Arash Naraghi's Article: 'Civil Legitimacy of Religion or Religious Legitimacy of Civility?'

Civil Legitimacy of Religion or Religious Legitimacy of Civility?

Arash Naraghi (Professor of Philosophy at Moravian University, Pennsylvania)

September 16, 2018

In his article “Religious New-Thinking and Personal Rationalizations,” Mohsen Kadivar has offered useful and enlightening points in response to my article titled “Religious Intellectualism and Its Role in Iran’s Political Future.” I am very pleased and grateful that he has opened the door to this scholarly dialogue in an academic manner. Here, I would like to continue my previous article and, with a look at Kadivar’s article, express some points regarding the political project of religious new-thinkers, including Kadivar.

The substance of my claims in the article “Religious New-Thinking and Its Role in Iran’s Political Future” is as follows:

(1) The secular democracy of religious new-thinkers, such as Soroush and Kadivar, is illiberal.

(2) The liberalism I refer to in this context consists of recognizing the “right to be wrong” in the public sphere. According to this conception, the scope of this principle’s application in the public sphere must be determined based on secular and rational reasons, and resorting to purely intra-religious reasons for this purpose is invalid.

(3) The secular democracy of Soroush and Kadivar, in the final analysis, is government/politics within the bounds of religion (according to a new-thinking reading of it, of course). That is, although Soroush and Kadivar accept the principle of the right to be wrong, they determine the scope of that right (among other things) on purely intra-religious grounds. The example of sexual minority rights is merely one case that shows how the beliefs and sometimes religious prejudices of religious new-thinkers play a decisive role in determining the limits of “intolerable wrongs.” Soroush and Kadivar, without presenting any independent rational or scientific reason and solely based on their religious beliefs and sometimes prejudices, believe in restricting the human and civil rights of sexual minorities in the public sphere. And this is among the reasons that show their conception of a desirable government is inevitably illiberal.

(4) Religious new-thinkers, including Soroush and Kadivar, consider their model of government, i.e., secular democracy (which is ultimately the model of democratic believers’ government), to be better for Iran’s political future compared to rival models. In their view, democratic believers have a greater chance of gaining and maintaining political power due to their broader social base, and their presence in power would both safeguard civil and democratic values and protect the religious values of the religious majority of society.

(5) It seems that Iranian society has been on a gentle (and sometimes steep) slope in favor of the religious-minded. If this is the case, then in the absence of independent and powerful civil institutions overseeing the political power of the state, the government of democratic believers desired by Soroush and Kadivar will, in practice, sooner or later be exposed to illegitimate exploitations of political power, and also sooner or later will face a dilemma: either it must sacrifice its democratic and civil values for its commitment to the majority’s religion in order to gain and maintain political power, or it must abandon its commitment to the majority’s religion (at least in the public sphere) to preserve democratic and civil values.

(6) Since, under current conditions, Iranian society lacks independent and powerful civil institutions, my suggestion is that religious-oriented currents and groups (in their religious capacity) refrain from directly entering the structure of political power, and fulfill their political role and mission not through attempting to capture the state apparatus (in its broad sense), but through strengthening independent and powerful civil institutions in Iranian society.

It would be good to examine Kadivar’s points of disagreement with these claims one by one:

