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Contextualizing Multiculturalism* Murat Akan Multiculturalist critics of liberalism have condemned difference-blind liberal laws as generally insufficient for addressing contemporary questions of justice. Some academic studies have interpreted every contemporary challenge to laws in effect for the general public, whether these laws are liberal or not, as a conflict between liberalism and the demand for group-differentiated rights. This conceptual and normative challenge to liberalism rests on an insufficient number of case analyses of generally poor quality. Critics often fail to differentiate between the concrete terms of political conflict over the public expression of cultural difference and the conceptual and/or normative conflict over underlying principles, in this case difference-blind liberalism versus liberal-multiculturalism. A close empirical analysis of an actual political conflict shows that the tenets of difference-blind liberalism can indeed be marshaled to defend cultural difference. In this article, I challenge the common tendency of the liberal-multiculturalists to present difference-blind liberalism as the “sick man” of western political theory. The argument has five parts. I underscore in the first three sections some conceptual, methodological, and normative problems arising from liberal-multiculturalism itself. In the last two sections I analyze in detail two actual political conflicts over a public expression of difference—the headscarf affairs in France and in Turkey—which suggest that it is statenationalism rather than difference-blind liberalism that underlies intolerance of cultural diversity.
“One man’s imagined community is another man’s prison.” Arjun Appadurai “Man hat Arbeitskrafte gerufen und es kommen Menschen” 1 Max Frisch
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ulticulturalist critics of liberalism have condemned difference-blind liberal laws as generally insufficient for addressing contemporary questions of justice.2 Some academic studies have interpreted every contemporary challenge to laws in effect for the general public, whether these laws are liberal Murat Akan is a Ph.D. candidate in the Political Science Department at Columbia University. He has taught political science at Columbia and at Bosphorous University, Istanbul. He is currently working on his dissertation entitled “Towards a New Political Theory of Secularism and Democracy: A Rereading of the Turkish and French Experiences.” Contact:
[email protected]. Studies in Comparative International Development, Summer 2003, Vol. 38, No. 2, pp. 57-75.
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or not, as a conflict between liberalism and the demand for group-differentiated rights.3 However, this conceptual and normative challenge to liberalism rests on an insufficient number of case analyses of frequently poor quality. Multiculturalist challenges to liberalism begin by pointing out that liberalism, by assuming cultural homogeneity, does not give cultural difference its due. However, they do not make a necessary distinction between the concrete terms of the conflict between the public expression of cultural difference and laws in effect for the general public, and the abstract conceptual and/or normative conflicts between difference-blind liberalism and liberal-multiculturalism. Indeed, close empirical analyses of actual conflicts between laws in effect for the general public and public expressions of cultural difference, and public debates surrounding such conflicts, can show that, in fact, the tenets of difference-blind liberalism can be marshaled to defend the expression of cultural difference. 4 In this article, I challenge the common tendency of multiculturalist critics of liberalism to present difference-blind liberalism as insufficient beyond doubt in addressing exigencies of freedom and/or equality in culturally pluralistic societies. The argument has five parts. After having underscored in the first three sections some conceptual, methodological, and normative problems arising from liberal-multiculturalism itself, in the last two sections I offer two case analyses which suggest that the opposition between difference-blind liberalism and liberal-multiculturalism does not always hold in understanding the political dynamics of cultural difference. In section one, I show that a major theorist of liberal-multiculturalism, Will Kymlicka, claims that difference-blind liberalism is built upon an assumption of cultural homogeneity. In section two, I show that Kymlicka’s theory of rights for minority cultures is built upon a conceptualization of culture as a “totality.” The conceptualization of culture as a totality does not allow a detailed examination of the ways in which cultural symbols are politically defined or encourage an examination of the concrete political issues and institutional dynamics involved in some allegedly cultural struggles. In section three, I show that although Kymlicka’s theory does not posit cultural homogeneity for society at large, it does not sufficiently dismiss the possibility of cultural homogenization within particular cultural groups either. In sections four and five I offer an analysis of the disputes in France and Turkey, respectively, about wearing of headscarves. Superficially, both seem to exemplify an opposition between difference-b lind liberalism and the demand for group-differentiated rights. Yet a close analysis shows that in both cases it is not liberalism, but state-nationalism, that underlies discourses intolerant of cultural difference. 5 Cultural Membership and Liberalism Recent academic literature on the group-specific articulation of political issues, more commonly known as “the politics of difference” or “the politics of identity,”6 has posed a new challenge to liberal and democratic paradigms. A wide range of challenges have been raised in the name of the politics of difference; here I limit myself to those put forth on cultural grounds. Difference-
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blind liberalism has been attacked by multiculturalists for favoring a particular culture at the expense of minority cultures. 7 Deliberative democracy has also been deemed an unrealistic ideal by these very critics, because minority cultures face a public domain structured by significantly unequal power distribution among cultural groups, which prevents them from engaging equally in open and free public discourse.8 Hence, liberal-multiculturalists argue that the shortcomings of deliberative democracy and liberalism in solving contemporary problems of injustice require granting special rights to certain identity or culture-based groups. The work of political theorist Will Kymlicka on the relation of liberalism and multiculturalism is particularly significant, because he tries to formulate a theory that bridges liberalism and multiculturalism rather than positing them as mutually exclusive discourses. It is a liberal-multiculturalism that challenges difference-blind liberalism. Kymlicka’s analysis is motivated by the particular political contexts of “aboriginal peoples” of Canada and the United States (Kymlicka 1989: 4). Special rights for “aboriginal peoples” have often been defended against liberal assumptions, but Kymlicka argues that it is possible to defend minority rights from within an appropriately formulated version of liberalism. Rather than investigating the applicability