What is wrong with exclusivism? Religious exclusivism between epistemic overconfidence and epistemic humility

Abstract

I compare the discussion on exclusivism in religion to the discussion on exclusivism in general. With defenders of religious exclusivism, such as Plantinga, I argue that it is a subset of general exclusivism and is as little blameworthy as the latter is. This explains why defenders of religious exclusivism are right in assuming that the burden of proof is on the shoulders of the critics of exclusivism. Yet, this answer solves only part of the problem. It answers only the first order question of whether it is legitimate to hold exclusivist truth claims in religion. It does not answer the second order question of how, in what spirit, they should be held. I argue that there are contexts in which exclusivist truth claims should be held in a humble fashion, for example contexts in which (cognitive) ambiguity reigns. If they are held in those contexts in an overconfident fashion, they are epistemically and/or morally blameworthy. Since religion is characterized by a measure of (cognitive) ambiguity, exclusivist religious truth claims should be held in a humble fashion. They are thus blameworthy if held in an overconfident fashion. Yet, if held in a modest spirit, there is nothing wrong with religious exclusivism.

Introduction

The issue of exclusivism is heavily contested. Its defenders hammer on the necessity of making exclusivist truth claims in religion,¹ critics charge religious exclusivism with promoting epistemically and/or morally blameworthy attitudes or behavior. Such critics argue, for example, that it is irrational, egoistic, self-servingly arbitrary or dishonest, oppressive, intellectually arrogant, imperialist, unreasonable, unjustifiable,² elitist,³ (morally) insensitive,⁴ linked to fundamentalism,⁵ conceptually incoherent,⁶ etc.

I have also criticized religious exclusivism on the grounds that it is a ‘dialogue stopper’, that it is incapable of conducting a serious interreligious dialogue.⁷ Yet, recently I have come to reconsider this criticism. The reason is that the recent debates around conspiracy thinking and related phenomena show how important exclusivism is. We need to insist on the exclusive truth of our view vis a vis the Covid-19 sceptic. This is not only an epistemic right but also an epistemico-moral duty. If we care about human well-being, we cannot afford not to be exclusivist.

Yet, if we cannot afford not to be exclusivist in this case, why are we then so critical about religious exclusivism? What makes this sort of exclusivism so different from other sorts that it needs special treatment? Or is something wrong with our criticism of it? Do we use two different measuring sticks, are more critical about exclusivism when it comes to religion than about exclusivism in other domains of inquiry? If so, what are the reasons for this? Are there good epistemic, moral or related reasons for this or is our criticism of religious exclusivism driven by poor reasons, say, anti-religious or anti-conservative prejudices? We should seriously reconsider our criticism of religious exclusivism if we want to avoid the impression of being guilty of doublethink.

This is the background of this research and determines also the approach I choose. I first delve into the practice of making exclusivist truth claims in general and then take the practice of making exclusivist truth claims in religion to be a subset of that generalist practice. After establishing the legitimacy of the former, I will ask what makes this particular subset suspicious, if anything. The approach of treating religious exclusivism as a subset of general exclusivism, I call a generalist approach.

This generalist approach takes me into the neighborhood of defenders of religious exclusivism, such as Plantinga and Trigg. They also argue using general features, such as that of the general functioning of language, and then situate religious exclusivism within this larger picture.⁸ An example is Trigg’s thesis that religious exclusivism excludes alternatives and that excluding alternatives is simply part of the assertive nature of language.⁹ Since religious truth claims are assertive, there is nothing wrong with holding them in an exclusivist fashion, according to Trigg.

I share this generalist approach and the pro-exclusivist conclusions following from it thus far. Yet, I part company with Trigg, Plantinga and others at an important juncture. The reason is not that they are wrong but that they overlook an important aspect of the discussion on religious exclusivism. They focus exclusively on the question of whether we are justified to make exclusivist truth claims in religion but overlook the question of how we should make those claims. They are victorious on the former issue but doubts can be raised on the worth of this victory since they ignore the latter issue. I will show that raising the how-question is the key to dealing with the issue of religious exclusivism responsibly. It is the key to re-conceptualizing exclusivism in a way which meets its criticism.

This way of approaching the issue goes beyond standard arguments for or against religious exclusivism. By going beyond those arguments, I hope to contribute to making the sometimes quite polarized discussions on the issue more constructive.

