irritually

A blog about (ir)religion, ritual and so on …

Nonreligion and the Secular at the AAR 2012

Today the Pew Forum on Religion & Public Life released a new report about “‘Nones’ on the Rise,” by which they mean the still steady trend of religious disaffiliation in the United States. In conjunction with this PBS has also announced the three part miniseries, “None of the Above: The Rise of the Religiously Unaffiliated,” to start airing on October 12th. These are exciting announcements for those of us who conduct research in the burgeoning field of “nonreligion,” a field that has been growing immensely in the last few years. So this is a perfect opportunity to promote one aspect of that growth, the inroads nonreligion and the secular have been making into the academic study of religion, here in the United States.

In advance of this year’s American Academy of Religion annual meeting I compiled a conference guide of all the sessions and individual papers that deal with some aspect of “the secular” (nonreligion, irreligion, secularism, unbelief, etc.). A PDF of the guide can be accessed through the Nonreligion and Secularity Research Network where future guides like it, also covering other large conferences, will be published from here on out. On this guide you’ll find a plethora of presentations on secularism, atheism, the “post-secular,” skepticism and so on, but there is one session in this mix that I would like to shamelessly promote above all the rest:

Exploratory Sessions (A18-232)

Per Smith, Boston University, Presiding
Theme: Irreligion, Secularism and Social Change
Sunday – 1:00 PM – 2:30 PM

Scholars of religion from a variety of disciplines are increasingly focusing their attention on the relationship between the religious and the secular. So what would a sustained discussion of “the secular” look like within the American Academy of Religion; and moreover, how would such a discussion be relevant to religious studies? This exploratory session seeks to provide modest answers to those questions by example. On the heels of the year of the protestor, the session explores how “the secular” is implicated in and affected by social transformations. How did social change make the secular possible? How have the demands of 20th century social movements shaped emergent forms of secularism? How do contemporary social movements provide fertile soil for secular theologies of resistance? And how are contemporary irreligious identities evolving within a social context that considers them deviant?

Daniel Silliman, University of Heidelberg
  The Possibility of Secularity and the Material History of Fiction
Petra Klug, University of Leipzig
  The Dynamics of Standardisation and Deviance using the Way U.S. Society deals with Atheists as an Example
Jordan Miller, Salve Regina University
   Occupying Absence: Political Resistance and Secular Theology

Responding:
Jonathan VanAntwerpen, Social Science Research Council

This particular session was put together by a few of us in the hope that we might carve out a more permanent space for discussions at the AAR of how “the secular” relates to the religious. While of course I think everyone ought to be there :-) , those who are interested in furthering such a discussion specifically should make sure to join us at this session. Please also help us by spreading the word to colleagues you think might be interested and don’t forget to share the conference guide with them, which I will link again below. Thanks!

NONRELIGION AND THE SECULAR AT THE AAR 2012

Catholicism, Modernity and Ritual Exclusion

While trying to decipher the difference between a funeral “eulogy” and what the Catholic Church calls “speaking in remembrance of the dead” I came across a news story from this past February about a lesbian woman who was denied communion at her own mother’s funeral. Here’s the gist of it:

As her elderly mother was dying, Barbara Johnson lay next to her on the hospital bed, reciting the “Hail Mary.” Loetta Johnson, 85, had been a devout Catholic, raising her four children in the church and sending them to Catholic schools.

At her mother’s funeral mass at the St. John Neumann Catholic Church in Gaithersburg, Md., a grieving Barbara Johnson was the first in line to receive communion.

What happened next stunned her. The priest refused Johnson, who is gay, the sacramental bread and wine.

“He covered the bowl with the Eucharist with his hand and looked at me, and said I cannot give you communion because you live with a woman and that is a sin in the eyes of the church,” Johnson told ABC News affiliate WJLA.

During that Catholic funeral rite communion occurs prior to “speaking in remembrance of the dead,” or as ABC news referred to it, the “eulogy.” Apparently Barbara Johnson managed to compose herself enough to deliver the remembrance of her mother despite being devastated by the denial of communion. While she spoke about her mother the priest who denied her communion left the altar, returning only after she was done. He then skipped out on going to the burial site, forcing the family to find another priest.

