This article pursues an immanent critique of a scholarly movement and mood that I call “the new genealogy of religious freedom” and sketches an alternative proposal. The new genealogy of religious freedom claims that religious freedom is incoherent, systemically biased, oppressive, ideological—and necessarily so. Its critique deploys a methodology inherited from Nietzsche and targets a vision of religious freedom associated with “foundationalists” like Kant and Rawls. This article calls both the methodology and the vision into question. The version of genealogy that this movement promotes proves self-destructive and incoherent, veering toward nihilism and unable to account for its own status as critique. Its attack on foundationalist religious freedom is effective, but it presupposes—and targets—conceptions of freedom, neutrality, and power that we need not endorse. For foundationalists and genealogists alike, these assumptions define religious freedom. This article rejects those assumptions and that vision of religious freedom. It sketches a pragmatist, dialectical vision of religious freedom rooted in alternate conceptions of power, freedom, and neutrality and a corresponding strategy for legally defining “religion,” inheriting the strengths of genealogy and foundationalism while avoiding their weaknesses.

This article explores whether allowing such expansive arbitration is a wise idea for the United States (and other western democracies). Like all arbitration, religious arbitration starts with a contract to arbitrate, but frequently does not invoke the law of the United States as the law to be used to resolve disputes, but instead allows parties to resolve disputes according to their own religious principles, both procedurally and substantively. The article is organized into two substantive parts. One part explores the strengths and weaknesses of the seven arguments against faith-based arbitration, which are (1) one law for one people; (2) religious arbitration produces substantive injustice; (3) religious arbitration produces procedural injustice; (4) religious arbitration is often subtly coercive to its members; (5) liberal society has a difficult time policing religious arbitration; (6) enforcement of religious arbitration sometimes violates people's rights to religious freedom; and (7) allowing religious arbitration promotes isolation and non-integration of religious communities. The next part explains and criticizes the five arguments in favor of religious arbitration, which are (1) religious arbitration is a religious freedom imperative; (2) religious arbitration can resolve some commercial disputes more accurately than secular courts can; (3) religious arbitration is the only way to resolve certain religious problems; (4) secular regulation of religious arbitration helps moderate and integrate religion; and (5) religious arbitration promotes value sharing between religious and secular cultures and as such enriches public discourse. The article concludes with an endorsement of the value of religious arbitration subject to reasonable procedural and substantive limitations.

In liberal democracies with religiously diverse populations, it would be surprising and troubling if a judge relied on a religious text or precept to resolve a legal dispute. It would deeply offend principles of religious freedom if individuals were bound by judicial pronouncement to obey the dictates of a faith they do not share. However, some commentators have long claimed that a person's cultural worldview has an impact on the way they interpret laws and facts, and there is some empirical support for this claim. There is thus reason to expect that judges’ worldviews have some effect on their decision-making. I argue that when judges deliberately avoid engaging with their own moral perspectives, they may mask to themselves the impact that such perspectives have on their decisions. The alternative of explicit reference to religious sources in judicial decisions, however, is too problematic for the religious freedom of legal subjects. I argue that judges should instead endeavor to be conscious of the influence their backgrounds have on their decision-making, but suggest that judicial institutions may be resistant to adopting practices that would support such an approach. The article draws on Canadian and American case law to demonstrate its argument but has wider applicability to liberal states.

Since the end of World War II and the beginning of the human rights era, a common narrative has dominated international discussions of law and religion, especially in Europe, that emphasizes the alleged idiosyncrasy and uniqueness of U.S. Constitutional law regarding freedom of religion. What I call the “standard story” notes that unlike human rights instruments, and the constitutions of most European States, the U.S. Constitution contains an “Establishment Clause” prohibiting an establishment of religion, while European countries do not have prohibitions on state establishments, and indeed the relationships between religion and the state fall along a continuum running from cooperation, favored religions, to actual state establishments of religion. According to the standard story, the Free Exercise Clause of the U.S. First Amendment is a precursor of and has analogues in the human rights instruments’ provisions protecting freedom of thought, conscience, and religion, but the Establishment Clause is characterized as being sui generis, a thing unto itself. The U.S. experience with the antiestablishment principle, symbolized by Jefferson's wall of separation, the standard story notes, is so unique and so different that the lessons gleaned there have very little to offer Europe, or indeed perhaps the rest of the world. In this article I argue, as my title suggests, that the American experience is not as unique as some (especially Europeans) sometimes think it is.