First. It seems that Kadivar agrees with me that if we understand liberalism in the sense stated in proposition (2), proposition (1) will be true, meaning that the secular democracy he envisions will not be "liberal" in that sense. However, from his perspective, this understanding of liberalism is "subjective," "personal," and "romantic," and none of the "prominent political philosophers of liberalism in the last two centuries" have accepted that understanding. But this claim does not appear to be correct. As far as I can see, the conceptual relationship between liberalism and the right to be wrong is quite clear. For example, when we speak of the "right to freedom of expression," we do not mean that individuals are free to express opinions that we approve of or consider right. The core and primary value of the right to freedom of expression lies in recognizing and guaranteeing the right to express thoughts that are considered wrong from our perspective. It is for this reason that, for instance, John Stuart Mill devoted a significant part of his book, On Liberty, to defending the necessity and importance of the right to publicly present "false" opinions (whether opinions that are actually false, or opinions that are false from our perspective). Or when we speak of "freedom of religion and conscience," we do not mean that everyone is free to adhere and commit to the religion and belief that I or my like-minded peers consider right; rather, the main claim is that individuals have the right to organize their lives based on the faith and belief that they themselves consider right (even if it is wrong from my and my like-minded peers' perspective). It is for this reason that, for example, John Locke in his book, A Letter Concerning Toleration, argues in detail that society should tolerate those who do not share our faith and religious beliefs (i.e., are considered wrong from our perspective), and recognize their right to live according to their religious beliefs. That is, in all these cases, the essence of freedom, in all its forms, is the recognition of the "right to be wrong." The concept of the "right to be wrong" as the essence of liberalism has been discussed in detail in the works of prominent contemporary liberal thinkers, including Ronald Dworkin, Jeremy Waldron, Joseph Raz, and many others, and I have also provided explanations in some of my writings about the philosophical analysis of this concept and its related literature, the repetition of which does not seem necessary here.

Second. As it happens, Kadivar himself, in some of his writings, defends freedom as the right to be wrong. For example, in one of his epistles, he raises the question: "Is the right to be wrong acceptable in a religious society?" and in response writes: "In a society that, according to my conception, is Islamic, the right to be wrong is recognized, albeit with certain considerations: for instance, there are cases where individuals are not permitted to be wrong in certain matters, such as cases involving harm to others, especially harm to social rights. But if the consequences of an action, in its purely general sense, pertain to the individual themselves, [that individual] has the right to be wrong. They have the right not to be a Muslim, they have the right not to be a Shiite, they have the right not to be a supporter of religious government; they have the right to all of these (meaning they are permitted, not that they are right). That they will incur otherworldly punishment is a separate discussion. But in worldly terms, it is not the case that anyone who is wrong is deprived of all social rights in a religious society. These must be discussed on a case-by-case basis, and a general ruling cannot be issued." Therefore, it does not seem that Kadivar himself has a problem with the principle of the "right to be wrong." His main problem concerns the criteria for determining the limits of "tolerable wrongs." Many liberal theorists (including Rawls, Habermas, Nussbaum, and others) argue in detail that these limits should be determined based on reason or secular reasoning that is accessible to all citizens (regardless of their comprehensive conceptions of the good). But Kadivar believes that some "wrongs" can be deemed intolerable based on purely religious reasons (which are accessible only to the followers of a specific religion) and can be eliminated from the public sphere or their presence therein restricted. For example, he believes that secular reason does not have mastery over many aspects related to sexual matters, family issues, and matrimony (munakahat), and therefore, in these matters, the religious majority has the right, independently of the judgments of secular reason, to impose the Islamic Sharia's conception of these matters as law upon the public sphere, and thereby expel alternative forms and conceptions from the public sphere or restrict their presence. I think one of the main points of disagreement lies here.

