Habermas and the Problem with the ‘Problem’ of Religion in Public Discourse

Living in a country where you don’t know the language means you have a great excuse for not talking to Jehovah’s Witnesses.

To be completely honest, I actually did understand the two Witnesses when they came to my door. Though I had just moved to Germany and just begun to study German, I knew what they were saying. “Bible” is the same in German and English and I knew the word for the verb, “to read.” Also they were Jehovah’s Witnesses. They weren’t there to borrow sugar. I understood. But I lied.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “I’m sorry. I only speak English.” It was a great excuse.

A week later, two more Witnesses came to my door. “You want to read the Bible?” they said. “You want to know God’s plan for human happiness?”

Their English was great.

Of course it was. As a religion that prioritizes proselytization, Witnesses put tremendous effort into reaching people who are different than themselves. They translate their message linguistically and culturally. They don’t expect to be accommodated in conversation; they accommodate.

There has been much theorizing under the heading of “post-secular” about the problem of religious participation in public discourse. For the religious to speak to those who do not share their ontological presuppositions, it is said, in public discussions in pluralistic, democratic societies, it must be necessary for there to be a reformulation of religious arguments into publicly accessible, this-world terms. This is a very literal case of that problem. Yet it illustrates, if nothing else, that there might be a problem with framing the matter of religious people dialoguing with those who do not share their religion as a “problem.”

As philosopher Jürgen Habermas explains the problem, religious language can be allowed into the public sphere, but only on certain conditions: “The truth contents of religious contributions can enter into the institutionalized practice of deliberation and decision-making only when the necessary translation already occurs in the pre-parliamentarian domain, i.e. in the political public sphere itself … citizens of faith may make public contributions in their own religious language only subject to the translation proviso” (Between Naturalism and Religion 131-32). They cannot, that is, just appeal to divine authority when they come to your door or come to the public square. They cannot just invoke revelation. What is sacred to them must be re-conceived in reasoned discourse as secular. This burden of “translation” has been central to talk of the post-secular, and also to Habermas’ noted post-secular turn.

However, because this theoretical conceptualization frames translation as a problem, it misses how, in common practice, religious people do speak.

Sociologist Michelle Dillon makes a similar (but not identical) critique of Habermas and the post-secular in her interview with the Religious Studies Project. She notes that in his earlier work on communicative action, Habermas didn’t speak of religious participation in public discourse, implicitly excluding it. In his more recent work, with his turn to the post-secular, Habermas corrects this. He acknowledges that religious reasoning does have a place in pluralist democracies, and yet that toleration still has limits. “Habermas was saying, let’s reassess how we have often marginalized religion,” Dillon says. “But on further reading of Habermas . . . while he’s bringing religion back in, into the public sphere, he’s doing so very much in a Habermasian way.”

According to Dillon, one problem with Habermasian toleration of religion is that it only allows for a very narrow definition of religion. Religion is only acceptable, publicly, when it exhibits a “high rationality.” In this way, he is still excluding a lot of religious reasoning and barring many religious people from public discourse. If someone’s religion is emotional, or traditional, or grounded in personal experience, it is disallowed. Though he sounds like he’s pushing for an act of inclusion — against, for example, “the blinkered enlightenment which is unenlightened about itself and which denies religion any rational content” (An Awareness of What is Missing 18) — it is also an act of exclusion.

This critique can usefully be pushed further.

It seems right that, as Dillon says, the burden of translation is exclusionary. More than that, though, the translation proviso makes exclusion the default. Religious citizens are kept out of the public discourse, unless and until they can prove their reasoning is sufficiently translated. The onus is on them. The starting assumption is that religious people will be fundamentally unable to speak to those who don’t share their faith.

But why start with the assumption that translation will be a problem?

Dillon, in her work, has looked at Catholic bishop’s arguments against legalizing divorce in Ireland. She found that the bishops made sociological claims about the effects of divorce on women, children, and society. They did not just invoke their own authority, nor rely on Catholic moral teaching. Even though most Irish were Catholics, the arguments made by the bishops on this matter were public, secular arguments, entirely within what philosopher Charles Taylor calls “the immanent frame” (539-593).

