Abstract
Current debates in sociology are questioning not only the secularization thesis, that religion is inevitably declining under conditions of modernity, but also the notion of the secular and its relation to religion. Beginning with a brief look at six representative scholars who have been prominent in this debate, this interpretative essay seeks to contribute to it on the basis of a distinction between a ‘Westphalian’ and a ‘post-Westphalian’ way of understanding and structuring religion and the secular, above all in the form of the state. The argument is illustrated with three examples, India, Turkey and Canada.
Observing the secular/religious divide
An increasing number of contemporary observers in the social and human sciences have been positing a changed or changing relationship between the secular and the religious within the world’s states and in the globalized society in which they are a feature. The situation begs at least two basic questions: how do we understand the secular and the religious that their changing relationship should be important? And why are we doing this now as opposed to, for instance, 40 years ago? Answering the first of these questions is quite complex and will occupy the bulk of the analysis that follows. Response to the second, I would argue, is much simpler: certain religious, political and cultural developments of the last 30 years have convinced many of us that the world has been changing or that our understanding of the world has to change. These developments include, first, the emergence of various quite powerful religio-political movements around the world since about 1979, beginning with the rise of the Christian Right in the United States and the Iranian Revolution and then continuing to the present day with various others in many parts of the world. Second is the virtual disappearance of state-centred and strongly secularist socialism, especially with the collapse of the Soviet Union and the victory of the ‘capitalist roaders’ in China. Third are the repercussions of the very high level of transnational migration in the post-Second World War period, especially into rich western states from non-western parts of the world. Fourth, various developments in the domain of religion around the world have caught many more observers’ attention than might otherwise have been the case, to the point that not a few are speaking about ‘religious resurgence’ (see e.g. Almond et al., 2000; Antoun and Hegland, 1987; Robertson and Chirico, 1985; Sahliyeh, 1990; Westerlund, 1996; Zeidan, 2003). Under this heading, global Christian Pentecostalism and what one might call global Islamic pietism appear to be attracting the most attention. Finally, the same period has witnessed a change in optics among a great many elite observers, especially in the powerful West: the default unit of analysis or observation is no longer the local, national, regional, and in most instances western society, but rather global society as a whole. In other words, the questioning of the secular/religious relation has the globalization of observation as a central prerequisite. The implication of this last point is worth stressing: changed observation of the world is not just a simple reflection of a changed or changing world. In fact, a very large part of the change may be a transformation in how we understand what has ‘been there’ for quite some time, even though that change in understanding was likely set in motion by some real changes in the world.
Against this backdrop, the interpretations of what these various developments signify are diverse, but quite a number of them detect or project the makings of a fundamental transformation of society, one that involves either a profound restructuring of what we enact and understand as religion, a ‘return’ to greater prominence and power of this religion, or both. In response, or as an aspect of these transformations, what is not religion, namely the secular, is also changing and maybe even being severely challenged. In order to look more closely at these interpretations and what they might say about my first question – namely, what do we mean with secular/religious that a changing relation between them is of significance – I want to examine very briefly a selection of six such offerings, with the express purpose of thereafter presenting, not so much an alternative, as what I hope is a useful supplement to them and to many important other perspectives that I am leaving aside.
The six offerings are those of Peter Berger, Jürgen Habermas, Charles Taylor, José Casanova, Rajeev Bhargava and Tariq Modood. I choose their work, not because they are necessarily the most important voices, but because they appear to me to represent variants on three rather different, but not necessarily contradictory, approaches to the question. Berger and Habermas I would put in what one can call the ‘religious comeback’ category, Taylor and Casanova in the ‘religious transformation’ category, and Bhargava and Modood in the ‘alternative scenarios’ category.
In his 1999 publication, The De-secularization of the World, Berger delivers that by now famous phrase that the ‘the world is as furiously religious as ever’ (Berger, 1999: 2), that secularization of society as the dominant trend is and was an incorrect assessment. His primary references in making that statement are the religio-political movements; that is what convinced him to do what appears to be an about-face with respect to his classic work of the 1960s. Unsaid in this context, however, is that the work of the 1960s did not have global society as its frame of analysis, but rather only western society. This then allows him to shift his perspective on Europe to make it the (secularized) ‘exception’ rather than the ‘standard’ (see Berger et al., 2008). Jürgen Habermas has been quite circumspect in his presentation of the idea of the ‘post-secular’, making it clear that not only is he talking only about countries that are arguably secular, but that post-secular really means ‘post-secularism’, that under post-secular conditions, a place must be made for religion in the public sphere (Habermas, 2010a, 2010b). The strength of religion globally is only part of his argument; a significant factor is also the presence of strongly religious minorities in western secular countries as a result of migration. One could interpret his argument as saying that such societies are post-secular precisely because the rest of the world – including its presence within those countries – has relativized secularism and made it clearly not the wave of the future.