In Catholic doctrine, church and state are two different and autonomous institutional subjects, but they are mutually linked. Therefore, a believer, as a citizen, is a subject simultaneously of two legal systems; the state is bound to recognize the confessional dimension of its own members, and the church is called to realize its proper ends within a precise political-social context. The Second Vatican Council (1962–1965) constitutes for the Catholic Church a point of change and renewal. It did not limit itself to affirming the coexistence of the two systems in their independence, but it declared the necessity of a mutual alliance for the good of citizens and believers.

Therefore, the church offers its own contribution to the state, favoring in this way the right to religious liberty; and the state allows the church to establish itself and carry out its proper mission in an institutional form, guaranteeing the protection of the rights of citizens as believers for the free expression of their faith, whether in a private dimension or in an organized form. Vatican II abandons, therefore, the concept of “state religion” in the classic sense of the term, and thus the privilege reserved to one among numerous religious expressions, and opens an authentic collaboration between parties as a prerequisite for the good not only for individual believers and religious organizations, but also for society itself. In particular, religious liberty finds its foundation no longer in the concept of truth (that legitimized the exclusion of other confessions in that they were “not true”), but in the concept of the dignity of the person, which must be protected as such.

Why is shariʿa the taboo of modern law? This article examines the “spread of halal” controversy in China as a window to assess how nativist public opinion influences state law and policy whereas state law is foreclosed to providing protection to rights provided for in shariʿa. Among Chinese Muslims (Hui), qingzhen (lit. “pure” plus “true”) or “halal” is the kernel of their localized shariʿa, and one that prohibits consuming pork. The symbol qingzhen has proliferated in the course of China's economic modernization such that it pervades the public sphere, creating anxiety among Han Chinese that Chinese society and government is becoming “Islamicized.” Hui fear that the profusion of qingzhen foments food insecurity and endangers truth in labeling. In response, they have sought greater protection for their diluted core symbol in national legislation—attempts which have only exacerbated Hui-Han relations. Based on observations from over seven years of field research and interviews with Hui legal entrepreneurs, and drawing from the anthropology of taboo, I explain the debate in China by taking the Hui idea of shariʿa as a taboo to reflexively think about how secular non-Muslim states regard shariʿa as the taboo of modern law.

Rabbinical courts in Israel serve as official courts of the state, and state law provides that a Jewish couple can obtain a divorce only in these courts, and only strictly according to Jewish law. By contrast, in the Western world, especially the United States, which has the largest concentration of Jews outside of Israel, the Jewish halakha is not a matter of state law, and rabbinical courts have no official status. This article examines critically the common argument that for a Jew committed to the halakha, and in particular for a Jewish woman who wants to divorce her husband, a state-sponsored halakhic system is preferable to a voluntary one. This argument is considered in light of the main tool that has been proven to help American Jewish women who wish to obtain a halakhic divorce from husbands refusing to grant it: the prenuptial agreement. Many Jewish couples in the United States sign such an agreement, but only a few couples in Israel do so, primarily because of the opposition of the rabbinical courts in Israel to these agreements. The article examines the causes of this resistance, and offers reasons for the distinction that exists between the United States and Israel. It turns out that social and legal reality affect halakhic considerations, to the point where rabbis claim that what the halakha allows in the United States it prohibits in Israel. The last part of the article uses examples from the past to examine the possibility that social change in Israel will affect the rulings of rabbinical courts on this issue.

The Argentine Constitution contains two provisions regarding church-state relations. The first one recognizes the right of all people to the free exercise of religion. The second one provides that the state must financially support the Catholic Church. Based on this latter clause, over the years a complex regulatory scheme has been developed that differentiates that church from all the other churches and religions. Those differences are addressed in this article. The author argues that the religious establishment does not depend only on how the state defines itself (e.g., through a declaration in the constitution), but also on the way in which it treats people based on their religion. If that treatment is unequal—for example, when there are legal privileges only to a single church—then there is a kind of establishment of religion. It has been claimed that the religious establishment is not itself incompatible with religious freedom. In arguing that religious minorities can hold a different opinion, the author offers a brief account of the problems faced by non-Catholic faith communities in Argentina because of the state's unequal treatment. Finally, the author analyzes whether the reasons given to justify the legal differences between religions are acceptable. Otherwise, it could be said that there is discrimination—at least, in a broad sense—against religious minorities. While this article focuses on the Argentine case, the issues addressed are relevant to any country dealing with the unequal treatment of people based on their religion.

