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A number of doctors in Ontario have challenged the policy of the provincial College of Physicians and Surgeons that requires its members to provide a patient with an “effective referral” to another doctor if they were unwilling or unable on moral grounds to offer a particular medical service, such as an abortion or medical assistance in dying. The doctors argue that if they were to give an effective referral, they would be complicit in acts that in their view were immoral. I will argue that the significant issue in this case and other conscientious objection cases, is not, as the courts have said, the reasonable balance between the individual’s religious interests or commitments and the interests or rights of others in the community, but is instead whether the individual’s religiously-based objection should be viewed as an expression of personal religious conscience that should be accommodated, provided this can be done without noticeable harm to others, or as a religiously-grounded civic position or action that falls outside the scope of religious freedom and may be subject to legal regulation. The commitment to religious freedom requires that a distinction be made — a line drawn — between civic and spiritual beliefs or actions. An individual’s spiritual practices are both excluded and insulated from political decision-making. However, their beliefs concerning civic issues, such as the rights and interests of others and the just arrangement of social relations, even if grounded in a religious system, must be subject to the give-and-take of ordinary politics. In determining whether a particular (conscientious) objection should be viewed as a personal or spiritual matter or instead as a civic or political position, two factors may be relevant. The first is whether the individual is being required to perform the particular act to which they object only because they hold a special position not held by others, notably some form of public appointment. The other factor is the relative remoteness-proximity of the act that the objector is required to perform from the act that they consider to be inherently immoral. The more remote the legally required action, the more likely we are to regard the refusal to perform it as a position about how others should behave or about the correctness of the law, rather than as an expression of personal conscience.

Pierre Trudeau’s deep personal commitment to Catholicism was largely unknown to Canadians during his tenure as Prime Minister. Indeed, his religious commitment did not play an obvious role in his political life. Trudeau’s version of Catholicism, ‘personalism’, emphasized the personal – interior – spiritual commitment of the individual and the necessity of the separation of religion and politics. He stressed the importance of individual liberty in matters of faith but also the personal responsibility of the individual to serve others and work towards a more just society. Trudeau was opposed to the recognition of an official religion, and indeed to any form of state promotion of a particular religious belief system. He rejected the assumption that political community or social solidarity required a shared (and public) commitment to a particular faith or culture. His promotion of multiculturalism stemmed from his belief that national identity or political membership should not be based on a shared ethnicity that would necessarily include some and exclude others. His championing of the Charter of Rights rested on the view that citizenship should be grounded instead on a shared commitment to the protection of individual and democratic rights. Trudeau was a committed believer and a secular politician, who sought to separate his public action and private conscience. In a sense then he embodied the separation of religion and politics – of church and state – that is central to the contemporary conception of religious freedom. In this chapter, I want to explore the challenge of separating personal or communal spiritual life from civic life which Trudeau had to navigate, throughout his political career.

Religious beliefs/practices are excluded and insulated from political contest not because they are intrinsically valuable but instead because they are aspects of a collective or cultural identity and markers of membership in the collective. If the state’s duty to accommodate religious practices is about the status of religious groups rather than the liberty of individuals (a matter of equality rather than liberty) then it may not extend to practices that are idiosyncratic and have no link to a religious or cultural group/tradition. The requirement that the state should accommodate religious beliefs or practices (and sometimes compromise its policies) is most often justified as necessary to ensure that the individual’s deepest values and commitments and more generally his/her autonomy in decision- making are respected. I argue, however, that reasonable accommodation is better understood as a form of equality right that is based on the importance of community or group membership to the individual. Understood in this way, the accommodation requirement may not extend to an individual’s deeply held non-religious practices, if they are not part of a shared belief system. The willingness of the courts to protect certain non- religious practices (to require their accommodation by the state) may rest simply on their formal similarity to familiar religious practices such as pacifism or vegetarianism – that are specific in content, peremptory in force and that diverge from mainstream practices. Yet, as a practical matter, practices of this kind are seldom sustained outside a religious or cultural community. It is not an accident then that the very few instances of non-religious, ‘conscientious’, practices that have been accommodated are similar in content and structure to familiar religious practices, and indeed may have arisen from these religious practices.