Charles Taylor’s suggestion is certainly by far the most complex, fitting as it does into a vast analysis of the modern history of western society and the changes in what Taylor calls ‘social imaginaries’. His parallel term for the transformation in social imaginaries in question here is the post-Durkheimian, an idea that significantly includes the reimagining and restructuring of both the secular, especially the political, and the religious (Taylor, 2007: 473ff.). Two aspects of his argument are particularly telling: first, under post-Durkheimian social forms, there is a de-linking of religious identity from national and even civilizational political identity and a de-linking of religious identity from collective religious authorities such as churches. Taylor also historicizes this shift, characterizing it as typical of a contemporary ‘Age of Authenticity’. Second, however, in the present world, there is a profound struggle between the post-Durkheimian and what he calls the neo-Durkheimian, which characterized the previous modern age, also analysed as the ‘Age of Mobilization’. In this age, the two links obtained or the linkages were dominant. This is how Taylor incorporates the religio-political movements as attempts to reassert the neo-Durkheimian, and both intra-state and cross-national differences in terms of which imaginary dominates or should dominate. In consonance with Taylor’s view (which is really far too complex to present adequately here), Casanova has maintained his earlier assertions about religion moving back into the public sphere (Casanova, 1994) – and here he is resonant with Habermas – but added the thesis of ‘global denominationalism’ by which he means quite expressly the de-linking of religious and political boundaries such that religions construct themselves trans-nationally, across and in spite of the secular boundaries of states (Casanova, 2008: 118; 2010).
Rajeev Bhargava and Tariq Modood add significantly to the picture by making explicit that the transforming situation is characterized by recognizable plurality as concerns the relation between the secular and the religious. 1 There is no more dominant model, not even through the idea of a ‘leading model’, one that is destined to form the path that all will take in the future. Bhargava elaborates this idea chiefly through the Indian case, to some degree admittedly as a model, but more centrally as a place where the instability or ambiguity of the secular/religious divide manifests itself and that therefore shows alternative modelling in comparison with European or North American variants (Bhargava, 2011: 105ff.). Modood adopts a slightly different strategy, focusing on how relatively recently migrated religious minorities in Europe are challenging almost every country’s self-evidence in this matter, thereby generating a kind of laboratory for the imagination of alternatives within Europe itself (Modood, 2007, 2012; Triandafyllidou et al., 2012). Secularism is in flux in European countries, but it is not about to disappear. Both authors stress that continuity.
I have presented these different interventions into the debate to highlight their differences, but more importantly to show the strong interlinkage among them. Three points of continuity are particularly important for my purposes. First, there is the degree to which the secular is mostly identified with, if not precisely the state, then certainly the nation, the nation-state or the national society; in any case an imagined unit that uses state boundaries for drawing the salient difference among plural ‘seculars’. Second is the idea that we are witnessing not a simple transformation from one clearly characterized situation to another, but rather that the new situation exhibits ambiguity, plurality, struggle and uncertainty as basic features. The frequent use of words prefixed by ‘post’ points in the same direction: we are in transition, ‘after’ what we have come to know, but not simply already transformed. Third, is the idea that religion is not what it used to be; because it is transforming in terms of social form and occupying a new or at least different importance within society.
From Westphalian to post-Westphalian condition
In turning now to what I hope is a supplementary or complementary approach to the question of the current situation with regard to secular and religious, I begin with the contingency of the distinction and its two terms. For any of this to make sense, religion, at least, has to be understood and structured as something distinct in terms of which one can then profile its other side, the secular. The differentiation of something called religion (or roughly cognate ideas in other languages) has taken diverse forms and been accomplished to differing degrees throughout history and in societies around the world, and that includes the lack of such a differentiation in certain, perhaps most, societies (cf. Luhmann, 1989). Indeed, the clear conceptual and institutional differentiation of religion from its other side, the secular, appears to be a feature only of modern and now global society, with significant antecedents in European and Mediterranean society of the early Common Era. In western society of the last two millennia, therefore, as in civilizational centres in other parts of the world, the differentiation of religion has occurred in very particular ways. In the western case that included conceiving and structuring religion as a distinct social system and as a marker of collective identity (see Boyarin, 2007).
