A recommendation of the Senate of the University of Sarajevo on harmonizing the educational obligations of students with religious obligations in Bosnia and Herzegovina. caused different, often conflicting interpretations to the public. However, views on that case do not include world experiences, especially not those countries known for their multiculturalism and multiconfessionalism. On this occasion, we asked Professor Amila Buturović from York University in Toronto, Canada, to present to us the compromise of official secularism with the religious needs of students. Since coming to York University in Toronto as Professor of Islamic Studies in the Department of Humanities and the Religious and Cultural Studies Program, each year I have been confronted with an equally stunning sight—an amphitheater studded with male and female students who represent a microcosm of the planet—a global village, as they say in today's jargon. Founded in 1959, York has grown to become the third largest university in Canada, with a student population of approximately 53,000, including 47,000 undergraduates and 6,000 graduate students, including approximately 6,200 visiting students from 178 countries. Although Canadian law prohibits any inquiry about confessional affiliation for official purposes, students may state, without obligation, what their religious affiliation is. So we semi-officially know, more or less, that the current demographic picture is extremely varied and that York is one of the most diverse universities in the world. In one survey conducted as a student experiment, more than 90% of students reported that they considered themselves “minority” on campus. Some 6% of students are Jewish, 5% Islamic, 35% Catholic, 22% Protestant, 4% Hindu, 2% Buddhist, and 2% Sikh. This does not include atheists, minor and tribal religions, new religions, or diversities within larger confessional categories that may be regional or denominational. For example, in my classes, there are regular members of several Islamic denominations within the Sunni and Shiite groups, and one year I had Zoroastrian students from two different currents of that ancient religion. So, we are talking about a university that is a world in miniature and where, except for those 6,200 visiting students, all students are Canadians, naturalized or born in this country. They are a feature of what is happening in Canada, namely, a long-term and persistent policy of immigration of people from all parts of the world, based on a platform of multiculturalism that was adopted as an official act in 1971, and according to which "multiculturalism is the basis of our belief that all citizens are Canada's equals. Multiculturalism allows all citizens to hold on to their identity and be proud of their heritage. That recognition [of diversity] gives Canadians a sense of security and confidence, making them more open to others and other cultures. The Canadian experience is multiculturalism based on racial and ethnic harmony and mutual understanding." Of course, this type of inclusivity, regardless of its good intentions, also produces various problems. One of them is the question of harmonizing the principle of secularism on which the modern Canadian state was built with this principle of multiculturalism. If we stick to the traditional definition according to which secularism is the separation of the secular from the religious sphere of influence, where secular and religious institutions must be differentiated, then we wonder what happens in situations where religious authorities are diverse, do not have a clear institution, and do not have the same role in everyday life, or where customs are inseparable from other domains of value and activity or are not fixed. Such a spectrum of possibilities comes with the multiculturalism of this type, where citizens are called to hold on to their heritage and traditions while at the same time recognizing and supporting a pluralistic and secular society. Adaptation and convergence between these concepts and practice proved to be the only correct process. The secular pluralist state is now inevitably redefined as an order that does not exclude and negate religious life but enables and nurtures it but does not allow it a monopoly over public and state institutions, including schools and universities. This does not mean, of course, that the religious tradition on which the modern Canadian state is based has been completely erased. On the contrary: Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter are guaranteed public holidays; Sundays are (mostly) a non-working day (for example, until the 1980s there was a ban on any Sunday trading in Toronto, and a little before that even a ban on window shopping, so all the big department stores had to draw thick curtains on Sunday, which is biblically designated as a day of rest). Practically, what does this mean and how does it reflect on university life in these circumstances where diversity is on the rise and students are increasingly emboldened to publicly raise issues of their rights, including those related to freedom of religion, in terms of observing holidays and participating in rituals, as well as freedom of expression? Already in 1974, upon the appeal of students of the Jewish religion who at that time constituted a significant percentage, if not the majority, of the total number of students, the Rectorate of the University approved the introduction of Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah as equally official holidays as Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Easter. However, as the university continued to grow and demographics changed, the observance of Judeo-Christian holidays gradually turned