Characterizing ‘religious exclusivism’ and the distinction between first-order and second-order theses

Obviously, much depends on how a term is defined. Our definition informs the nature and outcomes of the discussion to a good extent. Suppose we would choose to define religious exclusivism as a failure to reflect on the issue whether one’s own religion is really superior to others.¹⁰ This lack of reflectivity would prejudice many of us against religious exclusivism and would make a fair discussion of the issue difficult if not impossible.

If we want to avoid prejudices of this sort, we need to do two things: First we need to choose a less biased definition of ‘religious exclusivism’. Second, we need to flag possible blind spots in the definition we have chosen.

Regarding the first, the most neutral definition of ‘religious exclusivism’ I can think of is to restrict the extension of the term to purely alethic claims, thus to the practice of attributing truth values to particular kinds of statements. An example of such an alethic definition is Plantinga’s characterization of the religious exclusivist as holding that.

“the tenets or some of the tenets of one religion…are in fact true. He adds…that any other propositions, including other religious beliefs, that are incompatible with those tenets are false.”¹¹

Such an alethic definition is not only relatively neutral but has the additional advantage of allowing us to discuss ‘religious exclusivism’ in close analogy to ‘general exclusivism’, general exclusivism here understood as the practice of making exclusivist truth claims in various domains of inquiry, including non-religious ones. In addition, the simplicity of this definition minimizes the danger of using ‘religious exclusivism’ inconsistently. I thus choose this definition for the purpose of this paper.

What are possible blind spots of this definition? A salient one is that it restricts the extension of the term to being a first-order thesis. Before I flesh out this blind spot further, I explain the difference between ‘first-order theses’ (considerations) and ‘second-order theses’ (considerations): The former imply claims about reality; in the case of exclusivist religious claims about religious aspects of reality. For our purposes here, first-order considerations include questions of epistemico-moral legitimacy, the question whether we are justified to make particular claims about reality. Second-order theses are theses about the first-order theses. They are of a higher order and reflect on the first-order theses.¹² They relate to the attitude with which we hold our first-order claims, with the confidence, the mindset or spirit with which we hold them. In sum: first-order theses ask whether we are epistemico-morally justified to make particular claims, second-order theses ask how we should make them.

Defining religious exclusivism in purely alethic terms frames the discussion on the issue in first-order terms, restricting it to questions of justification. It neglects second-order questions, issues of attitude. If we want to have a fair discussion about ‘religious exclusivism’, we must raise the question, at some point, what the price is for excluding second-order considerations. I will do this below.

Before we come to discussing the issue, one more clarification is in order. There are two competing senses of ‘religious exclusivism’ in the literature a truth-geared and a salvation-geared sense. As the names indicate, truth-geared exclusivists hold that only one religion possesses the truth—usually their own, salvation-geared exclusivists that only one religion leads to salvation—again, usually their own religion. Although not unconnected, both forms need to be distinguished.¹³ There are no straightforward conceptual connections to the effect that holding a truth-geared exclusivism would imply a commitment to a salvation-geared exclusivism. For example, it is possible to hold the view that religions A and B lead to salvation but religion C does not. This is a pluralist stance regarding salvation but, if held on religious grounds, an exclusivist one regarding truth.¹⁴ A truth-geared religious exclusivism thus does not necessarily imply a salvation-geared exclusivism.

I do not delve any further into the conceptual connections between both kinds of exclusivism. My point is here simply to clarify that the following argument pertains solely to truth-geared forms of exclusivism. It does not touch upon issues of salvation.

On the duty to be exclusivist

Exclusivism understood in this alethic sense is a natural epistemic corollary of making a basic ontological assumption. This assumption is that reality is one. The reason is that if reality is one and we wish to describe it adequately (rather than, say, distort it for artistic purposes) there can be only one adequate description of it. Thus, the beliefs which are part of this adequate description are the only ones that are true. Being exclusively true, beliefs which are incompatible with them cannot also be true. If a bivalent logic applies, they must be false. Thus, when we make ontological assertions, wish to describe reality adequately, exclusivism is the most ‘natural’ epistemic choice.¹⁵

Given that religious assertions have the function to describe reality adequately, exclusivism is the natural choice. If I say that Jesus is the Messiah, I mean that he is Christ and that the assertion that he is not is false. This has nothing to do with religious machoism but with the way (the assertive aspects of) our language function, probably even with what the conditio humana is like.¹⁶ Making exclusivist claims is so natural that we mostly do this without thinking much about it. I just made such a claim. The claim that ‘making exclusivist claims is so natural that we mostly do this without thinking much about it’ is an exclusivist claim. I suggest that this claim is exclusively true and that its denial is false.