A critical theoretical point of departure for the argument developed here is the observation that, after about the 9th century, European society underwent a gradual but highly consequential transformation which, while very complex, featured the development and eventual socio-structural dominance of a plurality of peculiar societal systems centred on different logics or functions. 2 Unsurprisingly, given the antecedent structures of this society, one of these was for religion and another one was for the state or polity. Other systems developed for law, economy and science; and eventually over the centuries for other functions like education, art, health, sport and mass information media. These societal structures arose in relation to one another, meaning that they were interdependent, distinguished themselves with reference to the other systems, while also modelling themselves on each other to a certain extent. This last point is critical, as I argue below. Moreover, their construction was mostly manifest, meaning that the socio-structural developments were constantly accompanied by semantic correlates, by discourses which expressed what was going on. Key aspects of these discourses included that religion, and more ambiguously the state, occupied special foundational functions, at the same time as the other systems declared their relative independence from religion, their own sui generis rationales which made them not only what they were, but also not religion. The long history of differentiated religious and political institutions in this society resulted in these two systems being understood as more foundational of social order than the others – at least until the 18th to 19th centuries, when economy and what one might call economistic foundationalism in ‘liberal’ and ‘socialist’ versions joined this group. Religious and political foundationalism is still reflected in the strong association of the secular/religious distinction with the distinction between state and religion. Yet the ‘secular’ in the sense of the not-religious domain of society included more than the state, and not least these other societal systems which became more and more powerful over the centuries, especially the economic, but also the scientific.
A peculiar feature of the developing European political system was its emergence and eventual stabilization as a set of plural, contiguous and competing states; not as another empire. At first this segmentation contrasted with the unified and single character of the strengthening religious system centred on the (Roman) Christian church. With the Reformation and its aftermath of protracted violence, however, a critical restructuring and reimagining of religion occurred, and with it a solidification of the segmented system of political states. This transformation had three central aspects: first, religion came to be seen and structured not only as systemic and as a distinct (foundational) domain, but as one that occurred as religions, in the plural, to only one of which people belonged, and this as individuals (one might say ‘by choice’) as well as attributed members of collectivities (this is also the core of Taylor’s neo-Durkheimian condition with respect to religion). Second, religion, while still foundational, could no longer be regarded straightforwardly as the source of societal cohesion and unity; the solution to this dilemma, enunciated essentially in the Peace of Westphalia, was to try to coordinate the foundational religions – now plural or, more precisely in the European context, ‘confessional’ – with the foundational polities in the form of the states. Each state would be a kind of society unto its own, and thereby the unity and cohesion – viable social order – question could be translated to that level. Politically, this was expressed in the idea of state ‘sovereignty’, religiously in the idea that each state would regulate religious unity, as in the famous Westphalian formula, cuius regio, eius religio. Third, in the one to two centuries after Westphalia the imagining and structure of the political realm moved from, to adapt Bendix’s title, ‘kings to people’, from states as the creatures of rulers to expressions of collectivities or nations (Bendix, 1978). The ‘cuius’ and the ‘eius’ of the formula changed, but the relation of ‘regio’ to ‘religio’ remained. Thus was generated what can be called the Westphalian model of the nature and relation of state to religion, in those terms of the secular to the religious.
The Westphalian model did not undo the differentiation of religion and polity, but rather structured them in a particular way or, more correctly, in particular ways. In the aftermath of Westphalia there was no simple or strict isomorphism between religion and state. The difference between the two manifested itself in a number of ways. These included that religious boundaries were not simply isomorphic with political boundaries, most obviously in the case of the Roman Catholic church, but also in various Protestant movements ranging from the Anabaptists and Quakers to the Moravians and Methodists. That situation – which obtained from the time of Westphalia already – helped ensure that the ‘establishment’ of a religious confession in a particular state always also introduced the question of how to ‘tolerate’ religious ‘minorities’, of other ‘confessions’ and of ‘dissenting’ minorities, including that of the Jews. On the side of the state, one witnesses a progressive ‘secularization’ of this system as most states after about the late 18th century progressively established formal distance from their dominant confessions. That distancing took several forms, perhaps as many as there were states. Most prominent were the shifting of establishment to a ‘denominational’ form or the ‘laicization’ of the state that included the substitution of a kind of political ‘Ersatzreligion’ in the form of secularist or atheist national ideologies. Here is the historical beginning and source of today’s ‘varieties of secularism’.
