The Supreme Court is taking religion seriously again. The past decade has yielded victory after victory for defenders of America’s historic tradition of embracing religion in public life and safeguarding religious freedom for citizens of all faiths and shades of belief. The Court has finally consigned to the dustbin of history the infamous “Lemon test” (named for the 1971 case of Lemon v. Kurtzman), by which earlier justices sought to marginalize religion or at least minimize its public role. So clear is our jurisprudential shift toward a pro-religion understanding of the First Amendment that the language of religious liberty has figured prominently anew in conservative and progressive discourse alike. On the one hand, progressives and other traditional opponents of a robust understanding of religious freedom have begun to frame progressive causes in religious-liberty terms. Last year’s wave of post-Dobbs lawsuits filed by advocacy groups claiming that access to elective abortion should be guaranteed as a matter of religious freedom is a telling example. On the other hand, some conservatives on the “post-liberal” right have grown skeptical of America’s tradition of religious freedom. The moral case for protecting religious liberty, they think, begets religious indifferentism or its cousin: relativism. Unfortunately, neither group tends to exhibit a sound understanding of the human good of religion, and their advocacy is usually marred by a misapprehension of the moral foundation of religious freedom. It’s time for a restatement of the case for religious liberty — a fundamental human right. One might, to be sure, defend religious liberty in any number of ways. Some legal scholars, for instance, defend the right to religious freedom on prudential grounds; it’s good, they say, to protect people’s right to believe and worship as they see fit, given humanity’s historical tendency to inflict the most wicked persecution on people simply because of their faith. And that may be right. But a robust defense of religious freedom need not stop at prudential considerations. For religion, as I’ll explain, is a basic — irreducible — aspect of human flourishing, something to be sought and protected for its own sake, and a human good that demands freedom in its pursuit. Human rights, such as the right to life or the right to religious freedom, are grounded in and shaped by the human goods they protect. The right to freedom of speech, for example, is grounded in several goods: political stability, the search for truth and the appropriation and dissemination of it, and so on. Indeed, only by reference to human goods can any right be defined and justified. Some human goods are merely instrumentally valuable. Monetary wealth, for example, is valuable just because it enables people to pursue other goods. But not all human goods are instrumental. As I and other philosophers working within the natural-law tradition have argued, there are human goods that are inherently and irreducibly valuable. Human life, health, knowledge, and friendship are examples of irreducible, or basic, human goods. Such goods are so called because they are fundamental, irreducible aspects of human fulfillment. These goods are not mere means to ends extrinsic to them; as such they are intelligibly desirable for their own sake and rationally appealing to persons as rational creatures. They control all deliberation with a view to acting, whether the acts performed are, in the end, properly judged to be morally good or morally bad. It is, in the end, the directiveness of these goods considered together that provides the criteria by which it is possible to distinguish right from wrong — what is good from what is morally bad — including what is just and unjust. Morally good choices are choices that are in line with the various fundamental aspects of human well-being and all-round fulfillment; morally bad choices are those that are not. To say these things is to spell out philosophically the point that Martin Luther King Jr. in his Letter from Birmingham Jail made about just and unjust laws — laws that honor people’s rights and those that violate them. You will, perhaps, recall that the great civil-rights champion anticipated a challenge to the moral goodness of the acts of civil disobedience that landed him behind bars in Birmingham. He anticipated his critics’ asking: How can you, Dr. King, engage in willful lawbreaking when you yourself have stressed the importance of obedience to law in demanding that officials of the Southern states conform to the Supreme Court’s desegregation ruling in Brown v. Board of Education? Here is King’s response to the challenge:

The answer lies in the fact that there are two types of laws: just and unjust. I would be the first to advocate obeying just laws. One has not only a legal but a moral responsibility to obey just laws. Conversely, one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws. I would agree with St. Augustine that “an unjust law is no law at all.” Now, what is the difference between the two? How does one determine whether a law is just or unjust? A just law is a man-made code that squares with the moral law or the law of God. An unjust law is a code that is out of harmony with the moral law. To put it in the terms of St. Thomas Aquinas: An unjust law is a human law that is not rooted in eternal law and natural law. Any law that uplifts human personality is just. Any law that degrades human personality is unjust. All segregation statutes are unjust because segregation distorts the soul and damages the personality. It gives the segregator a false sense of superiority and the segregated a false sense of inferiority.