Similarly, in the United States, many religious citizens have organized to oppose same-sex marriage. Mormon, Catholic, and evangelical groups have stated that they want to “defend traditional marriage,” and that their religious beliefs commit them to that position. However, when one looks at the legal briefs filed by religious groups in the landmark Supreme Court case Hollingsworth v. Perry, for example, one doesn’t find mainly religious arguments. One finds religious groups making sociological arguments about the importance of traditional marriage and the probable consequences of changing that. The debate is about what the contested law would and wouldn’t do. Whether or not one agrees, all the purportedly religious arguments are quite intelligible from a non-religious perspective.

It’s not even clear that it would be right to speak of these religious forays into public discourse as involving “translation.” The idea that divorce in Ireland or same-sex marriage in the United States will hurt families is not the secular equivalent of a religious idea. The sense, rather, is that religious teachings are relevant to human flourishing. To the extent that the wider public shares those conceptions of human flourishing, the arguments are intelligible.

This too can be pushed further: Even when religious people do explicitly invoke an authority that is not generally accepted, that doesn’t, in practice, mean that those arguments cannot be understood. Dillon has found that pro-change Catholics use theological arguments to claim their legitimate social identity. “The Catholics I had studied,” she says, “were clearly grounding their emancipatory claims for greater equality within religious reasoning. And it was the sort of reasoning that would appeal or could persuade people who were Catholic or not Catholic.” The same could be said of Jehovah’s Witnesses’ more controversial practice of rejecting blood transfusion. While the argument is religious — blood is connected to the soul— it is not unintelligible to those who don’t share the presuppositions of Witnesses. To the general public, these claims seem wrong, but not radically indecipherable.

Habermas, even after his new openness to the religious, holds that religious reasoning is entirely different from and incomprehensible to non-religious reasoning. He writes that “The cleavage between secular knowledge and revealed knowledge cannot be bridged” (An Awareness of What is Missing: 17). This is empirically wrong. Perhaps Habermas hasn’t seen such bridges, but they are quite common.

Religious people regularly enter into conversations with those from other religions as well as those with no religion. The Jehovah’s Witnesses who came to my door speaking English are good examples. They wanted to talk about God’s plan for a happy life. Their speech was, to use a Habermasian word, verständigungsorientiert. That is to say, it was oriented toward understanding (Communication and the Evolution of Society: 1).

The Witness’ speech, in fact, was a communicative action. It did all of the things that Habermas’ earlier work explains that communicative action is supposed to do. It was based on the four pragmatic presuppositions necessary to communication, “the shared presupposition of a world of independently existing objects, the reciprocal presupposition of rationality or ‘accountability,’ the unconditionality of context-transcending validity claims such as truth and moral rightness, and the demanding presuppositions of argumentation” (Between Naturalism and Religion: 28). It was, as argumentation, also grounded in the presuppositions of Habermasian rational discourse: publicity and inclusivity, equality, truthfulness, and the absence of coercion (Ibid: 50, 82). Though he might not have recognized it, the Witnesses are a good example of what Habermas has described as the embodiment of reason in everyday communicative practice (Ibid: 25).

Habermas’ ideas about the communicative action, then, usefully counter the so-called translation “problem” of the post-secular public sphere. These religious arguments are part of the normal spectrum of speech, and thus participate in the same normative conditions. To quote Habermas, “one can say that the general and unavoidable—in this sense transcendental—conditions of possible understanding have a normative content when one has in mind not only the binding character of norms of action or even the binding character of rules in general, but the validity basis of speech across its entire spectrum” (Communication and the Evolution of Society: 2).

To assume that translation will be a significant problem is to assume that religious people’s religious communication is not fundamentally verständigungsorientiert, not oriented toward understanding. But of course it is. For, as one can learn from Habermas, that orientation is internal to the structure of communication.

In her interview with the Religious Studies Project, Dillon suggests that Habermas is a great and underused resource. Thinking about religious people in dialogue with those who don’t share their beliefs is an example of how this is true. For those in religious studies, the problems and the potential of Habermas’ thought can serve as a starting place to ask about the kinds of arguments religious people are using in public reasoning and what frameworks they are using to legitimate their views.

Thinking with and against Habermas in this way can also, if nothing else, serve to correct the mistaken assumptions one makes when coming up with excuses not to talk to Jehovah’s Witnesses.