In the context of these developments, however, the structuring and imagining of states and religions did maintain important parallelisms which constituted their mutual modelling. Prime among these were two features. First, the religious system structured and conceived itself as religions and as subdivisions within those religions; the political system structured and conceived itself as nation-states and (sometimes) as subdivisions within those states. Second, people within ‘national societies’ were expected to ‘belong’ exclusively (‘loyally’) to one state as ‘citizens’ and to one religion as ‘believers’. That belonging, although deemed as chosen, should be total, one might say in each case designating a ‘disciplined’ (well-defined, coherent, consistent, encompassing) ‘way of life’. 3 Moreover, until the 20th century, the dominant tendency in both systems was, on the political side, to ‘regulate’ more and more of citizens’ lives and, on the religious side, for churches to expect more and more churchly and orthodox ‘practice’ of its believers, in religion’s case continuing a trend that already began in the later Middle Ages (Délumeau, 1983). This feature of the differentiation of these societal systems is to be emphasized: as religion and state – and other systems – differentiated, they came to have more and more presence in the total society, and thus in the daily lives of almost everyone.
The rise to structural dominance of these function systems did not remain a European affair. It would be more accurate to say that from early in this development, the construction of the systems involved their spread beyond Europe: as the Europeans spread their influence around the globe, these systems were appropriated, further developed and thus transformed in diverse regions around the world. As in the European sphere, this appropriation was uneven and varied, but by the late 20th century it included the incorporation of all the world’s land regions into the global political system as formally sovereign and precisely contiguous states, the significant construction of religion as religions, including more variants or ‘confessions’ of the Christian religion, and, most importantly in the present context, the same sort of approximate coordination of religion and state identity and structure that was developed in the Westphalian model. The reconstruction and reimagination that this required, and the degree to which it was produced, varied a great deal from region to region. By and large, however, it is arguable that the model was ‘imported’ and appropriated in most of the world’s countries.
On the basis of this analysis, I want now to suggest that what is happening currently, and what the authors I introduced at the beginning are also discussing, is the greater and now incontrovertible shift to a ‘post-Westphalian’ condition. Since this is another ‘post’ word, it implies that we are shifting away from what was dominant, but as yet cannot see clearly what any new dominant circumstance will be. Among the various implications, therefore, is that the Westphalian model has not disappeared and may in fact continue strongly in some countries or regions. Yet, overall, its hold is weakening. It has arguably been weakening for some time, but the current historical, more intensely globalized, context has provided the conditions in which it is much more likely that this weakening will be observed. Where and when the historical ‘tipping-point’ towards a post-Westphalian condition occurred is difficult to say; but for the reasons outlined at the beginning, it may be that the current era has provided the ‘tipping-point’ for its more likely observation. It is thus losing its role as the more or less self-evident and thus prevailing socio-structural and discursive pattern and ceding to or being increasingly balanced off by alternative ways of structuring and imagining both the religious and the secular. Here, I concentrate primarily on the symptoms and signs of this post-Westphalian condition on the side of the religious system.
Given the way religion structured itself under the Westphalian model, a post-Westphalian condition implies a relative de-linking of religion from how states have been structured, and specifically the lessening of the association between religious and national identity, the decline of religious exclusivism, the relative increase in religious ‘bricolage’ and the shifting of the ‘disciplined’ religious life to the status of a personal option that has no expected connection with disciplined citizenship (i.e. one can be a good citizen without being a good religious citizen and vice versa). One particularly important consequence is that the construction of the religious system will follow the lines of a division into religions less, rather than more, meaning that Casanova’s ‘global denominationalism’ will not or no longer be the most important structural feature of the religious system, although one can hardly imagine that it will for the foreseeable future not continue to be an important one. A post-Westphalian condition relativizes the Westphalian model and does not eliminate it; just as talk of multiple modernities relativizes the idea of modernity without eliminating it. Such relativization nonetheless represents, in these listed developments, the (relative) de-linking of the structural modelling of religion and state. And, to repeat, this transformation will consist in some portion as actual transformations and in some portion as the renewed observation of religion, as noticing what in many respects may have been happening for quite some time already. As with the idea of globalization (and indeed modernization before it), aspects or phases of the process precede the invention of the concept to talk about it.
