), defend or endorse religion, but

This being said, it must be recognized that the Canadian cultural landscape includes many traditional and heritage practices that are religious in nature. Although it is clear that not all of these cultural expressions are in breach of the state’s duty of neutrality, there is also no doubt that the state may not consciously make a profession of faith or act so as to adopt or favour one religious view at the expense of all others. (Saguenay SCC, para. 87)

The Court thus left open the possibility that religious practices could, in fact, be legally protected using the heritage and culture characterization. It remains to be seen how a religious symbol in a public place or the prayer in Canada’s Parliament, for example, might be analysed by the Court.

Defending ‘our’ turf

Though the Saguenay case has features that are uniquely Canadian, it raises more broadly applicable issues. First, cases in which majoritarian symbols and practices are questioned seem to attract an especially strong emotional response ²² from the public, even when that public is relatively unengaged with organized religion, as is the case in Quebec (and most of Canada). ²³ Thus, for the nonreligious questioning of the presence of symbols or practice can be a risky endeavor: ²⁴ after he complained about the prayer at the municipal council meeting, Mr. Simoneau received threatening phone calls as well as other forms of harassment (Saguenay Tribunal, para. 49). The harassment increased after Mayor Tremblay publically identified him as the complainant during a town council meeting (Saguenay Tribunal, para. 50): tiny wooden crosses were put inside Alain Simoneau’s vehicle while at a carwash. Inscribed on the crosses were various harassing statements. ²⁵

The negative and at times hostile reaction was not only local: on the release of the Supreme Court of Canada decision, a national (at times heated) discussion erupted. Here is one example of the post-decision commentary that appeared in a readers’ forum in the Toronto Star:

[i]t seems to me that much of our culture is being slowly stripped away – a culture steep in tradition and passed on to us by our founding forefathers. It’s sad that there are those who feel threatened by these traditions and find it necessary to deprive the vast majority of Canadians of this precious heritage so that they themselves can feel comfortable living in Canada. (Brean, 2015)

It turned out that many municipal councils and provincial legislatures in Canada were engaging in prayer to begin their public meetings and the decision declaring that practice a violation of human rights prompted widespread reaction, mostly couched as a threat to culture and heritage. Similar national furors occurred in Italy and France in the aftermath of cases that challenged the presence of majoritarian religious symbols and public spaces. ²⁶ In short, legal challenges that focus on symbols and practices attaching to majoritarian religion may be especially risky or alienating for the nonreligious. Courts, however, have consistently affirmed that religious freedom includes freedom from religion.

Defending ‘our’ culture and heritage

The language of culture and heritage was invoked in Saguenay to defend the practice of prayer and the presence of the religious symbols. Majoritarian religious practices and symbols have of late been taking up the mantle of culture and heritage, a justificatory move that lends them immunity from challenge. What are the power relations that attach to its being framed in such a manner? Who is included (and excluded) in imaginaries of ‘our culture and heritage’? Characterizing such symbols as culture or heritage ‘allows for the preservation of a majority religious hegemony in the name of culture. Moreover, the move to culture opens space for an argument that religious values are universal values’ (Beaman, 2012: 68). The transition to culture has led to the peculiar characterization of a statue of the Virgin Mary, for example, as ‘cultural’ and to a serious consideration of whether a crucifix, portraying Christ with his arms outstretched, meets canonical standards and is thus not ‘religious’.

The implication of characterizing formerly religious symbols and practices as ‘culture and heritage’ is that it is much more difficult to gain legal traction in a freedom of religion and conscience claim: blatantly religious practices must withstand legal tests, whereas ‘culture’ is a ubiquitous and universalizing framework. Heritage is equally as difficult to challenge: freedom from heritage and culture is not a legally tenable position. ²⁷

It is undeniable that symbols such as the cross do have cultural, heritage and religious meaning for some people in societies in which Christianity has dominated. This does not mean, however, that those symbols and practices should be used in ways that exclude or indoctrinate, or violate state neutrality and freedom of conscience and religion through a ‘guise of culture and heritage’. But, nor should they be wiped from public memory. The balance is admittedly tricky, and may require difficult discussion and negotiation, keeping in mind the vulnerable position nonreligious persons sometimes find themselves in in their communities.