The most frequently made criticism of the Supreme Court of Canada’s decision in Ktuxana v. BC echoes a familiar and more general criticism of the Anglo-American understanding of religious freedom. The Court’s narrow or ‘protestant’ conception of religious freedom, which is focused on the individual – on his/her belief or commitment and his/her personal relationship with a transcendent God – is said to have the effect of denying meaningful protection to Indigenous and other spiritual systems that emphasize ritual and community life, and that recognize a spiritual presence in the natural world. I will argue that in a religiously/culturally diverse society such as Canada, the protection granted by s. 2(a) (the Charter’s religious freedom right) must be limited to those practices that can be viewed, at least substantially, as personal to the individual or internal to the religious group. The failure of the courts to give religious freedom protection to important Indigenous practices may stem not from a narrow conception of religion but rather from a recognition of the limits of religious freedom in a democratic political community. However, I will argue that the majority of the Court in Ktunaxa went further than this and introduced a limit on the scope of religious freedom that unnecessarily and artificially limits the freedom’s protection based on a Christian understanding of religion, as concerned centrally with the worship of a divine power. In earlier cases, the Court has limited the protection of s.2(a) by defining the concept of religion narrowly or interpreting the practices of a particular religion narrowly so that they did not include communal connections and practices.

A commitment to free speech means protecting speech for reasons that are independent of the truth or merit of its content. This commitment, though, depends on certain assumptions or conditions – most notably that individuals are capable of making reasoned and independent judgments and have access to different opinions and reliable factual information. These conditions, of course, never hold perfectly, but they now seem to be eroding at a rapid pace.The character of public speech has changed in the internet era: how we speak to one another and how we experience that speech. Audiences have become more fragmented. Disinformation and conspiracy theories seem to spread easily and widely, so that distortion and deceit rather than direct censorship may now be the most significant threat to public discourse. There is little common ground in the community on factual matters or the reliability of different sources of information, which has made it difficult, even impossible, to discuss issues and to agree or compromise on public policy. Those who hold competing positions seem rarely to engage with one another and, when they do, their engagement is often combative. A growing number of people feel they should not be expected to hear speech with which they disagree, or which is critical of their views. The spaces or platforms in which public speech occurs have become increasingly privatized and therefore outside the scope of the constitutional right to freedom of expression. What future does the right to free speech have in this changing communication environment?

This paper examines the recent Supreme Court of Canada judgment in LSBC v. TWU, in which the court upheld the decision of the BC law society not to accredit a law program proposed by an Evangelical Christian university. The paper argues that the task for the courts in this and other religious freedom cases is not to balance competing civic and religious interests but is instead to mark the boundary between the spheres of civic and spiritual life. More particularly, in this case, the issue was whether TWU (in applying to operate an accredited law program) should be viewed as a private religious institution that is free to govern itself according to its own norms, or whether, because its actions directly impact outsiders to the religious group, it should be viewed as performing a public role and therefore subject to non-discrimination and other civic norms. The different judgments in the case begin with different assumptions about the public/private character of TWU (or at least its proposed law program) and so never really address the key issue and never really engage with each other. The paper argues that because admission to law school continues to be a significant barrier to entry into the legal profession in Canada, TWU’s admission decisions will have an impact on non-members. The law society, therefore, was justified in requiring TWU to conform to non-discrimination norms as a condition of accreditation.

In most religious accommodation cases, an individual or group seeks to be exempted from a law that restricts their religious practice. The accommodation claim, though, has a slightly different form in conscientious objection cases. In these cases, an individual asks to be exempted not from a law that restricts his/her religious practice, but instead from a law that requires him/her to perform an act that he/she regards as immoral. In many of these cases the claimant asks to be excused from performing an act that is not itself “immoral” but that supports or facilitates (what she/he sees as) the immoral action of others, and so makes him/her complicit in this immorality.

Canada is often cited as one of the principal sources of proportionality analysis --- an approach to the determination of limits on constitutional rights that has been adopted in many jurisdictions. The two-step structure of constitutional rights adjudication is built on the idea that these rights are the basic conditions of individual autonomy or liberty that must be protected from the demands of collective welfare. At the first stage of the adjudication the court determines whether the restricted activity falls within the scope of the right. At the second stage, the court balances the right against the competing interest advanced by the restrictive law, to determine whether the restriction is justified. Yet few of these rights fit this individual liberty model and are better understood as social or relational in character – protecting different aspects of the individual’s interaction or connection with others in the community. If we recognize that most constitutional rights do not simply protect individual autonomy but instead protect different aspects of human flourishing or dignity within community then two things may follow. First there can be no single generic test for limits on rights. The form or character of “limitations” on these rights may differ in significant ways. Second, the two-steps of adjudication may often be difficult to separate or the separation may seem quite artificial. Many of the issues addressed by the courts will not fit easily into the two-step structure of analysis, because the “competing” interests are really different dimensions of a social relationship.

