Debates over the Muslim veil seem to be very much in fashion at the moment. First, Conservative MP Philip Hollobone brought forward a motion in parliament to ban the veil. Then there was the story of a judge refusing to allow a defendant to wear a veil while presenting evidence (although permitting her to remain behind a screen when she did) because it would prevent him and the jury from evaluating her testimony. Then there was the Birmingham college that got into the national press for banning the veil, a story that led to opinions being voiced by David Cameron and Nick Clegg. Now a Liberal Democrat minister, Jeremy Browne, has called for a national debate on whether the veil should be allowed at all.
Many of these stories are accompanied in the press by a rather nasty edge and a good deal of curious reasoning. Phillip Hollobone, for example, made the strange argument that he refused to meet constituents wearing a niqab because he couldn’t tell if they truly were who they said they were, and insisted on them writing a letter to him instead – as if a letter were a better means demonstration of a constituent’s identity than their physical presence.
Jeremy Browne’s case, meanwhile, seemed to rest on the idea that the niqab was itself potentially repressive and that girls were too young to choose for themselves whether they want to wear one. It seems, at best, a little disingenuous (and not especially liberal) to argue that the veil should be banned because some people might be compelled, rather than actually choose, to wear it.
Yet arguing the pros and cons of these specific incidences misses a rather more fundamental point, which is on the very nature of secularism in the UK. Jeremy Browne is keen to stress that his opposition to the veil is grounded in his liberal secular beliefs. In fact, his primary objection to the veil is that it encourages “religious conformity”.
The problem lies at the very heart of secularism itself. Secularism is a difficult debate in the UK, not least because constitutionally at least, the UK is not a secular state. The UK has never adopted the more straightforward French thinking on the matter (though plenty of ideological secularists do support it). In France, laïcité, which remains extremely popular among the French electorate, demands the complete absence of religious symbols and dress from the public sphere. In Britain, such secularism has never been popular. Indeed, top-down ‘solutions’ to social problems of this nature are generally less common, and less popular, in the UK than in France. The failure to apply a proper understanding of British secularism correctly, according to Sir Alan Beith at the recent Liberal Democrat party conference, is a constant problem not unlike the misunderstandings that accompany health and safety legislation.
It is worth asking whether this confusion over what secularism actually means in the UK is not limited to a few misguided employers and schools (as Beith seems to suggest) but to the debate as a whole. Are advocates of secularism calling for a limited secularism that creates a plural public space in which no particular religious tradition is privileged? Or are they advocating the complete removal of religion from the “public sphere” on the French model? There is a distinct – perhaps deliberate – lack of clarity here.
If any good is to come of these seemingly endless disputes over Muslim veils, perhaps it might be an opportunity for a public debate and greater clarity, and honesty, over what secularism is and what it is meant to accomplish. This may prove far more productive than continuing to argue over a garment which is worn by a tiny number of people across the UK as a whole.
Ben Ryan is currently undertaking an internship at Theos and has recently completed a Masters in European Studies at the LSE
Image by Tinou Bao
