It emerged on Monday that the CIA ‘had disrupted an al-Qaeda plot to bring down a US-bound airline using a new underwear bomb around the anniversary of Osama bin Laden’s death [on 2 May]. Terrorists in Yemen reportedly planned to use a device similar to the one that failed to explode on a plane to Detroit on Christmas Day in 2009 but American officials said the new bomb was significantly more sophisticated.’ (Telegraph) The bomb ‘was of a new non-metallic type aimed at getting past airport security’. (Guardian)

Yesterday, a rush hour bomb killed 55 in Damascus, Syria’s ‘worst terrorist attack since the start of the uprising… “Two booby-trapped cars loaded with more than 1,000kg of explosives and driven by suicide bombers carried out the terrorist blasts,” said the interior ministry. The explosions left two large craters.’ (Guardian)

To my mind, there is one fundamental difference between these actions and those of the nearly 30 Tibetan monks and nuns who have set themselves alight in protest at the Chinese occupation of their country: in the latter case, the ultimate act of self sacrifice doesn’t harm others. What the monks and nuns teach us, in the act of self immolation, is that there is no end to the responsibility we can take for ourselves and others in pursuit of a better society. Every true act of kindness or generosity that we engage in, however small, has something of this flavour of self-transcendence about it.

I feel certain that, by training ourselves in awareness, kindness and generosity, we can quietly, collectively and quite undramatically bring about a world in which suicide bombing becomes utterly unthinkable, a world in which the terrible act of self immolation is no longer necessary. And if you want a suggestion for an act of generosity today, why not give to the International Campaign for Tibet, which was supported by Adam Yauch who died last week, to help quench the fires of the Tibetan Spring.

‘Europe is braced for a bumper crop of elections this weekend which will decide the politics for the increasingly contested campaign to save the single currency and to drag the EU out of the economic doldrums.’ (Guardian) There are also local elections today across England, Scotland and Wales, a week after an announcement that the UK was back in recession.

France’s presidential decider on Sunday is the biggest election in Europe this year. The first round saw the far right Marine Le Pen win the support of one French voter in five. ‘She has been fortunate in her timing, with two big contemporary issues – the euro crisis and Muslim immigration – fuelling the rise of illiberal populism everywhere in Europe except for Germany and the Iberian peninsula. Islamophobia has become the new antisemitism for a generation of anti-establishment rebels in France, the Netherlands, Austria, and Scandinavia.’ (Guardian) The “democratic backlash” against “the economic prescriptions of the governing class” has already resulted in the fall of seven European Governments (Guardian) and has seen the rise in popularity of extremist groups.

The New Statesman is not the only one to draw parallels with the fascism of the 1920s and 1930s. This ‘succeeded because it played on wider fears, winning the support of those who would never have thought of themselves as “extremists”. The Nazis used anti-Semitism because it already existed in German society. Their successors today use Islamophobia because it already exists in our societies. From a tiny grain of truth – the existence of Islamist terror – has been spun a whole mythology about the imminent collapse of western civilisation.’

What is the reality of our situation? It depends, as so often, on whom you talk to. Some, like the New Statesman, portray things in left- vs right-wing terms as though we were still living through the Cold War. Others would describe events in terms of the clash of monotheisms: ‘For 1,400 years, the Islamic and the Christian worlds have opposed one another, violently at times. We are living through one of those times.‘ (Reflections on the Revolution in Europe: Immigration, Islam and the West)

Where are we in all of this? What is your view of the times we are living through? There is a sense, for me, of history taking place, of tectonic plates shifting. How are we responding, if such a seismic shift is taking place? Do we find ourselves closing down, withdrawing through fear, in the face of dramatic societal and economic changes? Will we, as individuals, be ashamed, when we look back at this time, about the choices we made? Will we regret our passivity, our cynicism, our resignation, our hatred, when we arrive in the new world that is currently emerging? What will we say to the next generation, in retrospect? How strong is our faith in karma – that our actions and non-actions have consequences for ourselves, for others, for the society around us?