of his theory in the case of the “aboriginal peoples,” I will discuss whether Kymlicka’s theoretical scheme applies in my particular cases. Kymlicka argues that a rereading of liberalism shows that the concept of culture lies at its core. Therefore, legal recognition of culture should not be an exception to a liberal theory of rights, as it often is, but rather a logical outcome of a liberal theory of rights. Liberalism is often exclusively associated with individual rights while multiculturalism is exclusively associated with collective rights. According to Kymlicka, however, the respective rationales for individual and collective rights are not as far apart as this usual association might suggest: “The problem is that there are two kinds of respect for individuals at stake here” (Kymlicka 1989: 150). Both individual and collective rights can be grounded on respect for the individual. At the same time, Kymlicka reminds the reader that his task is not to find a liberal grounding for collective rights but rather to find a liberal grounding for rights for cultural groups. These rights may or may not be collective rights: “The measures claimed by minority cultures, as we shall see, typically involve both individual and collective rights, as those terms are commonly defined” (Kymlicka 1989: 139). Kymlicka’s eagerness to distinguish the issue of rights for cultural groups from the debate between individual and collective rights may seem at first like a simple conceptual reconfiguration. Yet in the final analysis, this distinction does have a significant bearing on his argument in defense of special rights for minority cultures. Kymlicka explicitly states the relation between his conceptual reconfiguration and his normative argument in defense of rights for minority cultures: The term “minority rights” is often used to refer to non-cultural minorities, or to rights of non-discrimination, rather than to special measures for distinct cultures. And many of the measures which are commonly described as “group rights” (e.g. for handicapped), or
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“collective rights” (e.g. for unions), or “consociationalism” (e.g. incorporating people into the state through membership in occupational groups), have nothing to do with cultural membership. If they are justifiable within a liberal perspective, the justification will involve different issues (Kymlicka 1989: 139).
Kymlicka’s elaboration of the liberal justification for the defense of rights for minority cultures starts out with an observation: Some groups experience a “devastating problem…the loss of cultural membership” (Kymlicka 1989: 151). This is the problem for which rights for minority cultures are proposed as a solution. The connection with liberalism is made by asserting the relevance of culture to autonomy. Thus, “culture is…a crucial component of Rawls’s own argument for liberty” (Kymlicka 1989: 166), because “[l]iberal values require both individual freedom of choice and a secure cultural context from which individuals can make their choices” (Kymlicka 1989: 169). People are entitled to choose their own life goals and are also entitled to revise them. The formation and revision of life goals, argues Kymlicka, requires a cultural framework within the larger society (Kymlicka 1989: 163, 1995: 105-6). Hence, he concludes, the realization of liberal autonomy requires culture as a primary good.9 Why is it then that contemporary liberals such as Ronald Dworkin and John Rawls do not count culture as a primary good? Kymlicka claims that this omission is due to their use of the old model of the nation-state: The answer, I think, lies not in any deep, foundational flaw in liberalism, but simply in the fact that Rawls and Dworkin, like most post-war political theorists, work with a very simplified theory of the nation-state, where the political community is co-terminous with one and only one cultural community. Of course, cultural membership is still a primary good in a culturally homogeneous country. But it is a kind of public good, equally available to all, not the source of differential rights-claims (Kymlicka 1989: 177-8).
If the assumption of cultural homogeneity is relaxed or replaced by an assumption of cultural heterogeneity, claims Kymlicka, the importance of a cultural context in exercising the liberal right of individual choice will require granting special rights to minority cultures in the name of liberalism (Kymlicka 1989: 178). We should observe that the old model of the nation-state associated with a culturally homogenous society is not only an abstract assumption underlying certain normative political theories. It is also a current political reality, as the concrete political goals as well as the discourse of some states establish and sustain this very homogeneity. I shall argue that it is not difference-blind liberalism but this kind of state-nationalism that is the true enemy of cultural difference. If the tenets of difference-blind liberalism can be marshaled to defend cultural diversity against state-nationalism, this suggests that the antagonism Will Kymlicka finds between difference-bl ind liberalism and cultural diversity at best exists in specific contexts. Before, I pursue this argument via case analyses, I would like to turn to a methodological issue.
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Multiculturalism and Culture as Totality: A Methodological Issue What is striking in the multiculturalist critique of liberalism is that although “culture” is the central concept bearing the whole thrust of the critique, Kymlicka’s alternate concept of culture which he suggests as an amendment to liberalism as “the source of differential rights-claims” (Kymlicka 1989: 1778)—has remained a black box—underconceptualized and undertheorized. Thus, for example, Kymlicka’s reformulation of liberalism rests on an unhelpful conceptualization of culture as “totality.” He first distinguishes between a “political community” and a “cultural community.” This distinction is central to his criticism of liberals such as Rawls and Dworkin, because Kymlicka defines cultural homogeneity as the “conflation of the political and cultural communities” (Kymlicka 1989: 178). This is how he makes the distinction: On the one hand, there is the political community, within which individuals exercise the rights and responsibilities entailed by the framework of liberal justice. People who reside within the same political community are fellow citizens. On the other hand, there is the cultural community, within which individuals form and revise their aims and ambitions. People within the same cultural community share a culture, a language and history which defines their cultural membership (Kymlicka 1989: 135).
Kymlicka clearly needs a precise definition of “culture” here, but instead he addresses the issue in very broad terms: In one common usage, culture refers to the character of a historical community. On this view, changes in the norms, values, and their attendant institutions in one’s community (e.g. membership in churches, political parties, etc.) would amount to loss of one’s culture. However, I use culture in a very different sense, to refer to the cultural community, or cultural structure, itself. On this view, the cultural community continues to exist even when its members are free to modify the character of the culture, should they find its traditional ways of life no longer worth while (Kymlicka 1989: 166-7).
