Religion, Civility, and Conflict

ISELIN FRYDENLUND

RELIGION, CIVILITY, AND CONFLICT

Towards a Concept of “Critical Civility” 1

Introduction The sociologist of religion Peter Berger once said: “I suspect that, in the aggre- gate, religion is more likely to have negative consequences for civility—that is, that religion, more than not, tends to create conflict both within and between societies” (Berger 2005: 15). This position seems to reflect a trend in academic as well as political circles in a post 9/11 world, at least as seen from a North American and European perspective in which the resurgence of religion in politics is regarded as a threat to Western democracy and even as a security problem for Western societies. In fact, simply talking about “civility and religion” gives rise to specific associations of the opposite, namely confrontation, intol- erance, and violence, or simply what is deemed—by some—to be “incivility.”

The question I wish to address is to what extent religion contributes to civility in times of conflict and what such practices might be at the local level. At first glance, a discussion of religion and civility may resemble the religious violence or non-violence debate, but, as I shall argue from a social sciences point of view, the concept of civility takes our discussion in a slightly different direc- tion, away from “textual reductionism”2 or away from random examples of so- called religious violence. In my view, the debate about “religion as violence or non-violence” reduces the rationale for individual action to religious ideas and practices. Although far from being able to capture the full picture of the complex dynamics at stake, I suggest that the concept of civility is useful for understanding the particular ways in which religious actors engage in community reconstruction in times of violent conflict, particularly at the local level. By “religious actor” I refer to the person who defines his or her role in public life

1 I would like to thank Oddbjørn Leirvik of the University of Oslo and two anonymous reviewers for their valuable comments on this article. 2 By “textual reductionism” I refer to the tendency to look for answers concerning religion and violence in the normative textual traditions of what is defined as “world religions.”

109 STUDIES IN INTERRELIGIOUS DIALOGUE 23 (2013) 1 in terms of religion. I also want to make a clarification: my concern is not with philosophical or theological reflections on the concepts of “tolerance,” “compassion,” or “reconciliation.” Rather, it deals with religion’s social aspect and the ways in which it interconnects with other social spheres.

This article is divided into two parts. The first deals with conceptual clarifi- cations. Like all interesting concepts, “civility” is kaleidoscopic in its diverse meanings, and it is a term discussed within different academic disciplines, for example, in cultural studies and political philosophy as well as recently in the study of international relations.3 Notably, it is not an established term within religious studies or theology, but I suggest that the concept of civility can be analytically fruitful for capturing the role of religious actors in times of violent conflict. In the second half of the article, I will discuss the interplay of religion, civility, and civil society in times of violent conflict, drawing on material from India, Sri Lanka, and Rwanda to illustrate various practices of civility. Finally, I suggest a new way of understanding civility, which I refer to as “critical civility.” Despite different conceptualizations of “civility,” “civil society,” “politics,” and “religion,” religion’s role in the construction of meaning, as well as its potential for public mobilization, makes it a force in public life that cannot be ignored, regardless of its being deemed a threat to secular liberal notions of peace and democracy. If civil society participation is crucial to a democratic state, and given the fact that in many conflict-ridden societies religious institutions are important arenas for civil society activities, then religion’s role in society has to be carefully investigated. From a policy-making perspective, this carries with it the possibility of cooperation with religious institutions of un- or even anti-democratic values because far from all religious civil society organizations promote liberal notions of democracy. Nonetheless, some of them might be engaged in various practices of “critical civility” at the local level. The aim of this article is to capture this form of boundary-transcending activity in deeply divided societies and differentiate it from liberal notions of political civility, as well as from interreligious dialogue in its many forms.

Civilité: Controlling the Human Classification of the world in which we live is a basic human enterprise, and self-identities are constructed by distinguishing ourselves from what we are not. Being “civilized” and not “uncivilized” is thus a specific conception of self. Throughout history, it has been an important part of religious self-understanding to represent “civility” and “civilization” and others as “uncivil,” “barbarians,” “subhuman,” or possibly infants yet to be civilized. In missionary religions like Buddhism, Christianity, or Islam, we see that missionaries have

3 For example, the British journal International Relations has published various articles discussing issues related to “civility” in international politics and diplomacy.

110 RELIGION, CIVILITY, AND CONFLICT seen themselves as promoters of civilization that they have brought to the so- called “uncivilized.” Examples of such ideas abound in world history, but it is perhaps less well known that such ideas also flourish in Buddhism, a religion often perceived to be tolerant and inclusive. For example, early Buddhist sources in Sri Lanka (for example, Dīpavaṃsa) portray the island’s inhabitants prior to the advent of Buddhism in terms of demons and beasts that the Buddha tamed, pacified, and civilized through his extraordinary powers. Then, as in contemporary discussions about religion as good or bad, the construction of the categories of civility/uncivility and civilized/uncivilized are part of a discourse of difference, to invoke Foucault and Said, which is an expression of power re- lationships.

