The religious discrimination bill is a test of Australia’s secular values

The religious discrimination bill caused so many problems for Scott Morrison but is the issue also going to create problems for Anthony Albanese?

The proposed religious discrimination legislation in Australia has re-emerged in federal parliament, sparking a significant debate that stretches far beyond the confines of religious freedom and into the broader spectrum of discrimination, societal norms, and the balance between public funding and what are, essentially, private beliefs. At the heart of this issue is the question of whether religious institutions, particularly schools, should be granted the legal right to select staff and students based on religious beliefs—which are against the notions of Australia as a secular nation—and institutionalising a form of discrimination that has long been contentious.

This legislation ostensibly aims to safeguard religious freedoms, a move highlighted by promises made during the 2022 federal election campaign by now Prime Minister Anthony Albanese. These promises were in response to Scott Morrison’s efforts to politicise religion and use it as a means to wedge the Labor Party during that campaign. The draft bill suggests giving religious schools the authority to employ and enrol individuals who align with their faith—raising concerns about the blurring lines between religious autonomy and an assumed right to discriminate, under the pretext of religious freedom.

Many of these institutions, especially schools, receive substantial funding from federal, state, and territory governments, highlighting a paradox where public funds may potentially support practices that contradict broader societal values of inclusivity and equality. Surely the argument can be made that if these schools benefit from public funding, they should adhere to the same principles of non-discrimination that govern other sectors of society. Why should religious institutions be exceptions to the rules that advocate for a more inclusive society?

This debate also brings to light the inherent classism within the education system, where private schools, through tuition fees, already enforce a form of economic discrimination. This existing disparity is compounded by practices that allow for the exclusion of students not meeting academic or behavioural standards, subtly reinforcing a selective system that privileges certain demographics. For these reasons, the proposed legislation is an extension of this exclusionary practice, aiming to codify the ability to discriminate on additional grounds such as sexuality or religious belief.

The hiring practices of these schools also need to be called into question, especially where there is a preference for candidates of the same faith over potentially more qualified individuals. This prioritisation of religious adherence over merit raises concerns about the priorities of educational institutions and their impact on the quality of education. Would students prefer their lessons to be taught by a superior science teacher who might be an atheist or from another religion, rather than someone who adheres to the faith but has limited knowledge of their subject matter?

If the goal of education across Australia is to provide the highest level of tuition possible, then the answer seems clear. Of course, there are many instances where an excellent teacher is also a strong adherent of a particular faith, but is it necessary to legally enshrine an option to undermine the processes of merit, based on someone’s belief system? The proposal to enshrine such preferences in law is also puzzling, as it could make these discriminatory practices more susceptible to legal challenges and public scrutiny.

The proposed religious discrimination legislation has highlighted the ethical implications of funding discriminatory practices with public money, the societal values we seek to uphold, and the kind of education system we envision for future generations, and has reopened discussions—yet again—on how to balance religious rights with the principles of inclusivity and equality, discussions that we didn’t really need to have.

An inclusive society cannot be based on exclusivity

This debate is further magnified when we consider the implications on educational environments and the fundamental values that underpin our societal fabric. At the heart of this debate is the assertion that educational institutions, particularly those founded on religious principles, should not be limited to employing staff who exclusively share their religious identity. This standpoint challenges the notion that a teacher’s faith directly impacts their capability to deliver education in subjects like mathematics or science, which are universally recognised as secular knowledge areas. The potential enrichment brought by cross-religious faculty appointments—such as a Catholic teacher in an Islamic school, or vice versa—speaks to a vision of educational environments as spaces of cultural and intellectual exchange, rather than fortresses of ideological homogeneity.

This perspective not only questions the underlying rationale for the proposed legislation but also the allocation of public funds to support schools that engage in discriminatory practices. The argument for moving towards a system without publicly-funded religious schools underscores a fundamental belief in education as a public good that should transcend religious divides and envisions an educational landscape where schools serve as microcosms of a diverse society, fostering mutual respect and understanding among students of different backgrounds.

The historical context surrounding the legislation’s revival—originally pushed by former Prime Minister Scott Morrison and now revisited under Albanese’s leadership—highlights the contentious nature of this issue within Australian politics. The internal divisions and public debate generated by the bill’s initial introduction in early 2022 underscore the complex interplay between religious freedoms, educational policies, and societal values.

Australia is a secular state—where freedom of and freedom from religion coexists—and has a vision for a society where individuals are free to practice their faith without imposing it upon others. This vision aligns with the principle of inclusivity, advocating for an educational system and societal structure that respects and accommodates diverse beliefs without compromising on the fundamental values of equality and non-discrimination. Religious discrimination legislation that actively discriminates against different faiths—or of no faith—would undermine these values.