This attempt at a formal definition offers an analytical distinction between a cultural structure and the content of culture, and deemphasizes the latter. Yet, this definition also conflates three concepts, namely, “cultural community,” “cultural structure,” and “culture.” These conceptual ambiguities get even worse in his later works where he uses the terms “culture,” “nation,” and “a people” as synonymous. When he is pressed to conceptualize “culture” in Multicultural Citizenship he starts as follows: I am using “a culture” as synonymous with “a nation” or “a people”—that is, as an intergenerational community, more or less, institutionally complete, occupying a given territory or homeland, sharing a distinct language and history (Kymlicka 1995: 18).
And, later on:
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The sort of culture that I will focus on, however, is a societal culture—that is, a culture which provides its members with meaningful ways of life across the full range of human activities, including social, educational, religious, recreational, and economic life, encompassing both public and private spheres. These cultures tend to be territorially concentrated, and based on a shared language. I have called these “societal cultures” to emphasize that they involve not just shared memories or values, but also common institutions and practices.…And in the modern world, for a culture to be embodied in social life means that it must be institutionally embodied—in schools, media, economy, government, etc. Such “societal cultures” did not always exist, and their creation is intimately linked with the process of modernization (Kymlicka 1995: 76).
The above definition of culture, which covers “the full range of human activities, including social, educational, religious, recreational, and economic life, encompassing both public and private spheres,” is totalistic (Kymlicka 1995: 76). Kymlicka portrays culture as a totality, following the notion of the founding but now outdated theorist of cultural anthropology, Edward Burnett Tylor, from two centuries ago: “Culture or civilization, taken in its wide ethnographic sense is that complex whole which includes knowledge, belief, art, morals, law, custom, and any other capabilities and habits acquired by man as a member of society” (Tylor 1889: 1). Unlike Tylor’s definition, however, which implies an equation between society, culture, and political unit, Kymlicka posits culture as equivalent to society, with many societies within the same political unit, and hence many cultures. Yet, despite this pluralism, his concept of culture is grounded in a notion of totality. By sweeping everything under the broadly defined term “culture,” this definition hinders a detailed analysis of the inner power dynamics of the group. 10 The Continuing Possibility of Cultural Homogenization: A Normative Issue With these points in mind, let us return to Kymlicka’s main purpose: his attempt to defend special rights for “aboriginal peoples” from within a liberal perspective. His defense turns on whether or not these special rights violate the freedom of the individuals within the cultural group. Kymlicka is well aware of this problem. Thus, he asserts that rights for cultural groups are not “a tool for promoting particular choices” (Kymlicka 1989: 191). Rather, they are “a response to unequal circumstances” (Kymlicka 1989: 191):11 Protecting people from changes in the character of the culture of the culture can’t be viewed as protecting their ability to choose. On the contrary, it would be a limitation on their ability to choose. Concern for the cultural structure as a context of choice, on the other hand, accords with, rather than conflict with, the liberal concern for our ability and freedom to judge the value of our life-plans (Kymlicka 1989: 167).
In order to make liberalism and rights for minority cultures compatible, he prefers a conceptualization of cultural structure as “the context of people’s choices” rather than “the character of the culture at any moment (the product of people’s choices)” (Kymlicka 1989: 178). Members of the cultural group
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are free to make their own interpretations and follow their own judgments on “the character of the culture.” Based on this conceptualization of cultural structure as the “context of people’s choice,” Kymlicka concludes as follows: The notion of respect for persons qua members of cultures, based on the recognition of the importance of the primary good of cultural membership, is not, therefore, an illiberal one. It doesn’t say that the community is more important than the individuals who compose it, or that the state should impose (what it views to be) the best conception of the good life on its citizens in order to preserve the purity of the culture, or any such thing. The argument simply says that cultural membership is important in pursuing our essential interest in leading a good life, and so consideration of that membership is an important part of having equal consideration for the interests of each member of community (Kymlicka 1989: 168).
In order to further guarantee that his concept of culture does not violate the choices of individuals within the cultural group, Kymlicka introduces another analytical distinction: “internal restrictions” and “external protections” (Kymlicka 1995: 35, 1997: 29). The former term refers to the rights a group claims against its own members, “in particular, the right to restrict individual choice in the name of cultural ‘tradition’ or cultural ‘integrity’” (Kymlicka 1997: 29). Kymlicka deems this brand of group rights incompatible with a liberal theory of minority rights. He opts instead for the latter kind, “external protections,” namely “rights which are claimed by a minority group against the larger society in order to reduce its vulnerability to the economic or political power of the larger society” (Kymlicka 1997: 29). However, his appeal to “external protections” can still be at odds with his goal of reducing the vulnerability of a cultural group to the economic or political power of the larger society without violating the freedom of individual members of the cultural group. Even the notion of “external protection” is premised on a definition of culture as a totality. Since at the least gender inequalities and/or economic class will normally cut across the group, it is not apparent how external protections will be equally distributed within the group. Every identity or cultural difference is about setting a boundary; therefore every claim to difference is at the same time a claim to homogeneity, or a claim to disregarding other differences within the group. The decoupling of “internal restrictions” from “external protections” is not as easy a process as Kymlicka depicts it to be. More significantly, Kymlicka does not completely rule out the use of “internal restrictions”: If certain liberties really would undermine the very existence of the community, then we should allow what would otherwise be illiberal measures. But these measures would only be justified as temporary measures, easing the shock which can result from too rapid change in the character of the culture (be it endogenously or exogenously caused), helping the culture to move carefully towards a fully liberal society (Kymlicka 1989: 170).