into an uneasy reality. Every year there were more and more unofficial requests from students to excuse their absence from classes for religious holidays or to be allowed something that concerns their ritual regulations. Sensibilities began to adjust in the general public as well; for example, in 1990, the Supreme Court approved the wearing of the Sikh turban among police officers and the Special Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) instead of the regular uniform. Although it caused different reactions in the public, the political position on rights and freedom of religion prevailed, and since then the question of the appropriateness of that decision is rarely raised. Sometime in the beginning of 2000, when I took over the chair in the program for religious studies, I received an invitation to participate as an academic advisor in updating the existing draft on adapting classes at York to the holy calendars, as well as considering the issue of ritual practice in the university space, which had been done until then unofficially, at the request of students and at the will of professors (but who often did not know what it was about). The creation of university-wide standards and manuals had a dual purpose: on the one hand, to allow students to be absent from classes if necessary if it conflicts with holidays and other important dates in their sacred calendar; on the other hand, to develop awareness in the entire collective about demographic changes among students and to encourage a sense of simultaneous belonging and diversity. But, considering such a complex problem, the commission's work was filled with questions and disagreements from the very beginning. Let me say right away that, apart from me, two other colleagues from the field of religious studies participated, which both enriched and slowed down the commission's work. Aware of our professional responsibility regarding freedom of religion but also of the fact that for a long time, religious traditions have been studied and studied homogeneously and hierarchically, we approached the whole process with a degree of mistrust that seemed justified. One of the commission's first tasks was to collect data on religious calendars, to establish which days/holidays of the year should be observed, and to examine whether there are restrictions within religious codes of conduct that conflict with university practice (e.g., diet in cafeterias, costumes, gender relations). There it was clear that we were engaging in the question of the importance and influence of religion on student life in a way that mixed normative and non-normative categories of thinking. The process itself placed us between a "subjective" attitude towards religion and believers and accepting the "objective" authority of religious leaders to determine which holidays are important, which ritual activity is desirable, and which can be ignored. Critical questions were raised: through consultation with community leaders, are we prioritizing dominant narratives that include only some holidays and some community members, but not all? Whose holy calendar do we accept, and do we thereby inadvertently exclude fringe followers? Whose authority is primary if faith does not follow a certain holy calendar but is integrated into everyday life and more as a reflection of culture/ethnos than a theological prescription (ritual glory, for example, in the Serbian Orthodox tradition)? Accordingly, the consideration of the criteria was not unanimous: some members of the commission believed that priority should be given to a broader identity because it is administratively simpler. This means that, say, all Muslims would want to celebrate Eid regardless of their level of piety, or that all Hindus would want to be away on the Diwali holiday. Special requirements would not be necessary, and professors would not have to burden themselves with checking the justification of the absence. Another suggestion was to give priority to the confessional practice, according to which the religious leader approves a letter of absence on certain days and dates in advance, and the administrator in the student service records these absences in advance. For me, neither option was easily acceptable: for example, why assume that a religious obligation (like fasting during Ramadan or a holy day that is not strictly religious, like the Persian Nowruz/Nevruz or the Punjabi Vaisakhi) automatically implies a non-working period/holiday? In the case of fasting, for example, opinion was divided between those who sympathized with the students and believed that their work should not be made more difficult while fasting (a secular argument?), while I prioritized the theological view that participation in daily work and responsibilities are an integral part of fasting (non-secular reasoning?). A similar critical review was needed to establish whether differences within religious communities have an impact on our attitude toward sacred calendars. For example, there are often students from the same religious community (in my case, Muslims) sitting in the class, among whom important differences are manifested on several levels: gender, ethnic, regional, class, and denominational. In those cases, it was not easy to accept one narrative as authoritative without raising questions of impartiality and equality. The classroom is a space where many students bring and express their activist views, not only academic, and thereby enrich but also direct the nature of the discussion. Their views inevitably spill over into the consideration of freedom of expression, especially about ritual activities. So for me, it was important to ask the question of whether men's absence due to Jumma is treated