Habermas, Jürgen. Between Naturalism and Religion. Cambridge: Polity, 2008.

——. Communication and the Evolution of Society. Boston: Beacon, 1979.

Habermas, Jürgen, et al. An Awareness of What is Missing: Faith and Reason in a Post-Secular Age. Cambridge: Polity, 2010.

Taylor, Charles. A Secular Age. Cambridge: Harvard, 2007.

5 replies
  1. Avatar
    Kenneth MacKendrick says:

    Thanks for the post. Just to clarify a few points. Habermas claims that religious language is to be restricted only in the political public sphere. Religious language is relatively common and pervasive in the public sphere (e.g. Jehovah’s Witnesses coming to your door is an example of religious speakers circulating in the public sphere). The political public sphere is the place where legal norms are justified, contested, and applied: the legislature and the judiciary. Religious language must be restricted in this sphere since, without such a restriction, substantial impediments to discourse would be present. Religious language, at least for Habermas, is rooted in cultic praxis and reflects a comprehensive metaphysical or cosmological system and way of life. It is a form of language that does not reflect the modern differentiations between truth and rightness; in part because of its roots in ritualized or performative social interactions. Religious language in a piece of legislation would essentially mean that the proposed norm or rule is, almost by definition, incomprehensible to anyone that is not part of the community of ritual practitioners. In many ways the term “religion” here is misleading because “religious language” is an example but not an exhaustive example, of ritualized language. Certainly one of the things categorically missing in all of the work on Habermas and religion is a critical consideration of the term “religion” (one of the best, in my view, is Tomoko Masuzawa’s The Invention of ‘World Religions’), some of which would problematize the very category wholesale.

    It should also be made clear that when religious language is translated it ceases to be religious language. Once translated it becomes part and parcel of a publicly accessible discourse. In “Transcendence from Within, Transcendence in this World” Habermas indicates that the uniqueness or singularity of a theological claim is abandoned the moment it is subject to translation within or by other disciplines or discourses. This is very much an exclusion, but not on the cultural or political level as such – it is an exclusion of the ritualized use of language only at the level of explicit juridical justification. The conditions for mutual understanding must be met within the sphere of political power prior to deliberation: religious language does not satisfy the conditions for mutual understanding, at least insofar as it is rooted in ritual practice.

    It is difficult to imagine not having this provision within a theory of deliberative law and democracy. What would a piece of legislation, as submitted to a judicial body, written “in the tongues of angels,” look like? Outside a ritual community, glossolalia has no significant meaning. Just so. Religious language is language rooted in ritual practice. Non-participants have access only to a functional or objectivating perspective on its use. Even the self-understanding of participants is limited by the mystifying ritual form itself (I’m thinking of Maurice Bloch’s writings on ritual, but I could also mention the work of Bruce Lincoln as relevant).

    The issue here is how we understand religious language. If religious language is defined as a form of speaking that invokes supernatural entities, which could on the level of definition could be understood by anyone, we’re not really talking about religious language as Habermas sees it. Religious language isn’t simply language that draws on vocabulary familiar to adherents of the so-called “great world religions.” Far from it. For Habermas, religious language instantiates an authority in the form of speaking itself (see, for example, Susan Harding’s essay on the ritual of witnessing in The Book of Jerry Falwell). This authority is not open to discursive clarification or elucidation or understanding without annulling its authoritarian form and shifting the rhetoric out of its ritual roots into a more communicative or deliberative context. In other words, one cannot argue about the justification of a particular political norm while evangelizing. As Harding notes, witnessing is a particular way of speaking, it is no ordinary dialogue. We should be cognizant of this when thinking about religious language of all sorts – for often the compulsion to speak, “religiously,” it a ritual obligation and comes out of systems of ritual belief and practice. One can’t help but wonder about defenders of Creation Science which really seems to have little to do with science as commonly understood and much more about the acquisition of and shoring up of solidarity and political power (through ritualized or spectacle like engagements with so-called secular scientists). The rhetoric of conservative Christianity in the United States is ripe with examples and so even when a particular position obsequiously excludes overt religious references it might still instantiate a ritual form that conditions and compromises its propositional structure. Raised here is the issue of sincerity and self-transparency that can only be evaluated over time and not in within an immediate discursive context.