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Thus, the distinction between “external protections” and “internal restrictions” turns out to be of little value in practice: Assuming that there can be some legitimate restrictions on the internal activities of minority members, where those activities would literally threaten the existence of the community, to find the precise limits would be enormously difficult, and I doubt anything useful could be achieved without reasonably detailed knowledge of particular instances. These are complex issues in which our intuitions are pulled in different directions, and I don’t see how any simple formula could cover all the relevant cases (Kymlicka 1989: 199).
Kymlicka’s defense of special rights for minority culture is in immediate need of a theory of power within a group in order to convincingly argue that “internal restrictions” can in fact be decoupled from “external protections.” Otherwise, bestowing special rights to minority cultures can in practice violate the freedom of individual group members. Leaders of cultural groups can use internal restrictions in the name of protecting the culture of the group at the expense of the freedom of individual members, and, moreover, can justify these restrictive acts by invoking Kymlicka’s concessions. The use of “internal restrictions” thus allows leaders of cultural groups to pursue a politics of homogenization within the group. Therefore, although Kymlicka’s normative theory of multiculturalism does not assume cultural homogeneity for society at large, what he so fervently criticizes in liberalism, he does not completely escape justifying the homogenization policies of cultural group leaders at certain moments. In deploying the cultural group as the unit of analysis, most scholars who write about multiculturalism are in danger of either essentializing culture and cultural difference and therefore reducing cultural groups to legal corporate bodies (Appiah 1994), or of misrepresenting minorities “as the abject ‘subjects’ of their cultures of origin huddled in the Gazebo of group rights, preserving the orthodoxy of their distinctive cultures in the midst of the great storm of western progress” (Bhabha 1997: 38). The concept of culture as a totality completely ignores asymmetrical relations of power in any given cultural framework, such as widespread gender inequality or economic inequality. Hence, it is very likely that [t]he proliferation of special interests fostered by multiculturalism is, furthermore, conducive to a politics of “divide and rule” that can only benefit those who benefit most from the status quo. There is no better way of heading off the nightmare of unified political action by the economically disadvantaged that might issue in common demands than to set different groups of the disadvantaged against one another (Barry 2001: 11-12).
It follows that making “a culture” a legal subject, a bearer of rights, becomes highly problematic. For example, Turkish immigrants in Germany comprise a single unified group in the eyes of the German state, but a close look at
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the differences between Turkish organizations in Germany reveals their diversity. There are religious and secular Turks, leftists and rightist Turks, cosmopolitan and nationalist Turks, and so forth. A culturally deterministic argument which attempts to explain this diversity by positing that the immigrants reproduce the political mosaic of their home country in the host country does not hold, especially as some of the Turkish organizations in Germany, such as the ones by minority religious sects, do not even exist in Turkey. 12 A monolithic definition which attempts to capture the complexity embodied in culture ends up generating nothing more than, in Appiah’s words, “bureaucrat ic identities”—a caricature of some reality which can easily become source material for racist sentiment. In France, for example, public opinion strongly associates Islam with fundamentalism while in fact there is not much empirical evidence for Islamic fundamentalism there (Brubaker 1992: 149). Essentialist readings of culture completely overlook the possibility that claims about culture as “the source of differential rights-claims” can be directed to political or economic ends. Although some minority group leaders appeal to essentialist cultural identities when voicing demands against the state, I would like to suggest that those claims are not necessarily “manifestations of culture” as such but rather of expressions of “culturalism.” Appadurai defines culturalism as “identity politics mobilized at the level of the nation-state.…[It is the] conscious mobilization of cultural differences in the service of a larger national or transnational politics” (Appadurai 1996: 15). Appadurai’s definition emphasizes the possibility of conscious mobilization of culture in a way that fruitfully amends Peter Jones’s claim that “cultures are not consciously constructed” (Jones 1998: 29). Perhaps cultures are indeed not consciously constructed. Cultural claims definitely can, however, be consciously mobilized. Culturalism, then, is a political phenomenon. In any given context, political institutions and “official public theories” (Favell 1998)—in other words, the main axis of debate in a given political context— have a significant bearing on how a “cultural practice” or a “cultural symbol” gets politicized and mobilized. Whether state institutions adhere to some kind of universal norms or not, they play a central role in delimiting the terms of the political debates in general within their territory. The modern nation-state embodies one of those instances where the boundary between the normative and the empirical becomes elusive (Held 1989: 13). States try to attach a normative force to their practices, a force generated through their prescriptive “official public theories” (Favell 1998). Once a cultural issue is politicized, these official public discourses inscribe meanings onto cultural symbols such that it almost becomes impossible or, at best, misleading to try to capture the “original” meaning of these cultural symbols. Such quests for original meanings become further complicated by the fact that the same cultural symbol acquires different political meanings in different contexts, as the cases below will also demonstrate. (Hence, one reason for my insistence on a nonessentialist reading of cultural differences or practices.) As is also implied in Appadurai’s definition of culturalism, the nation-state can replace liberalism as the true enemy of cultural diversity. It is striking that