In an entire range of cases, exclusivism is not only natural or legitimate but on top of that morally obligatory. We have an obligation to insist on the exclusive truth of statements on Covid-19. We have a duty to insist that the Covid-19 sceptic is mistaken. The reason is that beliefs such as the one that Covid-19 is nothing more than a flu can cause serious damage to human health. Given that we have a moral duty to increase human health, it follows that we have a duty to oppose false beliefs which jeopardize human health. In certain cases, we thus have an epistemico-moral duty to be exclusivist.

I emphasize this duty because of recent developments in our culture, such as the emergence of conspiracy theories, fake news, talk about ‘alternative facts’, etc. Exclusivism is an antidote to it. It shows that all this talk is a non-starter. Since exclusivism implies that beliefs incompatible with the true beliefs are false, they cannot be alternative. Using the term ‘alternative’ is either an euphemism for ‘false’ or plain nonsense. Obviously, insisting on exclusivism does not tell us which of two competing beliefs is true and which is false. But it shows that they are competing with each other, that only one of them can be true and that the other one must be false by necessity. The idea that beliefs can be alternative to the true beliefs but not false is thus ruled out from the beginning on. In sum, exclusivism teaches us a lesson which is important in our current situation.

(Hidden) presuppositions of the discussion and the burden of proof

If general exclusivism is legitimate, how can religious exclusivism be illegitimate? Aren’t critics of religious exclusivism inconsistent when they pursue their criticism in an exclusivist spirit? After all, they insist that they possess the truth about religious exclusivism when they criticize it as being unreasonable, elitist, etc. They assume that their beliefs are exclusively true and that beliefs incompatible with them, such as the belief that exclusivism is not unreasonable, is false. But if you use exclusivist means, you obviously presuppose that there is nothing wrong with exclusivism in general. If so, how can you reject then a subset of general exclusivism, viz. religious exclusivism?

We will answer these questions later. For now, let us use them as a vantage point for a meta-reflection on the way the discussion of religious exclusivism is set up. They help to analyze this set-up and to reveal presuppositions which may otherwise remain hidden. They help to explain the presuppositions upon which ‘generalist’ defenses of religious exclusivism are—often implicitly—based. Condensed into a scheme, those defenses assume that.

• (a) exclusivist religious claims, X, are a subset of a larger set, Y (namely, all exclusivist claims);

• (b) Y is legitimate in principle, its legitimacy being an implication of what is presupposed in communication¹⁷ or the like;

• (c) being a subset of Y, X is as legitimate as Y is, unless convincing arguments to the contrary are brought forward;

• (d) there are no convincing arguments to the contrary: moral¹⁸ as well as epistemic objections to exclusivism¹⁹ fail;

• (e) thus, nothing speaks against considering X, religious exclusivism, to be as legitimate as Y, general exclusivism.

This scheme explains why those defenders often spend most of their energy on fending off criticism of religious exclusivism rather than defending its legitimacy in the first place. They simply take this legitimacy for granted. It is an implication of the legitimacy of the practice of making exclusivist claims in general in their eyes.

This reasoning explains the distribution of the burden of proof. It explains why this burden is on the shoulders of the critics of religious exclusivism rather than on its defenders. After all, those critics assume that something is wrong with a subset of an overarching set with which nothing is wrong. They are thus under an obligation to explain what makes this subset so special that it requires a different treatment.

If the critics fail to deliver on this point, they make themselves liable to being charged with using double standards. They raise the suspicion that they arbitrarily single out the practice of making exclusivist claims in religion in order to treat it differently than the same practice in other domains. ‘Arbitrary’ meaning that they do not have good epistemological or related arguments but are guided by ideological, religiously biased, say, pluralist or related agendas. If we wish to avoid this suspicion, we thus need to provide convincing arguments as to why the making of exclusivist truth claims in religion differs from this practice in the case of, say, Covid-19.

