The statutory prohibition against ritual slaughter, which does not stun the animal prior to slaughter, as required in most Western nations, poses a significant challenge for the international right to freedom of religion or belief in European nation-states. This prohibition is important not only in Europe, or because of the prohibition itself, but because it implicates the legal status of two minority religious communities in these nation-states, those of Judaism and Islam. Some animal rights advocates have objected to ritual slaughter without stunning because, in their view, it causes needless suffering by the animal, and they have been successful in getting their views enacted into law in a number of European countries. Indeed, some countries prohibit ritual slaughtering altogether, as we shall discuss below.

This paper argues that the right to freedom of religion or belief requires nation-states to respect the rights of religious minorities that engage in ritual slaughter, even if they recognize the importance of avoiding unnecessary suffering of animals. Following a review of the legal status of animals in rights discourse generally, we will show why the prohibition of ritual slaughter needlessly results in discrimination against religious minorities, and why it is important that nation-states attempting to reduce animal suffering more clearly specify realistic alternatives for avoiding such suffering that are compatible with current religious mandates about animal slaughter. We will also consider whether the alternative of importing kosher or halal meat in place of ritual slaughtering, proposed by some nation-states as a method of alleviating the harm to religious minorities, is an effective and fair alternative.

Across medieval Western Europe, those who committed serious wrongs, such as homicide, arson, treason, and rape were subject to a wide range of capital punishments that were seemingly brutal, frequently bloody, and at times spectacular. Grisly images of an executioner dismembering a condemned's limbs from his torso, smashing his chest cavity, gouging his eyes, or piercing his body with hot pokers are the common stuff of scaffold art in the high Middle Ages. Such images attest to the critical role of pain in medieval capital punishment. Whereas in our day all attempts are made to render penal death painless, in the high and late Middle Ages, the tie between pain and death is not only tolerated but, at times, purposefully exacerbated.

“Human” rights discourse is inherently multicultural, and multicultural discourse is messy. The academese for that goes something like this: I am an “agnostic and ambivalent subject of a double, decentered multicultural choice” (see the following quotations) and my text comes from a minority stance in a “different context.”

Does the First Amendment afford religious organizations special protection when government regulation interferes with their internal activities or affairs? Nearly all scholars would agree that relief is appropriate where government regulation is designed to impede a group's religious mission or otherwise unfairly discriminate against religion, but such cases are rare. The more difficult cases involve neutral, generally applicable laws that are not intended to burden the internal operations of religious groups but, nevertheless, have that effect. Does the First Amendment provide any relief in such situations and, if so, what is the justification for this protection?

In Employment Division v. Smith, the Supreme Court held that the First Amendment does not excuse individuals from compliance with neutral, generally applicable laws that burden religious practice. Legislatures may choose to grant relief in such situations, but if they choose not to do so, the First Amendment does not require any special accommodations or exemptions. However, Smith did not address protections for religious groups, and, indeed, the Court has never directly addressed the scope of First Amendment protections where neutral government regulation interferes with the internal operations of religious organizations. Scholars who have debated this question have advocated a variety of positions.

Kathleen Brady's article, Religious Group Autonomy: Further Reflections About What Is At Stake, is intended to shore up her position that religious organizations deserve extremely broad autonomy from the law. Her thesis is two-fold. First, she believes that the law should not interfere with the internal operations of religious organizations, which is the position she has taken before. Second, she backs off the position apparent in her earlier work that religious organizations do great good, and, therefore, deserve autonomy. Now she posits a new thesis that religious organizations need to be protected from regulation, because they are working out the truth, and society needs the truth. This latter principle rests on the empirical claim that no one can fully know the truth (or even relative harm and benefit), and, therefore, when the law limits religious organizations, it halts the development of truth.

There was a time when I would have agreed with her, but I was then taught that my views were not based in reality. The problem posed by religious entities, even when they intend to seek the truth, is that they are run by humans, with the full spectrum of human fallibility. On this score, religious organizations really are no different than large corporations. The whole range of destructive behavior can be seen in both: fraud, extortion, misappropriation of funds, lying, deceit, covering up scandals like child abuse or doctoring financial records for the sake of the organization's image, and the list goes on. If religious actors are not deterred and punished for bad acts, they wreak great wrongs. This inescapable empirical reality plainly undermines Brady's earlier claims that seemed to imply that religious organizations deserve autonomy for the good they do.

Natural law has made a comeback in legal philosophy. The revival of natural law thinking in the legal academy began about thirty years ago and has managed to gain a seat at the table in current jurisprudential discussions. Defining natural law, Brian Bix declares that it “claims that there are fundamental and evaluative connections between the universe, human nature, and morality.” These connections need not have a Christian or even a theistic foundation. A belief in moral realism, that is, the propositions that “(1) there is an objective reality, (2) human beings can know something about it, and (3) there are some things that everyone can, and some things that everyone ought to, do in response to what they know,” ties together theistic and non-theistic versions of natural law. Yet many prominent contemporary natural law theorists—J. Budziszewski, John Finnis, Robert George, and Russell Hittinger —are Roman Catholic. Despite the fact that Finnis and George develop their natural law arguments without reference to any metaphysical states of affairs or transcendent truth claims, natural law continues to be associated with Thomas Aquinas and the subsequent scholastic tradition. Thus, even standards that Finnis and George derive from the internal rationality of law strike some as disguised theology.

Sir William Blackstone's Commentaries on the Laws of England is arguably the single most influential work of jurisprudence in American history. Written in the late eighteenth century, it regularly appeared in American law school classrooms up until the early part of the twentieth century, when ridiculing Blackstone and the Commentaries became a part of legal academic orthodoxy and the influence of the Commentaries waned. Blackstone eventually became the poster child for everything that the realists and their descendants thought was wrong with American law—formalism, natural rights and plutocracy.

Both Blackstone's admirers and his detractors have devoted significant attention to his famous account of judging, which holds that judges find (or declare) law rather than make law. In the introduction to the Commentaries, Blackstone states that the judge's job is to determine the law “not according to his own private judgment, but according to the known laws and customs of the land;” the judge is “not delegated to pronounce a new law, but to maintain and expound the old one.” One reason Blackstone's account has been attractive in some quarters is because it supplies apparent answers to a number of problems raised by the idea of judge-made law. If judges merely find and apply authoritative law, their decisions presumptively carry the authority of the law they are applying. Because the law pre-exists the decision, the specter of retroactive liability disappears.