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neither Iris M. Young (1990) nor Charles Taylor (1994), authors of the two most popular texts on the politics of difference/recognition, far from addressing the relation of nation-state and culture, do not even mention the nationstate. Nation-state building, which according to some analyses has comprised the most powerful attempt at creating culturally homogeneous societies (Gellner 1983; Hobsbawm and Ranger 1983; Anderson 1991), is surprisingly missing from the writings of multiculturalists who cherish the heterogeneity of culture. 13 Now I turn my analysis to two separate public debates about cultural difference, the debates over the headscarf in France and in Turkey, in order to substantiate the theoretical points made above. The Headscarf Affair in France In September 1989, three Muslim school girls—two Moroccan and one Tunisian—were expelled from their public-sector school in the commune of Creil when they insisted on wearing headscarves in the classroom. The headmaster, Ernest Chernière, justified his dismissal on the grounds of “laïcité,” the formal separation of the state from religious institutions (Hargreaves 1995: 125-128). The public debates that followed ranged from a condemnation of the veil as aggressive religious particularism or as emblematic of the subordination of women, to a defense of the girls in particular and the immigrant communities in general under the motto “le droit à la différence” (Feldblum 1993). In the final analysis, despite their diverse content, all of the public debates tended to revolve around a single axis: the integration of immigrants into French society and related citizenship laws. 14 At first glance, the headscarf affair in France seems to perfectly illustrate the arguments of hardcore advocates of multiculturalism, such as Iris Young (1990), who oppose it to liberalism, and for those like Susan Okin (1997) who oppose multiculturalism but still maintain a critical distance from liberalism on feminist grounds. Young can see a parallel between her distinction between the (liberal) ideal of assimilation and the (multicultural) ideal of diversity on one hand and, on the other hand, the terms that dominated the actual debate in France, of assimilation versus “le droit à la différence.” As for Okin, this affair, which figures as the introductory narrative of her article against cultural group rights, serves as an example of the emergence of demands for group rights. Okin deploys the affair at least in part to support her feminist argument against group rights, namely that cultural group rights perpetuate the subordination of women if the culture in question is patriarchal, which she claims is almost always the case. However, a close scrutiny of the affair poses a challenge to both perspectives. I argue that the motto “le droit à la différence” in this particular case cannot be interpreted as a demand for legal recognition of “difference” in the form of group rights.15 Hence, although in principle I agree with Okin’s argument for the incompatibility of group rights with feminism, I contend that the headscarf affair does not support her argument, simply because the issue was not about group rights. And, contrary to Young’s position, I will argue that the
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assimilationist policies of the French state cannot be attributed to liberalism, but rather derive from republican nationalist interpretations of liberal laws. Let me begin by unpacking this cumbersome phrase “legal recognition of group difference.” Thomas Pogge divides group rights into three distinct analytical categories: group rights proper, group-specific rights, and group statistical rights (Pogge 1997: 191). The right to wear a headscarf can be considered a group right only insofar as it applies to the members of a certain group, while in practice it is not experienced or exercised by a group but by individual members. Hence, if wearing headscarves qualifies as a group right at all, it should qualify as a group-specific right. In other words, it should take the form of an individual right, an exemption for women who demand to be exempt from the “laïcité” laws on the basis of their group specificity. But in fact the legal debates that followed the affair were not about Muslim women demanding an exemption from an existing law. Rather, they concerned the interpretation of the law itself (Hargreaves 1995). Article 10 of the Declaration of the Rights of Man and the Citizen states: “No one may be persecuted for his opinions or creed, provided that their expression does not disturb the public order provided for by the law” (quoted in Finer, Bogdanor, and Rudden 1995: 209). The third article of the law on laïcité prohibits neither the expression of religious opinion nor the wearing of religious garments (Hargreaves 1995: 125128). After all, Jews wear their yarmulkes and Catholics their crucifixes while attending French schools. SOS-Racisme, an anti-racist organization, maintained that it was against the law to victimize the girls for their religion. In response, Jobin, the minister of education, referred the case to the State Council, which ruled that wearing the scarf per se did not infringe upon laïcité, since the law only prohibits proselytism: donning a religious symbol can only be banned when it partakes of proselytism, and there was no evidence for this in the headscarf affair (Breiss 1990; Vichniac 1991: 53; Feldblum 1993; Hargreaves 1995). In other words, the universal application of the law meant allowing the Muslim girls to wear their headscarves. Despite this rebuff, the center-right in France did its utmost to interpret the headscarf as a sign of proselytism. In 1994, Francois Bayrou, the Minister of Education appointed by the center-right government, issued a circular to head teachers, declaring “ostentatious” signs of religious belief as proselytism. The obvious allusion was to the headscarf. Following the decree, seventy-nine students were dismissed from class (Hargreaves 1995: 127). In this instance, it was clearly not liberalism that was intolerant of difference. Until now, I have limited my analysis to the legal issues raised by the affair. However, some of the following debates spilled over beyond the specific event, ascribing a greater symbolic meaning to wearing of the scarf by invoking the terms of the “official public theory” of the French state, namely republican citizenship. The debate shifted to the national political terrain, where it was reformulated and positioned within the debates over French citizenship laws that had been underway since the beginning of the 1980s. The question of the headscarf was no longer a particular question contained within the legal arena— whether these women’s action was lawful or whether it was a demand for a special right (exemption)–but became symbolic material for a heated debate
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about French national identity and the successful integration of immigrants into French society. As David Breiss explains: “Those opposed to religious symbols in the schools saw foulards at the least as a threat to the capability of the school to educate, at the worst an undermining of the republic and national identity” (Breiss 1990: 4). The principle of granting citizenship in France, jus soli,16 came under attack from the right for various reasons in the 1980s (Brubaker 1992: 138). This nationalist attack on jus soli, writes Brubaker, “is best understood as a reassertion of fundamental norms of nation-statehood, perceived as threatened or undermined by immigration, especially North African Muslims” (Brubaker 1992: 143). Allain Griotteray, deputy of the mainstream right parliamentary group, the Union for French Democracy, argued that “the French have the right to protect their particular cultural identity from being watered down by other, more foreign elements” (Vichniac 1991: 44). The argument for more exclusionary citizenship laws was that the principle of jus soli made foreigners French on paper without ensuring that they were French at heart. In order to substantiate the unassimilability of immigrants, the nationalist groups pointed in general to the politics of “right to difference” and more particularly to the headscarves incident.17 However, the motto “right to difference” was not voiced by the immigrants and certainly not by the girls at the center of the headscarf affair. It was formulated by SOS-Racisme, an organization representing the three Muslim women. Moreover, the reformulation of the claim was inspired by Mitterand himself (Vichniac 1991). French groups such as SOS-Racisme that were interested in pursuing the cause of cultural pluralism took heart when Mitterand started to talk about “le droit à la différence” in the early 1980s. A series of measures were taken by the socialists during Mitterand’s first term as President, suggesting that French cultural policy would be more supportive of regional and ethnic diversity (Vichniac 1991: 40). The electoral victory of Le Pen as well as nationalistic public opinion 18 proved it self-destructive to defend immigrant rights by appealing to “le droit à la différence.” This led to a change in SOS-Racisme’s strategy away from culturalism. The bigger problem was the low socio-economic status of immigrants. Arguing under the banner of a “right to difference” was eliciting a stronger counterattack from the nationalist right and risking the educational opportunities of the immigrants, which were more fundamental for their well being than a right to cultural difference. In France, it was clearly nationalism and not liberalism per se that was hostile to cultural difference. 19 The Headscarf Affair in Turkey It is instructive to compare the affair in France to that in Turkey where the majority of the population is Muslim, while at the same time there exists a strong laicist tradition instituted by the founder of the Republic, Mustafa Kemal Atatürk. In 1987, a group of veiled Turkish women were denied entrance to the university campus, on the grounds that their “improper” dress violated Turkish secularism. Similar incidents have been repeated from time to time,
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followed by student protests, and intensification of debates surrounding the issue, but without a resulting change in the status quo. The debates and protests were aggravated by a commotion within the legal arena. Some advocated that the article on university dress codes for students requiring them to attend class in “contemporary costume” be annulled. The President of Turkey, Kenan Evren, fearing that annulment might be interpreted as a legal permission to wear the headscarf, intervened through the Supreme Court to make sure that the article was not removed (Kandiyoti 1991b). Unlike the question of proselytism that had been at the center of the controversy in France, the Turkish headscarf affair revolved around a paternalistic dress code for university students. The Turkish state did not have a complicated case to make, as in the cases of proselytism in France, but rather targeted any obvious Islamic symbol.20 The law exemplified the Kemalist modernization project from above, as implied in the word “contemporary,” which was, while not explicitly stated thus, obviously opposed to “traditional.” More specifically, as Kandiyoti argues, women’s clothing, in particular, has been quite often seen as the main yardstick of modernization in Turkey (Kandiyoti 1991a, 1991b). Except for a few unsuccessful attempts, the right to wear a headscarf in the university was not defended under an appeal to group rights. Neither were any references made to Islamic law. It is important to stress that women defended their wearing of headscarves by using a liberal argument—claiming their individual rights protected under the constitutional article on religious freedom (Arat 1991). The debates that followed totally ignored the fact that the strong secular republicanism of the state was being challenged by a liberal argument. Instead, the headscarf incident was exclusively interpreted from within the “official public theory” of Turkey, based on the opposition between Turkish republicanism (Kemalism) and Islam. Instead of acknowledging the liberal critique of republicanism sparked by the affair, the headscarf issue was presented by republicans and by Islamist politicians exclusively as an Islamic critique of republicanism. This dichotomy, Kemalist republicanism versus Islam, is so pervasive in official discourse that it even cut through Turkish feminist discourse. Islamist feminists opposed the secular feminists by wielding an analogy with the Kemalist Turkish revolution. One of the memorably illiberal mottos of the Kemalist revolution from above was “for the people despite the people.” Islamist feminists argued, in turn, that the secular . feminist position required being “for women despite women” (quoted in Ilyasoglu 1994: 31). Despite the popular depiction of the Turkish social and political scene as one of Kemalism versus Islam, public opinion on the headscarf affair did not fall along the lines of this strict dichotomy. One might expect public opinion to have been divided between strict advocates of wearing of a headscarf and strict opponents. However, contrary to expectations, a public opinion poll taken during the 1987 affair revealed a generally tolerant attitude to public expression of difference: 33 percent strictly opposed the ban on grounds of its being illiberal, 58.3 percent had a tolerant attitude towards the wearing of the ˆ
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headscarf, 3.3 percent stated that women should wear a headscarf, and only 7.7 percent strictly opposed wearing of the headscarf (Tekeli 1991: 20). In a survey conducted in February of 1999, 76.1 percent supported agreed that if a female university student wishes to wear a headscarf she should be able to, while only 16 percent disagreed with this liberal stance (Çarkoglu and Toprak 2000: 59). Clearly the headscarves issue is not as socially polarizing as the alleged Kemalism/Islam dichotomy would have it. In 1987, only 11 percent of the population (3.3% + 7.7%) occupied the radically opposed positions either for or against women wearing headscarves. The majority took the liberal position, seeing the wearing of the headscarf as a matter of individual choice. I can designate two paths of inquiry for the researcher faced with such a contradiction between the official interpretation and the evidence at hand: either the official stance is incorrect or statistics lie. I will pursue the former possibility. Under the umbrella of Turkish official public theory much political struggle between secular Kemalists and Islamists has generally been explained by positing culture as the source of the conflict (Time 1998). For instance, Emelie A. Olson argues that the headscarf affair “should be interpreted as skirmishes in a long term conflict between two major ideological systems in modern Turkey” (Olson 1999: 297)—the two ideological systems being Turkish nationalism and Islam. Olson’s interpretation not only fails to provide sufficient evidence, but also presupposes a historical continuity from the beginning of the republic, and hence skirts the question of timing: Why has this struggle between Kemalists and Islamists intensified at this point in time? More importantly, Olson misses the paradoxical nature of Turkish secularism. Thus, according to an early account by Niyazi Berkes, “[t]wo myths have sprung up and become established concerning the nature of the secularism emerging from the Kemalist Revolution. One