Kadivar writes in this regard: "The implicit presupposition of such a constraint [i.e., the idea that public sphere policies, including determining the scope of tolerable wrongs, should be based on common reason accessible to all citizens rather than purely religious reasons] is the incapacitation of religious citizens. [According to this view] religious reasons suffer from a permanent immaturity, and unless an independent rational argument compensates for their minority and incapacitation, they are not acceptable. Believing citizens are only permitted to exercise their legislative rights under the permanent guardianship of philosophers." He then adds: "[In the position of legislating] the lack of an independent rational justification apart from religion does not invalidate any law. Raising such constraints is a violation of the majority's rights based on personal subjectivities and maximalist rationalism." But the reason that purely religious reasons should not be the basis for policies and guidelines that determine the public sphere is not that religious citizens are incapacitated or minors. The reason is that the public sphere is the common property of all citizens (both religious and non-religious), and the determination of policies and guidelines that shape the destiny of all citizens must be based on foundations that are, in principle, accessible (epistemically and evaluatively) to all citizens. For example, suppose a religious person claims that abortion must be legally prohibited because a reliable hadith from an Infallible has deemed that act forbidden. If there is no independent rational reason for prohibiting abortion, then on what basis (other than force) should individuals who do not believe in the authority of the Infallible's word consider that prohibition justified? Of course, if such a hadith truly exists, its observance is obligatory for those who believe in the authority of the Infallible's word. But why should this intra-religious belief become the basis for the actions and lives of those who hold absolutely no such belief? Of course, if the religious person, in defending their proposal for the legal prohibition of abortion, argues that "the right to life of all human beings is respected, and the human fetus possesses the right to life, and therefore, abortion violates the fetus's right to life, and on this account, it must be legally prohibited," other citizens of society who do not share that individual's religious beliefs can discuss and judge the correctness or incorrectness of this rational and common argument, whether negatively or positively, and the result of this rational discussion in the public sphere can have authority for both parties to the dialogue (regardless of their religious or non-religious beliefs). But citing the word of an Infallible (even if textually and historically justified and documented) proves nothing to those who do not believe in the authority of the Infallible's word. Now the question is: if we consider the public sphere as the common property of all citizens, do we have the right to determine the destinies of all citizens (both religious and non-religious) based on (for example) the authority of the Infallible's word, or does the principle of fairness and justice dictate that we propose and present the policies and guidelines determining the public sphere based on reasons and arguments that are, in principle, understandable and acceptable to all citizens? The presupposition of this question is the principle of justice and its requirements, not the assumption of the incapacitation and minority of religious believers.

Third. In my opinion, of course, it is not enough for the religious majority of a society to strive to present their religious proposals in the language and framework of secular reasoning. They must also possess "civic honesty" in this endeavor. As far as the religious believers in question are concerned, civic honesty means that when participating in the political sphere, religious believers prioritize the public interest and the common good of society over the advancement of their own intra-religious objectives. Of course, in many cases, the public good and intra-religious objectives overlap, and the realization of one leads to the realization of the other. But if, in some instance, the public good proves incompatible with intra-religious objectives, civic honesty dictates that the religious individual not disingenuously package their intra-religious objectives in the guise of seemingly secular arguments, and (as long as the interests of the public sphere are at stake) not sacrifice their civic mission for the sake of their religious mission. Believers, of course, have the right, within their voluntary religious communities, to realize their intra-religious aspirations and values (subject to certain constraints) and to order their lives according to their religious purposes. But when it comes to politicking and policy-making for the public sphere (as the common property of all citizens), they must act as responsible citizens committed to the principles of civil coexistence, not as evangelical missionaries seeking to dominate the public sphere. Naturally, citizens cannot be forced by law to adhere to "civic honesty." Commitment to this civic virtue must be part of the education and general culture of citizens in a civilized society (whether religious or non-religious).