The universal good

In such cases religious practices and symbols are often cast as being universal, representative of everyone, of human values, ethics and so on. The Quebec Court of Appeal concluded: ‘I take from the opinions of these experts that the values expressed by the prayer at issue are universal and cannot be identified with any particular religion’ (Saguenay, para. 88). ²⁸ One of the experts claimed that the religious symbol had both heritage value and represented an ‘ethical framework’, presumably able to be applied universally. The claim to universality is a peculiar one to make when responding to a complaint that the practice or symbol does not, in fact resonate for the person or group making it, leaving them feeling forced to participate in a religious ritual or alienated. The seeming validity of the universality of majoritarian symbols and practices is reinforced by the fact that they are often omnipresent and ubiquitous such that most people do not actually notice them or reflect on their meaning.

The agency, perceptions and beliefs of the nonreligious are negated when we insist that the symbol or practice in question includes them despite a complaint that their human rights are being violated. Insisting that the impact of a symbol or practice is trivial amounts to religious coercion. The solution to such situations is not necessarily the elimination of the practice or symbol, but rather again to ask if there is a non-coercive way to retain it. Seeking best practices across jurisdictions as a way to respond to religious and nonreligious diversities can create a situation of accessibility for everyone, rather than requiring what often becomes an acrimonious encounter through the courts and human rights tribunals.

Nones: Radical non-citizens and mentally ill

When majoritarian religious symbols and practices are framed as discussed above, challenging that framework is seen as a radical departure from social norms and nonreligious people are easily characterized as intolerant, radical, bad citizens and even mentally ill. For example, after noting that the prayer being recited was appropriate for many religions, one expert in Saguenay noted that the situation was one ‘where the values of tolerance and openness to diversity that are necessary for life in a society like ours should prevail’ (Saguenay, para. 87). The ideas of tolerance and openness to diversity are here turned on those claiming a human rights violation, and a majority religious practice is positioned as requiring protection. This reversal is developed in another expert statement: ‘in the present context, interpreting attachment to a prayer as evidence of the submission of those in authority to a higher power is abusive and does not take into account so-called religious modernity’ (Saguenay, para. 85). Simoneau was positioned as intolerant, abusive, and uncaring about religious modernity. This characterization is troublesome. The prevailing practice of prayer is in fact reflective of what has historically been the religious majority and thus it is Simoneau who is in the minority and who is in need of protection from the tyranny of the majority. ²⁹ Steven Kettell (2015b: 513) points to what he describes as a militant strain of anti-secular discourse in Britain which is ‘presented as posing a serious threat to religious freedoms as well as to the moral health of the nation, militant secularism is said to be fuelled by an ideological cocktail of anti-religious sentiments, combined (somewhat paradoxically) with politically correct concerns about the rights and sensitivities of minority social groups, most notably Muslims and homosexuals’. Words like ‘miltant’ and ‘radical’ are part of this discourse.

There are resonances with the public discussion and evidence given in court in Saguenay: the group that came to Simoneau’s aid, the Mouvement Laïque, was noted as ‘too radical in a western democracy’ (Saguenay Tribunal, para. 135) and Mr. Simoneau as ‘motivated by the defence of a militant ideological vision rather than by a problem of individual discrimination’ (Saguenay Tribunal, para. 154). Such characterizations gesture to an angst that slides into a fear of the other discussed more fully below. Democracy means that people can debate ideas and challenge established practices and norms when they feel they are unfair.

