John Locke was famously intolerant of atheists. “Those are not at all to be tolerated who deny the being of God,” he wrote in A Letter Concerning Toleration. Given that he was one of the most tolerant men of his day, arguing that toleration might even conceivably be extended to Roman Catholics, his denial of tolerance to atheists is all the more striking.
His reason – “promises, covenants, and oaths, which are the bonds of human society, can have no hold upon an atheist” – is precisely the kind of thing that infuriates modern atheists and appears, at first glance, to have been behind Cherie Booth’s decision to take Shamso Miah’s Islamic faith into account when passing sentence on him.
Ms Booth decided to suspend his sentence for two years at least in part because he was a “religious person”. The logic appears Lockean. You are a person of faith and therefore more trustworthy than an atheist. Thus you merit a softer sentence.
Whether religious or non-religious beliefs make someone a better citizen is a somewhat contested area. Some studies http://www.cup.cam.ac.uk/catalogue/catalogue.asp?isbn=0521827329 suggest that people who regard themselves as belonging to a particular religion record higher than average levels of trust, of respect for the law, of a citizen’s duty to vote, and of political participation. Such research is useful but not without its problems: after all, religious self-designation is a notoriously ‘weak’ grouping, as the 2001 Census reminds us.
In response to data like these and the kind of self-righteousness they can breed amongst the religious, atheists often counter with their own unholier-than-thou argument, claiming that non-believers don’t need the promise of heaven and the threat of hell to make them good, thereby implying that they are naturally the more moral people.
This debate is unlikely to be resolved (although it is in the interest of us all that we find some correlation between what we believe and how we behave: the alternative is our mental state is irrelevant to our lifestyles, which rather undermines the whole idea of human agency.) Thankfully, a response to the Cherie Booth decision need not wait for any such resolution.
Judges exercise discretion all the time when sentencing, taking into account a wide range of circumstances, not least whether an offender is part of a supportive network. The 2002 Social Exclusion Unit report Reducing re-offending by ex-prisoners http://www.cabinetoffice.gov.uk/media/cabinetoffice/social_exclusion_task_force/assets/publications_1997_to_2006/reducing_summary.pdf claimed that over half of prisoners reoffend within two year of their release, two thirds of whom being imprisoned again. It, and other studies, also report that reoffending rates drastically decrease for those who have some social support structure to which they can return.
Such social networks come in various forms – employment, family, accommodation, religious group – each having the potential to reduce reoffending rates. Such networks are not infallible. Demeaning and underpaid work, dysfunctional families, or indifferent religious communities are unlikely to provide the necessary relational counterbalance to reoffending. Nevertheless, common sense suggests that those who commit crimes are less likely to remain a danger to the public if they have others close by them to whom they feel accountable.
Whether this was in Cherie Booth’s mind when sentencing Shamso Miah we may never know, but it does seem to suggest that she was right to take his Islamic faith into account because it was apparently serious and practiced.
Ultimately, this story is about – and points to the difference between – faith and religion, two terms that are often used carelessly and interchangeably. There may be an argument for moderating a sentence because of the offender’s faith, but if there is it is a weak one, with jury still out considering the evidence. Far stronger is the argument for recognising serious and accountable religious commitment when passing judgement.