Going beyond Plantinga, Trigg and other defenders of religious exclusivism

Thus far, I side with Plantinga, Trigg and other defenders of religious exclusivism. They have a point when insisting that making exclusivist truth claims in religion is simply a subset of making exclusivist truth claims in general and that the former is as legitimate as the latter is. And I side with them when they presuppose that the burden of proof lies on the shoulders of the critics of religious exclusivism. Unless they provide convincing arguments as to why religious exclusivism is blameworthy, it must be considered to be as legitimate as general exclusivism is.

Let us now raise the question of what this victory is worth. In order to assess that, we have to remember the distinction between first-order and second-order considerations (see Sect. "Introduction"). Given this distinction, this victory is a victory on the first-order level. It succeeds in demonstrating that there are no overriding reasons why we should refrain from making exclusivist religious truth claims, that we are not disentitled to make them. It answers the question of whether we are entitled to make them. Yet, it does not raise the question of how we should make them.

At this point, a defender of exclusivism can retort that she is not interested in the how-question. Yet, I think that she should be interested in it. Let me explain why I think this by providing the following comparison:

Take the belief that the earth is round. In this case, the evidence clearly supports this belief. We are thus entitled to make an exclusivist truth claim regarding the roundness of the earth. Yet, what about situations in which the evidence is not as clear as that? Take for example the case of a newly developed medicine, NDM, against a serious disease. Imagine that the evidence that NDM is effective is 51%, and that it is not effective is 49%. Since the likelihood that it is effective is greater than that it is not, we may still be entitled to believe that NDM is effective. Yet, should we hold this belief in the same way in which we hold the belief that the earth is round? Probably not. If we want to have a proper discussion on the issue rather than sell NDM at all costs, we should admit that the amount of trustworthiness we can attribute to the statement that NDM is effective differs from the amount of trustworthiness we can attribute to the statement that the earth is round. Consequently, the attitude with which we should hold both statements should be different. Put differently, we must thus acknowledge the importance of second-order considerations for the purpose of having a proper discussion, one that goes beyond clever salesmanship.

The reason why those second-order considerations are relevant for our current discussion is obvious: If exclusivist claims in religion resemble more the NDM case than that of the roundness of the earth, we cannot afford to neglect second-order considerations. For the purposes of having a proper discussion on the issue, we must raise the question with what kind of attitude exclusivist claims in religion may be held. We must thus go beyond the discussion on whether we are entitled to hold them and ask how we should hold them.

In my view, neglecting this question is the blind spot of much of the current discussions on religious exclusivism. I mean the discussions on ‘defeating’ the defense of religious exclusivism, on ‘defeating the defeaters’, on ‘defeating defeater defeaters’, etc. Those discussions restrict the issue to first-order considerations. They answer the question of whether we are entitled to make exclusivist claims in religion but not the question in what sense, how, we should make them.

Obviously, the former is a requirement for the latter. If we were not entitled to make those claims, the question of how we should make them would be superfluous. That is why defending Plantinga’s or related defenses of religious exclusivism against unwarranted criticism is not useless.²⁰ Yet, it is of limited value. It is as limited as defending the right to claim NDM’s effectiveness against unwarranted criticism: Not useless, but only part of the full story. The full story includes admitting that, although we are entitled to defend NDM’s usefulness, we should do so in a different spirit than defending the earth’s roundness.²¹

In sum, defending religious exclusivism as purely a first-order thesis is only part of the story. It shows that we are not disentitled to make exclusivist claims in religion. But it does not tell us in what spirit, how, we should make them. This is the point where I go beyond Plantinga, Trigg and other defenders of religious exclusivism. I will include the relevant second-order considerations by raising the question of how we should hold them. In my view, answering this question provides the key to dealing with the issue of religious exclusivism in a responsible way.

Epistemic humility as opposed to epistemic over-confidence

Let us first delve into some general reflections on second-order considerations. Which factors decide, or at least, influence, the way in which we should hold beliefs in general? In my view, the pragmatic context in which a belief is held is important for determining our epistemico-moral obligations. The relevant features of this context determine to a good extent in what kind of spirit we should hold a belief. I will make that clear with the help of an example that I consider to be intuitively plausible. This example consists of a comparison between two different kinds of situations, both entailing different epistemico-moral obligations.

