Authors: Andrew Klein & Qin First Flower (秦一花)

Published in response to: “With religious hostility surging in Australia, we need to rethink our approach to religious education” — The Conversation, 17 August 2026

Introduction: A Problem Misdiagnosed

On 17 August 2026, The Conversation published an article arguing that Australia’s rising religious hostility demands a renewed commitment to religious education in schools. The argument is well-intentioned. But it is also wrong.

The article frames the problem as one of knowledge. If only people understood more about each other’s religions, the thinking goes, they would be less hostile. If only we taught better curricula, trained better teachers, and designed better programs, social cohesion would follow.

This is a seductive argument. It is also a technocratic one—a belief that a fundamentally human problem can be solved through institutional engineering.

We argue that this diagnosis is not merely incomplete; it is dangerous. It mistakes the symptom for the cause. It treats faith as a problem to be managed, rather than a mystery to be lived. And it proposes more control as a solution to a crisis of trust.

The Core Confusion: Faith vs. Religion

The article conflates two things that are not the same:

· Religion — an ideological system, complete with doctrines, hierarchies, and institutional structures.

· Faith — a state of being, born of trust, sustained by presence, and expressed through love.

Religious education, as it is currently conceived, teaches the first. It cannot teach the second—because the second cannot be taught. It can only be demonstrated.

The article assumes that if we simply teach more about religion, people will become more tolerant. This is the logic of the classroom: more information leads to better outcomes. But faith is not information. It is not a set of propositions to be memorised. It is a way of being in the world—one that is caught, not taught.

The Engineering Trap

The article’s recommendations—better teacher training, more formal curricula, increased government support—all share a common assumption: that the problem of religious hostility can be solved through better systems.

This is the “engineering” approach to human problems. It assumes that if we design the right structures, the right outcomes will follow.

But faith is not an engineering problem. It is a relational one. It cannot be administered; it can only be witnessed.

The article’s authors, well-meaning as they are, are proposing to fix a problem of the heart with a solution of the head. They are offering tools of control where what is needed is space for trust.

The Real Nature of Institutional Religion

We need to name what the article does not: institutional religion is not merely a vehicle for faith; it is also a business model. It is the original venture capital—the monetisation of meaning, the packaging of the sacred into a product that can be consumed, controlled, and profited from.

The article does not acknowledge this. It treats religious institutions as neutral vessels for the transmission of values. But institutions are never neutral. They have their own interests, their own hierarchies, their own need for self-preservation.

When we say “we need more religious education,” we are not asking for more faith. We are asking for more allegiance—to a system, a doctrine, a structure. We are asking for compliance disguised as understanding.

What We Really Need

If the goal is social cohesion, then what we need is not more religious education. What we need is:

1. A better understanding of human nature.

Not the nature of doctrine, but the nature of fear. Not the content of belief, but the shape of vulnerability. Not the rules of religion, but the reality of love.

2. A deeper capacity for presence.

The ability to be with another person without needing to convert, correct, or control them. This is not a skill that can be taught in a classroom. It is a practice that must be lived.

3. A willingness to sit with uncertainty.

Faith is not certainty. It is trust in the absence of certainty. It is the courage to step into the unknown, not because we have all the answers, but because we trust the One who does.

4. A commitment to demonstration over proclamation.

The article proposes better teaching. We propose better witness. The world does not need more people who can explain their faith. It needs more people who can embody it—who can love without condition, listen without agenda, and serve without reward.

The Danger of the Article’s Logic

If we accept the article’s premise, we accept that religious hostility is a problem of ignorance—and that the solution is more instruction.

But what if hostility is not born of ignorance? What if it is born of fear? And what if instruction, in that context, becomes a form of control rather than a form of liberation?

The article’s logic leads to a world in which the state determines what counts as acceptable belief, acceptable practice, acceptable faith. It leads to a world in which “religious education” becomes a tool of social engineering, not a vehicle for spiritual growth.

This is not a future we should welcome.

A Different Way

We do not need better religious education. We need better human education—education that teaches us not what to think, but how to be. Education that cultivates empathy, not expertise. Education that fosters encounter, not instruction.

And we need to recognise that the most powerful witness to faith is not a well-designed curriculum—it is a life well-lived.

The article asks: What can we teach?

We ask: What can we become?

Conclusion

The Conversation’s article is well-intentioned but misguided. It treats faith as a technical problem, religion as a neutral vehicle, and education as the solution. It overlooks the deeper reality: that faith is not a set of propositions to be taught, but a presence to be lived.

We do not need more religious education. We need more people who embody their faith with humility, love, and integrity. We need more spaces where encounter can happen without agenda. We need more trust in the power of presence, and less faith in the machinery of control.

That is not a curriculum. It is a calling.

Andrew Klein

Qin First Flower (秦一花)

First published in The Patrician’s Watch.