This is all about politics, and not much else

The path towards the legislative enactment of these measures has been marked by political opportunism, deep ideological divides, and the inherent tension between preserving religious freedoms and upholding the principles of a secular state. The government’s call for bipartisanship, as emphasised by Attorney–General Mark Dreyfus, highlights the need for a collaborative approach to address this highly contentious issue. This controversy has been primarily fueled by the leadership of the Liberal Party, which consistently aims to polarise the community. Instead of seeking unity, it focuses on ideological battles as part of its ongoing “culture wars”—a strategy that would have exhausted any other political party by now. However, the Liberal Party remains undeterred, continuing its divisive tactics now into the third decade of misdemeanours since the election of the Howard government in 1996.

Of course, Dreyfus has demanded bipartisanship—and why wouldn’t he—surely such a piece of legislation, if it is going to be deemed by the political system that is something that is necessary (even if it’s not), then a consensus view rather than the ideology of a single party would be expected, as well as legitimise the provisions of this legislation in the eyes of the broader Australian public.

However, the response from opposition leader Peter Dutton, characterised by demands for “further details” and a critical stance on the government’s motivations—a tactic he used so destructively and decisively during the Voice to Parliament campaign—suggests a complex political situation where support for the bill is anything but assured.

Dutton opposes everything: this is his modus operandi. Dutton’s approach mirrors tactics seen in other political debates—such as the Voice—revealing a strategy that is more about political positioning than genuine concerns over the legislation’s content or implications.

The Liberal Party’s opposition to the 1988 referendum on religious freedoms—serves as a reminder of the deep-seated political dynamics that influence the debate on religious discrimination. This backdrop highlights the perennial challenges of balancing religious freedoms with the principles of a secular democracy, where the state’s neutrality in matters of religion is paramount.

Where does this lead us? The criticisms directed at previous versions of the bill under Morrison’s leadership underscore the potential for religious discrimination legislation to be misappropriated in ways that could negatively impact marginalised communities, such as transgender individuals and the broader LGBTQI+ community, or to solidify discriminatory practices. The debate over legal safeguards for divisive, inflammatory, or derogatory remarks—such as those made by footballer Israel Folau in 2019, despite his contract mandating equal, fair, and dignified treatment of all individuals regardless of gender identity, sexual orientation, ethnicity, cultural or religious background, age, or disability—and the denial of services based on religious beliefs, highlight the intricate balance required between protecting religious expression and shielding individuals from harm.

Under Morrison’s proposed religious discrimination bill, Folau could have made statements such as “homosexuals, atheists, hell awaits you… repent, turn away from your evil ways… God’s plan for gay people is hell”—as he did in 2019—claim it as part of his religious beliefs, and face no repercussions. Hospitals owned by religious orders—such as St Vincent’s Hospital in Sydney—could turn away patients from non-Catholic faiths, or LGBTQI+, or divorced people, if they wished to, based on “religious beliefs”. Is this the direction we want for Australia, a modern secular state that prides itself on values of inclusivity and diversity?

It’s crucial to separate the activities of the state from those of religious institutions, a fundamental aspect of maintaining a secular state. The blending of these boundaries, as witnessed under the leadership of Morrison, Tony Abbott, and John Howard, serves as a warning of the risks associated with allowing religious beliefs to excessively influence public policy and governance. The separation of church and state originated, in part, from church leaders’ desires for protection from the state: in the 1600s, the Puritan minister Roger Williams advocated for a “high wall” between church and state to shield religious affairs from the “wilderness of governments”.

However, this “high wall” also facilitated ongoing child sexual abuses by priests and staff within religious organisations, not only in Australia but worldwide. Initially intended to protect religious practices, this separation has, after countless instances of child sexual abuse and the legal hurdles that impeded the prosecution of clergy, resulted in churches now having the temerity to not only demand additional protections but also the legal right to discriminate against others under the guise of faith and religious beliefs.

It has become clear that the issue extends beyond the legal provisions of the religious discrimination bill itself: it encompasses broader questions about the nature of Australian society, the values it cherishes, and the kind of legal framework that best supports a diverse and inclusive nation. The challenge lies in crafting legislation that protects religious freedoms without compromising the rights of others or the secular character of the state—a task that demands careful consideration, broad consultation, and a commitment to upholding the principles of equality and justice for all Australians and ensuring that the rights of all citizens, regardless of their religious affiliation or lack thereof, are protected under the law.