The notion that Alain Simoneau was being sensitive or that he had sustained no harm was expressed by the experts and was reflected in Quebec Court of Appeal decision when it held that any interference with his rights was trivial. More alarming, was the move from his ‘oversensitivity’ to one expert’s assessment: ‘He [the expert] could not see how the reciting of the prayer could have a negative cognitive impact other than minimal inconvenience on a non-believer. Rather, to claim that the municipal council prayer prejudices a non-believer would be indicative of a problem of a ‘neuropsychological or psychiatric’ kind’ (Saguenay Tribunal, para. 174). ³⁰

Finally, the case plays on the notion that the nonreligious are without beliefs and convictions that create the conditions for healthy living: ‘According to Mr. Bibeau, beliefs give meaning to life. Rituals have a dimension that is biological, medicinal, religious and spiritual. There is even said to be a direct correlation between a person’s beliefs and his or her mental health. Rituals can have a therapeutic effect that improves the healing prognosis’ (Saguenay Tribunal, para. 168). ³¹ By implication a ritual such as prayer before a council meeting is ‘good for you’, thus returning us to the idea of coerced religion, justified as ‘for your own good’.

Fear of the ‘other’

The social context in which the nonreligious are regulated and in which they make human rights claims is important. An undercurrent of fear of an ‘other’ pervades public conversations about religious symbols, a fact known all too well by Muslim women who are the primary targets of various legal initiatives to control religious symbols in public spaces (Amiraux, 2016; Selby, 2016). This same current of fear has infiltrated public conversation about nonreligious challenges to religious symbols: speaking out more than a year after the Supreme Court’s decision, Mayor Tremblay said: ‘I am convinced that if it were a Muslim who was in Saguenay, the Supreme Court would never dare to defy the Muslims like this. But when it comes to us Catholics, we are cast aside like it is no big deal (translation)’ (Trépanier, 2016). The peculiar insistence that a crucifix is not a religious symbol as well as the presentation of prayer as universal and representative of an ethical framework belonging to everyone can be linked to a more generalized fear that is illustrated by the mayor’s statement. ³² In short, reaction to nonreligous challenges to religious symbols is linked to anxieties about ‘accommodation’ and loss of a privileged position for majoritarian religion.

Though symbols and practices are an area of tension between religion and nonreligion, it certainly is not the only area in which religion and nonreligion are at odds with one another. Education also creates points of difference and exclusion that raise human rights concerns and it is these concerns to which we now turn our attention.

Education and religion

Education systems are a key site of tensions both in terms of school curricula and school admissions. ³³ Also at issue is the very presence of religion in the school setting, including the distribution of religious materials (Gideon Bibles, for example), ³⁴ religious clubs, and religious symbols. Debates about curricula have been sorted into ‘education about religion’ and ‘religious education’, with the former seen to be both neutral and necessary for the preparation of citizens who are equipped to cope in a diverse world and the latter acceptable for the most part only in confessional schools.

Two related issues emerge: first, the exclusion of nonreligion as a tenable position or worldview and second, the assumption that everyone has spiritual needs (though some nonreligious use the language of spirituality). Together these constitute a framework that is exclusive of nonreligion and which has the effect of constructing the nonreligious as either in denial about their own needs or as being immoral. The debates surrounding religion in the education system have resulted in multiple legal cases. ³⁵ We link the issues raised in the last section on religious symbols and practice in the public sphere to education: an absence of a consideration of nonreligion as a viable worldview lays the foundation for the characterization of objections by nones to religious practices and symbols as spurious, ill-intentioned, reflective of psychoses and so on. If nonreligion is excluded from the overall conceptualization of education about religion, nonreligious people are rendered more vulnerable to discrimination. The absence of nonreligion from education about religion was the core issue in the 2015 British case of Fox v. Secretary of State for Education. ³⁶

In Fox, several parents challenged proposed changes to the General Certificate of Secondary Education (GCSE) Subject Content for Religious Studies because the changes prioritized religious beliefs over nonreligious beliefs. The parents feared that their children would be subject to a religious education that focused only on religious studies (with a strong focus on Christianity) without being introduced to other belief systems. ³⁷ The parents pointed out that British law requires a ‘balanced and broadly based curriculum’ (Education Act, 2002: pt. 6, s. 80). The proposed changes were also a possible violation of the UK Human Rights Act 1998, Article 9 of the European Convention on Human Rights, and Article 2 of the First Protocol (A2P1) of the European Convention on Human Rights. The parents were successful in their challenge because the proposed changes could ‘fall short of delivering the RE obligations’ (Fox, at para. 81).