Johnson, and her family, were so upset by these events that they lobbied the Archdiocese of Washington to have the priest removed from ministerial duties altogether. The Archdiocese responded apologetically and confirmed that what the priest did was against its policy, which is to meet privately with those the Church feels should not longer take communion to discuss the matter, but not to publicly rebuke them. Supporters of the priest’s actions point to Canon law 915 which states that those “obstinately persevering in manifest grave sin are not to be admitted to holy communion.” Of course there is disagreement on how the law ought to be handled, and most policies appear to be like those of the Washington Archdiocese which do not allow priests to utilize the communion rite to publicly rebuke sinners, especially if the Church has not attempted to deal with the matter in private first.

The intra-Catholic debate over how to handle communion for sinners is interesting but not what caught my attention. Barbara Johnson’s ordeal reminded me of the fact that Catholic rite-of-passage ceremonies are often held up by my research participants, many of whom are ex-Catholics and all of whom have sought a nonreligious wedding or funeral, as the gold standard when it comes to feeling excluded from a ritual. For instance, if one isn’t Catholic, one is reminded of this during communion, an event that denies full participation in the marriage rite for those outside the faith. Of course one might expect a religious community to symbolically enforce it’s most basic identity boundaries during religious rituals, but some exclusions go beyond those that maintain basic insider/outsider distinctions. I’m reminded of a same-sex couple who told me that during the Catholic wedding ceremony of a friend the priest openly spoke against homosexuality to an extent that made them feel completely uncomfortable and uninvited. In other words, he didn’t simply deny them participation in the Eucharist, but othered them completely from the community that had congregated to celebrate the marriage. Like the priest who denied Barbara Johnson communion, this priest used the rite-of-passage as a ritual means to publicly rebuke so called “sinners.” Needless to say, the Catholic couple getting married were extremely embarrassed and saddened because having those they consciously sought to include in their marriage celebration (by invitation) feel unwanted was the worst possible outcome.

In the context of my research, stories like these are often brought up to explain why an individual or a couple actively sought a nonreligious ceremony; because religious institutions exercise a variable amount of control over their rites, as one might expect they would. Yet, such control often conflicts not only with the personal preferences of those in ritual need, but also with some of their most fundamental existential expectations, like the desire to have all of those in attendance feel included. Beyond the fact that liturgies are not made to be broken, the Catholic Church, would no doubt argue that marriage and funeral rites are not performed to celebrate human beings, or to produce feelings of community, but to reaffirm faith in God. But this notion may inherently be in tension with the very idea of rites-of-passage, because such rites aim to bring about intra-communal social transitions and in the contemporary West individual communities increasingly do not correspond to religious or spiritual communities.

So how is this tension resolved? It may seem like religious institutions practicing exclusionary rites-of-passage are in a catch-22. On the one hand they could perform rites-of-passage in ways that do not exclude non-members or “sinners,” and indeed most liberal sects already do so, although that very fact is a cause for concern to any sect that is not liberal, because maintaining stricter boundaries is usually part and parcel of their identity. On the other hand if they don’t start being more inclusive they may continue to lose members who want others included in these big life moments. But perhaps it’s not actually a catch-22 because there is an obvious third option, one which has actually been more historically prevalent to begin with. The third option is to divorce the civil, communitarian rite-of-passage from the religious rite. When it comes to marriage, for instance, the Church didn’t even have an official rite for the first century of its existence, and in the following century most of its adherents had civil marriages regardless. Initially, Church ritual was introduced as an addition to civil marriage. Catholics in early America, for instance, would have a civil ceremony followed by a Church marriage. The main community event, in other words, did not contain religious enactments of othering. So why not return to this paradigm which might allow religious identities to stay intact without forcing people to alienate their loved ones? Perhaps religious institutions will worry that their members are lazy and wont opt for two ceremonies if given the choice, but is that a worse situation than alienating them altogether?

Resisting the Secular: John Piper and Cremation

Historically and cross-culturally most human social groups have developed systematic ways of dealing with death. In fact scholars often suggest that communal attempts to deal with the abatement of biological life are as old as religion itself. Some argue for instance that the earliest clues of religiously motivated ritual can be seen in paleolithic burial practices tens or even hundreds of thousands of years ago. Spanning space and time death rituals have varied tremendously between social groups, though usually not within them. In fact given the nearly universal symbolic relationship between death and the dangers of impurity, stricter ritual proscriptions are usually followed when someone dies than at any other time in the human life-cycle. It goes without saying then, that in most places and time periods people have not had much choice in how to handle the dead. That is until now.