As shown by Norbert Elias in The Civilizing Process (1994 [1939]), European manners and attitudes to violence changed in the transition from feudal warrior culture to state formation and domestic pacification. The concept of civility ex- pands, Elias shows, from French courtly individual civilité to civilizing the state, the nation, and the broader spectrum of the population. This fitted Euro- pean colonial aspirations outside of Europe. According to Elias, the notion of being civilized “expresses the self-consciousness of the West” and that “it sums up everything in which Western society of the last two or three centuries believes itself superior to earlier societies or ‘more primitive’ contemporary ones” (Elias 1994: 3). It should be noted, however, that civilizing processes and the history of self-restraint are not restricted to Europe. Another problem with Elias’ theory is that he is largely silent about the role of religious norms and institutions in the regulation of social behavior, including the regulative and restraining functions of religious norms in the historical process of civilizing military violence. In fact, Elias argued that “Religion … never has in itself a ‘civilizing’ or affect-subduing effect. On the contrary, religion is always exactly as ‘civilized’ as the society or class which upholds it” (Elias 1994: 3). This is in contrast to Max Weber, who took major interest in the ways in which religion disciplines the person, especially through ascetic practices (Weber 1950 [1930]). The Weber-Elias dichotomy points to opposing positions in Eu- ropean intellectual history regarding the effect of religious beliefs on society. Johan Goudsblom (2004) points out that the “Augustinian position” expresses the view that religious belief helps pacify people. In City of God Augustine writes: All the devastation ... which accompanied the recent disaster at Rome was in accor- dance with the general practice of warfare. But there was something which established a new custom, something which changed the whole aspect of the scene; the savagery of the barbarians took on such an aspect of gentleness that the largest basilicas were se- lected and set aside to be filled with people to be spared by the enemy. No one was to be violently used there, no one snatched away. Many were to be brought there for liberation by merciful foes; none were to be taken from there into captivity even by cruel enemies. This is to be attributed to the name of Christ and the influence of Christianity. (Augustine 1, chapter 7).

111 STUDIES IN INTERRELIGIOUS DIALOGUE 23 (2013) 1

This positive view on the power of religious beliefs came to be influential in later European intellectual history—for example, in the work of Weber. But Goudsblom (2004) also identifies a long tradition for the opposite view, going back to Roman intellectuals such as Lucretius, in which religion does not contribute to civilizing humanity. Elias’ neglect of religion represents this tradition. But, as Bryan Turner points out (2004), there is no reason why religious ideas, practices, and institutions could not have been included in Elias’ notion of the civilizing process. In fact, Christian just war theory can be viewed as closely linked to the civilizing process of Europe. These ideas relate to the right to conduct war (jus ad bellum) and the law of war itself (jus in bello)— that is, the law governing conduct in war. The main difference between these two categories is that, while the former entails questions concerning just cause, right authority, right intention, and proportionality (i.e. that a given war does not cause more harm than good), the second has to do with restraining war once it has begun and with reducing harm.4 Significantly, just war theory is not only about justifying war; it is also about moral restraints on the use of violence.

The notion of civility has close associations with etiquette and good manners, which distinguish the civilized from the barbarian, the upper classes from the lower, from a given religious in-group to those defined as the out-group. There- fore, unlike justice, civility does not necessarily require adopting a socially critical moral point of view. Rather, it implies compliance with social norms. Civility forestalls the potential unpleasantness of a life with other people, and not complying with social norms carries with it the potential for conflict (Cal- houn 2000). Without it, daily social exchanges can turn nasty and sometimes hazardous. Thus, civility is not only about politeness: its scope is greater in that it relates to adherence to social norms and its opposite, i.e. the breaking of social norms. It cannot be denied that religion, as one of the prime sources for moral order and social norms, is closely linked to civility, i.e. good manners and correct behaviour.

Central to Elias’ idea of civility was the acknowledgment that, as the webs of human interdependence have expanded and differentiated, social figurations have generally become more dependent on forms of self-restraint that are at- tuned to this interconnectedness. Civility fits citizens for life in an intercon- nected, pluralistic society and is closely connected to peace and tolerance.5 This perception of civility is compatible with liberal political philosophy, in which civility is considered a virtue specific to liberal democratic societies.

4 See Johnson 1981 for further details on the development of just war theory. 5 This aspect of Elias’ theory has been recently discussed in international relations theory; see, e.g., Linklater 2009.

112 RELIGION, CIVILITY, AND CONFLICT

According to the ideal, the civil citizen exercises tolerance in the face of deep disagreement about the good, respecting the rights of others, refraining from violence, harassment, and coercion. In addition, citizens must seek accommodation through dialogue. A political conception of civility, therefore, is what fits us for life in a pluralistic society, in which non-like-minded people will have to enter into political dialogue to reach compromise agreements. Thus, civility includes regulations on these dialogues so they will not break down. Consequently, absolutist ideologies and worldviews, religious or secular, may collide with such an accommodation of positions in a plural setting.