There is “blood on the tracks” of yesterday’s Bahrain grand prix, according to George Galloway. With characteristic moral clarity he has declared that those who raced “will never be forgiven.” The Sunni government are accused and probably guilty of serious human rights abuses against protesters, mainly from the Shi’ite majority, who want them out. People have been locked up and worse since last year’s event was cancelled following similar protests. Its serious stuff and life has been lost.

The news media often revels in debates about the morality of this and that, should we or shouldn’t we, expressing views that reflect narrow self-interests, commercial concerns or just plain old hatred and ignorance, as well as telling us stories of real human suffering and dignity. The news can be wearisomely moralistic and moving at the same time.

It feels rather peculiar to imagine what the Buddhist response might be to the Bahrain grand prix. If I were revving up my Lambuddhagini on the start line what might I have been feeling? Would the little Buddha dangling from my rear view mirror be distracting me from the race at hand?

What is missing from debates is often a sense of the basis for ethics. Ethics seems to cover what we do in collective situations which are bigger than us personally but which test our sympathies and motivations (like in Bahrain) and those which seem more purely personal (like how I declare my income or speak to the stranger at the telephone call centre).

Buddhist ethics draws together these two areas, the collective and the seemingly personal, by focussing on our motivation and our mental state. An action is ethical to the degree that it comes from an aware, empathetic and loving state of mind, unethical if it comes from a self-serving, mean spirited or other unhelpful state of mind.

Mental states are the key determinant of happiness and suffering for ourselves and others. and they build our world. Even phenomena like grand prix, oppressive regimes and shopping arcades are built out of states of mind over periods of time. When you see New York you are looking at the history of the millions of minds which made it, for good or ill.

In any situation, be it deciding whether to declare our income or more complex dilemmas such as whether to drive in a grand prix which has become emblematic of a struggle for rights and freedoms, the key concern is with our inner motivation.

If I don’t declare income the motivation is usually greed. If I get mad at a call centre operative, the mental state is normally aversion. Greed and aversion are not skillful ethical states of mind. They cause suffering to me and others because they generate that kind of world (greedy and hateful) which in turn produces more suffering, even if I do get away with paying less tax! However it is possible, even in simple cases, to note more than one motivation.

Reflecting on whether to take part in a grand prix is hard for the racers because their total motivation is being called into question. If you have built a whole life as a race driver it’s going to take something pretty significant to stop you racing around that track. You’re being paid, you want to win, you love racing, you’re being pressured by sponsors to get on with it.

Did the drivers then have the negative motivations proposed above as the basis for ethics or are they just racing around a track? What kind of motivation would cause them to ignore (or take account of) the wider politics going on outside the track?

I don’t think the drivers have blood on their tyres as Mr Galloway says they do. We should never be too quick to judge another’s motivation as we don’t stand in their shoes. Unless we know them very well we are likely to be wrong or partial. I’m glad if a racing driver has any room in his heart for the suffering of the marginalised people of a country who don’t appreciate the grand prix or its sponsors, whether they race or not. Buddhist ethics encourages us to notice that sort of sympathy and sensitivity, to cherish it and let it affect our lives more and more.

How this plays out in any given situation is for us each to decide. Would you have raced? Should it have been called off? That’s the kind of speculation the media enjoy getting into. The only thing I know is that if just a few drivers, or even a key one, had been strongly enough motivated to pull out, the whole thing may have collapsed like it did last year. And if they had pulled out on ethical grounds (rather than, say, commercial grounds or just fear) then that action would carry a lot further.

This is what Buddhist ethics amounts to – increasing our sympathy for life, for others, for the whole living world, until wholesome motivations predominate. Out of that, collectively, a different world emerges. If we feel uncomfortable in the drivers seat that may just be the healthy sign of a beating heart.  Share

All quiet on the Journal Eastern front for a few weeks – I’ve been on solitary retreat. One of the perhaps too many books I read whilst away was philosopher Simon Critchley‘s exquisite – and timely – book The Faith of the Faithless: Experiments in Political Theology.