At least as important as the lessening of the self-evidence and dominance of the Westphalian religion–state modelling is alternative modelling. In terms of the secular/religious distinction, what this amounts to is the increasing – but thereby not necessarily new – adoption by the religious system of other ‘secular’ partners than the political system as models; all of which very much includes, of course, the continued construction of religion in contrast with all the ‘secular’ systems. Such alternative modelling has to some extent been going on for as long as the systems have been mutually differentiating, whether in just western or in global society as a whole. Examples of this include the tendencies to style religious knowledge, not just as knowledge, but as having the structure of true and false statements; the translation of religious determinations into law (an area in which Islam provides among the clearest example and antecedent); the parallelisms established between religious insight and art; the conception of religious faith development and increase as a process of education in the context of schools and curricula; and the structuring of religious performance along quasi-medical lines as a ‘cure of souls’ which involved religious equivalents of diagnosis, treatment and prognosis of specific spiritual ‘ills’. All these trends are, of course, continuing and even strengthening, but comparatively new is the degree of modelling of religion on two other systems, that for economy and that for mass information media. Symptomatic of these, on the economy side, are the higher and deliberate degree to which religion is being ‘produced’, ‘marketed’, ‘consumed’ as if religion were a source of (scarce) goods and services (cf. Carrette and King, 2005; Einstein, 2008; Kitiarsa, 2008; Twitchell, 2004), and the more or less recent observation of religion precisely in these terms, as in the religious economy model of religion made famous by the likes of Rodney Stark and Roger Finke (Stark and Bainbridge, 1987; Stark and Finke, 2000) and to some extent well before them in Peter Berger and Thomas Luckmann’s work of the 1960s (Berger, 1967; Luckmann, 1967). In the latter cases, however, and even in some of the more recent ones, the observation of religion behaving/structuring more in tune with economy was (typically) still seen as a ‘weakening’ or even an unfortunate ‘degeneration’ of religion. With respect to mass information media, it is perhaps remarkable how religion has in the 20th century, and increasingly since the advent of television and cyberspace, ‘taken to’ being formed as ‘show’, as media performance, as cyber-community and cyber-ritual; and these things not as a ‘faute de mieux’, as a way of doing what one would ‘properly’ do at home or in physical religious locations in a kind of supplementary of substitute way. Mass media religion instead takes on its own peculiarities, which include a heightened de-localization as local, physical sacred space matters less; and a heightened de-temporalization as the recording of religious performances can continue to operate after the initial performance in a way analogous to what ‘sacred writings’ (another and perhaps original [mass] mediatization of religion) began to do more than two and a half millennia ago (see e.g. Babb and Wadley, 1995; Campbell, 2010; Dawson and Cowan, 2004; Hoover, 1988).
I do not have the space in such a short essay to explain and document these possible transformations beyond simply introducing them. A critical aspect or consequence that they have in common, however, is their implications for what one may call the ‘pluralization’ of religion, namely its tendency to take on multiple forms. In the increasingly post-Westphalian circumstance, ‘religious diversity’ goes significantly beyond its modern manifestations. In particular, the difference among ‘religions’ or even among sudivisions of religions (‘confessions’, ‘denominations’, etc.) is more and more but one sort of plurality, not the only important one. Plurality now includes greater variations in degree and kind of inclusivism or exclusivism of ‘belonging’; greater variation in the location of religion in society in terms of privatized or in the so-called ‘public sphere’; variations in sheer presence in strength without the dominance of one trend or another (i.e. ‘resurgence’ OR ‘secularization’); multiplication of centres of authority and authenticity, irrespective of subdivision; and, of course, variation in the sort of modelling that I have just discussed. Religion in consequence becomes a far ‘messier’ system, one that one could say more and more resembles the system for art, with its fluid world of media, genres, tastes and criteria of authenticity, than it does the seemingly neat Westphalian divisions of sovereign states with their precise boundaries. And a critical observational effect of these transformations is that religion appears to be ‘shifting’ to the level of the individual as the centre of authenticity and authority, even though individualization of religion is also a process that has been going on since the medieval centuries in Europe (Nelson, 1981; Taylor, 2007); that we are witnessing, for instance, a shift from religion to spirituality, a ‘spiritual revolution’ or that where religion is ‘really’ located is as the ‘lived religion’ of individuals (Chandler, 2008; Hall, 1997; Heelas et al., 2005; Luckmann, 1967; McGuire, 2008; Roof, 1999; Shimazono, 2004; Woodhead, 2010).