So: Just laws elevate and ennoble the human personality; unjust laws debase and degrade it. Now his point about the morality or immorality of laws is a good reminder that what is true of personal morality is also true of political morality. The choices and actions of political institutions at every level, like the choices and actions of individuals, can be right or wrong, morally good or morally bad. They can be in line with human well-being and fulfillment in all its manifold dimensions, or they can fail to respect the integral flourishing of human persons. In many cases of the failure of laws, policies, and institutions to fulfill the requirements of morality, we speak rightly of a violation of human rights. This is particularly true where the failure is properly characterized as an injustice — failing to honor people’s equal worth and dignity, failing to give them, or actively denying them, what they are due. But, contrary to the teaching of the late John Rawls and the extraordinarily influential stream of contemporary liberal thought of which he was the leading exponent, I wish to suggest that good is prior to right and, indeed, to rights. To be sure, human rights, including the right to religious liberty, are among the moral principles that demand respect from all of us, including governments and international institutions. To respect people, to respect their dignity, is among other things to honor their rights, including the right to religious freedom. Rights are, however, given content by the goods they protect. Rights are intelligible as rational, action-guiding principles because they are entailments of the directiveness of the basic human goods taken together — that is to say, considered integrally. That directiveness guides our choosing toward what is fulfilling and enriching and away from what is contrary to our well-being. And so, for example, it matters to the identification and defense of the right to life that human life is no mere instrumental good but rather an intrinsic feature of the overall flourishing of human persons. And it matters to the identification and defense of the right to religious liberty that religion is yet another irreducible aspect of human well-being and fulfillment — a basic human good. But what is religion? In its fullest sense, religion is the human person’s being in right relation to the divine — the more than merely human source or sources, if there be such, of meaning and value. Of course, even the greatest among us in the things of the spirit fall short of perfection in various ways; but in the ideal of perfect religion, the person would understand as comprehensively and deeply as possible the truths about spiritual things, and would fully order his or her life, and share in the life of a community of faith that is ordered, in line with those truths. In the perfect realization of the good of religion, one would achieve the relationship that the divine — say, God Himself, assuming for a moment the truth of monotheism — wishes us to have with Him. Of course, different traditions of faith have different views of what constitutes religion in its fullest and most robust sense. There are different doctrines, different scriptures, different structures of authority, different ideas of what is true about spiritual things and what it means to be in proper relationship to the sources of meaning and value that different traditions understand as divinity. For my part, I believe that reason has a very large role to play in deciding where the most robust spiritual truth is to be found. And by “reason,” I mean not only our capacity for practical reasoning and moral judgment but also our capacities for understanding and evaluating claims of all sorts: logical, historical, scientific, and so forth. But one need not agree with me in order to affirm that there is a basic human good of religion and that one begins to realize and participate in this good from the moment one begins the quest to understand the ultimate sources of meaning and value and to order one’s life in line with one’s best judgments of the truth in religious matters. If so, then the existential raising of religious questions, the honest identification of answers, and the fulfilling of what one sincerely believes to be one’s duties in the light of those answers are all parts of the human good of religion — a good whose pursuit is an indispensable feature of the comprehensive flourishing of a human being. But if that is true, then respect for the person demands respect for his or her flourishing as a seeker and observer of religious truth. And this, in turn, requires respect for his