Within the orbit of concerns conveniently framed as ‘equality and diversity’ one will often hear mention of the ambition to be inclusive. As used within this context, and for an audience that understands what is being implied, the term has meaning and validity. Thus reference might be made to the ambition that one’s institution become a “fully inclusive university”. The term inclusion becomes misleading, however, when it is lazily adopted as a general philosophy, implying that any form of boundary or exclusion is inherently wrong. An elucidation of this point is in order.
There is, I would submit, no such thing as blanket inclusion. To use a reduction ad absurdum ‘a fully inclusive’ perspective would have to be one that included, without differentiation, the entire history and future prospects of the known universe. Anything less would necessarily employ a form of exclusion. Yet exclusion is just what is needed when attempting to make sense of things. Thinking of any useful variety works by seeing distinctions and connections, otherwise there is only undifferentiated stuff. We use the analogy of sharpness to describe mental agility precisely because being able to cut or divide ‘stuff’ into meaningful distinction lies at the heart of clear thinking.
To draw on some previous work (Law, 2010) for a slightly different purpose, a strong case could be made for the proposition that awareness of boundary is the beginning of perception. All thought, all definition, demands the construction of a notion of boundary rooted in an awareness of where one thing is distinguishable from another. Without boundary nothing is thinkable because all is the same. Without boundary there could be no categories, no relationships, no patterns. Music would not exist without the boundaries that distinguish rhythm, pitch and tonality. Without boundary nothing could be said, for words and grammar too are dependent on boundary even as they seek to describe and comprehend boundary. Boundary is difference, and difference is an irreducible ground of meaning for, without the recognition of difference, the process of interpretation cannot even begin. We may conclude, therefore, that while boundaries do not have to be rigid and impermeable (think of a living cell), they are a requisite of all analysis and definition.
When the language of inclusion is used, therefore, I suggest what is really being spoken of is the rightful need to distinguish (boundary again) between justifiable and unjustifiable exclusion. Does a particular policy or action unjustifiably mean that members of certain groups are excluded from self-expression or access to some benefit, position or opportunity? To ask this question means being prepared to do some hard thinking.
Let us consider one very practical issue that can face chaplaincy in our institutions, that of the placing of Gideon Bibles in student accommodation. Detractors of this practice often argue as follows: if the sacred texts on one religion are to be present, then so must those of all other world faiths (and presumably key philosophies also); inclusive practice demands no less. Given, however, this is not practicable, in the interests of equality no authorised religious texts, Bibles included, should be present.
Essentially this is an argument that in matters of faith and belief the university can make no decision or discernment; all views must be held to be equally valid. There at least two difficulties with this. First, in a university that purports to have an Anglican identity how can one hold a position that suggests that in matters of religion and belief no differentiations can be made? Secondly, the removal or barring of Gideon Bibles, in the context of a general culture where this practice is widely accepted and understood, means that the University does not escape making a religious claim. Rather, by acting in this way, it simply supports a secular agenda which, of course, is not a neutral position.
The most serious problem with this argument, however, is that it does not seem to be followed in any other area of university practice. Thus does the sale of one variety of chocolate bar (or any other product) mean that this can only be justified if all available chocolate bars are rendered equally accessible? Or, where the application of this principle might be of more use, does it mean that holding one book in the library on a certain subject can only happen if all other available texts in that area are made available? If the university offers academic courses in one discipline, must it also offer every conceivable course? If the university is located (as it must be) in one geographical area, should it re-locate to another part of the globe where it will be equally accessible (or inaccessible) to all current applicants?
Decisions and exclusions are a necessary feature of finitude, and more pertinently of particular identity. This, of course, is not an automatic argument that, to return to our example, Gideon Bibles must be in all university residences. An argument requires to be made, but its validity cannot be ruled out in advance on the principle of ‘inclusion’ because it is entirely legitimate to make decisions that exclude if they belong appropriately to the identity of the institution. The processes of application, assessment and award are instantiations of just this tenet that identity shapes discrimination. A golf club should not discriminate on the basis of academic aptitude and performance; a university, if it is to remain a university, must do just this.
At this point Anglican identity and university identity come together. To accept the secular solution, that enforces the notion that all religious traditions are of equal merit – because equally questionable – is to subscribe to a form of ‘repressive tolerance’ (Marcuse). More significantly, it is to give up on the quest for truth that lies at the very heart of university identity. This does not mean, of course, that therefore an Anglican perspective must be correct and all others wrong. It does mean, however, that it is legitimate to argue for one’s convictions.
The exercising of chaplaincy ministry is inescapably connected to defending the integrity and identifying claims of the Gospel. To do so will mean variously ‘tripping up’ on an unthinking notion of inclusivity. As Rowan Williams (2012) has it, any claim of what is good for humanity is bound to have the appearance of an element of exclusivity since it will appear as a particular perspective making a universal claim. But it is not the universal claim that is problematic; it is rather a question of what methods are employed to commend that claim and vision (p.95). Do they respect the freedom and conscience of the other? Yet there is no escaping that the making of claims which have any kind of definition, any sense of intelligibility, will require forms of exclusion!
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