One of the commonest arguments against Christianity having a position of prominence in national public life is that it is a religion, and therefore necessarily exclusive.

Coming from a particular, confessional position, Christianity is bound to alienate those who do not share its creeds. And if moments of national life are to be truly national, they need to be as inclusive as possible, points at which there cannot be first and second class citizens, particularly if that division is made according to religious allegiance.

There is merit to this argument. Members of religious minorities, including Christian minorities, were for a long time effectively second class citizens in Britain. Toleration of a sort may have been official policy from 1689, but it wasn't particularly meaningful at least until the Catholic Relief Act and the repeal of the Test and Corporation Acts 140 years later. Even then it took decades for legal toleration to filter down into cultural acceptance. Still today, some historically Christian countries, especially those in eastern Europe that are characterised by a deep, historic loyalty to (a particular branch of) orthodoxy have similar problems with cultural exclusion.

That recognised, just because public space that is coloured by confessional identity can alienate, it doesn't follow that we have a workable alternative. The one most commonly proposed – that public life should be hosted or officiated by neutral bodies – is fraught with problems. Public neutrality is an illusion. When attempted, it has usually involved the suppression of the various commitments that jostle in civil society, while someone else speaks on behalf of the alleged general will.

Nick Spencer | To read the full article go to guardian.co.uk