Civil Society: A Place for Civility? The idea of civility is also linked to the idea of a civil society. Civil society refers to a particular social space in society, resembling what in sociology is often referred to as intermediate institutions that stand between the private sphere and the macro-level, such as the state and the economy. A clear distinction has to be made between civility and civil society: civility is a norm of conduct in dealing with diversity in the public domain. By contrast, civil society is an organizational level in society. The two are different, but from a liberal political point of view civility is a necessary virtue of civil society. As part of European identity construction, it was held that cultures and societies other than the Eu- ropean could not have civil society (Turner 1994). Oriental societies, it was held, was under despotic rule with little or no protection for the individual against state power. In my view, such a claim is unwarranted both in history and in contemporary non-Western societies, if that dichotomy still can be up- held in a globalized world. Although the strength and role of civil society certainly varies throughout history—not least the self-consciousness of being a civil society—history provides numerous examples of institutions that were not under strict jurisdiction of the ruler, or voluntary associations that were in friction with the state. My point here is twofold: the denial of civility, for example, to Islam—ignoring both the various voluntary associations in Muslim societies as well as Islamic civil movements that promote democracy and human rights—is nothing more than a Western categorization of the world into civilized/non-civilized.6 Second, there have certainly been voluntary associations standing between the individual and the state, and still do, in non-Western societies. Many of these associations were—and still are—of religious orienta-

6 Peter Berger, for example, juxtaposes popular Protestantism with the Islamic resurgence, arguing that the former is favourable to the development of civil society, while the latter is not, although he admits that a “civil Islam” is not impossible in the future. Nonetheless, he asserts that “[I]t seems to me that Islam, even in its moderate forms, has certain characteristics that are unfavourable to the development of civil society” (Berger 2005: 18). This is due, according to Berger, to three particular aspects of Islam, namely law, the position of women and the concept of jihad.

113 STUDIES IN INTERRELIGIOUS DIALOGUE 23 (2013) 1 tion. Nonetheless, it should be pointed out that this debate depends on how civil society is defined. If we define civil society in terms of its form, as, for example, voluntary associations between the individual and the state, many religious associations, caste groups, or other types of social networks that one is born into would fall outside the scope of civil society. In fact, such a definition would preclude many non-Western societies. If we define civil society in terms of its function, as a check against absolutist state power, then we can include non-voluntary associations such as caste groups individuals are born into. The issue of religion challenges the notion of civil society because religion can be both voluntary and non-voluntary, and it can be closely attached to a state or it can be independent from the state.

Hindu-Muslim Coexistence in Hindu Sacred Space: The Case of Varanasi I will now look more closely at Hindu-Muslim relations in the sacred city of Varanasi (Benares) in India in order to explore the notion of civility and its importance for conflict management. India, although credited as a showcase of ethnic and religious pluralism, has its share of communal violence. This has produced a rich academic literature on communal riots, Hindu nationalism and the possible crisis of the secular state. Less attention has been paid, however, to local mechanisms for mediating conflicts. After all, peace is difficult to mea- sure, disturbance is not.

Although it is a seat for orthodox Hinduism, more than 35% of Varanasi’s population is Muslim, and the city has a long record of a multicultural and multi- religious ethos. In fact, as has been pointed out by the Indian peace researcher Priayankar Updhaya (2011), Varanasi’s local identity overrides religious and caste affiliation, so that the markers of identity run via city dwellers (banarsi) and outsiders (non-banarsi). Nonetheless, this has not excluded Varanasi from strife over sacred space: Hindu sites where mosques were later built have been reclaimed by Hindu nationalists. Moreover, in the wake of the temple-mosque conflict in Ayodya in 1992, communal riots also took place in Varanasi. Sever- al bombs have exploded in recent years: as late as December 2010 a bomb was thrown at participants in the Ganga ārti (a ritual dedicated to the sacred river). Temples are still heavily guarded by the military.7

In response to the riots in the early 1990s and the perceived partisan nature of state actors like the police in stopping the violence, civil society strengthened its role through formations of peace committees in Varanasi neighbourhoods. Also, religious leaders expanded the scope of interfaith dialogue to include practical activities for communal peace-building. Therefore, when two bombs went off in March 2006, one of them in the important Hanuman temple, local

7 Based upon field observations in 2011.

114 RELIGION, CIVILITY, AND CONFLICT community organizations were prepared. As expected, Hindu nationalists at the national level, like L.K Advani, leader of the Hindu nationalist party Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), mobilized against what they saw as Islamist forces. Impor- tantly, however, prominent religious officials in Varanasi itself (the chief priest of the affected Hanuman temple and the mufti of Varanasi) quickly put several countermeasures into effect. These practices included both strictly religious practices as well as civic ones. For example, within hours religious service was reassumed in the attacked Hindu temple, and prayers were made for peace and reconciliation. Had the temple been closed for several days, the disruption of the ritual cycle would have further stirred up hurt Hindu feelings. On the Mus- lim side, the mufti, together with a number of alims, issued a fatwa condemn- ing the terrorist attacks. Young women wearing burqas shouted in the streets of Varanasi: “It is our promise to end terrorism” (quoted in Updhaya 2011: 91). Moreover, Muslims recited Hanuman hymns inside the temple at the very spot of the attack to demonstrate their commitment to intercommunal harmony. A wide range of intercommunity activities took place in the following months and years, including at the madrasas, and the annual music festival at the Ha- numan temples has turned into a peace campaign. Also, the religious leaders met one another on a number of occasions, and issued public statements to calm down the situation. For example, the media in this case proved to be an important vehicle for communicating the peace message, and they frequently broad- casted peace appeals made by the Hanuman chief priest and the Mufti, as well as by famous Varanasi musicians in the days after the bomb blast.