The starting point for the book is an attempt to make sense of current times in terms of politics, religion and violence. Critchley claims that ‘religiously justified violence is increasingly employed as the means to a political end.’ The blurb for the book says that ‘the return to religion has perhaps become the dominant cliché of contemporary philosophy’ and that ‘the secular age has given way to a new era where political action flows directly from metaphysical conflict.’

The events of this week seem to bear this out, with the start of the trial of Anders Breivik, the man who killed 77 people in Norway last July. Breivik described himself on Wednesday, his second day in the witness box, as a “militant Christian”. He said he would ‘rather be executed than receive Norway’s “pathetic” maximum punishment of 21 years in jail’. (Guardian) ‘He contrasted his “operation” with the… Baader Meinhof gang, who he said were atheists who did not want to die because they “didn’t believe in the afterlife”. He added: “That’s what’s unique about both militant nationalists and militant Islamists … we do believe in an afterlife, at least many of us [militant nationalists] do, because we are Christians.”‘ (Guardian)

Critchley contrasts active and passive nihilism in Infinitely Demanding: Ethics of Commitment, Politics of Resistance. ‘In the face of the increasing brutality of reality, the passive nihilist tries to achieve a mystical stillness, calm contemplation: ‘European Buddhism’. In a world that is all too rapidly blowing itself to pieces, the passive nihilist closes his eyes and makes himself into an island. The active nihilist also finds everything meaningless, but instead of sitting back and contemplating, he tries to destroy this world and bring another into being.’ (‘European Buddhism’ is a reference to Nietzsche’s take on Buddhism in The Will to Power.)

Critchley defended non-violence in Infinitely Demanding. In The Faith of the Faithless, however, he modifies his position, saying that to prejudge all political struggles ‘on the basis of an abstract conception of nonviolence is to risk dogmatic blindness’, and that his previous defense of nonviolence ‘suffers from this dogmatism’.

What is our response to all of this, given the first Buddhist precept: nonviolence? One response that I have would be to refer Simon Critchley to Robert Morrison’s wonderful Nietzsche and Buddhism: A Study in Nihilism and Ironic Affinities, which addresses Nietzsche’s misunderstanding of Buddhism as nihilistic. Another response is to write a longer review of The Faith of the Faithless, which I hope to do before too long. One response for you could be to come along to the LBC this Saturday at 230-4pm to discuss Buddhism, violence and nonviolence in the light of these issues: I’m running a Buddhism and current affairs discussion group for the next eight Saturdays, with Ambaranta and other friends. Do join us, if you can, for these ‘Experiments in Political Buddhology’. Share

One of the headline figures from this week’s budget was George Osbourne’s much anticipated decision to scrap the 50p tax rate for the highest earners. Labour leader Ed Milliband responded by calling it ‘the “millionaires’ budget” which marked the end of the Government’s claim that “we are all in it together”. After today’s budget millions will be paying more while millionaires pay less,” he said.’ (BBC)

It left me wondering what, from a Buddhist viewpoint, is the problem – if any – with increasing economic inequality?

Richard Wilkinson and Kate Pickett, in The Spirit Level, their ground-breaking recent book, say that ‘greater inequality seems to heighten people’s social evaluation anxieties by increasing the importance of social status. Instead of accepting each other as equals on the basis of our common humanity as we might in more equal settings, getting the measure of each other becomes more important as status differences widen.’ They argue that this brings, in its wake, any number of societal problems.

The most equal setting that I think I have ever been in is my ordination retreat at Guhyaloka, three years ago. We handed over our passports and our money – strong symbols of our identity and status – and lived, for sixteen weeks, as a (mostly harmonious) spiritual community.