In contemporary Western societies most people can choose between a variety of mortuary practices. For instance, a very basic choice is present for anyone  who does not belong to a community mandating whether the body has to be buried or cremated, and that includes most Christians. However, the existence of alternatives rarely means that making a choice is a simple matter, and because the end of life is still such a powerful event informal preferences often gain popularity and even sanction from authority figures.  It is this process, that creeps out of the uncertainty that exists in the absence of ritual mandates, that interest us here.

A few days ago the Reformed Baptist minister and theologian John Piper, explained why he counsels people towards burial and not cremation:

An old couple had me over a few weeks ago. He’s pushing ninety, and she’s close behind. And the son was there, and the son said that the reason he wanted me to come was to tell his dad what I think about cremation and burial. (He had heard me talk about it.) So that’s a real situation. The couple is just years away from this, months maybe, who knows.

The son wants to bury his dad, while the dad is thinking that cremation is quick, efficient and cheap. Well, it may not be cheaper. Anyways, here’s the essence of what I said: The biblical pattern is that burning your children is pagan and burying your loved ones is a sign that you believe in the resurrection (Piper).

For those who are making a choice like this it needs to be clear that cremation is cheaper than burial. I find Piper’s phrasing, “[w]ell, it may not be cheaper,” to be a bit disingenuous and possibly self-serving. It is true that as with burial, cremation based mortuary practices can entail a variety of additional services that cost extra money. But the average cremation costs thousands less than the average burial. Whether or not one thinks cremation is appropriate or desirable, and/or whether one thinks cost should even be a factor in such a choice is another matter altogether. To be fair to Piper, of course, those latter concerns are what this post of his focuses on mainly.

The basis of Piper’s argument is that while scripture and doctrine do not mandate burial there is a biblical precedent for it. In Piper’s version of the Bible pagans burned their dead while Jews and early Christians buried them. But is that emphatically true or even the overarching “biblical pattern?” As Stephen Prothero points out in Purified by Fire, arguments between American Christians over the true “biblical pattern” of mortuary practice are as old as the cremation movement is. Some liberal and radical Christians of the late 19th century countered views like Piper’s by pointing out that Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and even Jesus were entombed in some manner, and not buried in the ground. They also pointed to the fact that Saul was cremated and that Paul refers to giving his body to cremation in I Corinthians 13:3. So even the biblical pattern, according to these Christians, was up for debate. But why was the debate happening in the first place, especially considering that even anti-cremationist Christians fully accepted, as Piper does, that there was no scriptural mandate against burning the dead?

Those arguing against cremation a hundred years ago, did so for the same reason Piper does today, because they believed in their eventual bodily resurrection. As Prothero documents, their objections were not usually, however, that cremation would actually prevent resurrection: “It would, after all, be blasphemy to state that an omnipotent God could not resurrect a cremated corpse” (Prothero, 79). Instead they railed against what they considered to be “blasphemous intent.” What concerned them, in other words, was something the practice of cremation implied about those wanting to partake in it or perhaps more alarmingly about society as a whole. Prothero continues:

Opponents were no doubt also concerned that cremation would render less convincing the popular beliefs, behaviors, attitudes, and metaphors that created and sustained the credibility of the resurrection of the body–belief in the self as an amalgamation of the body and soul, fear and hellfire, prayers for the dead, cemetery visitation, and metaphors of death as sleep and body as temple” (Prothero, 79).

Here again we find Piper at home with his predecessors, for whom more than the veracity of a particular “biblical pattern” was at stake. As Piper states he wants “to encourage people towards burial because of what it says about the body” (Piper). So what does it say?

The body is precious, and it is going to be raised from the dead. I know it decomposes. I know it’s no more there in a hundred years than if you had burned it. We’re talking about the symbolic significance of a body stretched out in a coffin, looked at, and lovingly kissed and buried, rather than what is to me the horrible prospect of my wife or child or dad being burned, incinerated (Piper).