is the belief that this secularism means the separation of religion and state after the fashion of French laicism; the other is the belief that it was a policy of irreligion aiming at the liquidation of Islam” (Berkes 1964: 479). That Turkish secularism does not exactly entail a wall of separation is plainly evident in the existence of the Ministry of Religious Affairs as an active and growing state institution since the founding of the Republic (Toprak 1981a; Tarhanl l 1993; Davison 1998). The ministry is invested with the authority of instructing citizens on the correct Islamic practices in the face of diverse interpretations and practices of local Islamic sects.21 The Republican state rid itself of the kind of legitimation that the Ottoman state had enjoyed through its affiliation with Islam, but it never intended to privatize religion completely. Rather, in Turkey, the founding elite made religion subject to the state in order to build a “nation-state.” The state controls religion, purifying it and suppressing its local forms, and then uses this “purified” form to promote a uniform society that is the object of its nation-building reforms.22 In controlling and centralizing religion, they not only wanted to eliminate religion as a rival autonomous source of legitimacy but they also used it to help institutionalize their own legitimacy. That religion is directly placed at the service of consolidating the nation is apparent in Turkey’s latest constitution, written after the military coup ˆ
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d’état in 1980. Article 136 of the 1982 constitution reads: “As an agency of the general administration, the Ministry of Religious Affairs fulfills the duties indicated in its special law in compliance with the principle of laicism, and remaining outside of all political opinion and thinking, and having as its goal national solidarity and integrity” (Kili and Gözübüyük 2000: 313). The secular elites’ institutional intrusions are limited to the religion of the majority only, in current times having left Christian and Jewish minorities alone. 23 This strategy reveals a utilitarian approach to religion, its use as an ideological tool in the effort to bind the majority to the nation-building project. 24 After the coup d’état in 1980, one of the pertinent deeds of the military-dominated constituent assembly was to give religion a new place in primary and secondary education. The Turkish constitution of 1982 protects freedom of religion in article 24. Besides a general commitment to freedom of religious expression, the article stipulates the relation of religion to the state: “The teaching and education in religion and morals is conducted under the guidance of the state. Religious culture and moral teaching is among the required courses in primary and secondary education institutions” (Turkish Constitution 1982: 24). We can thus see that Kemalist secularism and Islam institutionally never occupied thoroughly mutually exclusive spheres. At most the Kemalism/Islam opposition is a political dichotomy representing an elite conflict. As Toprak convincingly argues, with the advent of neoliberal economic policies of the 1980s, the monopoly of the Kemalist state elite on capital and political power was challenged by a rising Islamist elite (Toprak 1981b). This elite derived legitimacy for an oppositional political platform by making a counter-claim on the very religious sphere which the republicans have striven to control and monopolize as a source of legitimacy. The out-of-proportion politicization of the headscarf affair resulted from the Islamist elites’ attempt to carve out for themselves a political space, and the reaction such an attempt elicited from the Kemalist elite. 25 Viewing the headscarf affair as the manifestation of an inter-elite conflict suggests that rather than culture being a source of conflict, it is instead the terrain of conflict upon which political legitimacy is sought and contested. Conclusion Liberal-multiculturalism overstates the tension between difference-blind liberalism and cultural diversity, and understates the capacity of difference-blind liberalism to defend cultural difference against state-nationalism. This stance is maintained despite conceptual and normative ambiguities within liberalmulticulturalism itself, and despite the lack of an adequate number of detailed case analyses. As I have argued, liberal-multiculturalism à la Kymlicka starts out by dismissing the assumption of cultural homogeneity, which Kymlicka claims to be underlying difference-blind liberalism. Yet, although Kymlicka does not assume cultural homogeneity in his own theory, he does not clearly dismiss the possibility of cultural homogenization, because his conceptualization of culture as totality, combined with his inability to clearly differentiate internal re-
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strictions from external protections, can justify group leaders’ cultural homogenization policies. The conception of culture as totality is prone to methodological problems as well. The political dynamics can better be demonstrated by a method of inquiry that emphasizes the political mobilization of culture, and the constitutive role of political institutions and discourses in defining cultural symbols. My case analyses of the headscarf affairs in France and in Turkey have shown how, within different political contexts, the same symbol had different meanings, and how the variation in these meanings derived from the differences in political context. It goes without saying that embedded in my case-specifi c analysis is a criticism of the prevalent tendency within the multiculturalist school to generalize too quickly across cases (for example, Taylor builds his general arguments on Quebec and Kymlicka on “aboriginal peoples”). More significantly, my case analyses have demonstrated instances where it is state-nationalism, rather than liberalism, which constitutes a threat to cultural diversity. At the legal level the headscarf incident in France was not, to the dismay of multiculturalists, about the inherent cultural bias of a liberal universal law. The issue, as I have shown, is about the misapplication of a liberal law, a misapplication which derives from a republican nationalist interpretation of the liberal law. In Turkey, to interpret the headscarf issue as a manifestation of a cultural clash between Republicanism and Islamism is quite misleading. The majority of those polled who expressed an opinion defended the right of women to wear or not wear a headscarf on liberal grounds. Rather, the Turkish political elite, Republicans as well as Islamists, have used the headscarf affair as the terrain on which they battled for political legitimacy. The conclusion that in both France and Turkey it was state-nationalist interests that were intolerant of diverse cultural practices leads to a double critique of multiculturalism. First, multiculturalists have often identified a false target by opposing liberalism. At times, when state-nationalism threatens the free expression of culture, difference-blind liberalism is theoretically well equipped to confront this threat if sufficient pressure is brought to bear. Second, if difference-blind liberals and liberal-multiculturalists are to develop articulate critiques of each other’s theories, they both have to begin by dissociating themselves from nationalism. Notes
1. 2.