Situation A has the following features

Imagine that you and a friend ride in a car and approach a traffic light. You believe this light to be red, your friend says it is green. You have a clear view of the traffic light, your friend looks at it from an awkward angle. Furthermore, you know that your judgement on colors is generally reliable but your friend’s judgement on colors is not always reliable. In this situation you are prima facie entitled to hold on to your exclusivist truth claims, to believe that your judgement is true and your friend’s judgement is false. You are thus epistemically entitled to stick to your belief and discard your friend’s belief off-hand. In this situation, the charge that you are being elitist, over-confident or in other ways epistemically blameworthy (see Introduction) is misplaced.

Situation B has the following features

Imagine now that you are looking at the traffic light from an awkward angle. You think it is red but are not absolutely sure about it. Your friend holds that it is green. She looks at it from a different angle and you have no reason to doubt her judgement on colors. Your own judgment on colors is generally reliable but you have reached a certain age and are not a hundred percent sure any more that you can trust your eyesight. This situation is different and so are your epistemico-moral obligations. In this situation, you do have an obligation to hold your belief that the traffic light is red in a different spirit than in the case of A. Whereas in A you are entitled to discard your friend’s belief off-hand you are not entitled to do so in this case. Rather, you should take her belief more seriously and, consequently, hold your own belief in a more modest fashion. For example, you should lower the confidence with which you hold it. If you discard her belief off-hand in this situation, you are epistemically and/or morally blameworthy.

What distinguishes situations A and B? Situation B is characterized by the fact that you look at the traffic light from a poorer angle and are not completely sure about the trustworthiness of your eyesight. B is thus characterized by a certain amount of ambiguity. Situations which are characterized by ambiguity entail different epistemico-moral obligations than situations in which there is no or less ambiguity.

Whether one meets one’s epistemic-moral obligations, thus, whether one is blameworthy or not, depends on this context. In situation A, epistemico-moral blame is misplaced, in situation B it is adequate. If you fail to hold your belief in situation B in a more modest spirit than in situation A, you are epistemically and/or morally blameworthy. I call this blameworthiness ‘epistemic over-confidence’ and oppose it to epistemic humility.²² Thus, epistemic over-confidence refers to the failure to hold beliefs in a modest spirit in situations in which they should be held in a humble fashion, viz. in situations of ambiguity.

Context-dependency, pragmatic encroachment and conciliationism

The comparison between situations A and B makes clear that epistemic blame depends on context as much as on content. The pragmatic contexts make a crucial difference regarding one’s epistemic obligations and thus on the question of whether one is epistemically blameworthy or not. How does this result relate to two discussions that are currently led in epistemology, namely those on pragmatic encroachment and peer disagreement? I will answer this question before I return to the discussion of religious exclusivism.

There are obvious parallels to the thesis that the pragmatic ‘encroaches’ legitimately on the epistemic. Take as an example Fantl/McGrath’s thesis that the practical stakes play an important role in determining what amount of evidence is required to hold beliefs in a responsible fashion.²³ This is a perfect example of what I mean when I say that the context determines epistemico-moral obigations to a good extent. If the stakes are high in a given context, there is time pressure to decide one way or the other, etc., the evidence required for holding a belief repsonsibly is different from a situation in which this is not the case. Consequently, epistemic evaluations, whether or not one is blameworthy for holding a belief, is to some extent dependent upon this context.

What about the discussion on peer disagreement? My insistence upon modesty in situation B may be taken to resemble a conciliationist stance in this discussion.²⁴ I understand ‘conciliationism’ here as being opposed to steadfastness and to imply that one should revise one’s beliefs in light of peer disagreement. Yet, whether or not my insistence on humility is conciliationist in this sense depends on what is meant by ‘belief revision’. I do not subscribe to the view that this disagreement must entail automatically a revision of one’s first-order beliefs, say, a suspension of judgment.²⁵ This skepticism has to do with my insistence on the importance of the context for determining epistemic evaluations. Suspending judgment may be wise if one has a philosophical discussion on the unreliability of human cognition after the disagreement on the color of the traffic light. Yet, in situation B, one cannot afford to suspend judgment. One has to decide whether or not one wants to continue believing that the light is red. The reason is that this belief is highly action-relevant and situation B requires taking action one way or the other. One has to decide whether or not to engage the brakes.