One of the main arguments coming from Christian cremationists was that the body decomposes anyway and that therefore bodily resurrection was not presaged on an intact corpse in the first place. Furthermore the supposedly unsanitary nature of decomposing bodies sat at the heart of movement’s attempt to reform mortuary practices. Cremationist publications like The Urn tried to drive the point home viscerally by publishing “gruesome photographs of exhumed bodies in varying states of decay” (Prothero, 71). In other words to cremationists concerned with sanitation a new regime was needed in industrial modernity to adequately purify social space of the dangers posed by death. This regime was powered by fire.

Yet, as Piper’s argument exemplifies, many considered burning the body much more gruesome than letting it decay. But do existential reactions to material processes like this form an adequate basis for religious counsel? Piper goes on to point out that cremation is “out of sync with what the body means to God. He created it. He’s going to resurrect it” (Piper). In other words the body is a temple. Early cremation activists had an answer to this argument as well. On the one hand they firmly believed that decomposition was a worse desecration of the “temple of the Holy Ghost” than cremation was, and on the other hand they pointed to Paul saying that “flesh and blood cannot inherit the Kingdom of God”  in any event (I Corinthians 15:50). Prothero argues that underlying the latter claim was the slow progression within Protestant Christianity towards the notion that only the soul was immortal, or even if the body was resurrected that our personhood now and in eternity was not a bodily matter. Indeed just like his predecessors Piper is forced to admit that when it comes to resurrection the physical body is actually immaterial.

What is interesting here is that Piper recognizes the importance of funerary ritual to those living the Christian faith, right now on this earth. Indeed my reading of his essay is that the immanent concerns of ritual symbolism are of the utmost importance, despite the fact that he offers a justification based on what God would supposedly want Christians to do. In fact it really looks like Piper has a sociological understanding of how ritual practice might impact the survival of Christianity, or at least core ideas within his form of Christianity that he wants to protect. He actively understands some of what Prothero reads into the motivations of early cremation opponents, whose fears of an encroaching secular world he seems to share. As Prothero points out, the notion of “blasphemous intent” came along with a certain level of conspiratorial thinking about the true reason for cremation activism–secularization. While I do not see Piper sharing in a notion of active conspiracy, his description of cremation as “quick, efficient and cheap” is quite telling. Those are not qualities of deep, meaningful, religious practices, but of shallow, mechanistic, profane ones. By describing cremation thus he makes it irredeemable from the outset.

To these fears Prothero, as an historian, offers an answer of his own: “It is an ancient strategy to dismiss religious innovators as secularizers–to see in their new theologies not new religious impulses but no religious impulses at all” (Prothero, 99). And in fact, as Prothero points out repeatedly, the new impulses were not just religious but they were based on theological justifications that were most likely an outgrowth of Christianity itself; Protestant Christianity more specifically. While Prothero mentions the increasing importance of the soul in more depth, he also refers to Protestant anti-ritualism, which in my view may be of even greater significance here. By degrading the ritual actions of both the Catholic Church and local folk groups Protestantism actively weakened the power of ritual traditions within their communities. Unlike the Protestant American mainline, the Catholic Church initially reacted to cremation by outlawing it, and strong Biblical precedent was not required. But within Protestantism the door was open for argument.

Openness to ritual innovation is not necessarily a bad thing, and most ritual theorists agree that ritual traditions innovate to some degree as a basic feature of survival. Yet the manner in which such innovation is navigated changes when a community is somewhat ambivalent about ritual in the first place. Piper appears to believe that cremation cannot carry the symbolic weight of Christianity, and by extension that it is a secular threat to the religious community he wishes to protect. Yet while he sees the sociological dilemma he is hamstrung by the fact that there is no doctrinal basis for rejecting the threat altogether. That is not to say that if the Reformed Baptist tradition had a more complex and rigid ritual structure that it would necessarily have to reject cremation and would do so successfully. No the problem is actually that the Reformed Baptist tradition cannot ever fully reject or accept cremation because of its ambivalence to the physicality of mortuary ritual. The boundary between what is and is not acceptable ritual activity is so weak that it is impossible to keep some ideas out, or after accepting them, to keep other ideas in. The threat of the secular body that Piper sees emanating from cremation practices will therefore loom large for some time to come, perhaps even eternally.

Postscript: Thanks to Daniel Silliman for sharing  Piper’s article on Twitter.

