Liberalism's Religion is a highly engaging, carefully argued, and rich text. Laborde's central arguments are very compelling, especially those that conclude that religion does not have a special place in liberal theory, but religion, nonetheless, deserves equal consideration in light of its foundational role in some persons’ conceptions of the good and ways of life.
Arguing that religion qua religion does not warrant special treatment within liberalism, Laborde develops an account of the grounds for exemptions to generally applicable laws based on the value of individual integrity. She understands integrity “as an ideal of congruence between one's ethical commitments and one's actions” (203). She thus accepts a formal account of integrity, where the substance of one's commitments is not relevant to assessing their integrity or the value of their integrity per se. So for example, the mobster's claim to integrity concerning the importance of murdering his rival mobsters for breach of the mob code of honor is on a par (from the point of view of their integrity interests) with a Christian's claim to certain forms of prayer as necessary to worship God. This account of integrity is familiar to many, and found in the work of Bernard Williams. It concerns fidelity to one's deep commitments.
While Laborde adopts this formal model of integrity as fidelity to one's commitments, she has a sophisticated account of the conditions under which respect and accommodation for integrity-related interests are permissible, such that not all integrity interests warrant exemptions. Integrity-protecting commitments provide pro tanto grounds for exemptions, but the pro tanto case can be overridden. In practice, judges will have to assess integrity-protecting commitments, when these are invoked as a basis for a claim to an exemption from a generally applicable law. Laborde defends two tests for such assessment: thick sincerity and thin acceptability. Thick sincerity requires that those advancing a claim for an exemption bear the burden of demonstrating that the practice they claim is central to their integrity is nontrivial and important, and that it sincerely forms a part of their conception of the good, or way of life. It is a subjective test, but still carries an evidential burden. However, that some practice is sincerely held as part of one's conception of the good and thus central to the individual's integrity is not sufficient to ground an exemption claim. Some practices are morally abhorrent, and thus no matter the integrity-interest underwriting them, they cannot ground a legitimate claim to an exemption. Morally abhorrent claims are those that are “flatly incompatible with the basic rights of others” (207). Thus, any integrity-based claim must pass the test of thin (moral) acceptability.
Laborde argues that this approach has distinct advantages, compared with other liberal approaches, insofar as it does not moralize the concept of integrity itself, and yet restricts the kinds of practices that can warrant an exemption. Additionally, it creates space for “morally ambivalent claims” to be advanced and get a fair hearing. Such “morally ambivalent claims” are claims that can be grounded in a liberal theory of justice, and so represent the range of pluralism about justice itself. Examples include a parent seeking to engage in corporal punishment of their child, a Muslim pupil refusing to shake a teacher's hand, and a bakery owner refusing to write progay messages on a cake (211).
I have reservations about the account of integrity advanced, and these reservations are grounded in a different line of thought about how and why we care about integrity claims. Articulating these reservations also illuminates a difference from, and an objection to, Laborde's view, concerning the status of “morally ambivalent claims” for integrity-related claims for exemptions. Further, the substance of my critique highlights some of the key claims about public reason liberalism (political liberalism) about which Laborde and I differ.
The project of liberal democracies is to define just terms for social cooperation in which persons’ freedom and equality as citizens are guaranteed. Thus, such accounts proceed on the assumption that participants in such a society seek fair and equitable terms of social cooperation that respect their equal standing with respect to one another. Reciprocity is the normative ground of political liberalism's account of equal citizenship and the demands of public reason. The design of the political liberal project thus rules out consideration for persons who do not wish to join in that project, those who reject the aim of finding fair terms of social cooperation which embody equal respect and consideration for all. In Rawls's terms, principles of justice do not aim to satisfy the unreasonable, the intolerant, or those who would use the coercive power of the state to dominate others should they find themselves in a position to do so.Footnote 1
Thus, all claims to integrity-preserving practices are not equal. Laborde certainly agrees, but aims to distinguish between morally repugnant claims for exemptions (infant sacrifice, say) and morally ambivalent ones. Morally repugnant claims she identifies are incompatible with the basic commitments of liberal justice, conceived broadly. But morally ambivalent claims, such as rejection of claims to nondiscrimination for some groups, insofar as they may rest on reasonable disagreement about justice, should be admitted as integrity-protecting commitments. Persons holding them are owed consideration and justification if claims to exemptions are ultimately rejected.