Manjuvajra, who co-led the retreat, had said that a lot could happen around the dining table, which was how it turned out. I am thinking, in particular, of one day when I was approaching the dining area, just before lunch or dinner, full of fears about how I was being perceived by my brothers on the course. Part of my own sensitivity to ‘social evaluative threats’ comes, I think, from having a mixed European / African background. As I was growing up in Norfolk, after moving there from London with my family, I was particularly prone to trying to work out which box people were putting me into: black or white, working class or middle class, country boy or city gent…the list goes on. I would often try and second guess others in this way, probably as a means of trying to stay safe. Being physically attacked on the basis of my mere appearance was, fortunately, extremely rare, but was not unknown to me.

It was with something of this sensitivity that I approached the Guhyaloka dining area. Within that context, though, and on the basis of the weeks of meditation, study, developing friendships and other Dharma practice, I noticed that actually it was me who was putting myself into those limiting boxes; it was not something that any of my brothers were doing to me. Seeing what I was choosing to do to myself, glimpsing, momentarily, how I had been limiting myself in this way, and that I had a choice about this, felt incredibly liberating.

Since then I have appropriated that moment to some extent, as though it was all down to me, my meditation practice, my creative responses. It is so easy to forget that this insight was gifted to me on the basis of the conditions of the society around me at that time: the radically simple – and equal – spiritual community of which I was a part. One reflection on the budget and on inequality, then, is this: unless we can create a society in which we really are “all in it together”, the possibility of making real spiritual progress will remain permanently closed to us.

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I was Treasurer at the London Buddhist Centre from 2006 until last year. During that time, the LBC embarked upon, and completed, what turned out to be a £2M building project. The work involved major refurbishment and improvements to the Grade II listed Victorian fire station that is home to the LBC, and the start of Breathing Space, the LBC’s mindfulness for health project.

We were fortunate at the time to receive external funding from Futurebuilders and City Bridge Trust. One of the applications that was unsuccessful, though, went to the Veolia Environmental Trust under the Landfill Communities Fund (LCF). The LCF is a tax credit scheme that enables landfill sites to contribute money to environmental and community projects in their vicinity – including places of worship (under Object E). The LBC was eligible to apply for these funds because it is located with 10 miles of a landfill (in Thamesmead).

We applied in February 2008 and received our rejection in July 2008. I started digging around in the database of the LCF regulator, Entrust. Entrust was set up by the Conservatives in 1995 to oversee financial probity of landfill tax credits. It was the only private regulator at the time – this may still be the case. What I found alarmed me. I could find only four non-Christian projects under the ‘places of worship’ part of the scheme (Object E). Yet more than £54M had been spent under this objective on nearly 5,000 projects. Places of worship can also apply under Object D (‘other general public amenity’). But I only found a further four non-Christian projects there – out of a total of more than £400M spent, at that time.

We wrote to Veolia and Entrust at the time, voicing our concerns. But the picture more than three years later doesn’t look much better. This is what I find when I search the Entrust database today*:

More than £1 billion has now been spent under the scheme. Only five of the 5209 ‘religious places of worship’ projects appear to be non-Christian – a total of just over £72,000 of the more than £68M spent under Object E. Furthermore, it would appear that only 18 non-Christian projects have been awarded funds (around £500,000) under Object D – out of a total of 26,195 projects and £573M spent. In total, then, it would seem that only 23 non-Christian projects have received any of the £641M public funds spent.

Now I could be missing something here. If you have a different reading of the data please do let me know. But it does make me wonder whether this fund is somehow favouring the Church over non-Christian places of worship, perhaps unwittingly. If this is true, I wonder what it says about the relationship between Church and State in the UK today? 

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* The search terms I used were: vihara, buddhist, mosque, synagogue, temple, gurdwara, sikh, muslim, hindu.

Jnanavaca, Chair of the London Buddhist Centre is attending a meeting today with the Archbishop of Canterbury and other Buddhist leaders, at the Buddhist Society. The conversation will centre on the Archbishop’s response to two major Buddhist texts: the Loving Kindness Sutta of the Pali tradition, and the Heart Sutra of the Mahayana tradition.