Fox illustrates the shifting relationship between the religious and nonreligious and foregrounds a web of tensions that address religion, nonreligion, education, and human rights. The contest is in many ways over the articulation of the ‘normal’, which embeds religion as a necessary part of life. While this may be the case for some people, it is equally so that nonreligion is the framework within which many people understand the world. These differences between religion and nonreligion allow us to examine how majoritarian beliefs shape social practice, but at the same time, emphasizes the fact that there are alternative beliefs and ‘ways of doing things’ that are outside of the existing framework.

The need for a religious curriculum

The discussion in Fox raises the question of whether teaching about religion is necessary in the first place. Concerns about living well together (Beaman, 2017; Derrida, 2013) in increasingly diverse societies have motivated the continued commitment to education about religion. However, it is not entirely clear that religion can be taught in a manner that achieves the goal of increased literacy and increased ability to navigate or prevent religious/nonreligious conflict. Moreover, we might ask why religion is seen as especially in need of attention, when race, gender and sexuality are significant bases of discrimination. While there are country specific features of Fox, including the peculiarities of British history (a state religion in which the vast majority of people do not participate), Fox illuminates broader issues related to education about religion. A persuasive contingent of researchers argues that education about religion is necessary (Arweck, 2017; Dinham and Francis, 2015; Jackson, 2012; Moore, 2014) in order to create good citizens who can navigate in complex societies. However, an examination of religious curricula, including that in Fox, suggests that the ideals of those who advocate for education about religion and the implementation are often quite different (Cusack, 2016; Maddox, 2011).

The harm of the proposed curriculum in Fox was not that it indoctrinated children into any specific religion; rather, it was in the assumption that children need to learn about religion, a position that could prioritize religious worldviews above others. Within this education about religion paradigm, then, religion is still privileged, or can be, without careful attention to building in the possibility of nonreligion. If the overall goal of religious education is competence in navigating a plurality of worldviews, nonreligion is a key component of that.

Fox emphasized that the state must remain a neutral and impartial party when addressing religion and nonreligion in education (Fox, para. 39). The state ‘owes parents a positive duty to respect their religious and philosophical conviction’ (Fox, para. 39). The state is still permitted to give priority to certain religions, but in doing so, it must ensure ‘information or knowledge included in the curriculum is conveyed in a pluralistic manner’ (Fox, para. 39). Therefore a parent’s ‘religious and philosophical convictions’ must be considered in the curriculum, a goal not achieved by focusing solely on religion (Fox, para. 39). If schools are tasked with creating ‘good citizens’ then nonreligious citizens must be conceptualized as part of the vision of what constitutes a good society.

Including the nonreligious

One of the issues introduced by the growing number of nones is their inclusion in discussions about education and religion. In other words, though we argue that the necessity for education about religion should remain the subject of debate and critical discussion, if we conclude that education about religion is a social good, the nonreligious should be included in the development of such curricula. Admittedly this poses a particular challenge given the wide range of identities subsumed under the ‘none’ category. However, an inclusive approach requires acknowledgment, even tacitly, of the validity of nonbelief (and practice) as a legitimate position. In the context of human rights discussion, such inclusion may translate either as freedom of conscience or belief or as freedom from religion.