This raises the question about how best to think of integrity-related claims in the context of the project of finding principles for shared cooperation (that are fair and respect persons in their capacity as free and equal citizens). Elsewhere I have argued (with Christie Hartley) against the Williams conception of integrity—as fidelity to one's antecedent commitments.Footnote 2 I am persuaded that Cheshire Calhoun's conception of integrity—as a social virtue, rather than an individual one—is compelling for thinking about integrity-based claims in the context of liberal justice.Footnote 3 Integrity as a social virtue concerns “standing for principles and values that, in one's own best judgment, are worthy of defense because they concern how we, as beings interested in living justly and well, can do so.”Footnote 4
Rather than understanding integrity as about having the proper relation to oneself, Calhoun argues that integrity—understood as a social virtue—concerns having the proper relationship to others. That relationship concerns being able to stand for the principles and values that in one's best judgment are defensible before others. On this view, claims for exemptions based on integrity concerns are demands for equal consideration, and so claims that the persons seeking an exemption are substantively burdened relative to their co-citizens. Important to this formulation is that claims for refusing to recognize or act on the basis of laws that demand equal recognition for others will not ground an integrity objection. Citizens cannot justly demand an exemption from generally applicable laws that serve the purpose of securing the equal standing of others, as individuals or members of groups.
Thus, on my view, claims to exemptions on grounds that treating some other person or groups in ways required by civil rights or equality principles have no pro tanto justification. They are ruled out from the start on the basis that they are incompatible with the very project of a just, liberal democracy and that the kind of integrity claim that might underwrite them is not the kind of integrity that liberal democracies are concerned to protect.
This approach captures more fully the sense in which citizens are responsible for reconciling their comprehensive conceptions of the good with the demands of justice. Laborde's account of integrity—as an individual virtue—seemingly implies that conceptions of the good are more rigid and fixed than I think is plausible. But, even if it allows that revisions are possible or demanded by the terms of social cooperation (she does observe this requirement later in the text), the demand, so framed, does not appear as a reciprocal one, shared equally among all citizens. Thus, the account suggests that some persons will share an unequal burden or demand on their integrity (and this is framed as a pro tanto wrong). But all citizens share an equal demand to reconcile their comprehensive conceptions of the good with the demands of justice.
As Laborde develops her account, some of the insights I hint at here are developed—namely, that consideration for disproportionate burdens is paramount in considering whether exemptions are warranted and permissible, as is concern for whether a law contains a majority bias. While concerns of equality animate her approach, I urge her to go further. In my relational egalitarian view, securing the equal standing of persons as citizens is the central project of the liberal state. Substantive equality is a precondition to the enjoyment of liberal freedoms and rights. Thus, in my view the equal standing of LGBT citizens, for example, is not a matter of reasonable disagreement, for which there may be differing liberal principles of justice. And so exemptions which permit discrimination of some groups—like LGBT persons—on grounds of integrity-protecting commitments are a nonstarter. A substantive approach to equality requires us to interrogate whether the proposed practice aims to secure, or rests upon, a social hierarchy for the persons making a claim to an exemption. Such claims should be rejected as incompatible with the project of liberal egalitarian justice. No citizen can justifiably claim a right to subordinate others so that they may live out their conception of the good.
An underlying contrast between my view and Laborde's is our respective differences over what constitutes public reason and how one arrives as such an account. Laborde describes her view as “empirical,” one that aims to draw on the actual views and practices of current citizens in liberal democracies. Thus, her view is far more inclusive as to what kinds of reasons are permissible in public reason than my view allows. I think public reason is more restrictive because its content and its scope are a substantive interpretation of the demands of free and equal citizenship consistent with a reciprocity condition—from which it follows that social hierarchies are inconsistent with the equal standing of all citizens. The larger disagreement between the kind of liberalism Laborde defends and my interpretation of political liberalism concerns the scope of reasonable conceptions of justice. This raises the question of how to define reasonable pluralism about justice itself. In tackling this question, Liberalism's Religion is at the forefront of the most difficult issue liberals must address, and no doubt will be a central resource and voice in those debates for years to come.
