Faithlessons
Posted Under: Education,Identity,Minorities,Religion

The integration of minority communities, particularly Muslim minorities, into majority British society has been a hotly contested subject in recent years. For all the attention it has received in the press since 7/7, however, the role of faith schools in hindering integration in multicultural societies has been overlooked too long. Last year, the NUT finally took note of this in arguing for multi-faith religious instruction in schools. They could, however, have gone much further. They could have made the case for removing religious instruction from schools entirely, followed the French ends, if not their means, of having schools as secular public spaces free from overt religious influence beyond the neutral study of world religions and cultural traditions. What is most significant about the French case, however, is that France recognised decades before Britain the importance of the state in social integration.
France has long held a very different philosophy to Britain in regards to the integration of the diverse immigrant communities it inherited as a former colonial power. Historically, the British model has been the more decentralised of the two (Layton-Henry & Joly, 2001). Under this market-orientated philosophy, the social integration of immigrant communities has been, until recently, a secondary concern. The emphasis has instead been on leaving immigrants to their own devices provided they come to do ‘good business’, integrating vertically and economically rather than horizontally and socially. The decline of manufacturing industry and an organised, homogenous working class has been mirrored, however, by the rise of Generation X, second generation immigrants cut off from the homeland of their parents and alienated from British society where integration of communities has taken a back seat. Where this has been a causal factor widely attributed to the development of religious extremism, which has served to fill the identity-vacuum of some young Muslims, authorities have increasingly, since 7/7, come to recognise the importance of social integration and France’s more centralised model.
France’s approach to religion in schools came under the spotlight of the international media through the decision in 2004 to ban the wearing of conspicuous symbols of religious affiliation, particularly the Muslim hijab, in schools. This ostensibly heavy-handed measure – falsely justified in the name of women’s rights and using the language of secularism – stemmed not merely from a commitment to laïcité, but from a recognition of a need to better integrate France’s five million-strong Muslim community for whom religion had long been intrinsic to personal identity in a way that it was not amongst the majority non-Muslim population. As such, the assimilation of Muslims represents a challenge to the secular state operating under the idea of laïcité. The question of how to integrate this minority and to ensure their identity as citizens of the Republic first and Muslims second has plagued French governments for decades. Where up until the mid-1980s the state’s policy towards immigrant communities was a socio-economic approach to assimilating the marginalised into the national society through welfare, unionisation and anti-poverty measures, this has been replaced by a more rigid idea of political integration as interventionist social democratic policies lost favour to the rise of a global neo-liberal consensus. The rise and electoral success of Le Pen’s Front National forced mainstream politicians to take on board some of the concerns of the far-right over immigration. As a result, the assimilation of the Muslim community into citizens of the Republic was placed squarely at the centre of the agenda.
The new philosophy that emerged emphasised the need for citizens to identify and engage with French nationality above individual cultural origins. Taking schools as neutral public spaces in which people learn citizenship, the removal of religion from these spaces was seen to be a key method of integration that went hand in hand with other methods to incorporate Muslims into national politics, such as the French Council for the Muslim Religion, established in 2003. The headscarf was not only treated as though it were a viral form of proselytising, encouraging others to identify themselves as Muslims before citizens of the Republic, but as a crucial symbol of difference undermining the unity of citizens.
The French approach, in banning the hijab, has been, of course, too rigid, too inflexible to the demands of multiculturalism and too insistent on stamping a seal of national identity on its citizens. Within reason, the sphere of state intervention into society should probably not include what is permissible for the individual to wear. Moreover, the beauty of multiculturalism is precisely in difference. Diversity without division. However, despite the controversial means it has employed, the ends recognised by the French state, and largely ignored by the British until recent years, are crucial here. How do you successfully integrate significant minority communities holding a distinct, powerful, totalising, self-defining belief system into wider society? Combined with growing radicalism, the Generation X factor, alienation and anger amongst Muslims over British foreign policy, and the war in Iraq in particular, the question of social integration has never been more significant. It can no longer simply be about doing good business.
Faith schools, by their very nature, are antithetical to the integration of communities. And whilst there are those on the left who will, quite fairly, argue in favour of faith schools on the basis of parity with Church of England state schools, I would make the case for their abolition. Individual faith cannot take priority over the pursuit of the very laudable aim of a diverse, but cohesive multicultural society. Schools, primary sites of early socialisation, should, as in the French case, be neutral public spaces in which people of all faiths and none can learn together without directed religious instruction. This is not an argument for the assimilation of minority communities into a hegemonic body or an attack on privately held or even publicly expressed belief. Rather it is an argument for public spaces where people from diverse backgrounds can come together from an early age without certain sections of the community being bracketed from the rest of society. The NUT’s case for multi-faith instruction in state schools is, perhaps, a step in the right direction. But the ideal, serving the causes of religious parity and integration, would be a disestablished church, a liberal form of laïcité in Britain and the abolition of faith schools.
Reference:
Layton-Henry, Z & Joly, D (2001) Philosophies of integration Basingstoke: Palgrave







Reader Comments
The state should not be telling girls and women what to wear – though neither should their brothers or fathers. It has been a bit galling in recent years to see some groups on the left, previously committed to secularism and women’s equality giving ground on this issue to fundamentalists and calling it anti-racism.
There is a stronger resolution against faith schools going to NUT conference this April, recognising the damage being done by all faith schools, though whether it gets to be discussed remains to be seen.
Indeed but it is equally galling to see how readily some feminists and socialists will support state coercion as a means of dealing with cutlural practices which they deem regressive. You cant fight unfreedom with unfreedom.