the same as absence for women who at the same time use an alternative space at the university for the same needs (because they cannot go to the mosque). Is such a decision a reflection of the recognition of internal differences and the equal treatment of all, or does it represent interference with religious tradition? Are we thus, to get rid of prejudices and act concretely according to all requirements, violating the principles of the secular space of the university? Those and similar critical reviews prolonged the commission's work beyond all expectations, but compromises had to be found. The commission's work ended in 2004 with the publication of an official manual entitled Religious Observance Policy, which lists all important holidays and religious obligations related to the academic calendar, but with the remark that the list is not complete and that students are invited to intervene as needed. The layeredness of the discussion, unfortunately, could not be reflected in that document. Given that celebrating all holidays would be impossible for the integrity of the school year, the solution, paradoxically, was found in a completely different rule in the University Statute, namely that attendance at lectures, except in exceptional cases, is not mandatory (a rule introduced to enable students who are employed at the same time to avoid repercussions due to occasional absence from classes). Regardless of the importance of the document, practice has shown that the search for solutions for certain situations still primarily relies on ethics—goodwill and a prudent agreement between students and professors. At the same time, independently of the work of the commission, students and professors expressed themselves through other types of activism regarding the issue of tolerance in the multicultural environment of the university. In the mid-2000s, a colleague from the Department of History and a well-known political activist, Dr. David Noble, filed a complaint with the Ontario Human Rights Commission, which, among other duties, oversees the issue of equality at all public institutions, that the celebration of Jewish holidays at York goes against the principle of equality and equality among all students and must be abolished. Strongly protesting against non-working days on these holidays, Noble insisted on holding his classes and invited all students to attend. The explanation he gave was more layered than just the issue of equality: “As a Jew,” Noble declared, “I fear the atmosphere of anti-Semitism that may be created by this discrimination against the 95% of students at York who are not Jewish. Jews at York are favored, and this can have negative consequences for relations with students.” In 2009, before the Human Rights Commission fully investigated the complaint, York abolished the observance of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. The development of these events, from the preparation of the document to the abolition of Jewish holidays, showed that the discussion has not ended and will not end just like that. There is no template according to which such a complex institution can be freed from the paradox that arises from the simultaneous recognition of diversity and its limitations. For example, last year there was a conflict between professors from sociology, the dean's office, and the rectorate after the professor asked for advice on what to do with a student who refused to participate in a joint experiment with women, citing that his faith does not allow the mixing of the sexes illicitly. The professor refused that request; the dean's office accepted it, only for the rector to refuse it, citing secular principles of gender equality. The solution was found, that is, through the hierarchy of authority and not by reconciling religious and secular principles. Dilemmas and difficulties related to this issue continue; they represent a response to wider socio-political currents and bring new trials that will not always be successfully resolved. Reconciling administrative and pedagogical needs and at the same time providing support to students from various religious traditions, it turned out, is only possible if thinking and attitude are flexible, as well as openness to diversity (in identity, practice, and experience). Tolerance and goodwill by themselves do not provide the answer, among other things, because they are conditioned by subjective criteria. Religious communities, like the university community, are constantly changing and redefining, but not always in a mutually harmonious way. If we want to resolve the potential conflict between the secular and religious space, we must be aware not only of our motivations but also of the fact that neither category is neutral; they mutually condition and change, sometimes due to personal interests and sometimes external and other people's. American philosopher Gary Muhammad Lengenhausen calls it non-reductive pluralism: learning from others but also changing oneself through others. Amila Buturović Amila Buturović is a professor of Islamic studies and religious studies in the Department of Humanities at York University in Toronto. She graduated from the Faculty of Philosophy in Sarajevo and received her master's and doctorate degrees from the Institute of Islamic Studies at McGill University in Montreal. The last book she published is called Carved in Stone, Etched in Memory: Death, Tombstones, and Commemoration in Bosnian Islam (2015); before that, as a co-author with Irvin C. Schick, she published Women in the Ottoman Balkans (2008) i Stone Speaker: Bosnian Landscape and Identity in the Poetry of Mak Dizdar (2002). (http://skolegijum.ba)
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