Fourth. Kadivar, of course, never claims that the religious majority of a society has the right, by virtue of being the majority, to impose upon the public sphere rulings they deem justified on purely religious grounds. He rightly accepts another constraint on this process: the observance and consideration of minority rights. In other words, from his perspective, the vote of the religious majority only possesses legal/juridical validity and can govern the public sphere if it does not violate the rights of minorities. But this important constraint, namely the observance of minority rights, requires further reflection. For Kadivar, the constraint of "observing minority rights" means observing and guaranteeing their "basic rights," "minimum rights," or "fundamental rights." In other words, the ruling of the majority holds legal validity as long as it does not violate the minimum and basic rights of minorities. He explicitly states that the validity of laws governing the public sphere is subject to two conditions: "recourse to the majority vote while observing the fundamental rights of citizens." For example, when discussing the rights of Baha'is in Iran, he writes: "All human beings, regardless of their religious beliefs, enjoy human rights. No human being can be deprived of minimum human rights (the rights stipulated in the Universal Declaration and the two Covenants) because of their religious beliefs—even if, from our perspective, they are wrong and incorrect." (Emphasis mine) And elsewhere he writes: "Muslims (and not just Shi'ites) unanimously agree that Islam is the final divine religion and Muhammad ibn Abdullah (PBUH) is the last messenger of God. A creed that contradicts this fundamental teaching of Islam is, from the Muslim perspective, false, unjust, and a misguidance. [...] But the enjoyment of basic rights is the right of every human being. Religion, belief, gender, race, color, political stance, etc., have no bearing on the enjoyment of these basic rights. Every Iranian, whether Muslim (Shi'ite and Sunni), People of the Book (Zoroastrian, Christian, and Jewish), as well as the irreligious or those adhering to other faiths (including the Baha'i Faith), enjoys citizenship rights. Depriving any Iranian, including Baha'is, of basic and citizenship rights is rejected." (Emphases mine)

These views, of course, are certainly a significant step forward compared to the dominant opinion among Shi'ite jurists, and should be welcomed. However, several important points must be noted here:

The first point is that, from the perspective of Kadivar (and, of course, Soroush), the constraint of "observing minority rights" merely means observing their "minimum or basic rights." In the desirable secular democracy of Kadivar and Soroush, the government is obliged to observe the minimum/basic/fundamental rights of minorities, not the rights of minorities. Therefore, the religious majority of society, according to Soroush and Kadivar, is not obligated to observe the rights of minorities; they are obligated to observe their minimum rights.

The second point is that minorities enjoy these basic rights not by virtue of their minority status but solely as citizens. That is to say, for example, Baha'is possess basic and minimal rights purely by virtue of being citizens (and not by virtue of being Baha'i). In other words, their minimal rights are justified by an argument of this sort: "All citizens possess minimal rights; Baha'is are citizens; therefore, Baha'is, by virtue of being citizens (not Baha'is), possess minimal rights." Here, the Baha'is' enjoyment of their minimal rights is secured at the cost of not recognizing their religious identity.

The third point is that securing the individual rights of minorities is not necessarily and always equivalent to securing the rights of minorities. Merely securing the basic rights of the individuals of a minority group (as citizens of the society) does not necessarily guarantee the basic rights of that minority as a group. For example, securing the fundamental rights of Kurdish citizens does not necessarily guarantee the fundamental rights of Kurds as an ethnic or national group. For instance, Kurds as an ethnic group possess the fundamental right to self-determination, but securing the citizenship rights of individual Kurds absolutely does not secure their right to self-determination as an ethnic group. Minorities, in addition to possessing fundamental rights as individuals, also possess fundamental rights as a group that cannot be realized without recognizing their independent identity as a group.

The fourth point is that as soon as we reduce the qualification "rights of minorities" to the qualification "minimal rights of minorities," we have given the majority free rein to violate their non-minimal rights. For example, Kadivar believes that the basis for determining whether a right is basic or not is the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and its two Covenants. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights recognizes the right to change one's religion and to publicly express religious beliefs for human beings, but it does not make a clear and direct reference to the right to propagate religion. Therefore, it is unclear whether the right to propagate religion should be considered among the minimal rights of citizens or not. Some international law experts do not consider the right to propagate religion to be among the fundamental rights enshrined in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and its Covenants. If this is the case, then the Muslim majority in Iranian society could, on this intra-religious basis that the Baha'i faith is a "false, unjust, and misguided" faith due to its denial of the Finality of Prophethood and Mahdism (in Kadivar's terms), vote that they do not have the right to freely propagate their religion, and enact the prohibition of religious propagation for Baha'is (and even all other religious minorities) into law. Is this law justified from Kadivar's perspective? It seems that, according to the principles, the answer would be positive. Because firstly, this law (by assumption) was approved through a democratic process by the majority of society (i.e., Muslim believers), and secondly, it has not violated the basic and fundamental rights of those minorities (assuming a narrow interpretation of the Universal Declaration), meaning they can still freely and openly practice their religion without their fundamental rights as a citizen (such as the right to education, the right to marry, the right to a fair trial, etc.) being violated. It appears that the legal prohibition of the right to religious propagation for religious minorities, according to Kadivar's criteria (which are largely similar to the accepted criteria of Soroush), possesses both legal validity and true validity.