Jnanavaca has asked me to be his unofficial Research Assistant, so I thought I’d prepare this news review of the past few months for him, and also share it with you, ahead of the meeting. It’s mainly taken from the Guardian.

15 October. Protesters occupy land in front of St. Paul’s Cathedral as part of a worldwide movement challenging the economic and political status quo.

27 October. The canon chancellor of St Paul’s Cathedral, the Rev Dr Giles Fraser, resigns in protest at plans to forcibly remove protesters from its steps, saying he could not support the possibility of “violence in the name of the church”.

31 October. The Dean of St Paul’s Cathedral also resigns over the Occupy London protest, saying his position has become ‘untenable’.

3 November. Giles Fraser says that the Church risks becoming “the spiritual arm of the heritage industry”.

16 December. David Cameron declares that “Britain is a Christian country and we should not be afraid to say so”, in a speech to mark the 400th anniversary of the King James Bible.

25 December. The Queen’s Speech ends with a strong appeal to Christian values.

26 January. Alain de Botton publishes ‘Religion for Atheists’ and reveals plans for a ‘temple to atheism’ in heart of London.

10 February. Bideford Council ‘loses court battle over prayer sessions before meetings‘ in an case brought by the National Secular Society.

14 February. Muslim cabinet minister Lady Warsi visits the Vatican and calls to fight against “intolerant secularism” and “give faith a seat at the table” in the UK.

15 February. The Queen says “we should remind ourselves of the significant position of the Church of England in our nation’s life. The concept of our established church is occasionally misunderstood and, I believe, commonly under-appreciated.”

22 February. The Archbishop of Westminster, Vincent Nichols – leader of the Catholic Church in England - says he doesn’t feel persecuted as a Christian in the UK.

23 February. The Archbishop of Canterbury debates with Richard Dawkins at the Sheldonian Theatre in Oxford, with the Guardian declaring that there were “no knockout blows“.

28 February. Occupy London protesters evicted from St. Paul’s.

I don’t know if Jnanavaca will have a chance to speak at the meeting, let alone ask the Archbishop a question. Given the chance, though, what would you want to ask the Archbishop, against the backdrop above, if you were in Jnanavaca’s shoes?

Facebook, Google and several other Internet companies are “battling a criminal case in New Delhi filed against them by journalist Vinay Rai. He accuses them of violating India’s criminal code by hosting material on their sites that could disrupt public order and incite communal passions. If the firms are found guilty, punishment could include several years’ jail time for executives and hefty fines. The companies are appealing to quash the case in arguments at Delhi High Court.” (Wall Street Journal) ‘Google and Facebook have removed content from some Indian websites after [the] court warned that India would crack down “like China” if they did not take steps to protect religious sensibilities.’ (Guardian)

This leaves me wondering what I think, as a Buddhist, about free speech. Should it be a principle that overrides all others, as so often advocated in the West? Or should free speech be curtailed in the interests of harmony and cohesion between diverse communities, as is being debated in Delhi High Court?

Part of my interest in this area comes from receiving comments on Journal East posts. I love receiving comments – please comment! One of my reasons for starting the site is to stimulate debate and to bring a Buddhist voice to the live issues we face in society. In doing so, though, should I have an ‘anything goes’ policy on what finds its way here, even when some of the comments might be harsh and cause offence to others? Personally, I’m trying to live by the four speech precepts I was given at my ordination – avoiding false, slanderous, frivolous, harsh speech, and trying to engage in truthful, kindly, meaningful, harmonious speech. But should I expect others – Buddhist and non-Buddhist – to do the same? Am I responsible, in any significant way, for comments posted here? Am I just be shying away from controversy through fear, in blocking certain comments from this site? Comments please! (I promise to publish all of them…for now.)