or her liberty in the religious quest. Because faith of any type, including religious faith, cannot be authentic — it cannot be faith — unless it is free. Respect for the person’s dignity as a free and rational creature requires respect for his or her religious liberty. That is why understanding religious freedom as a fundamental human right makes sense from the point of view of reason and not merely from that of the revealed teaching of a particular faith (though many faiths also proclaim the right to religious freedom on theological grounds). Interestingly and tragically, in times past, and even in some places today, regard for the spiritual well-being of persons has been the premise for denying religious liberty or conceiving of it in a cramped way. Before the Catholic Church, in the document Dignitatis Humanae of the Second Vatican Council, embraced the robust conception of religious freedom that honors the civil right to give public witness to sincere religious views even when they are erroneous, some Catholic leaders rejected the idea of a right to religious freedom, on the theory that “only the truth has rights.” The idea was that the state should (at least in ideal circumstances) not only publicly identify itself with Catholicism as the true faith but forbid religious advocacy or proselytizing that could lead people into error and apostasy. The mistake here was not in the premise: The truer the religion, the better for the fulfillment of the believer. The mistake, rather, was in the supposition that no one outside the one true faith was advancing or participating in the good of religion and that this good could be protected and advanced by placing civil restrictions on the advocacy of religious ideas. In rejecting this supposition, the Second Vatican Council did not embrace the idea that error has rights; it noticed, rather, that people have rights, and they have rights even when they are in error. And among those rights is the right to express and advocate what one believes to be true about spiritual matters, even if one’s beliefs are less than fully sound, and, indeed, even if they are false. When I have assigned Dignitatis Humanae in courses addressing questions of religious liberty, I have always stressed the importance of reading together with it another document of the Second Vatican Council, Nostra Aetate. There the council fathers pay tribute to all that is true and holy, implying and then explicitly saying that there is much that is good and worthy in non-Christian faiths, including Hinduism and Buddhism and especially Judaism and Islam. In so doing, they give recognition to the ways in which religion, even when it does not include the defining content of what Catholics believe to be religion in its fullest sense — namely, the Incarnation of Jesus Christ — enriches, ennobles, and fulfills the human person in the spiritual dimension of his being. Naturally, the nonrecognition of Christ as the Son of God must count for the fathers as a falling short in the non-Christian faiths, even the Jewish faith in which Christianity is itself rooted and that stands according to Catholic teaching in an unbroken and unbreakable covenant with God — just as the proclamation of Christ as the Son of God must count as an error in Christianity from a Jewish or Muslim point of view. But, the fathers teach, this does not mean that Judaism and Islam are simply false and without merit, just as neither Judaism nor Islam teaches that Christianity is simply false and without merit; on the contrary, these traditions enrich the lives of their faithful in their spiritual dimensions, thereby contributing vitally to their fulfillment. Now, the Catholic Church does not have a monopoly on the natural-law reasoning by which I am explicating and defending religious liberty. But the church does have a deep commitment to such reasoning and a long experience with it, and in Dignitatis Humanae the fathers of the Second Vatican Council present a natural-law argument for religious freedom before supplementing it with arguments appealing to the authority of God’s revelation in sacred scripture. So let me ask you to linger with me a bit longer over Nostra Aetate so that I can illustrate by the teachings of an actual faith how religious leaders and believers, and not just statesmen concerned to craft policy in circumstances of religious pluralism, can incorporate into their understanding of the right to religious liberty the principles and arguments available to all by virtue of what Professor Rawls referred to as “our common human reason.” A robust conception of freedom of religion, that is, need not be rooted in a mere nonaggression pact with other faiths, or in what the late Judith Shklar labeled a “liberalism of fear,” or, much less, in relativism or indifferentism, but rather can be a rational affirmation of the value of religion as embodied and made available to people in and through many traditions of faith. Here is what Nostra Aetate says:

