Liberation theology was once caricatured as Marxism with a Christian tinge, or the Bible plus Kalashnikov. In fact, thinkers identified with the movement were involved in a serious theological exploration. They wanted to think coherently about Christian faith from the perspective of those mainly rural poor who were oppressed in Latin American nations, and how Christians should respond to their plight. The theological responses to their enterprise is relevant to the public conversation in Australia.
Some theologians questioned the narrow focus on the grounds that the Christian message is preached to all people and supposes a universal truth. Would not a partial or partisan perspective inevitably lead to a stunted theology and a distortion of Christian faith?
This question about universality was raised in practical terms by other Christian marginalised groups. If there was to be a liberation theology based in the lives of the Latin American poor, should there not also be a feminist theology that came out of the lives of marginalised women, a black theology that began with racial discrimination against Black Americans oppression, and so on?
The variety of theologies then invited reflection on how they could speak to one another and whether one theology had precedence over others.
In public conversation in Australia these theological questions are of marginal significance. But secular variants abound in which society is analysed in terms of the discrimination suffered by various minority groups at the hands of the majority or of those with power.
We need think only of the analysis of the treatment of women at the hands of men, of Indigenous Australians at the hands of non-Indigenous, of gay at the hands of straight Australians, of asylum seekers and recent immigrant groups at the hands of earlier arrivals, of tax payers at the hands of tax avoiders, of shooters and bare-headed cyclists at the hands of the prissy, of Catholics at the hands of secularists, of young and elderly Australians at the hands of those with political power, and so on.
In each case the story of the minority group is told as one of oppression and denial of rights by the majority or the powerful. Advocates point out the injustice, and demand society change its attitudes and redress discrimination through education, legislation and financial commitments to enable change.
In almost every case, the stories told about the suffering caused to individuals are moving, and the arguments made for changes in legislation and community attitudes are plausible.
But the challenges that their advocates face are formidable: they compete with one another for attention in public conversation, and the connection between their different causes is not clear. As a result the public is likely to be briefly moved, but then move on to another complaint.
What is lacking is a shared overarching view of human flourishing in which individual rights can be set alongside one another and their connections explored. Without this larger view, rights will inevitably be seen as competitive and apparent clashes between them will be resolved by the exercise of naked political power and not of ethical and political wisdom.
The proper starting point for reflection is to focus on the stories of people who claim to be discriminated against, and to be imaginatively present to them as persons without judging them. To see unemployed people as persons and not stereotypically as layabouts, for example, and similarly to see women, prisoners, religious people, LBGT people and Indigenous Australians as persons. They deserve respect for their claims because they are people not because they are members of a group.
Their claims, however, need also to be set within reflection on the common good of society. The common good supposes that the ordering of society must look to the good of each person in society through securing the good of all, especially the most disadvantaged. People are seen not simply as individuals or representatives of groups, but as mutually dependent, so that they must be seen in the context of their relationships to others.
From this perspective, some rights claimed by individuals will be overridden by care for society. The right to shoot wildlife for sport and to ride bicycles without helmets may be examples. But in such cases the priority given to the good of society must be supported by compelling evidence.
The connection between claims of discrimination must also be considered. They will often lie in structural injustice in the ordering of society. The privilege of amassing and keeping disproportionate wealth by the very few, for example, may be protected at the expense of vulnerable people in many social groups.
Within groups claiming discrimination, too, some claims may have priority over others. The claims of migrant women to a decent wage, for example, may take precedence over the rights of others to equal board representation.
Finally, claims can come into conflict, as for example the claims to non-discrimination and to religious freedom. Generally claims in conflict must be vindicated, but in a way that is mutually limiting. This requires that the resolution be resolved in conversation about the common good, and not simply by the exercise of power. That was a lesson learned in the debates about liberation theology.
Andrew Hamilton is consulting editor of Eureka Street.