Variations in post-Westphalian restructuring: The examples of Canada, Turkey and India
In order to illustrate the shift in the dominance of the Westphalian arrangements to a post-Westphalian condition, I want now to look briefly at three very different countries in different parts of the world, countries that each developed a different relation to the Westphalian model (that is, the three ‘variants’ are quite different) in the process and in the aftermath of their formation as modern states; and which correspondingly are showing rather different manifestations of a post-Westphalian condition. The three countries are Turkey, India and Canada, countries which have formed at different times, on very different cultural or ‘ethnic’ and thus ‘national’ bases, with a different ‘colonial’ history, with different dominant religions and thus religions that have formed as modern religions differently, and therefore different relations between religion and secular, specifically between religion and state. Correspondingly, the symptoms of a shift to post-Westphalian conditions are also different.
Turkey
The first question for each country is how and to what extent each country adopted and adapted the Westphalian model. In the case of Turkey, that is comparatively straightforward and obvious: to a significant extent following a French pattern, the founding elites of modern Turkey in the 1920s and 1930s built upon late Ottoman beginnings to try to fashion a nation-state that was, first of all resolutely Turkish, and uniformly so (Yavuz, 2003; Zarcone, 2004). This country had a dominant religion, Islam, which these elites felt that they had to control and regulate to the point of, not just assigning it to the ‘private sphere’, but making it a department of state in the service of an official secularist (laiklik) ideology. Turkey, at least for the first decades of its existence, was to become a Westphalian state along the lines of France, but the Turkish variant proved unstable over the longer term, and the signs of that instability (or failure to solidify, perhaps) began to manifest themselves, if not already in the 1950s, then certainly by the 1970s. Two sorts of development on the religious side are particularly indicative and important: the more visible – at least to outside observers – was the rise of an Islamic and Islamist political movement, prominently represented by the political parties under the leadership of Necmettin Erbakan, which briefly gained governing power in the late 1990s. The less obvious but probably more important was the rise and spread of the same sort of ‘pietistic’ Islam – in Turkish, somewhat Sufi, variants – that was growing in various other parts of the Muslim world at the same time (Kepel, 1994). It is well represented by the Nurcu movements, including the neo-Nur movement under the leadership of Fetullah Gülen (Yavuz and Esposito, 2003).
Both of these developments would fit rather neatly under either Berger’s de-secularization or religious resurgence idea or under a Habermasian post-secularism. In terms of a Taylorian paleo-, neo-, or post-Durkheimianism, however, matters are significantly more ambiguous; as they are using Casanova’s idea of a global denominationalism. This is because the relation between religious identity and national identity in this context is not straightforward, one way or the other. In a strong sense, Erbakan’s movement was not just Turkish Islamic, but also globally Islamist, as so many other political Islamist movements in other countries are or want to be. In any case, that movement has ceded definitively to the even more ambiguous AKP version under Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, which, perhaps for strategic reasons, perhaps not, hovers uneasily between pietistic Muslims running government and some kind of ‘establishment’ of Islam (Atasoy, 2005; Hale and Özbudun, 2010; Rabasa and Larrabee, 2008; Yavuz, 2006). Something similar can be said for the wider Islamic and partially Sufi pietism that Gülen’s movement represents: while very ‘Turkish nationalist’ from one perspective, it also has a deliberate transnational face – especially, but not limited to, among diaspora Turks in Western Europe and elsewhere – that leans more in the direction of a ‘global denominationalism’ which cannot be identified in terms of national boundaries (Esposito and Yilmaz, 2010). Moreover, unlike the political Islam represented by the parties of Erbakan and (more ambiguously) Erdoğan, the neo-Nurcus have their institutional bases mostly in not only broadly speaking what one can call ‘civil society’ organizations, but more specifically in the institutions of the educational, the health, the mass media and the art/culture systems. Their support base is among their members and especially their economic elite members, including a good section of the new and generally quite Islamic ‘Anatolian bourgeoisie’ that arose in the wake of Turkey’s neoliberal shift under Turgut Özal in the 1980s. We have here what one might call a much more highly ‘competitive’ religious form, much like Finke and Stark (among others) have identified as characterizing the American religious context for quite some time. To some degree then, this highly significant movement and others in Turkey like it, engage in the alternative modelling that I have discussed. They certainly ‘do’ religion, here Islam, as religion; but they also model that religion in ways similar to economy, education, art, mass media information and health. Accordingly, although the vast majority of its followers are in fact Turkish nationally, that Turkishness is not at the manifest heart of the movement’s self-conception, or at least professes not to be.