How are we to understand the Varanasi case? Is it an eminent example of religion’s potential for civility and peace? I think such a claim is validated, but it cannot be made without a few qualifications. The potency for intercultural harmony in Varanasi cannot be reduced to the textual traditions of either of the two religions. Rather, the cultural reservoir of metaphors for communal peace, and their associated practices, is rooted in the unique history of the city itself. In fact, there are specific demographic, geographic and economic factors that have contributed to a shared intersecting history and shared historicity in Vara- nasi. For example, the structure of the city itself resembles a traditional village in which daily life involves cross-community interaction. Also, the Muslim and Hindu communities have become economically interdependent through one of the city’s major traditional industries, silk production and trade. The weavers are Muslims, while the middlemen and traders are Hindu. Therefore, in addition to a shared identity of being banarsi as opposed to non-banarsi, the structure of the city with numerous neighbourhoods sharing space in the city’s narrow lanes as well as the economic interdependency are important explana- tory factors for why the intercultural ethos and identity of the city were nur- tured as a remedy against communal rioting. Hence, Varanasi displays a specific communal civic identity that is based on a shared city identity as well as shared local interests. Being one of India’s sacred cities, this cultural ethos is

115 STUDIES IN INTERRELIGIOUS DIALOGUE 23 (2013) 1 practiced and ritually communicated in a specific religious fashion—for example, through the continuation of temple rituals, or through fatwas.

In many respects, the case of Varanasi fulfils all the requirements of successful interreligious dialogue. Interreligious dialogue is here understood as covering a wide range of initiatives, ranging from informal encounters at the local level to intentional and more formal types of interreligious interaction. More specific- ally, Varanasi exemplifies the importance not only of “traditional” forms of interreligious dialogue—emphasizing dialogue as conversation about religious issues—as well as the concept of diapraxis. This denotes interreligious cooperation and shared lived experience between humans of different religious back- ground (Rasmussen 2007: 192). Moreover, the case of Varanasi shows that moral attitudes about tolerance and respect have to be successfully communicated. That requires a common language, and, in the case of Varanasi, a multicultural ethos was communicated through a diversity of religious practices. In his analysis of Muslim-Christian dialogue in Norway, Leirvik (2013) suggests that interreligious dialogue fosters a new common language that is “secular,” inspired by humanism and human rights discourses. Furthermore, he raises the question of the extent to which this is a “systemic” feature of interreligious dialogue. This might be the case in the Nordic countries where the human rights discourse is very strong, but in other less secularized contexts, like south Asia, this shared language would be religious in orientation. Be that as it may, the example of Varanasi gives hope that shared local interests might prevent violence.

“Islands of Civility”: (Religious) Civil Society as Promoters of Peace? Varanasi then, illustrates the importance of religious civil society organizations in promoting civility. Within peace research, civil society has been highlighted as one arena in which inclusive, non-extremist identities can be strengthened, and it has been suggested that civil society actors can play an important role as trust-builders between conflicting parties (Kaldor 1999: 2003). Kaldor points out that “it is possible to find islands of civility in nearly all the war zones” (1999: 110). By islands of civility, she means local groups and individuals who struggle against the politics of exclusionism in the midst of war. Such people maintain contacts across conflictual divides and nurture ambivalent identities. These “islands” represent a potential solution to conflicts because they can produce new understandings of the “other.” Conflict studies have shown, however, that civil society does not necessarily promote civility, and the cases of, for example, Rwanda, Sri Lanka, Bosnia, or Northern Ireland show that civil society may in fact contribute to increased conflict.8 This is particularly evi-

8 See, for , Camilla Orjuela’s study of civil society in Sri Lanka (2003), Belloni’s article on Bosnia (2001), or Ganiel and Dixon’s study of Northern Ireland (2008).

116 RELIGION, CIVILITY, AND CONFLICT dent if we turn to deeply divided societies where a shared ethos like that of Varanasi is lacking. In what follows, the cases of Rwanda and Sri Lanka will provide examples of the difficulties of engaging in diapraxis in deeply divided societies and also how religion may contribute to increased tension and violence in times of conflict.