Fascinating conversation between Richard Dawkins, author of The God Delusion, and Will Hutton, Principal of Hertford College, Oxford, in Sunday’s Observer – so I thought I’d join in.

“Dear Richard, …Liberalism is a doctrine of live and let live, and there has to be a very high threshold of harm before that liberal principle can be qualified. …the Church of England…is a great liberal redoubt – an institution that embodies proportionality, tolerance of dissent and respect for others along with considerable moral authority… Best, Will.”

Dear Will, I’m an advocate of EF Schumacher’s view that ‘we always need both freedom and order‘, as I write about here. We need safeguards in place to protect us from both these extremes. But we have largely been at the extreme of living and letting live for three decades now – particularly economically. I think we have a once in an era chance to move towards a new society based on more Enlightened (notice the capital E) principles. To do this, we need to reassess our precious dogmas – liberalism, anglicanism, scientific rationalism and materialism amongst them – as the two of you are doing. Most importantly, though, we need ethical principles that are subjectively and collectively verifiable and which don’t need God as guarantor. I think a sincere engagement with Buddhism can provide these – and not just to those who wish to identify themselves as religious or want to call themselves Buddhists. With metta, Manjusiha.

“Dear Will, …What is illiberal is not persuasion but imposition of one’s views. And the government, in its determination to “do God”, imposes religion on us. Bishops in the House of Lords is just one of many examples… All good wishes, Richard.”

Dear Richard, I couldn’t agree more. However, religion and ‘doing God’ are not synonymous, and we need to find a new way of engaging in the debate that recognises this. I find it most illuminating to translate ‘religion’ as ‘world-view’, as I explored here. We all have a world-view that guides our actions, even if we’re not very conscious of this and do not have an easy label for it. Using ‘world-view’ also has the benefit of turning the heat down – it prevents an immediate polarisation between the religious and the irreligious, such as yourself. Buddhism doesn’t fit into either of these boxes – the debate doesn’t need to either. Metta, Manjusiha.

“Dear Richard, …Secularism unsupported by atheism is nonsensical. The reason why a secularist objects so strongly about the extension of religion into the public sphere – and even its private practice – is because its adherents are delusional, and, using your own words, imposing a delusional set of values and practices on others… Best, Will.”

Dear Will, The quasi-religious doctrines of the market and the science lab are delusional in the same sense. This is not to say that they are not of use – these two doctrines are probably the most practically useful doctrines ever discovered by humanity. As so often, though, the problems arise when a useful tool is used for the wrong job e.g. thinking that materialism can provide a basis for ethical action, or that rationalism can shed much light on religion (as traditionally defined). Metta, Manjusiha.

“Dear Will, ‘Secularism unsupported by atheism is nonsensical.’ Really? You mean the US first amendment is nonsense? The Indian constitution? Their idealist founders enshrined secularism in those constitutions because they wanted all religions to be free: no religion should dominate; no religion should impose… All good wishes, Richard.”

Dear Richard, One religion (as world-view) or another always dominates, whether this is labelled ‘religion’ or not. Look around you: our society is telling us that what we need most is a new, inclusive religion to provide us with a reliable ethical guide. Please plunder the Dharma. And it doesn’t really matter what labels you use for it – secular, religious, scientific, rational – so long as its true, and moves us in the right direction. I think you already recognise this point in The God Delusion, which you say is ‘not concerned at all’ with Buddhism, which can be treated as ‘an ethical system’ or ‘philosophy of life’.

“Dear Richard, …Of course we can agree that nobody wants a theocracy, and the founders of both the American and Indian constitutions were right to protect their countries from that risk given the historic and cultural contexts in which they founded their states. But there was little risk of church and state eliding in Britain 200 years ago despite our very imperfect unwritten constitution; there is zero risk today. To raise its spectre is specious… Best, Will.”