What is post-Westphalian about this situation is precisely the ambiguity, and that ambiguity has as much to do with what is happening in Turkey itself as it does with the wider and increasingly dense global context in which it is occurring. From one perspective, Turkey may be looking more and more like the model Westphalian state, with its typical and, following Taylor, neo-Durkheimian structures and cultural orientations. From another perspective, however, the boundaries of the sovereign Turkish state are less and less determinative, both in practical terms as concerns the range of social action and communication that occurs within it and in terms of how Islam and Turkishness are perceived with reference to that state. The post-Westphalian circumstance, in other words, is not just about ‘inner state’ developments, but as noted in the above abstract analysis, has everything to do with the intensified globalization of the later 20th and early 21st century.
India
The question of whether India ever has been a Westphalian state is an open one, but several factors point in the direction of the Westphalian model being, if not the actual model, then at least the unavoidable foil in terms of which India had to establish itself as a modern nation-state. First, the reconstruction by their ‘adherents’ of South Asian religious traditions as a limited set of ‘world religions’ – especially Hinduism, but also Sikhism and Jainism – was a process that occurred in exact tandem with the rise of Indian nationalism, the idea that there existed a single people whose national territory was clearly defined and ought to be the expression of and under the control of that people. The question that constantly accompanied this ‘national’ development was what the role of religion would be; but both the British colonial context – all these, after all, were to some extent ‘British’ ideas appropriated and transformed by local elites (Dalmia and Von Stietencron, 1995; Frykenberg, 1989; Jones, 1989; Van der Veer, 2001) – and the Indian movements themselves dictated that this question had to be answered, or regulated. An explicitly Hindu nationalism was a significant option and player from relatively early on, at the latest at the time of the rise of the Arya Samaj movement. Yet it was accompanied and rivalled with other options, including most especially the ‘secular’ option represented by the Congress movement, and the Muslim and Sikh movements that, like the Hindu nationalist option, pushed in a very Westphalian direction towards the eventual creation of three states, a Muslim, a Hindu and a Sikh one. Congress secularism, however, was never of the Turkish or French variety; its secularism defined itself over and against ‘communalism’, any definition of the state and nation in terms of a single dominant religious identity (Pandey, 1992). Yet it could be argued that Congress secularism was in fact much closer to a kind of denominational establishment model, one in which it would be assumed that the good citizen had to belong to one of the religions – whether of his or her choice, or not.
Over the past 30 years, of course, India – not to mention the other South Asian states, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Nepal and Sri Lanka – has been dealing with this question rather constantly, especially in the form of explicitly Sikh and Hindu nationalisms, one of which wanted to establish its own Westphalian state, the other to make India a more clearly Westphalian state (Jaffrelot, 1996; Kapur, 1986). Neither has succeeded and the question of where India is headed in post-Westphalian terms is as difficult as the question of whether it was ever Westphalian in the first place. India, to use Berger’s phrase, is certainly ‘as furiously religious as ever’, but the sort of de-linking of religion and state, along with the rise to prominence of alternative modellings of religion, is also largely present, but probably has more to do with the form of the demographically dominant religion, Hinduism, than it does with anything else. Whether India was ever a Westphalian state hangs very much on the question of whether Hinduism actually operates as a world religion. From one perspective, it certainly does, although not one that easily follows the model of any other such religion, most especially the three Abrahamic ones. Yet, from another, its comparative lack of differentiation from what one can loosely call ‘Indian culture’ points in the other direction. Hinduism in India has always had the character of a default category: it’s what one is religiously if one isn’t positively something else, like Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Zoroastrian, and, less clearly, Buddhist, Jain, or Sikh. Its relation to the very idea of India has therefore always been strong – a Westphalian feature – and yet it has relatively little of the convergent and clearly defined boundaries of these other religions, especially features such as clear orthodoxies and centres of authority and authenticity – there are a great many, almost an infinite number of ways of being ‘authentically’ Hindu – and exclusivist belonging and identification. In that sense, Hinduism, much more strongly than many other religions, always already was post-Westphalian in form and might dissipate entirely if it were not for the fact of India as a nation-state. This peculiarity of India and Hinduism is, I think, at the root of the ability of observers like Rajeev Bhargava to look to this case as always having been an alternative model for the understanding of the secular/religious distinction and therefore of types of secularism. The question, then, of alternative modelling would also be both more and less clear. It is comparatively easy to point to prominent mass media-like developments such as the television series of the Ramayana and Mahabharata epics, or to the economic enterprise characteristics of Hindu temples and pilgrimage locations which have occasional or regular clients rather than incorporated members and which ebb and flow in popularity much like business enterprises (see e.g. Gokulsing and Dissanayake, 2009; Srinivas, 2010). Yet taking these phenomena as intimations of a developing post-Westphalian modelling is rendered difficult by that fact that these sorts of characteristics have in one form or another been evident for a long time and therefore may be more of an indication of the lack of differentiation of Hinduism as a religious system than they are of the transformation of that system. Modelling, after all, is contingent on just such differentiation.