The 1994 genocide in Rwanda stands as a horrific reminder of the terrible consequences of religion’s absorption and patronage by a racist and genocidal state. During the genocide, churches, rather than being safe havens, were used to trap and massacre Tutsis. Christian clergy were accused of not only failing to prevent the murder of Tutsis, including fellow clergy of Tutsi origin, but also of contributing to their murder in various ways (Longman 2005). Christian churches in Rwanda are multi-ethnic, and the genocide occurred within religious groups. Therefore, the “other” whom it was considered legitimate to kill was none other than their co-religionists. It is hard not to understand the Rwan- dan case as an example of religion contributing, actively or passively, to incivility. But that does not explain why the churches did not do more to prevent the genocide or why some Christian leaders trapped their own congregations inside the churches so they could be killed by Hutu militias. The most important explanation for this fallacy of the Catholic Church to engage in conflict re- solution lies in the long-term tight cooperation between the state and the church and the lack of a truly independent civil society.

Turning to Sri Lanka, we see that Sri Lankan society is deeply divided along ethnic and religious lines, and being Buddhist implies Sinhalese ethnic identity, while being Hindu implies “Tamilness.” This is not the case, however, with the island’s Christian and Muslim minorities. Sri Lankan Muslims have actively identified themselves as distinct from other communities on the basis of religious differences. “Muslim” is a marker of both ethnic and religious identity. This stands in contrast to the situation of the Catholic community, which has come to invoke an ethnic rather than a religious identity, whereby Sinhala Catholics identify with those who speak Sinhala (i.e. Sinhala Bud- dhists) rather than with Catholics among the Tamil-speaking communities. No- tably, in Sri Lanka the promotion of hard-line nationalism and exclusivist identities is carried out not only by state actors and politicians but also by civil society organizations, including religious associations. The civilian suffering among the Tamil and Sinhala communities cannot be compared as the war took place within the Tamil majority areas of Sri Lanka. Therefore, it is plausible to argue that civility and boundary-making activities among religious actors should be expected by the party with relative strength, the Buddhist monks. Buddhist monks in Sri Lanka, however, have often identified with Sinhala nationalism, strongly supporting state military efforts against the Tamil insurgency (Tam- biah 1992; Seneviratne 1999; Frydenlund 2005, 2012a, 2012b).

117 STUDIES IN INTERRELIGIOUS DIALOGUE 23 (2013) 1

In fact, my field data from Sri Lanka’s war zones show that only a tiny minority of Buddhist monks engaged themselves in cross-community activities or other issues concerning the “local common good.” A few such critically engaged monks were involved in the International Campaign to Ban Land mines, freeing hostages or using their religious authority in order to obtain information about missing persons in their local communities, including Tamil vil- lagers. In this regard, Buddhist monks stepped out of the formal religious institutions and partook in (non-Sinhala) sections of civil society. This was the ex- ception to the rule, however, and the overall picture of the Buddhist monastic order in Sri Lanka is that of heavy engagement in Sinhala nationalist politics and agendas of radical exclusionism. The monastic order itself plays a complex, and often contradictory, role within civil society. Leading monks are closely attached to state institutions and leading politicians, while others pur- sue their religious and political agendas through (Sinhala) civil society organizations. Such organizations can be purely monastic, a combination of monastic and lay, or they can be clearly defined outside of the order, such as the la- bour movement or human rights organizations. Moreover, civil society organizations in Sri Lanka often have close bonds to state agencies and politicians. In the case of the Buddhist order, it is not the religious institution itself, but the religious authority of individual monks and their networks within as well as outside the monastic order that shape their role in civil society. In fact, the in- stitutional decentralization of the order and subsequently the relative inde- pendence of the monks—in combination with the fragmented nature of Sri Lanka politics—create some space for alternative political voices. This space was reduced during two decades of war, however, due to state violence and the increasingly authoritarian nature of the Sri Lankan state.9

The case of Sri Lanka—and that of Rwanda in particular—might lead one to argue that civility is among the first things to become lost in times of violent conflict. The discourse of inclusion and exclusion creates a distinction between friends and enemies that allows little room for uncertainties or ambiguous identities: unity requires strict boundaries between “self” and “other.” Religion can be a forceful tool in the construction of exclusivist identities in violent conflict because religious teachings and practices create and maintain boundaries between the community and the outside world and may contribute to separ- ation between communities. But Kaldor is right in pointing out that islands of civility are to be found in nearly all war zones. For example, the small minority of Buddhist monks in Sri Lanka’s war zones engaged in cross-community activities, and some even engaged with the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE). These monks put themselves at high risk. But the threat did not come

9 In this regard, it should be noted that the space for Tamil civil society was equally reduced by the violence and terror carried out by the Tamils insurgency groups, particularly the Tamil Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE).

118 RELIGION, CIVILITY, AND CONFLICT from the LTTE but from their co-religionists.10 The metaphor “island of civility” gives certain associations to the nature of the conflict itself, and one might object that groups or individuals expressing civility are not islands cut off from wider conflict dynamics. Therefore, expressions of civility—ex- pressed in a religious idiom or not—should be understood in their specific social contexts.

