Jeff Spinner-Halev

Many of the most popular liberal arguments for cultural rights all note that the world is formed into groups. But in the attempt to universalise these arguments, it is too often assumed that the nation is the most important of these groups. This focus upon the nation ignores the many and varying bases of self?respect. It overlooks the fact that self?respect may be tied to many different kinds of groups. Further, most discussions of cultural rights are fuelled by the experience of particular groups. Which groups depends on the theorist and issue at hand. The discussion may be sound for the particular group being discussed. But then many cultural rights theorists, in generalising from one case to others, may not have good reason to do so, leading into a mistaken universalism. The study of cultural rights arguments, with closer reference to the case studies that underpin them, should serve to limit illicit generalisation and to illuminate the true value of cultural rights arguments.

I argue here against recent trends in liberal and feminist theory contending that the state should insist that religious groups internalize liberal justice and equality. Doing so dangerously ascribes too much power to the state, and threatens liberty and stability. I argue instead that the liberal state must balance different values. I begin by claiming that while Rawls worries that religious people want to impose their way of life on others, a more accurate concern is that of liberalism imposing its way of life on religious conservatives. I also contend that Rawls’s concern about stability leads him wrongly to think that there must be widespread agreement on the principles of justice, which leads to considerable intrusion in conservative religions. This widespread agreement is unattainable; a better route to stability is through extensive agreement on decision making procedures. Feminist arguments are less concerned with stability, but share with Rawls the idea that private values should be congruent with public ones. I argue that doing so leads to unacceptable intrusions on liberty. Religious groups can be internally non-liberal as long as there is pluralism within the society, exit from groups is assured, and their members all receive a decent education.

Meet the Sorbs. They are a Slavic people in Germany who number around sixty thousand. They are not mistreated or oppressed by the German government. They live in two German states, but they are interspersed with other Germans. Do the Sorbs deserve special, group rights to help maintain their culture? The recent arguments of many theorists suggest that they do. Iris Marion Young has recently argued that all marginalized groups should have group rights. Avishai Margalit and Moshe Halbertal maintain that all cultural groups have certain rights. Will Kymlicka suggests that all ‘societal cultures’ have group rights, which might include the Sorbs.

Defenders of Aboriginal rights such as James Tully have argued that members of majority populations should allow Aboriginal peoples to argue within their own preferred intellectual frameworks in seeking common moral ground. But how should non-Aboriginal academics react to claims that seem insufficiently critical or even incoherent? This essay argues that there are two reasons to be especially wary of attacking such errors given the historical injustices perpetrated by settler states against Aboriginal peoples. First, attempts to root out error will often be misplaced, because they will fail to consider the full range of possible reasons for particular kinds of social practices. Second, such attempts will often have counterproductive social effects in disrupting conversations and prolonging Aboriginal alienation. This essay thus argues that non-Aboriginal academics should be willing to exercise considerable self-restraint toward apparent intellectual errors, because such a strategy will be most conducive to realizing justice over the long term.

Advocates of remedying historical injustices urge political communities to take responsibility for their past, but their arguments are ambiguous about whether all past injustices need remedy, or just those regarding groups that suffer from current injustice. This ambiguity leaves unanswered the challenge of critics who argue that contemporary injustices matter, not those in the past. I argue instead for a focus on injustices that have roots in the past, and continue to the present day, what I call enduring injustice. Instead of focusing on finding the party responsible for the injustice, I argue that we use history to help us understand why some injustices endure, which I suggest is partly due to the limitations of liberal justice. I conclude with a conception of responsibility for repairing enduring injustice that deemphasizes searching for the causal agent, and instead focuses on how to repair the injustice, which I explain through an expansive conception of shared space.

The Protestant conception of religion as a private matter of conscience organized into voluntary associations informed early liberalism's conception of religion and of religious toleration, assumptions that are still present in contemporary liberalism. In many other religions, however, including Hinduism (the main though not only focus of this article), practice has a much larger role than conscience. Hinduism is not a voluntary association, and the structure of its practices, some of which are inegalitarian, makes exit very difficult. This makes liberal religious toleration an awkward fit for Hinduism; granting religious toleration in India undermines equality and autonomy in severe ways. Yet Hinduism is not without its virtues, and has historically been what I call externally tolerant-it has been relatively tolerant of other religions. Liberal toleration, by contrast, is internally tolerant-it is tolerant of religions that fit the Protestant model, while its tolerance of others is considerably more qualified. I briefly speculate at the end of the article about how to combine these two models of toleration

Liberal theorists often link autonomy and identity together, since, these liberals argue, an education that bestows a particular identity on children undermines their autonomy. The charge of schools ought to be to teach children to be open to a variety of identities. Encounters with diversity and cosmopolitanism are good, since they encourage students to think deeply about their own identity, while traditional religions and nationalism seek to impress a particular identity on students. This standard liberal account, echoed in some of the essays in this book, underplays the ways in which education is a cultural practice like many others. Moreover, as other essays in this volume point out, there are good reasons to want aspects of a common culture to be transmitted in schools—in democratic states we want citizens to be able to understand one another, and to have some understanding of important historical events in the country's history. Yet schools that teach an honest history of one's country, and that teach about the country's political principles, will impress upon students only a partially shared identity. That this identity be only partly shared is important: it allows for differences among students, differences that ought to be understood, at least to some extent.

Liberal theorists often link autonomy and identity together, since, these liberals argue, an education that bestows a particular identity on children undermines their autonomy. The charge of schools ought to be to teach children to be open to a variety of identities. Encounters with diversity and cosmopolitanism are good, since they encourage students to think deeply about their own identity, while traditional religions and nationalism seek to impress a particular identity on students. This standard liberal account, echoed in some of the essays in this book, underplays the ways in which education is a cultural practice like many others. Moreover, as other essays in this volume point out, there are good reasons to want aspects of a common culture to be transmitted in schools—in democratic states we want citizens to be able to understand one another, and to have some understanding of important historical events in the country’s history. Yet schools that teach an honest history of one’s country, and that teach about the country’s political principles, will impress upon students only a partially shared identity. That this identity be only partly shared is important: it allows for differences among students, differences that ought to be understood, at least to some extent.

Governments today often apologize for past injustices and scholars increasingly debate the issue, with many calling for apologies and reparations. Others suggest that what matters are victims of injustice today, not injustices in the past. Spinner-Halev argues that the problem facing some peoples is not just the injustice of the past, but that they still suffer from injustice today. They experience what he calls enduring injustices, and it is likely that these will persist without action to address them. The history of these injustices matters, not as a way to assign responsibility or because we need to remember more, but in order to understand the nature of the injustice and to help us think of possible ways to overcome it. Suggesting that enduring injustices fall outside the framework of liberal theory, Spinner-Halev spells out the implications of arguments for conceptions of liberal justice and progress, reparations, apologies, state legitimacy and post-nationalism.