Dear Will, Our Queen and our Prime Minister are both emphasising that ‘we are a Christian country’ and advocating a return to Christian values to underpin our ethics, as I write about here and here. Yet, as Richard’s survey shows, Christian belief is waning in the UK, and even those Christians who identify themselves as such ‘have low levels of religious knowledge, belief and practice’, as Richard suggests. Where are our principles and practices to come from if, as Sangharakshita suggests in his book on the Buddha’s noble eight-fold path, traditional ethics now ‘consists in not doing what we want to do, and doing what we do not want to do, because, for reasons we do not understand – we have been told to by someone in whose existence we no longer believe’? To say that we are now ethically rudderless is to overstate it, perhaps, but not by much. Metta, Manjusiha.

“Dear Richard, …Jürgen Habermas says that human nature needs both secularism and rationality on one hand, and faith and belief on the other; that to imagine pure secularism is utopian… Best, Will.”

Dear Will, I think Habermas could be on to something here! This reminds me of the five spiritual faculties – in particular, the creative tension between wisdom (prajna) and faith (sraddha) exemplified so well by your conversation with Richard. Thank you. Metta from Manjusiha.

“Dear Will, I am struck by the fact that, despite your emphasis on liberalism, you are exemplifying the distorted and illiberal way atheism and secularism are portrayed by their opponents. (And please stop conflating the two: atheism is the lack of belief in gods, secularism is the view that governments should be neutral on the subject of belief in gods.) All good wishes, Richard.”

Dear Richard, Thank you, as always, for your clarity. As a Buddhist I do not believe in gods but do believe in a reality beyond rationality, materialism and self-clinging. And every government has its gods and idols – we have been worshipping the market and materialism for far too long in my view. Your conversation will, I hope, help to dislodge these ‘false idols’ from their perch, along with those of a Christianity that for most people is now largely part of our cultural heritage rather than a real, vibrant and meaningful guide to life. Metta from Manjusiha.

Eric Pickles, the wonderfully named UK Minister for Communities and Local Government, is hoping that Part 1 of the Localism Act will commence today. He believes this will “restore the right of councils to say prayers at official meetings“, according to the Christian Institute.

This follows a court victory last week by the National Secular Society: “Mr Justice Ouseley ruled in a landmark judgement that Bideford council in Devon had no statutory powers to hold prayers during council meetings.” (Guardian)

This decision has sparked an extraordinary week of debate about the role of faith in UK society. The Queen, speaking on Wednesday, “found herself echoing Baroness Warsi, chair of the Conservative party… Each was defending the significance of faith in British society and, in particular, the cultural importance of Christianity, against what both regard as the threat of militant atheism.” (Guardian)

Baroness Warsi, who is the first female Muslim cabinet minister, ‘hit out at “secular fundamentalists”‘ on a visit to the Vatican, and said that ‘Europe needs to be “more confident in its Christianity“.’ The Queen, meanwhile, in one of the first official engagements of her Diamond Jubilee year, said “we should remind ourselves of the significant position of the Church of England in our nation’s life. The concept of our established church is occasionally misunderstood and, I believe, commonly under-appreciated.”

A number of secularist thinkers have, unsurprisingly, responded. Philosopher Julian Baggiani, for instance, said “It all goes back to how we understand the core secularist principle of neutrality in the public square. Neutrality means just that: neither standing for or against religion or any other comprehensive world-view.”

Personally, I don’t believe there is any such thing as neutrality in the private or public realm – at least not this side of Enlightenment. Market fundamentalism, for instance – a seemingly ‘neutral’, rational view – is akin to the religious dogmas of old and has had a huge impact on our lives these past decades. The waning faith that this ‘religion’ can guide us towards what is meaningful is, I think, contributing significantly to the rising heat in relation to faith and the state. Nor do I feel that the ‘democratic will‘ of a local area should be the arbiter of what are, in fact, universal human principles about ethical life and ultimate meaning. In my view, until we find a space to collectively and peacefully identify these principles, and enshrine them in a written constitution – as Bhimrao Ambedkar, the great Buddhist social reformer did in India – then this week’s rancour can only continue.