The Jewish marriage differs from the Catholic Christian marriage, which is an institution surrounded by the halo of a holy sacrament that cannot be nullified. It also differs from the Islamic marriage, which is closer to a legal agreement than to a sacrament, wherein the husband alone may annul the marriage, either unilaterally or by mutual consent. This is especially true of the Shi'ite marriage—the muta—which may be annulled without any divorce proceedings at a predetermined date. In this article, I present a little-known possible halakhic stipulation: temporary marriage. I consider its roots and the different applications in Talmudic sources. An example of the Babylonian application of this conditional marriage is the cry by important Babylonian amoraim, “Who will be mine for a day?” In this unique case, some of the halakhic authorities rule that there is no necessity for a get in order to terminate the marriage. I consider the early halakhic rulings on these cases and the modern version of this stipulation, which was also rejected by modern halakhic authorities. I also offer a comparative study of a possible parallel to the marriage for a predetermined period, the Shi'ite temporary marriage, which is intentionally restricted to an agreed period of time and does not require divorce to annul it. I conclude my discussion by revealing the possible common roots for the Jewish temporary marriage and the Shi'ite temporary marriage in ancient Persian law.

The Chinese Temples Ordinance was promulgated by the British colonial government in Hong Kong to address the alarming growth of “pseudo-religious establishments” exploiting the ignorant masses of uneducated Chinese residents. This article critically examines the ordinance and the 2015 proposed amendments as a case study of the potential pitfalls in state responses to religious fraud. First, this article demonstrates the discriminatory nature of the ordinance, which perceived Chinese religions as particularly prone to fraudulent practices and deserving of specific regulatory controls that are not applicable to any other religions. Tellingly, this discriminatory approach—while unconstitutional and undesirable—continues to underpin the proposed reform. Second, this article delineates the conceptual distinctions within religious fraud and the interaction dynamics between religious donors and recipients and argues that the government-sanctioned registration scheme under the ordinance is neither justified nor appropriate to address religious fraud premised on promises of divine intervention in exchange for financial contributions.

This article examines Pope Francis's understanding of the relationship between church and state, the ends of civil authority, and the importance of religious liberty. It argues that Francis challenges claims made by legal and religious scholars that civil authority must be neutral as to religious ends. Francis, the article contends, uses the categories of idolatry and solidarity as opposing ends that are cultivated by civil authorities caring for, most notably, the economy and the environment. Both are religious. Idolatry is the solipsistic pursuit of created things as an ultimate end and solidarity entails living in communion with God and others. The article further considers how these arguments have shaped Francis's views on religious liberty. Francis points to the importance of civil authorities respecting conscientious objection, the desirability of cultivating healthy pluralism, and religious liberty as securing the end of solidarity. This presents two challenges: first, to recent legal scholarship questioning the special importance of religious liberty; and second, to the exercise of religious liberty itself. If religious liberty is protected for the end of solidarity, can it be exercised wrongly? The article concludes by considering the Supreme Court's 2014 Hobby Lobby decision.

In accordance with Thai conceptions of Buddhist kingship, Thai rulers have felt obliged to devote considerable energies towards the promotion and protection of Buddhism. Over the past century (and more), state laws have been instituted and bureaucratic agencies established to regulate and implement such promotional and protective activities. This article outlines some broad trends and patterns in the bureaucratization of Buddhism in Thailand, and discusses their implications for religious freedom. It argues that although Buddhism has been extensively bureaucratized, the implications for religious freedom have been less severe than one might perhaps expect, owing not least to the fact that Buddhism is a monastic religion. However, recent developments—taking place in the wake of the 2014 military coup and the 2016 royal succession—suggest that the legal environment is changing in ways that may have negative implications for religious freedom in Thailand.

The discussion of legal pluralism focuses on the coexistence of several legal systems, mainly religious and civil ones. But what happens when a process of assimilation—whether imposed or voluntary—characterizes the relationships between the systems? This article analyzes the fascinating process of assimilation of civil principles into religious law in the context of Jewish law and Israeli civil family law. Assimilation, as the article shows, is not the whole picture. The article reveals a corresponding (both open and implicit) struggle for the preservation of religious law principles despite the continuing efforts of civil law for their curtailment, or sometimes, elimination. The result, which is somewhat internally contradictory, suggests a normative pluralistic framework that enables both regimes—the civil and the religious—to preserve their core principles in family law matters.