A legal reform that will remove two articles from the Criminal Code which make vilification of religion a crime means that Malta will now be able to accommodate inhabitants of the Sixth and Seventh Circles.

It is strange times we are living in when we seem keen to satisfy conflicting wants. Huge corporations which daily destroy the environment voluntarily abide by self-imposed ecological policies and actively promote their recycling efforts. In the United States, where same-sex marriages have recently been legalised following a ruling by the Supreme Court, opponents have called for religious freedoms to be protected, including the right to refuse services to gays and lesbians.

The reform should not lead to such legal quagmires. Still, there are some implications which need to be considered: for instance, can a religious organisation dismiss an employee on grounds of vilification of religion? I cannot think of a reply which does not seem counter-intuitive. It is a peculiarity of our times to have society constantly torn between conflicting values and freedoms.

Jean, a religious person who shies away from conventional religion and a dear friend of mine, seems unperturbed by the proposed legal changes. When I ask him what he thinks about the whole affair, he replies: “It matters little to me that someone refrains from an act simply because it’s illegal. Though I’d rather not be murdered,” he adds.

The change is a welcome and positive one in this sense: it’s important to not be afraid to speak one’s mind, and not allow a section of society, which others may deem to be corrupting young people with baseless myths, seek refuge in the law. It’s good to know that from now on ears may be lent to the priest or to the anti-priest, depending on one’s own personal preference. One can only hope that the majority lend them to both, perhaps one each, but that is another matter altogether.

Fifteen years ago, when it was not so cool to be anti-clerical and openly criticise the Church and its teachings, I stood my nascent philosophically sceptical ground proudly and defiantly. Back then, I was accused daily of heresy and of causing mischief behind petty intentions, and as a result was often called fatuous and crazy. Even a couple of years back, a well-known Maltese professor of Philosophy accused me of not being friends with the Divine. I promptly returned the favour and accused him of not being friends with the Truth. To this day, I am still very proud of that witty retort.

Some of the zealous religious crusaders who back then were quick to draw their swords are today ardent atheists. With some I now argue the matter from a decidedly more defensive position, pointing out the misguided smug confidence of their newfound beliefs, and as a result am still called names, with regressive and backward being clear favourites; their thick-headed and myopic mindset has not changed: they merely jumped to the other side of the fence, quite possibly led there by a sheepdog.

Now I realise that I was never against religion per se, but rather against any blind following of the given and any attitude or dogma which is harmful and nonsensical.

Back in February I had written an article on freedom of expression in reaction to the Charlie Hebdo shooting (“Defying Death”, TMIS, 1 February) in which I also addressed that particular newspaper’s choice of manner in exercising its right: to me these irreverent cartoons, while admittedly funny, are at times merely distasteful and disrespectful, and devoid of any valid critical value, which is why, despite my name, I never was Charlie.

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The Malta Humanist Association has published its reaction to the reform, part of which argues that: “People may feel as strongly about a political ideology as someone else feels about their faith, yet we do not criminalise anyone who vilifies capitalism, or someone who insults Marxism.” In my article I had argued against such facile analogies, and I still stand by that reasoning.

Here’s a quote from that article to refresh the memory:

“As the Newsweek reporter opines, caricatures of Allah and Muhammad are entirely different from simple ridicule, and are just as entirely different from political satire.

Why? Because it is religious satire. Now an atheist may well fail to see the difference, but upholding that argument – that religion is merely political – means presuming a premise not everyone accepts. Believers believe in the reality of their beliefs, and though that does not affect the atheist’s lack of belief, and his right to that lack, it does explain how they may be deeply offended at some of the more direct forms of criticism.”

Perhaps I should have emphasised that “how”. The question here is not whether the beliefs of the faithful are true; rather, it is a question of understanding the reasons behind people taking offence at something, much as we are constantly encouraged to understand why and how a homosexual may feel ostracised and offended by certain societal attitudes. One need not be a homosexual to try to understand this, so I am assuming that, likewise, one need not be religious to understand why certain comments may be offensive to those who are.

Whereas I do not wish to undermine the intended message of the Humanist Association, it’s important not to conflate the two, that is to say, political or economic systems and religions. The analogy the association draws, while not entirely correctly, is, I suspect, healthy in its intention, unless it is abused by people who misinterpret the words, and history has repeatedly shown us how easy it is for words of wisdom to turn into words of hate. Martin Luther’s teachings, Nietzsche’s Übermensch, and Martin Luther King’s speeches are prime examples. That we should not criminalise someone who vilifies religion in the same way as we should not criminalise those who “offend” capitalism may seem a noble first step toward mature critique of the philosophies that guide our world, but the words “vilify” and, in particular, “insult” need to be put into context.

Insulting is not the only, and certainly not the best, way of criticising a religion – indeed one is hard-pressed to call an insult by any other name.

Also, it is stretching it a little to compare political ideologies with religion – they are both fruits perhaps, but one is clearly an apple and the other an orange. I cannot imagine someone adopting capitalism as fervently as someone adopting a religion.

And there is a good reason for that too. The two are inherently different: one is created by man and its adherents acknowledge it as such, and is no more than a system. The other is more, much more than that. Religion is not just a system, not just a set of doctrines; religion is bigger than the sum of its parts. It is something which derives from the divine. Now one may not believe that; one may think of religion as just another system created by man – some may even go as far as to say in order to manipulate other men. And this may indeed be true. The concept of divinity is understood by all however – even by those who do not believe in it – and the fact that religious people believe in the sacredness of their religion means that even if religion is nothing more than a system, unlike capitalism it is not perceived by its adherents as such. To put it in other words, one may well hold a political ideology sacred, but it is never itself sacred, not even in perception: the ideology is never itself considered sacred by its proponents. Religion, however, is considered sacred by its followers. That does not mean it is actually sacred, but there is no denying the perception and this, at the very least, explains why they expect it to be treated with reverence, if not why others should as well.

The fact I put the verb ‘offend’ in quotes was a conscious way for me to emphasise this distinction, and I have a feeling that the more pedantic readers cringed at that particular choice of word. For who truly offends or seeks to offend an economic system like capitalism? It would be better to say that opponents criticise the system, and that reveals the elephant in the room: religion, unlike capitalism, can either be criticised or offended.

And while Sir Francis Bacon was against wrongdoers who “offend the law” (his own words), he was himself a critic of the law, having himself proposed legal reforms during his lifetime.

What of all this? Well, for one thing, we should be careful how we present our criticism and just as careful of the form we give it. We do not go about insulting people, and the more civilised of us realise that this applies to things, including concepts that people hold dear.

If Dante could distinguish between Heresy and Blasphemy – considering both sinful acts but putting them in different categories – then why can’t we? If Francis Bacon could distinguish between offending and criticising, what prevents us from doing likewise?

I would hope, along with my friend Jean and any other civilised person, religious or otherwise, that people would refrain from vilifying religion – in the sense of offending and insulting – out of sheer respect.

It feels strange finding myself having to play the Devil’s – or should I say God’s? – Advocate, but I know how people get carried away when confronted with others’ opinions, and how blindly confident most people are in the absolute truth of their own.

It was the Humanist Association, in another part of its statement, that summed it up perfectly: “Religious beliefs have a strong influence on people – sometimes even those who do not espouse that belief – so these beliefs must be open to criticism the same as any other school of thought.”

Criticism is the key word there. The legal reform, if not abused, will now allow religious sceptics to voice their opposition more confidently

… and thank God for that!