Many recent hate speech cases in Canada, Europe, and elsewhere involve religion either as the source of views that are alleged to be hateful or as the target of such views and sometimes, of course, as both the source and target of these views. This chapter explores the difference religion makes to the application of hate speech laws – when it is the target of this speech. The ‘religious’ hate speech cases are difficult for the same reason that all hate speech cases are difficult. There is significant disagreement in the community about whether, or to what extent, the restriction of hate speech can be reconciled with the public commitment to freedom of expression. There is, however, another reason why hate speech cases involving religion are so difficult, which stems from our complex conception of religious adherence or membership – as both a personal commitment and a cultural identity. The chapter focuses on anti-Muslim speech in Canada.

The question of whether a province can require civil marriage commissioners to perform same sex marriages, over their religious objections, has been addressed by the Canadian courts in a series of cases. In each of these cases the issue is framed by the courts as a contest between religious freedom and sexual orientation equality that must be resolved through the balancing of these competing interests. And in each of these cases the court strikes the balance in favour of sexual orientation equality, determining that the equality rights of same-sex couples outweighs the religious freedom of marriage commissioners. Despite what they say, the courts in these cases do not balance or trade-off religious freedom and sexual orientation equality, but instead give complete priority to the latter. A refusal by a marriage commissioner to perform a same-sex civil marriage ceremony is viewed by the courts as the cause of harm or injury to the couple (an act of discrimination) and not simply as a competing claim. I will argue that there is no balancing in these cases because there is no freedom of religion interest to be balanced against the right to sexual orientation equality. The marriage commissioner’s freedom of religion lacks substance not, or not simply, because the commissioner is a public official, or because the interference with his/her religious beliefs is indirect or partial. Rather the religious objection of the marriage commissioner falls outside the scope of freedom of religion under section 2(a) of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms [the Charter], because it involves a belief about how others in the community should behave and be treated. A marriage commissioner has no claim to be exempted from the duties of his or her position on the basis of such a belief.

There is a debate at the moment about whether the law societies (which regulate the legal profession in the various provinces) must accredit a law program to be offered by Trinity Western University [TWU], a private Evangelical Christian college. The Law Society of Upper Canada [LSUC], along with the law societies of British Columbia and Nova Scotia, refused to the accredit the proposed program because of the school’s discriminatory admissions policy and in particular the covenant that all students are required to sign, in which they agree, among other things, not to engage in sex outside of marriage and sex with a same-sex partner. The issue in the TWU accreditation case is whether the covenant is simply an internal matter (a rule that applies simply to the internal operations of a voluntary religious association) or whether it impacts outsiders to the religious community or the public interest, more generally. As I understand it, the law societies are not claiming that the members of a religious community need to be protected from oppressive or discriminatory internal rules. There are two ways in which it may be argued that the TWU program (and the covenant in particular) will have an impact on the public interest. The first argument is that a school that teaches its students that homosexuality is wrongful or immoral will not properly prepare lawyers for practice in the general community. Lawyers have duties to their clients, to the law, and to the institutions of justice. An accredited school must be willing to affirm basic equality rights. Second, admission to Canadian law schools is competitive. If its program is accredited, TWU will select students from a large number of applicants. Following graduation (as well as articling, and bar exams), TWU students will be eligible to practice law in a particular province. The accredited law schools are a gateway to the legal profession. The concern then is that TWU’s admissions policy will have a discriminatory impact on gays and lesbians who wish to enter the legal profession.

In Mouvement laique v Saguenay the Supreme Court of Canada held that the recitation of a prayer at the opening of a municipal council’s public meeting breached ‘the state’s duty of neutrality’ in matters of religion. The comment discusses some of the difficulties or challenges raised by the Court's commitment to religious neutrality.