Let me give another example. The right to produce and distribute pornographic products or the right to sell alcoholic beverages are not instances of fundamental civil rights. For this reason, according to the view of Kadivar and Soroush, the religious majority of a society has the right, solely by virtue of the fact that these matters are considered forbidden from the perspective of Islamic law, to pass a law prohibiting them. This law, according to Kadivar and Soroush's view, possesses both legal and genuine legitimacy. It is in this way that, in Kadivar and Soroush's model of desirable governance, the rulings of Sharia can, provided they are based on the vote of the majority and do not violate the minimal rights of minorities, become the law governing the public sphere and shape the destinies and lifestyles of citizens according to the requirements of religious law. In the model of political Islam of figures like Ayatollah Khomeini or the early Soroush and Kadivar, the government imposes Sharia upon the public sphere from above and in an authoritarian manner, but in the neo-religious thought model of the later Soroush and Kadivar, the religious community opens the way for the dominance of religion over the public sphere from below and in a democratic manner. Thus, it seems that the ideal of establishing an Islamic state is still alive among religious intellectuals; previous generations pursued the realization of this ideal through authoritarian methods, but the new generation tries to realize that ideal through democratic methods. Does Soroush and Kadivar's conception of desirable governance not ultimately pave the way for the establishment of a democratic Islamic state in the style of the democratic Jewish state in Israel?

Fifth. In fact, one of the most important points of distinction between the desirable secular democracy of Soroush and Kadivar on the one hand, and liberal democracy on the other, relates to the difference in the conception of these two perspectives regarding citizens' rights: it seems that in Soroush and Kadivar's model of desirable governance, citizens are equal in their basic or fundamental rights, and the enjoyment of levels of rights beyond the basic requires justification. That is, here, proving a right (beyond the basic) requires a reason. But within a liberal democracy, citizens possess equal rights (whether basic or non-basic), and the deprivation of their rights requires justification. That is, here, depriving someone of a right (whether basic or non-basic) requires a reason.

Sixth. I think the entire 'problem of religious intellectuals' in relation to the category of politics can be expressed in another way as well: Religious intellectuals primarily dealt with an audience of believers who lived within a political and religious system alien or opposed to democratic and civil values. Therefore, one of their most important concerns was reconciling civil and democratic values on the one hand with religious beliefs and values on the other, in order to make those civil and democratic values acceptable to the religious community. Thus, their political project can, in one sense, be considered as granting religious legitimacy to (modern) civility. Of course, previous generations of religious intellectuals tried to do this in a direct way, meaning they sought to extract modern civil and democratic values directly from the heart of religious texts and sources, or to provide a direct justification for the acceptability of these modern values and methods by using the authority of those sources. In other words, their chosen method was to prove compatibility between religious beliefs and modern civil values. The later generations of religious intellectuals (including Soroush and Kadivar) pursued the same project but in a different way. They tried, instead of proving compatibility, to demonstrate the non-incompatibility of religious beliefs with modern civil values. Their effort was carried out particularly in two steps: on the one hand, by proposing the idea of 'humanistic religion' (Soroush) or 'compassionate religion' (Kadivar), they tried to show the religious community that modern civil values (at least according to their humanistic or compassionate conception of religion) have religious legitimacy (meaning they are not incompatible with religious values and beliefs, according to their view), and perhaps modern civility provides a more suitable ground for the flourishing of religion. And on the other hand, they tried to show the religious community how they can, while respecting the values and rules of the democratic game within a civil society, bring religion back to the decision-making and policy-making scene of the public sphere, and play in such a way that both the rules and requirements pertaining to a democratic and secular system are observed, and the principles and essentials of religion remain dominant and respected. It is in this sense that the political project of religious intellectuals (including Soroush and Kadivar) can be considered the realization of (modern) civility within the radius of religion.