As the court noted in Fox, the Local Authorities (LA) and their Agreed Syllabus Conference (ASC) were composed of members from teacher associations, the Church of England, and ‘Christian denominations and such other religions and religious denominations’ that reflected the religious traditions of a given geographic area (Fox, para. 16). Nonreligion as a worldview, as well as nonreligious individuals, were excluded from the consultation process, and thus from the entire process of curriculum design and implementation. Consequently, the final product favoured the majoritarian religious opinions of those on advisory boards. We don’t perceive any ill will on the part of these actors, rather they operate in a framework which has been dominant until very recently. The residue of religious establishment is pervasive, and often shapes social processes and institutions more from default than design.

School admission and nonreligion

The issue of education about religion discussed above is distinct from religious education found in confessional schools whose admission criteria may require religious adherence. Children may have access to a school, but it may not offer similar quality of education (sometimes because more resources are given to religious schools) or it may be prohibitive because of distance. This issue is complex: schools are an important component of faith transmission for many groups (Ammerman, 1987) and in some cases for the preservation of group identity. ³⁸ Such schools often serve as de facto public schools, receiving state funding, and are sometimes the only school available to local populations. Where there are many choices, the issue of admission may not be as acute, but when that is not the case, discrimination against the nonreligious may be a serious issue. For example, Canadian students in the province of Ontario who wish to attend publicly funded Catholic schools must provide a baptismal certificate, or in the case of non-Catholic students, a request must be accompanied by a declaration of support for the religious tradition and its values. ³⁹ Practices such as these are echoed elsewhere, particularly in the United Kingdom ⁴⁰ and Ireland. ⁴¹

Curriculum issues for nones within confessional schools have also arisen. In 2013, Oliver Erazo, a father of two high school students at the Notre Dame Catholic Secondary School in Ontario, Canada, successfully petitioned the Ontario Superior Court for an exemption ⁴² for his children from obligatory Catholic liturgies and religious retreats. ⁴³ However, successful application for exemption may have negative consequences for children: the Erazo decision was cited in another complaint filed with the Ontario Human Rights Tribunal in 2016 by a former student from another Ontario high school. This student claimed her exemption request resulted in discrimination and prohibitions on attending other school events (Alphonso, 2016). The student was not a Catholic and had enrolled at the school because of its science and music programs, seeking the exemption so she could concentrate on more rigorous academic subjects.

Conclusions

Despite the number of individuals who identify as nones, religion continues to occupy a position of privilege in contemporary society. While perhaps not explicitly present in what are deemed ‘secular’ states, religious establishment is maintained through the will to religion and the presence of societal majoritarian (universal) norms that pervade social life, often preserved through social institutions such as law and education and their attendant discursive frameworks. In this context the nonreligious are sometimes coerced – albeit often subtly – into religious behaviour and participation. The minimization of the harm done to the nonreligious trivializes the exclusion they experience and minimizes the fact that in many cases they are experiencing human rights violations. Coerced religious participation is experienced as trauma. Equally as concerning is the potential exclusion of nones from the conceptualization of a good society, or what it means to be a good citizen or an ethical person.

Neither religion nor nonreligion is going to disappear. It is therefore imperative that social institutions and civil society be accessible and inclusive. Religion must recognize its own privilege. This is not always easy to do when to many it seems that religion (particularly majoritarian Christian religions) is in crisis, suffering significant losses of attendance and participation in religious ritual. Though there is much lauding of the post-secular age (Habermas, 2006; Rectenwald et al., 2015), there is an equally strong defence of the continuing tide of secularism (Bruce, 2002; Bruce and Glendinning, 2010). ⁴⁴ Neither position is especially helpful in thinking about nonreligion in contemporary society. An increasing number of people are identifying as ‘none’ or nonreligious at the same time as religious fundamentalisms are claiming public space (Davie, 2013: xvii). In the midst of this it is sometimes forgotten that the religious and nonreligious share values, concerns and frequently navigate difference successfully. Ultimately, we argue that power and privilege, often protected behind a shield of ‘culture’ and ‘heritage’ must be examined and challenged in order to create an inclusive society based on the values embedded in human rights protection.