An introduction to a general discussion of the Canadian courts' approach to religious freedom, which argues among other things that despite their formal commitment to state neutrality in religious matters, the courts have applied this requirement selectively - sometimes treating religion as a cultural identity towards which the state should remain neutral and other times (when it touches upon or addresses civic matters) as a political or moral judgment by the individual that should be subject to the give-and-take of politics. Behind the courts' uneven application of the neutrality requirement lies a complex conception of religious commitment in which religion is viewed as both an aspect of the individual's identity and as a set of judgments made by the individual about truth and right. The challenge for the courts is to find a way to fit this complex conception of religious commitment into a constitutional framework that that relies on a distinction between individual choices or commitments that should be protected as a matter of individual liberty, and individual attributes or traits that that should be respected as a matter of equality.

A recent request for religious accommodation at York University has generated controversy not just about the merits of the particular claim but also about the general practice of religious accommodation under human rights codes and the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms. The issue in this case exposes some of the tensions in our understanding of religious freedom and religious equality – and more particularly the requirement of religious accommodation. “Religion” (religious belief and practice) does not fit comfortably within the model of equality rights or anti-discrimination laws and seeing why this is so might help us to better understand the conflict in this case – the university’s decision to accommodate and the public reaction to that decision. The first difficulty is that religious adherence may be viewed as both an individual commitment and a collective identity. The second, and related, difficulty is that religious belief systems or traditions may be seen as both a set of practices and a set of beliefs about truth and right, which sometimes have public implications.

There is a strong case to be made that racist, and other forms of bigoted, speech, even when it is not so extreme that it breaches general hate speech laws, should be prohibited on campus. A commitment to academic freedom supports the free and open exchange of ideas and information but also certain standards of communicative engagement – most notably the treatment of others in the academic community as interlocutors, as conversation partners who should be addressed and heard. Racial (and other) stereotypes and insults are inconsistent with the educational mission of the school and the idea of membership in an educational community. More generally, the injury of racist speech may be more acute in the closer environment and tighter community of the campus. However, the regulation of a broad category of racist speech raises a variety of challenges. In addressing the question of the fair and appropriate limits (or forms of regulation) of speech on campus, I will consider the case of Israel Apartheid Week [IAW], an event that takes place each year on several Canadian campuses, and more particularly whether IAW (and its claim that Israel is an apartheid state) is anti-Semitic and appropriately banned from campuses. The recent report of the Canadian Parliamentary Coalition to Combat Anti-Semitism [CPCCA] argues that IAW is anti-Semitic. However, the CPCCA claim appears to rest on the politically contestable view that the existence of Israel is vital to the continued existence of the Jewish people and that any criticism of actions taken by Israel to ensure its viability or any questioning of Israel’s religious ethnic identity constitutes an attack on the Jewish people. But these are politically contestable claims – about the link between nation and state, the treatment of religious-ethnic minorities, and the actions necessary ensure the viability of the state … The challenge to these claims must be treated as a legitimate part of political debate and cannot be excluded from campus.

According to the Canadian courts s. 2(a) of the Charter requires that the state remain neutral in religious matters. The state must not support the religious practices of one religious group over those of another and it must not restrict the practices of a religious group, unless this is necessary to protect a compelling public interest. Yet the neutrality requirement has not been consistently enforced by the courts. The fundamental difficulty with the neutrality requirement is that religious beliefs often have public implications. Despite the courts’ formal commitment to “neutrality” they have required the state to remain neutral only towards the “private” or spiritual dimensions of religious practice. The “public” elements of belief, which address civic concerns, remain subject to the give and take of ordinary politics. This distinction, although not expressly made by the courts, underlies the different treatment the courts have given to religious “practices”, which the state is precluded from favouring, and religious “values”, which the courts have said may play a role in political decision-making. This distinction between public and private religion, may also play a role in the courts’ accommodation decisions and account for its weak or selective protection of religious practices from state interference. Where the line is drawn between civic and spiritual spheres will reflect the courts’ assumptions about ordinary religious practice and appropriate state action. Because the line is not drawn explicitly but is instead framed as a distinction between practice and value in state support cases and is buried within the formal s. 1 balancing of interests in religious accommodation cases, the courts’ assumptions about the nature of religious practice and state action are concealed from scrutiny.