But it seems to me that we are gradually confronted with a more fundamental question: Should religious intellectuals and theorists seek religious civility or a civil religion? That is, should they strive to make modern civility religious (i.e., to grant religious legitimacy to civility) or should they seek to make religion civil (i.e., to grant civil legitimacy to religion)? Can we have a religion that, instead of striving—even democratically—to seize and dominate the public sphere, seeks peaceful, equal, and non-hegemonic coexistence with the other partners in that common domain? When it comes to the management and administration of the public sphere, does religious legitimacy take precedence over civil legitimacy, or does civil legitimacy take precedence over religious legitimacy? My judgment is that religion can have a constructive political presence within a civil society only if it has first become civil. In a society with a religious majority, a non-civil religion (especially in the absence of independent and powerful civil institutions in society) can easily climb the ladder of the rules of the democratic game and, upon reaching the roof of power, pull the ladder out from under its rivals. It is for this reason that, in my view, democratic believers, instead of striving to gain political power, should do two things simultaneously outside the power structure: first, try to offer an understanding of religion that possesses civil legitimacy, and second, try to help form and strengthen independent and powerful civil institutions within society. This dual effort can, to some extent, limit the risk of domination and exclusivity of a non-civil religion within a democratic and secular system.

Of course, it should not be forgotten that religious intellectuals, including Soroush and Kadivar, have played an important role in shaping a civil religion. For example, Kadivar, who was once a defender of the apostasy ruling, later, by criticizing and rejecting that ruling, at least provided the theoretical possibility of voluntarily leaving the domain of religion, and thereby greatly contributed to the realization of one of the most important features of a civil religion (namely, the real possibility of safely exiting religion). By negating the apostasy ruling, the "religious community" becomes "voluntary communities of the faithful." And this is among the most important steps toward the formation of a civil religion. But it seems that religious intellectuals still harbor the ambition of conquering the public sphere through religion, or at least do not dislike such a possibility (as long as, in Kadivar's words, that domination relies on the majority vote and the minimal rights of the minority are not violated). This ambition for domination (even by democratic means) over the public sphere is, in my opinion, one of the signs of the monster of a non-civil religion that still throbs within the magic lamp of the desired government of religious intellectuals.

Seventh. But a final word. Kadivar concludes his article by raising useful points regarding scientific ethics and the necessity of observing it. I too would like to add a point to his good points in this regard. As far as I understand, there is a great difference between a political commentary and the proposal of a political theory, and each requires its own specific etiquette and ethics. A political commentary speaks of an individual's personal preferences, and for this reason, in many cases, it can be a matter of taste or devoid of any clear reasoning, and by the same token, an individual can easily change their opinion without any explanation. But the proposal of a political theory is a scientific endeavor that must be built upon clear and verifiable reasons and evidence, and changing it requires sufficient explanation and clarification. Unfortunately, many of our political thinkers (including religious intellectuals) carry out political theorizing in the style of political commentaries. And this method can, under certain conditions, prove very dangerous and harmful. For example, the historical memory of us Iranians has not yet forgotten that some, in the circle of intimate companions and disciples, spoke of the governance of the jurist (Velayat-e Faqih), in the West spoke of French-style democracy, and finally, upon reaching the seat of power, implemented the absolute governance of the jurist (Velayat-e Motlaqeh-ye Faqih). Changing one's opinion and theory is, of course, not a strange or astonishing matter. But changing a theory, in particular, must be bound by constraints and conditions so as not to lead the audience astray. As far as I understand, scientific ethics dictates that a thinker, when changing their theories, respect the following conditions:

(First,) the individual must clearly and honestly announce their change of thought, and explain exactly which aspect of their views has changed.