Canada
Canada is much more like India than it is like Turkey, but it has a history very much along the lines of some European states. From the beginning of colonial times in the 17th century until the middle of the 19th century, the Canadian colonies had an established, official religion and church, Roman Catholicism under the French regime until 1760 and the Church of England under the British regime thereafter until 1855. In the context and in the aftermath of official disestablishment, however, there developed a ‘shadow’ or ‘denominational’ establishment that culminated in the dominance of the religious landscape by a small set of ‘mainline’ churches to which well over 90% of the population belonged or with which they identified. There was further a close association between national identities and religious identities, there being a distinct French Canadian and Roman Catholic identity alongside a more or less British Protestant one.
This very Westphalian situation obtained for all intents and purposes until about the mid-1960s when a number of post-Westphalian developments occurred simultaneously. These include the comparative ‘emptying-out’ of the denominational mainline, and this in two ways: a great many left these churches in practice and to a large extent in identity, especially in the Protestant mainline; and most of those who remained no longer saw themselves as incorporated in authoritative religious bodies as before, shifting the locus of authority and authenticity to the individual self or the fluid and voluntary group. Individuals increasingly could, if so inclined, do their religion à la carte, including picking and choosing from among the elements of their own church, as well as adding beliefs and practices from ‘other’ religions (Beyer, 2000; Bibby, 1987, 1993; Grenville, 2000; Rawlyk, 1996). Thus have denominational and even religious boundaries become comparatively relativized. A further symptom is organizational pluralization and atomization: many more and smaller organizations (including the Protestant mainline), including many more that are independent of any ‘denominational’ affiliation (Beyer, 2005). Among these many organizations are ones that style themselves very much along the economic lines discussed above as well as a rising presence in the country of mass media religion that does not observe any physical boundaries, let alone national ones (Dawson and Cowan, 2004). Moreover, the steadily increasing number during these same decades of non-Christian immigrants and then the children of those immigrants has had the effect of further pluralizing the Canadian religious field so that ‘Christian dominance’ while in practical terms still real, becomes more and more attenuated (Beyer, 2005). Westphalian conceptualizations remain strong in Quebec in comparison with the rest of the country (Lemieux, 1990), but even here there is a comparative relativization going on, especially in the large urban region of Montreal. Religion in Canada is losing its ‘old familiar’ contours rather rapidly, but they still have a presence; the old Westphalian modelling is not entirely gone. Yet it now shares the discursive and structural space with alternative ways of doing religion, including of course, not doing it at all, and this without serious consequences for ‘national’ identity which is undergoing analogous transformations.
Conclusions
These illustrations from three different countries show a number of things, but among them is the degree to which any of our talk of ‘post’ or ‘re’ is highly tenuous: there is solid evidence that something important is happening semantically and structurally with religion, and probably the state (although I have ignored that half of the argument here). However that evidence does not yet point in a very clear direction, especially when we take into consideration that the whole world is involved, and not just the so-called West. As I tried to show with my three examples, this West should not be taken as the putative standard in the effort to understand these transformations since the degree to which the non-West did not follow the exact same paths as has the West means that these regions have in a sense a head start on moving in new directions; they were never as determined or determined in the same way by the old dominant models as were the European and colonizer society countries (which here includes Latin America). And the way that they nonetheless particularized those models was in many cases sufficiently different that their path-dependent present and future will also be different. The most important upshot of the analysis I offer here is therefore that post-Westphalianism means more than anything else a pluralization of options, for the relation between the so-called ‘secular’ and the so-called ‘religious’ as for anything else. This is the conclusion also of Modood and Bhargava in their contribution to the debate. Yet such pluralization does not exclude the possibility that eventually a new global model in this arena will become dominant. At the moment, however, it is impossible to discern the clear outlines of such a model, let alone give it a name, even if it were to develop. Post-Westphalianism is thus a lot like somewhat cognate ideas like postmodernism and multiculturalism: all we know is that they represent a plurality of options and voices; but we really have no clear idea of what they mean because the new self-evidences at which they hint are not yet present. Minerva’s owl, as it were, will only fly at dusk, which is to say when the light of the present day is gone but the new dark (in comparison) has not yet taken hold.
Footnotes
Funding
This research received no specific grant from any funding agency in the public, commercial, or not-for-profit sectors.