The Lautsi decision reflects the deep ambivalence in Western liberal democracies about religion and its relationship to politics. Like the Canadian courts, the European Court of Human Rights (ECtHR) seems to recognize that religion and politics should be separated but that this separation can never be total. While the ECtHR and the Supreme Court of Canada rely at least formally on a similar test for determining a breach of religious freedom (a test that emphasizes the state’s obligation to remain neutral in spiritual matters) their application of the test is guided by different understandings of the public/political significance of religion and more particularly the relationship between religion, civic values, and national identity. The Court in Lautsi seems to accept, or at least acquiesce in, two claims made by the Italian government about the meaning of the crucifix: that it symbolizes the Italian national identity, which is tied to its history as a Christian or Roman Catholic nation, and that it symbolizes the Christian foundation of the civic/secular values of the Italian political community – the values of democracy and tolerance. Behind the claim that the crucifix is not simply a religious symbol but also a symbol of the Italian identity and political culture, is the draw of a thicker or richer form of national identity than that offered by civic nationalism. The assumption is that Italians are held together in a political community not simply by their shared commitment to liberal values or democratic institutions but by a common culture rooted in a religious tradition. Religion and politics are joined at the core of national identity and the root of political obligation. This link between religion and politics, though, rests on the problematic claim that the values of democracy and tolerance emerged directly from Christianity (and are the logical, even necessary, outcome of Christian doctrine) and the disturbing claim that Christianity is uniquely tied to these values. While religion does sometimes intersect with politics in Canada, it no longer plays a role in the definition of the country’s national identity. Canada, sometime ago, embraced multiculturalism as the defining feature of its national identity and liberal-democratic values as its political bond. There is no doubt that Canada’s moral/social culture has been shaped in different ways by the Christian faith of earlier generations, nevertheless any attempt to formally link Canadian national identity to a particular religious tradition would run against the country’s self-conception as a multicultural (multi-faith) society.

In recent years, the Canadian courts have been confronted with a number of cases in which freedom of religion and sexual orientation equality appeared to clash. Specifically, the courts have had to decide whether religiously motivated anti-gay expression violated a provincial human rights code restriction on hateful expression (Owens v. Saskatchewan 2006). They have also had to rule on whether a human rights code ban on discrimination in the provision of services to the public was breached when a business owner refused to provide services to a gay advocacy group (Ontario v. Brillinger 2002). And, in two judgements, Trinity Western University v. British Columbia College of Teachers (2001) and Chamberlain v. Surrey School district No. 36 (2002), the Supreme Court of Canada dealt with the competing claims of sexual orientation equality and religious freedom in the public schools.

Hate mongers have found it strategically useful to present themselves as defenders of free speech. The shift from advocate of hate to defender of free speech fits well with the hate monger's self-understanding as a victim of state oppression and a defender of Western values against multiculturalism. More often, though, the opposition to hate speech regulation has a principled basis. There are many committed civil libertarians who regard hate speech as odious but are nevertheless prepared to defend the right of others to engage in it. Their opposition to the restriction of hate speech rests on a commitment to individual liberty sand a concern about the reach of state power. While I think the "civil libertarian" position is mistaken, it is not without merit. What is perplexing though is the extraordinary energy that these advocates of free speech put into the fight against hate speech regulation. They seem convinced that the integrity of the free speech edifice depends on holding the line here. Yet they seem indifferent to the more significant ways in which freedom of expression is being eroded in Western democracies. Whether by design or not, the obsessive opposition to hate speech regulation diverts our attention away from more fundamental free speech issues concerning the character and structure of public disclosure, and more particularly the domination of public disclosure by commercial messages and the advertising form. But, of course, these are not issues that can be addressed by the courts, except in indirect ways, and that may partly explain the lack of attention they receive.

The regulations in Alberta dealing with driver’s licenses were amended in 2003 to require that all license holders be photographed. The license holder’s photo would appear on his or her license and be included in a facial recognition data bank maintained by the province. Prior to this change, the regulations had permitted the Registrar of Motor Vehicles to grant an exemption to an individual who, for religious reasons, objected to having her or his photo taken. Members of the Hutterian Brethren of Wilson Colony, who believe that the Second Commandment prohibits the making of photographic images, had been exempted from the photo requirement under old regulations, but were required under the new law to be photographed before a license would be issued.