(Second,) the individual must clarify in detail and with precision why and based on which reasons they have found their previous views invalid.

(Third) the individual must clearly explain what exactly their alternative theory (if such a theory exists) is.

(Fourth) the individual must show why and for what reasons they believe that this new theory, unlike the previous one, is true or closer to the truth and superior to it.

(Fifth) and most importantly, the individual must accept moral responsibility for their previous erroneous views, especially if those past false views had harmful consequences for the individual and social lives of others.

Kadivar's intellectual record shows that he is open to intellectual developments and honest and courageous in expressing his intellectual transformations. But moral responsibility goes far beyond merely articulating intellectual changes. In some of his writings, Kadivar has made disparaging and hate-mongering statements about sexual minorities. These hate-mongering statements have caused the humiliation of sexual minorities and the further violation of their fundamental rights in Iranian society. The later Kadivar, of course, largely avoids that harsh and violence-inciting language, and most likely no longer believes in many of those sharp expressions. But those disparaging and hate-mongering phrases have remained in his books for years without any change or explanation and have been republished. Some of his later statements regarding the fundamental rights of sexual minorities are also concerning. For example, he believes that if sexual minorities publicize their sexual identity, society has the right to impose restrictions on them, that is, to punish them by denying some of their civil and human rights. Or elsewhere he writes that the government should provide the means for sex reassignment for homosexuals! It is not clear to me whether Kadivar makes this claim with knowledge of the difference between homosexuals and transgender individuals, or is unaware of the difference between these two groups. In the first case, the disparaging recommendation for homosexuals to change their sex is an ignoring of their sexual identity and a denial of the perfection of their creation. Today, even recommending sex reassignment to transgender individuals is considered an insult to their sexual identity and human perfection. But it is entirely possible that Kadivar is unaware of the difference between these two groups and has mistakenly directed that recommendation at homosexuals. In that case, the question arises: how can a jurist, without precise knowledge of the subject, issue fateful fatwas about it? Does not the moral responsibility of an ethics-oriented jurist like Kadivar require him to exercise more caution and compassion in his pronouncements (especially where his statements have significant practical consequences), and if he has made a mistake in this regard, to courageously accept responsibility for it and, in particular, apologize to the harmed victims? Let me give another example. The Baha'i citizens of Iran are among the minorities whose civil and human rights have been systematically violated. The later Kadivar courageously protests the injustice inflicted upon the Baha'i community in Iran, and considers at least their basic and minimal rights as established and inviolable. But sometimes, to refer to them, he uses the expression followers of the 'misguided sect.' Does not the use of these negative expressions fan the flames of religious prejudices and violence against Baha'is? Does this type of literature not make citizens who have been victims of systematic violations of their fundamental rights for years even more vulnerable to social violence and discrimination? Does not scientific and human ethics dictate that Kadivar apologize to the Baha'i community of Iran for using such harsh and violence-inciting terms? Kadivar's record in this regard is, of course, brighter than some other figures of religious intellectualism in Iran. For example, Abdolkarim Soroush calls homosexuals 'dregs and garbage,' and also, despite having a history of membership in anti-Baha'i assemblies and playing a role as an influential member of the Cultural Revolution Headquarters in the dismissal of Baha'i professors, as far as I know, he never accepts moral responsibility for that past, does not even protest in words the gross injustice inflicted upon Baha'i citizens for many years, and even refrains from expressing a single compassionate word in defense of their minimal and fundamental rights. Religious intellectuals have, of course, played an important role in spreading democratic and civil values and safeguarding human rights in Iran. But their efforts have been part of the project of granting religious legitimacy to modern civility. In my view, however, it is now time for religious intellectuals, instead of trying to make civility religious, to seek to make religion civil, and as a first step, to accept their intellectual and moral responsibility for their past errors. This moral accountability can greatly serve the formation of a refined civil religion and its civilized and peace-seeking entry into the public sphere.