    This is why Habermas writes, as cited, “the cleavage between secular knowledge and revealed knowledge cannot be bridged.” What Habermas calls revealed knowledge is not primarily discursive at all, its rooted in behavioural expectations that are defined and sanctioned according to specific clerical authorities (religious leaders, religious communities). The “meaning” of this way of speaking (or, better, the meaning of this ritual performance) is not propositional and therefore cannot be grasped at the level of propositional claims.

    The rhetoric of Jehovah’s Witnesses, then, cannot be classified as communicative action. It is a way of speaking (a ritual performance) that aims to accomplish a specific goal: to divide the psyche of the listener, to depict the world of the listener as lost and in need of saving, to invoke an emotional or cognitive crisis in such a way that only one option, conversion, becomes the most plausible or logical response. No doubt we could abstract some of the content of this ritual from its ritual context and identify some propositional content (and, of course, the ritual performers might shift out of their performance to a more communicative orientation the moment their ritual is interrupted with a question) and hold that open to debate and clarification but that kind of extraction is a seismic shift in the “conversation.” When the ritual roots and incumbent authority of a particular style of speaking is abandoned, religious language ceases to be religious.

  2. Avatar
    Daniel Silliman says:

    Thanks for the clarifications, Kenneth.

    I gather these comments are intended as corrective,but I accept your characterizations of Habermas’ conception of religious language. Yes, “Religious language, at least for Habermas, is rooted in cultic praxis and reflects a comprehensive metaphysical or cosmological system and way of life.” Yes, for him, glossalalia could be taken as the prime case of religious language. Yes, for him, “the rhetoric of Jehovah’s Witnesses … cannot be classified as communicative action.”

    This is precisely what I think is wrong. Perhaps I’m misreading him, but I think it’s rather the case that I disagree.

    My point was mainly that I also find in Hambermas some tools, I think, to open up this very restricted understanding of religious language. If one finds his characterization of religious communication to be basically right, I understand why that move would be uninteresting.

  3. Avatar
    Mohammad Magout says:

    Thanks Daniel for this thoughtful critique of Habermas. But I somehow agree with Kenneth. I don’t think Habermas’ proviso of translation is concerned with comprehensibility. I guess it is out of question that religious groups, especially those which proselytize, are able to make themselves clear and understandable. Habermas, as I read him, is not concerned with that. He is concerned with having a common basis for meaningful debates in the public sphere, especially when it comes to policy making. In a pluralistic society where there are different religious and non-religious groups, there is a need for a common basis for debating public issues and this is why he requires religious groups to “translate” their arguments into some kind of “secular language.”

    If the Catholic bishops in Ireland used the Bible or the teachings of the Popes to support their arguments against divorce, how would a Muslim or an atheist have a debate with them? He/she can certainly understand what they say, but the only way to counter their arguments is to criticize Catholic faith itself as wrong, corrupted, or maybe calling on it to be restricted to the private sphere. However, by using sociology to support their arguments, anyone can take part in the debate without resorting to undermining the integrity of each other’s belief system.

    • Avatar
      Daniel Silliman says:

      The common basis, if it’s too be post-metaphysical as Habermas describes, is to be the discourse itself. That’s what I take the theory of communicative action to be attempting to do, and why comprehensibility is of critical importance.

      Appeals to authority are obviously always problematic. I would contend such appeals are also pretty rare in pluralist democracies. Or the argument is supplemented w/ arguments about human flourishing.

    • Avatar
      Arber says:

      Thank you Daniel for this insightful piece.

      Muhammed, one of the problems of Habermas, I believe, is the assumption that the ‘secular’ language is understood by all’ or by most people. And that is why he suggests that language to be the one other languages should be translated to. But I in an attempt to test if this is an universalible proposal, one should probably ask a provocative question: In a geography where certain religious language and semantic is dominating and is more understandable for most people, should the secular humanist be imposed with the burden of ‘religionizing’ their language in order to fit the ‘common language’ of that cultural space ? If Habermas would agree with that, than his proposal should not be seen as an attempt for ‘conversion’ , if he doesn’t, than I think that his universalism would be subjected to an inquiry.


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