Religion’s role in promoting civility during times of conflict depends largely on the role of institutionalized religion in society. Religious organizations can be viewed as favourable to the strengthening of civil society, as churches, mosques or temples could create an autonomous space for people who otherwise lack such space. The case of the Polish Catholic Church during commun- ist rule, for example, is a showcase for the importance of religious civil society for the promotion of democracy and human rights (Borowik 2002). By contrast, the Catholic Church in Rwanda is a strong reminder of the horrific consequences of religion’s absorption of a violent state. The case of the Buddhist order in Sri Lanka exemplifies the triumph of religious nationalism over discourses of coexistence as well as the complex relationship between a fragmented state and a diverse monastic order, allowing for both agendas of radical exclusionism and radical notions of civility.

To what extent practices carried out by religious actors in civil society should be understood as civic rather than religious practices depends upon emic de- finitions of the “religious” and the “political.” Some traditions define “politics” in a rather narrow fashion, reducing it to affairs of the state or party politics. Others, again, have a broad social ethics that legitimizes action in a broad spectrum of public activities. This labelling can be of strategic importance. For example, as shown by Luke Bretherton (2011), in a metropolis like London labelling a certain practice as “civic” and not as “religious” may create a space for public participation in local politics for the common good. This implies a twin technique in which religious identity and rationale are downplayed while simultaneously allowing religious communities a stronger place in civil society and local politics. In a different context—for example in South Asia—where politics is usually regarded as something “dirty,” labelling something as political may reduce the authority of the religious actor. Nonetheless, the concepts of civic practice and civility used as etic terms may have an analytical ad- vantage.

Towards a Concept of “Critical Civility” What then, can be concluded from these case studies in relation to the notion

10 At other instances during the war, the LTTE certainly posed a direct threat to Buddhist monks.

119 STUDIES IN INTERRELIGIOUS DIALOGUE 23 (2013) 1 of civility? As already indicated, civility can be regarded as a moral virtue because it implies consideration of others’ feelings, engaging in tolerant restraint, gratitude, and politeness. For my analytical purpose, however, a distinction has to be made between the descriptive and normative aspects of civility. Although it is difficult to distinguish social norms from morality, I nonetheless suggest that there is a need to distinguish “etiquette civility,” here understood as adhering to social norms, from what I call “critical civility,” which denotes a certain courteous behaviour in contexts in which such behaviour is not expected or cannot be taken for granted. This may prove to be a particularly important distinction to make in assessing religion’s diverse roles in times of violent conflict. The reason is that religious actors may conform to established social rules at the local village level, for example, by only catering to what they regard as the needs of their community, by lending their support to state-organized violence, or by other means supporting their in-group. By contrast, by the concept of critical civility I refer to ideas and practices in which members of one group transcend the boundaries of their community to show empathy for human suffering in defined out-groups. This civility is “critical” in two ways. First, it is critical in that it takes on a socially critical view on social norms; either by recognizing that not all social norms should be adhered to if, say, they result in other people’s suffering or if by not adhering to social norms one can rescue other civilians, or in other ways contribute to conflict-transformation. Why I emphasise the moral aspect is that this sense of civility requires individuals who, if necessary, are willing to put themselves at risk by going a- gainst “etiquette civility” or dominant exclusivist discourses for the sake of others. Critical civility, therefore, includes a broad sense of community. Sec- ond, critical civility refers to a specific context of crisis and sense of urgency, like that in violent conflicts. The notion of critical civility is to be distinguished from theological notions of tolerance or compassion (although such notions might be crucial for individual motivation) in that it refers to specific practices materialized as a result of lived experience in highly divided and conflict-ridden societies. Critical civility may be part of institutionalized interreligious dialogue but not necessarily so, as we will show in the case of Sri Lanka below. Also, it captures a virtue and a practice that is different from diapraxis, which is less analytically sharp as diapraxis includes nearly all forms of religious cooperation and coexistence. Moreover, it is to be distinguished from political civility (as a prerequisite for democracy) as religious actors involved in critical civility may or may not comply with liberal democratic values. Rather, critical civility is a combination of empathy for the “other,” tolerance, and “politics of the common good” in a situation where such attitudes and behaviour go against hegemonic ideologies and “etiquette civility.”

Critical Civility—For Whom? The crucial question to be asked is thus: Which actions are expressive of critical civility? The same act considered to be expressive of critical civility from

120 RELIGION, CIVILITY, AND CONFLICT one perspective may be viewed as “incivility” from another. By asking this question I do not have in mind horrific atrocities such as genocide but practices that are intentionally good, such as Buddhist monks in Sri Lanka taking care of war-victimized Tamil Hindu children. Such practices can be perceived by a religious minority group, for example, as having wide sociocultural consequences in terms of the cultural assimilation of minorities. To determine which actions are expressive of critical civility requires nuanced understandings of local contexts, and perhaps a clear-cut answer cannot be given. Acts of critical civility are communicated through cultural practices, but such practices are not static and gain meaning only in a given context. An example of Buddhist monastic practice will illustrate this point. Buddhist monks in Sri Lanka usually welcome all visitors to their temples. Denying access to people who want to seek the advice of monks is regarded as going against monastic social practice. Nonetheless, on several occasions during the Sri Lankan peace process, Sin- hala nationalist forces demonstrated against leading Buddhist monks who wel- comed to their temple Tamil politicians associated with the LTTE. In that case, ironically perhaps, adhering to religious norms was deemed “un-patriotic”. Although charges of political opportunism can be made, I do think that the monks’ reception of the politicians would qualify as critical civility in that specific context.