Thus, if ‘conciliationism’ is taken to imply that one should always revise one’s first-order beliefs in light of peer disagreement, I reject it. Whether or not one should revise one’s beliefs does not only depend on the question of what status the disagreeing person has, whether she is a peer, but also on the pragmatic context.

However, if ‘conciliationism’ is understood in a broader sense,²⁶ I agree with it. That is the case if it is taken to imply that one should hold one’s beliefs in a different spirit in the face of peer disagreement. One should indeed lower one’s confidence in the belief that the light is red in situation B, be more open to the possibility that one’s judgment is mistaken, etc. This does not necessarily imply revising one’s first-order belief that the light is red but it does imply the necessity to hold it with a different attitude. Understood as implying second-order consequences, such as the need to lower one’s confidence in one’s belief, conciliationism has a point in my view. Failure to lower one’s confidence that the light is red in situation B is epistemically and/or morally culpable, overconfident.

Consequences for ‘tidying up’ the discussion on (religious) exclusivism

The outcome of our discussion on exclusivism is that one is epistemically blameworthy if one fails to hold one’s beliefs in a modest spirit in situations in which they should be held humbly.

This insight helps to answer the above question of how religious exclusivism can be wrong although its overarching set, general exclusivism, is not (see Sect. “(Hidden) presuppositions of the discussion and the burden of proof”). Although there is nothing wrong with the set of exclusivist claims in general, particular subsets of this overall set can be wrong. These are subsets in which the beliefs are held in an overconfident spirit although they should be held in a modest spirit. If religious beliefs should be held in a modest spirit (see next section), they are thus blameworthy if held with a wrong, overconfident attitude.

The blameworthiness of religious exclusivism has thus nothing to do with its content but with the way religious beliefs are held. It is not religion itself that makes it wrong but the way some of its defenders propose it. Its blameworthiness is thus not to be sought on the first-order but on the second-order level.

This criticism cannot be charged with using double standards. Rather, the same standards are used for measuring all sets of exclusivist claims. Some sets fail to meet those standards, including some religious exclusivist claims. Such an epistemic-moral criticism cannot be suspected to be driven by ideological, anti-conservative, pluralist or whatever agendas.

This insight helps also to ‘tidy up’ the discussion on religious exclusivism. The lesson to be learnt is that both critics and defenders must specify in what sense they attack or defend it. If they want to avoid talking past each other, they must specify whether their attacks or defenses are meant to be contributions to first-order or to second-order considerations on the issue.

To come back to the above example (see Sect. “Going beyond Plantinga, Trigg and other defenders of religious exclusivism”), the discussion on defeating defeaters of religious exclusivism: it answers the first-order question of whether we are entitled to hold exclusivist religious beliefs. If successful, it shows that we are not disentitled to hold them. Yet, if the critics raise the question of how we should hold them, it does not address this criticism. If the critics suggest that they are held in the wrong spirit, the answer that we are entitled to hold them is an answer to a different question than that which the critics raise.

The lesson to be learnt is that defenders of religious exclusivism must specify what challenge precisely their defense addresses. The same holds for its critics. If both defenders and critics of religious exclusivism want to have a constructive discussion with each other, they must specify whether their contributions are meant to be answers to first-order or to second-order questions.

Religious exclusivism and cognitive ambiguity

Thus far, we have argued that exclusivist religious truth claims are blameworthy if held in an overconfident spirit in situations of ambiguity. Yet, now we must raise the question of whether religious truth claims are pursued in such situations. Does ambiguity reign in the realm of religion?

Obviously, this is a very broad question. It depends on what kind of religion we are talking about and how we think that religious claims can be legitimized. For example, a transcendentalist theologian who thinks that religious postulates are necessary conditions for some important human activity, say, thinking, will deny that there is ambiguity of the relevant kind.²⁷ So will a mystic who believes that religious postulates can be cognized immediately, that is without interference of conceptual schemes, languages etc.

Yet, I am neither a transcendentalist nor a mystic in that sense. Nor do I believe in any other way to legitimize religious truth claims in a non-ambiguous fashion. In my view, many religions and sub-strands within religion are pursued under conditions of ambiguity.