That’s a good point, Reuben, but where do you draw the line? I certainly would support state coercion to outlaw female genital mutilation, for example. You yourself have even argued in favour of the benefits of colonialism in dealing with issues like that around the world, and in favour of the state making male circumcision illegal. I don’t agree with the banning of the hijab, particularly in majority non-Muslim nations (Turkey I think is a slightly different case) but I do have to recognise that there are some cultural practices that the state has to legislate against. One of the few good things Britain did in India was to outlaw the practice of sati.
Out of interest, why, in your opinion, is Turkey a different case?
Because Kemal The Great fought hard to get those regressive bastards under control, and it would be an affront to his legacy to repeal his legislation on the matter?
Because it’s one thing for a majority Muslim nation to move towards greater secularisation and another for laws targetting Islamic dress to be imposed on a minority by a secular or Christian majority.
Muslim majority in name only. Only something like 20% of Turks consider themselves to be practising Muslims. Plus there are many different sects in Turkey, such as the Alevîs (c. 25% of Muslim population) who don’t wear the hijab and resent growing moves towards its official sanction.
Regardless, the rationale in Turkey is no different to the French model. The French model seeks to ban all religious symbols in public places, as does the Turkish. The French model additionally often sees the hijab as a cultural symbol of the repression of women, as does the Turkish. The French model acts without factoring in what the majority belief is, as does the Turkish. The principle is the same, and of course that is no coincidence if you consider that Turkish laïcité arguably is based to a large extent on the French.
The fact is, as in France, the ban applies in public places and is not just against Muslims, but all religious symbols, crucifixes, skull caps, the whole show. Turkey is a special case I guess because 60% or so of women wear the hijab, and because of this the pro-hijab camp argue that the ban precludes many women from a university education and government jobs. What the secularists argue is that the ban should remain to encourage women to remove the headscarf not as a “religious” symbol but as a symbolic assertion of gender equality enshrined in the constitution, just as women were in past decades encouraged to remove the veil. I would tend towards the secularists, because in Turkey, as in many Muslim communities in Europe including the UK, the hijab is often imposed from a young age to define a woman’s role in society, not to aid piety as is often argued.
The question of faith schools is tricky – the Turks found in the 30s and 40s that the Kemalist ban on religious instruction simply pushed religion “underground”, and the emergence of a number of radical Islamist groups from the 1960s is often seen as evidence of the failure of that policy. The state’s denial of a section of the population’s desire for a religion-based education caused problems. However, state-supervised faith schools that have existed since the 50s, with broad curricula covering both traditional religious instruction and the secular syllabus, have managed to some extent to reconcile religious Muslims to the secular Turkish Republic.
In the UK there are only a tiny number of official Muslim faith schools within the state education system, but there are many hundreds of unsupervised medresses attached to mosques and community centres; perhaps before introducing a blanket ban that would not eradicate unofficial religious instruction anyway, it would be preferable to better integrate and regulate such institutions within the wider state education system?
You have a good point about unsupervised medresses. You’re also right to point out that France’s ban was on all conspicuous religious symbols. However, although the law was justified in terms of laicite and women’s rights, it cannot be reduced to these two factors alone. It was very much tied up with the new philosophy of citizenship and specifically aimed at Muslims, precisely because this was the one group in France for whom religious identity was still self-reported to be stronger than national identity. That’s not to say that women’s rights and laicite are irrelevant in this. It would be hard to imagine the law without them – and certainly not the latter – but they were not the first mover. They didn’t make the watch, they just asked for the time.
I don’t think it’s a new philosophy of citizenship at all, although you’re right that the 2004 Law was aimed at the Muslim population. It was, rather, a reassertion of the exclusion of religion from the state, including the state’s institutions, that has been a defining feature of the French constitutions since the Revolution. This is seen as one of the basic contracts between the state and its citizens – we won’t interfere in your private beliefs if you keep your private beliefs out of our sphere.
Nor is the 2004 Law a unique example in the history of the French Republic. Growing fears of the role of the Catholic church led to the 1905 Law that ended state funding for “official” religions and sought to return to the constitutional purity of absolutely no state involvement with religion. That too was controversial, not helped by government seizure of church property, but was deemed necessary if France should remain a truly laic state.
So in fact, rather than being a “new philosophy of citizenship”, the 2004 Law was an attempt to re-emphasise the traditional philosophy of citizenship, in which of course is tied equality of the sexes as we said and the contract of laïcité. And whilst concerns over Muslim integration should not be dismissed lightly (as they often were at the time), the Republic, if it was to remain faithful to its constitution, could not make the Muslims an exception to its own rules without seriously damaging itself.
I don’t dispute the very well entrenched philosophy of laicite. What’s (relatively) new, as I pointed to, and as Layton-Henry & Joly (2001) identify, is the shift from thinking in terms of socio-economic integration to nationalist and identity-based integration.
First of all, acknowledging that you’ve read one book gives your argument doesn’t give you extra points.
Secondly, are you still talking about France?! Integration has always been seen in terms of nation and identity, right back to the beginning with politicians like the Comte de Clermont-Tonnerre. You know, the whole “it’s okay to be a Jewish Frenchman but not a French Jew” thing? And this has been the case with waves of different immigrations from Armenians and West Africans after WWI to Eastern and Central Europeans in the 30s right up to the North and West Africans of late.
Of course the economic side was crucial, and various communities integrated with varying degrees of success. In terms of recent immigration, the French establishment has hopefully learned for future reference that lumping migrants in horrific housing estates away from employment and services is not the best idea for anyone concerned. Still, I would argue from my knowledge of the history of migrant communities in France that the French have historically approached immigration in terms of (and measured the success of integration on) acceptance of the nation and the national identity.
Oh but I so wanted extra points from you Mitchell. Please can I have them? They’d be my most meaningful achievement since my silver medal in swimming club…