Other aspects of critical civility are perhaps more easily identified. Interreli- gious dialogue (at all levels) may be one important aspect of critical civility in times of conflict in which religious leaders meet across ethnic and religious divides in order to develop mutual understanding, respect, and reconciliation. Such dialogues may prove important in creating a social space for dialogue in deeply divided societies, but it should be noted that little research has been carried out on the effect of such dialogues on the wider conflict. Furthermore, looking at the case of Sri Lanka, one could even argue that such meetings, which are often elitist in nature, only serve as symbolic gestures and that they do not car- ry with them mutual transformations or the development of a common language. Moreover, in Sri Lanka interreligious dialogue is often initiated from the outside, by third party facilitators, donor-communities or non-local religious communities. Thus, dialogue is at risk of not being rooted in local community and hence has little effect.

On that critical note, I would like to venture some of religion’s social aspects that are potentially salient for the promotion of critical civility. As moral au- thorities and religious exemplars, religious leaders have a platform from where they can criticize communalism or racist ideologies. As the case of Rwanda suggests, when hate propaganda is not countered by community leaders, their passivity works in favour of communal exclusivism. In comparison, the case of Varanasi shows the importance of such actions for the prevention of conflict escalation. In their organizational capacity, religious actors can prove useful in so-called early alert systems in conflict zones. In times of violence, rumours, 121 STUDIES IN INTERRELIGIOUS DIALOGUE 23 (2013) 1 anxiety, and small disagreements can contribute to an already explosive situation, and correct information can prove important for stabilizing a situation before it goes out of control. In Sri Lanka, such early alert systems were tried out, and although it probably did not prevent actions of war, religious officials considered these networks to be important for their capacity for preventing outbreaks of communal unrest. Although my research indicates that such conflict management structures might be used for the promotion of specific interests, religious officials may also promote civic politics to their particular communities. The effect of such intercommunity activity on the conflict depends largely upon the religious authority of the official in question. I stress this point because in deeply divided societies sticking one’s neck out to engage in critical civility is a risky business, not only because those who do may face death threats but also because their social status gets questioned. In Sri Lanka, religious peace activists got their religious identity severely questioned: they were not considered to be “true Christians” or “true Buddhists” (Frydenlund 2005). Nonetheless, in societies where religion plays an important social role, religious officials may authorize negotiated solutions that otherwise would have been difficult to communicate or to gain acceptance for.

Violent conflict often results in intense civilian suffering. There are numerous examples of religiously-based aid agencies that bring relief to refugees and in- ternally displaced persons. Moreover, at the local level, religious officials often have national and international networks that facilitate economic assistance and aid. Religious buildings may provide shelter for refugees, and religious officials may provide other types of protection. Thus, institutionalized religion may contribute to remedying suffering, also to the benefit of civilians from the conflicting party. Although research suggests that the genocide was accepted by a large number of Christian leaders in Rwanda, there are also examples of Christian clergy who warned against the militarization of the Hutu population or who protected Tutsis during the genocide, representing what I have identified as critical civility.11 Interestingly, mosques played an important role as safe havens, filled up by non-Muslims. Hutu Muslims rescued Tutsi Christians, and critical civility was put before ethnic loyalty.12 Islam had been portrayed in the Rwandan public sphere for decades as the work of the devil but might have

11 In some cases, Christian clergy were forced to watch the slaughter of members of their congregations inside the churches; see, for example, the UN Lt General Roméo Dallaire’s description of such massacres (Dallaire 2004: 279-80). 12 Interview with Hutu Muslims on al-Jazeera, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v =A0U5AZFsBrc (last accessed 6 January 2013). Reportedly, many conversions to Islam occurred after the failure of the churches to prevent the genocide. The actual number of conversions is hard to verify, however, and the role of Hutu Muslims during the genocide now serves a specific Islamic agenda of presenting the humanity and civility of Islam.

122 RELIGION, CIVILITY, AND CONFLICT prevented the killers from entering the mosques. Ironically, to many Tutsi Christians it was not Christian sacred space but the perceived non-holy space of the mosque that offered protection.

Many more examples of critical civility could have been added, and religion may certainly have a civilizing role in conflict, as a contributor to critical civility within civil society as well as a provider of norms aiming at modifying state behaviour. But religion cannot act alone. To find empirical evidence for critical civility requires the willingness to closely examine local contexts that at first sight do not look appealing. After all, the local practice of civility is deemed less spectacular than violence carried out in the name of religion. Finally, it is not only a question about the “ambivalence of the sacred,” as Scott Appleby famously phrased it but also one about the local contexts in which civility—or incivility—is defined and put into practice.