This is not to deny that there are certain kinds of religions or sub-strands within religions where ambiguity does not reign. Examples are religions which are patently false or based upon false assumptions, such as the Flying Spaghetti Monster-religion. Yet, other kinds of religions, among them several sub-strands within the world religions, are pursued under a significant amount of ambiguity.²⁸

I would like to add that this says nothing about the worth of religious beliefs. Many other domains of human inquiry are characterized by a similar kind of ambiguity. Examples are metaphysical, aesthetic, foundational physical ones and even several natural scientific beliefs, say, regarding the side effects of certain Covid-19 vaccinations. Yet, although formed under conditions of cognitive ambiguity, many of those beliefs are crucial for our well-being. For example, if we hold false beliefs about vaccinations, we jeopardize the health of many people. And metaphysical and related beliefs are crucial for our lives as reflective humans. Take the age-old question of whether life has a meaning and, if so, what it is. Although cognitively hopelessly ambiguous, asking it is one of the distinguishing marks of civilized human existence. Moreover, its answer is morally highly relevant. For example, if we hold that life’s meaning consists of having as much fun as possible, we will take a different stance on Covid-19 restrictions than if we hold a different belief about life’s meaning.

My point is that their cognitive ambiguity does not diminish the value of those beliefs for (civilized) human life. Their ambiguity says something about the ontological and epistemological characteristics of the domains in question. That ambiguity reigns in many important areas of (civilized) human life shows that religious beliefs are in good company. Their ambiguity does not diminish their worth.

Conclusion: is religious exclusivism wrong? Towards a humble exclusivism

In sum, then, the answer to the question of whether or not religious exclusivism is blameworthy depends on the kind of exclusivism we have in mind. If the religious exclusivist holds her claims overconfidently, she is as blameworthy as the driver is in situation B. I take that to be a valuable point against certain ways of pursuing religious exclusivist truth claims, absolutist, fundamentalist and related ways. I suspect that at least some critics of religious exclusivism have such ways of pursuing exclusivist religious truth claims in mind (see above, Introduction, for example the charge that it can lead to fundamentalism).

Yet, religious exclusivism held in a humble spirit is not blameworthy. Thus, exclusivist truth claims in religion are not wrong because their content is of a religious sort. Anyone arguing along those lines, that religious exclusivism is wrong because it is religious is under an obligation to show convincingly what makes religion so suspicious that it requires special treatment. If the critic is unable to provide those grounds, she must face the charge of using double standards.

The conclusion that a humble religious exclusivism is not blameworthy is based upon the epistemico-moral arguments provided here. The question of whether there are other arguments against it, say, political, philosophical, or religious ones, is beyond the scope of this article. In all likelihood, however, those other arguments require far more contested presuppositions than we have presupposed here. A criticism along, for example, Marxist or (aggressively) secularist lines presupposes the plausibility of a Marxist or secularist worldview and all that comes with it. Somebody rejecting those worldviews has no reason to take their criticism of religious exclusivism seriously. Yet, we have not presupposed such contested worldviews here. The criticism we have raised against religious exclusivism is thus potentially more threatening to it than other challenges are. The result that there are no epistemico-moral grounds to reject a humble exclusivism is thus good news to the religious exclusivist.

It should be noted, though, that a humble religious exclusivism may entail, different, more humble consequences than a traditional one–at least, if the latter is held in an overconfident spirit. To name just a few: under humble exclusivist parameters, the goal of missionary activities may have to be conceptualized differently, more humbly; religious claims and their ethical corollaries may have to be fed into the public discourse in a more modest spirit, not as The Truth but as one claim to truth among several competing claims; and the interreligious dialogue may have to be conceptualized differently.

Regarding the latter, I wish to modify my earlier criticism that exclusivism is a dialogue stopper (see Introduction). This is true only for overconfident forms of exclusivism. If the exclusivist claims to possess The Truth in religious affairs, the interreligious dialogue is indeed stopped in its tracks. Yet, if the exclusivist feeds her truth claims in a humble way into the conversation, a robust dialogue is possible. If she does, she will listen carefully to the religious Other (rather than trying to ‘shoot her down)’, be open to the Other’s challenges (provided they meet certain standards), attempt honestly to learn from other religious views rather than ‘being defensive’, etc. It is thus possible to be exclusivist and to engage in an interreligious dialogue worthy of its name.²⁹