Throughout history even to the present day, there is found among different peoples a certain awareness of a hidden power, which lies behind the course of nature and the events of human life. At times there is present even a recognition of a supreme being or still more of a Father. This awareness and recognition results in a way of life that is imbued with a deep religious sense. The religions which are found in more advanced civilizations endeavor by way of well-defined concepts and exact language to answer these questions. Thus in Hinduism men explore the divine mystery and express it both in the limitless riches of myth and the accurately defined insights of philosophy. They seek release from the trials of the present life by ascetical practices, profound meditation, and recourse to God in confidence and love. Buddhism in its various forms testifies to the essential inadequacy of this changing world. It proposes a way of life by which men can, with confidence and trust, attain a state of perfect liberation and reach supreme illumination either through their own efforts or by the aid of divine help. So, too, other religions which are found throughout the world attempt in their own ways to calm the hearts of men by outlining a program of life covering doctrine, moral precepts, and sacred rites. The Catholic Church rejects nothing of what is true and holy in these religions. She has a high regard for the manner of life and conduct, the precepts and doctrines which, although differing in many ways from her own teaching, nevertheless often reflect truths which enlighten all men. Yet she proclaims, and is in duty bound to proclaim without fail, Christ who is the way, the truth, and the life (Jn. 1:6). In him, in whom God reconciled all things to himself (2 Cor. 5:18–19), men find the fullness of their religious life. The Church therefore urges her sons to enter with prudence and charity into discussion and collaboration with members of other religions. Let Christians, while witnessing to their own faith and way of life, acknowledge, preserve, and encourage the spiritual and moral truths found among non-Christians. The Church has also a high regard for the Muslims. They worship God, who is one, living and subsistent, merciful and almighty, the Creator of heaven and earth, who has also spoken to men. They strive to submit themselves without reserve to the decrees of God, just as Abraham submitted himself to God’s plan, to whose faith Muslims link their own. Although not acknowledging Jesus as God, they revere him as a prophet; his virgin Mother they also honor, and even at times devoutly invoke. Further, they await the Day of Judgment and the reward of God following the resurrection of the dead. For this reason they highly esteem an upright life and worship God, especially by way of prayer, almsgiving, and fasting. Over the centuries many quarrels and dissensions have arisen between Christians and Muslims. The sacred Council now pleads with all to forget the past, and urges that a sincere effort be made to achieve mutual understanding; for the benefit of all men, let them together preserve and promote peace, liberty, social justice, and moral values. Sounding the depths of the mystery which is the Church, this sacred Council remembers the spiritual ties which link the people of the New Covenant to the stock of Abraham. The Church of Christ acknowledges that in God’s plan of salvation the beginning of her faith and election is to be found in the patriarchs and in Moses and the prophets. She professes that all Christ’s faithful, who as men of faith are sons of Abraham (cf. Gal. 3:7), are included in the same patriarch’s call and that the salvation of the Church is mystically prefigured in the exodus of God’s chosen people from the land of bondage. On this account the Church cannot forget that she received the revelation of the Old Testament by way of that people with whom God in his inexpressible mercy established the ancient covenant. Nor can she forget that she draws nourishment from that good olive tree onto which the wild olive branches of the Gentiles have been grafted (cf. Rom. 11:17–24). The Church believes that Christ who is our peace has through his cross reconciled Jews and Gentiles and made them one in himself (cf. Eph. 2:14–16).