LITERATURE Augustinus, Aurelius (1998). The City of God against the Pagans. Ed. and transl. R. W. Dyson. New York: Cambridge University Press. Belloni, Roberto. (2001). “Civil Society and Peacebuilding in Bosnia and Herzego- vina.” Journal of Peace Research 38:163-80. Berger, Peter. (2005). “Religion and Global Civil Society.” In: Mark Juergensmeyer (ed.). Religion in Global Civil Society. New York: Oxford University Press. Pp. 11-22. Borowik, Irena. (2002). “The Roman Catholic Church in the Process of Democratic Transformation: The Case of Poland.” Social Compass 49: 239-52. Bretherton, Luke. (2011). “A Postsecular Politics? Inter-faith Relations as a Civic Practice.” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 79: 346-77. Dallaire, Roméo. (2004). Shaking Hands with the devil: The Failure of Humanity in Rwanda. New York: Carrol and Graf Publishers. Dīpavaṃsa. Ed. and transl.H. Oldenberg. London: 1879. Calhoun, Cheshire. (2000). “The Virtue of Civility.” Philosophy & Public Affairs 29 (3): 251-75. Elias, Norbert. (1994). The Civilizing Process. Oxford: Blackwell. Originally published 1939. Frydenlund, Iselin. (2012a). “Canonical Ambiguity and Differential Practices: Bud- dhism and Militarism in Contemporary Sri Lanka.” In: Torkel Brekke and Vladi- mir Thikonov (eds.). Violent Buddhism: Buddhism and Militarism in Asia in the Twentieth Century. New York: Routledge. Pp. 95-119. (2012b). “The Protection of Dharma and Dharma as Protection: Buddhism and Security across Asia,” In: Chris Seiple, Dennis R. Hoover, and Pauletta Otis (eds). The Routledge Handbook of Religion and Security. London/New York: Routledge. Pp. 102-12. (2005). The Sangha and its Relation to the Peace Process in Sri Lanka. PRIO report 2/2005. Oslo: International Peace Research Institute. Ganiel, Gladys, and Paul Dixon. (2008). “Religion, Pragmatic Fundamentalism and the Transformation of the Northern Ireland Conflict.” Journal of Peace Research 45: 419-36. Goudsblom, Johan. (2004). “Christian Religion and the European Civilizing Process: 123 STUDIES IN INTERRELIGIOUS DIALOGUE 23 (2013) 1

the Views of Norbert Elias and Max Weber Compared in the Context of the Au- gustinian and Lucretian Traditions.” In: S. Loyal and S. Quilley (eds.). The So- ciology of Norbert Elias. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pp. 265-80. “Hutu Muslims saved Tutsis during Rwandan Genocide.” http://www.youtube.com/ watch?v=A0U5AZFsBrc, al-Jazeera. (2009). (Accessed 6 January 2013). Johnson, James Turner. (1981). Just War Tradition and the Restraint of War: A Moral and Historical Inquiry. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. Kaldor, Mary. (2003). Global Civil Society: An Answer to War. Cambridge: Polity Press. (1999). New and Old Wars: Organized Violence in a Global Era. Cambridge: Polity Press. Leirvik, Oddbjørn. (2013). “Interreligious Dialogue and Secularity: The Secular as Non-Hegemonic Condition.” In: Rosemarie van den Breemer, José Casanova, and Trygve Wyller (eds.). Secular and Sacred? The Nordic Cases of Religion in Human Rights, Law and Public Space. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht. Linklater, Andrew. (2009). “Human Interconnectedness.” International Relations 23: 481-97. Longman, Timothy. (2005). “Churches and Social Upheaval in Rwanda and Burundi: Explaining Failures to Oppose Ethnic Violence.” In: N. Kastfelt (ed.). Religion and African Civil Wars. London: Hurst. Pp. 82-101. Orjuela, Camilla. (2003). “Building Peace in Sri Lanka: A Role for Civil Society?” Journal of Peace Research 40:195-212. Rasmussen, Lissi. (2007). “Engineering Bridges.” In: Lissi Rasmussen (ed.). Bridges Instead of Walls: Christian-Muslim Interaction in Denmark, Indonesia and Ni- geria. Minneapolis: Lutheran University Press. Seneviratne, H.L. (1999). The Work of Kings: The New Buddhism in Sri Lanka. Chica- go: The University of Chicago Press. Tambiah, Stanley Jeyaraja. (1992). Buddhism Betrayed? Religion, Politics, and Vio- lence in Sri Lanka. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Turner, Bryan S. (2004). “Religion and Civilizing Processes: Weber and Elias Com- pared.” In: S. Loyal and S. Quilley (eds.). The Sociology of Norbert Elias. Cam- bridge: Cambridge University Press. Pp. 245-64. (1994). Orientalism, Postmodernism and Globalism. London: Routledge. Upadhyaya, Priyankar. (2011). “Communal Peace in India. Lessons from Multicultural Banaras.” In: K. Warikoo (ed.). Religion and Security in South and Central Asia. London/New York: Routledge. Pp. 83-95. Weber, Max. (1950). The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism. Transl. by Tal- cott Parsons. London: Georg Allen & Unwin LTP. Originally published in Ger- man in 1930.

124