I would like to thank Brian Barry, Alfred Stepan, Nadia Urbinati, Özge Kemahlloglu, Brian Lennon, Frank Lovett, Ayse , Parla, and Mehmet Tabak for their comments on earlier drafts. I also would like to thank the two anonymous SCID reviewers, and SCID editorial staff Carla Koop and Grigore Pop-Eleches, for excellent comments and suggestions. “Manpower was called for, but people came instead.” The term “multiculturalist critics of liberalism” can refer to both illiberal multiculturalist critics of difference-blind liberalism, and also to liberal multiculturalists critics of difference-blind liberalism. The latter are more friendly critics of difference-blind liberalism than the former. Yet, in both formulations of the debate there is an opposition between the two stances even though the specific issues of conflict are different. Here, I focus on the friendly critics of difference-blind liberalism, namely the liberal-multiculturalists, because I find this challenge, as explored in the work of Will Kymlicka, the more articulate of the two challenges. ˆ
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12. 13.
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Arat (2001) does not emphasize that some laws of the Turkish state do not conform with liberal principles. Galeotti (1993: 594-597) argues that the headscarves issue in France is better viewed as a “quest for collective identities,” but does so without offering an in-depth analysis of the actual debate. My approach to the question of multiculturalism is inspired by Shapiro (1989). In this article, Shapiro denies that “moral questions can be bracketed from empirical ones” (Shapiro 1989: 67). See Linz and Stepan (1996) for the conflicting logics of democracy and nation-state in multinational countries. Politics of difference and politics of identity are sometimes used to describe the same phenomenon. For an explanation of why “difference” and “identity” can be used interchangeably, see Benhabib (1996a). For exemplary criticisms of liberalism from the multiculturalist perspective see Young (1990) and Taylor (1994). See Habermas (1996) for a definition of deliberative democracy. For multiple perspectives on the issue, see Benhabib (1996b). The connection between cultural membership and personal identity is also central to Kymlicka’s argument. While this is a book topic in itself, Kymlicka covers what he sees as a necessary constitutive relation between culture and personal identity in a few pages (Kymlicka 1989: 175-178). This criticism of the concept of culture is articulated further by Abu-Lughod (1991). Of course, there is also the question of the status of individuals outside the cultural group to whom special rights are granted. Yet, here I am pursuing a critique of the internal logic of Kymlicka’s argument, and in this respect the question of the freedom of individuals within the cultural group is more important than the question of freedom of individuals outside the cultural group for the coherence of his normative theory of group rights; that is, for testing whether his normative theory delivers what it claims to deliver. For a review of the Turkish organizations in Germany see Karakasoglu and Nonneman (1996). See , Soysal (1994) for an empirically grounded argument which challenges cultural approaches to the study of immigrant communities in Europe. The phrase “nation-state” is not once used by Taylor (1994), an omission which points to the exclusively philosophical nature of his endeavor. Taylor addresses the question of the importance of culture through a history of ideas, but completely ignores a history of institutions, in particular, that of the state. He does not address, or even raise, what I take to be the more important question his essay leads to: If authenticity is and was so important (in the formation of identity), then why did multiculturalist demands surface at a particular point in history and not before? I use the distinction between “assimilation” and “integration” in a manner similar to House (1996). House uses assimilation “to refer to socio-cultural aspects, often seen in terms of socio-cultural conformity” and integration as applying to “socio-economic and civic and civil rights” (House 1996: 220). Here I disagree with Galeotti (1993). Galeotti takes a step further and argues that the headscarves issue in France should be viewed as a “quest for collective identities” (Galeotti 1993: 594). The principle of jus soli, right of birthplace, can be defined as the principle of granting citizenship to those who are born within the borders of that state, as opposed to the principle of jus sanguinis, right of blood, which is citizenship by blood ties. At the core of the headscarf affair was the relationship of the cultural and the political in France. Brubaker (1992) explains this relationship as follows: “These components [political and cultural] have been closely integrated in France, where political unity has been understood as constitutive, cultural unity as expressive of nationhood” (Brubaker 1992: 10). According to an IFOP survey conducted in November 1989, 71% of the population identified Islam with fanaticism, 60% with violence. According to another survey by SOFRES, 51% of the population agreed that most immigrants are too different to be integrated into French society. For further details, see Vichniac (1991). The controversy over the wearing of the headscarf continues in France. For instance, see http:// www.unc.edu/depts/europe/conferences/Veil2000/articles/keyevents, http: //migration.ucdavis.edu/ mn/archive_mn/dec_1994-11mn.html. The phrase “contemporary costume” in the Turkish context was originally used by the Kemalist elite to target Islam. It reveals the Kemalist aim to “modernize” the country through an elimination ˆ
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of traditional symbols. See Tuncay (1981) for a close historical analysis of the founding of the Turkish Republic. The General Directorate of Religious Affairs was founded in 1924 and was renamed the Ministry of Religious Affairs in the 1961 constitution. See Juergensmeyer (1995) for an analysis of the relationship between nationalism and religion. He explains how religion constitutes a point of opposition to the legitimacy of nationalism, and as a consequence, becomes a means for the nationalist elites to institute their own legitimacy. It is not possible to maintain this claim for the first half of the twentieth century without any qualification. See Parla (1993) for a detailed analysis of the post-1980 Turkish political regime, and especially for an analysis of the relation of state to religion. The headscarf affair supported the Islamist elite’s argument that Kemalism was exclusionary in principle, and that they therefore had a direct interest in the continuation of the affair. They took steps to mobilize people, for example by paying women to continue wearing their headscarves. This point is further elaborated in Karakasoglu and Nonneman (1996). , ˆ
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