Of course, from the point of view of any believer, the farther one gets from the truth of faith in all its dimensions, the less fulfillment is available. But that does not mean that even a primitive and superstition-laden faith, much less the faiths of those advanced civilizations to which the fathers refer, is devoid of value or that there is no right to religious liberty for their practitioners. Nor does it mean that atheists have no right to religious freedom. The fundaments of respect for the good of religion require that civil authority respect (and, in appropriate ways, even nurture) conditions or circumstances in which people can pursue the religious quest. To compel an atheist to perform acts that are premised on theistic beliefs that he cannot, in good conscience, share is to deny him the fundamental bit of the good of religion that is his — namely, living with honesty and integrity in line with his best judgments about ultimate reality. Since faith really must be free, coercing him to perform religious acts does him no good, and it dishonors his dignity as a free and rational person. The violation of liberty is worse than futile. Of course, there are limits to the freedom that must be respected for the sake of the good of religion and the dignity of the person. Gross evil — even grave injustice — can be committed by sincere people for the sake of religion. Even the great end of getting right with God cannot justify a morally bad means, and doing evil for any reason, even for the sake of good consequences, is no way to get right with God. I don’t doubt the sincerity of the Aztecs in practicing human sacrifice, or the sincerity of those in the history of various traditions of faith who used coercion and even torture in the cause of what they believed was religiously required. But these things are deeply wrong and must not be tolerated in the name of religious freedom. To suppose otherwise is to back oneself into the awkward position of supposing that violations of religious freedom (and other injustices of equal gravity) must be respected for the sake of religious freedom. Still, to overcome the powerful and broad presumption in favor of religious liberty, to be justified in requiring the believer to do something contrary to his faith or in forbidding the believer to do something his faith requires, political authority must meet a heavy burden. The legal test in the United States under the Religious Freedom Restoration Act is one way of capturing the presumption and burden: To justify a law that bears negatively on religious freedom, even a neutral law of general applicability must be supported by a compelling state interest and represent the least restrictive or intrusive means of protecting or serving that interest. We can debate whether it is, or should be, up to courts or legislators to decide when exemptions to general, neutral laws should be granted for the sake of religious freedom, but the substantive matter of what religious freedom demands from those who exercise the levers of state power should be something on which reasonable people of goodwill across the religious and political spectrums can agree — precisely because it is a matter capable of being settled by our common reason. Misunderstanding the way religion figures in human life, activity, and fulfillment is no mere intellectual failure; it gives way to political ideologies that either deny religion’s special status or neglect the freedom that genuine participation in the human good of religion requires. Either fault is unacceptable from the standpoint of political justice. The mainstream view among liberal political and legal theorists since at least the days of Rawls has been to deny religion’s status as a category of human activity that is in any way special. Religion, such theorists hold, is like any other deep passion or commitment people might have. Often these theorists agree (and rightly) that religious liberty deserves protection. But the grounds they offer for defending religious liberty rarely extend beyond a concern for avoiding the calamities that religious disagreement and conflict have wrought throughout human history. This is, to be sure, a reason for protecting religious liberty. But it is, alas, defeasible. American conservatives have traditionally championed the cause of religious freedom in a way that accords with the view of religion that I’ve set out. Unfortunately, however, recent years have seen the growth of a brand of “conservatism” that denies not religion’s special character but rather the fact that freedom is required for religion to be pursued in an authentic, humanly fulfilling way. As I mentioned at the outset, these “traditionalists” hold that religious liberty can be defended only if one adopts a stance of religious indifferentism or relativism. And this charge has accompanied support for the suppression of particular, usually non-Christian, forms of worship. Of course, the charge of indifferentism or relativism is without merit. For, as I have said, the purpose motivating religious devotion is the endeavor to live in true accord with the ultimate source of meaning, purpose, and value. It follows from this that the highest realization of the good of religion is religious worship and activity through which one actually does bring oneself into accord with the fullness of divine truth. Now, it is plainly the case that not every religion contains the full truth about matters divine (and it is logically possible that no faith does). Jesus either was or was not the Word Incarnate. God either did or did not establish a special covenant with Abraham and his stock. Mohammed either was or was not God’s final messenger. Theism was either true or false. So, indeed, harmony with the divine can be pursued in unsound (or incomplete) ways — even in ways that impede one’s living in accord, or fully in accord, with the truth about spiritual matters. The account of religion I’ve advanced here does not deny this, but rather explains the importance of evangelical goals such as “making disciples of all nations” or campaigning for worldwide observance of the Noahide commandments. Such missions are valuable, and therefore intelligible, because through them the evangelist seeks to inform others of the divine truth and so cares for their living in accord with what he takes to be the ultimate source of meaning and value. The truer the religion, the greater one’s fulfillment via participation in it. But this anti-relativistic view of religion does not give the go-ahead for the suppression of religious liberty. For no faith can be faith unless professed freely, authentically. No amount of coercion in matters religious can contribute to man’s ultimate fulfillment by participation in religion. That fulfillment requires freedom, and man’s dignity requires that his freedom in this regard be cherished, advanced, and held inviolate. This essay is sponsored by National Review Institute.