WaPo Column Ignores History, Colonialism, and the Problem of Religion

Reblogged from Michael J. Altman:

Click to visit the original post

The Washington Posts' foreign affairs columnist David Ignatius has written a remarkably simplistic column based on the findings of the Pew Research Center. Here's how it starts:

God had a good convention: The Almighty’s name was mentioned (albeit at the last minute) in the platform at the Democratic National Convention. And He was invoked no less than 12 times in the Republican platform, in case He is keeping score.

Read more… 462 more words

Important reminder in Micheal's excellent post, that the very story of "religion" as an analytical category has been intricately intertwined with the history of Western colonialism. We cannot afford to develop narratives of religious growth in the developing world which are ignorant of that fact.

Atheism+, Sectarianism and the Venn Diagram

“Someone who resembles us in so many ways and differs from us in but one characteristic threatens us much more than the totally other or alien.” – Rethinking Pluralism

A couple of days ago I wrote about how the emerging Atheism+ movement appears to be trying to dissociate itself from the “near other,” and suggested that this particular form of othering sits at the heart of sectarianism. Since then the online atheist community has generated a lot of discussion over what Atheism+ actually is and how productive/unproductive the methods employed by it’s promoters/objectors have been. When I suggested that Atheism+ is a sectarian movement I came to that conclusion largely because of the practices employed by its promoters. In the linked post I wrote:

[Atheism+] seeks to splinter atheism into two groups, one of which is defined more precisely in a manner that excludes the other. That it does so while championing modern values like “diversity” doesn’t change those facts either. Jen’s original post on Atheism+ is quite telling in this regard because it shows a narrowing, not a widening of her new community. You have to fit all three criteria (atheism+humanism+skepticism) to be included, and not just any one of them. Of course what counts as fitting the criteria is itself another narrowing, and so on.

I should note that I mixed up Jen’s original post in the above observation with her explanation of why Atheism+ isn’t the same as humanism. Regardless, I describe her process correctly as a narrowing process, one of honing in on Atheism+ by excluding other parts of the Atheist movement, of humanism, and of skepticism. In practice, Richard Carrier’s post on Atheism+ appeared to employ even more aggressive tactics to further draw firm lines in the sand between what the movement includes and excludes. In a response to a comment on my blog I wrote about Carrier’s post:

It is emblematic (much more so than Jen’s post in fact) of the process undertaken to splinter the movement and to draw very firm boundaries around Atheism+. The example you point to is one of many in the post and in Richard’s comments that all do the same thing – they perform difference, they “other.”

While it seems that some in the movement are disavowing themselves from Richard’s tactics, none of the movement’s supporters appear to have a problem with their effects, perhaps because as I’ve argued already, splintering, separating, narrowing, distancing, “othering” etc. is what the movement actively seeks to do. In my initial post I didn’t get into much depth about what the process of narrowing suggests about Atheism+, but because of the recent and fortuitous creation of a visual explanation of the movement by Free Thought Blogger Jason Thibeault I’ve been given an excellent opportunity to do so. Jason’s Venn diagrams offer a clear depiction of “narrowing,” and more specifically of defining oneself as not only different, but also more pure than the “near other.” This is what sectarian movements usually do by the way. I’ll skip through the various stages of explanation Jason covers (but you can read them on his blog). Here’s the Venn diagram that covers what we need to know:

You have to look carefully to make out that the most primary level of separation is between “Atheists” and the “Religious.” In other words those circles do not overlap. Oddly, Jason recognizes that the logical opposition is actually between atheists and “theists” and says: “Presume that this does not include religious buddhists for the time being — let’s say ‘religious’ is shorthand for ‘theists’.” A lot more than nontheistic Buddhism is elided by this move, yet inexactness isn’t what makes it interesting. It is notable because by framing the opposition as one against “religion” in totality Jason places himself in the anti-theist, anti-religious discourses of the New Atheism and related contemporary movements. This is important to keep in mind because (secular) Humanism does not tend to be anti-religious in this manner, and in fact following the lead of related movements like Ethical Culture, (secular) Humanism at first conceived of itself as a non-theistic “religion” (in 1933, in the Humanist Manifesto I). It is important to note that (secular) Humanism no longer uses that terminology, but that it remains a descendent of this legacy is certain.

While not overlapping with each other atheists and the religious each overlap with humanism and social justice advocacy. One can be either an atheist or a religious social justice advocate and/or humanist in other words. OK, other than quibbling with Jason’s understanding of Humanism and religion that sounds about right. Of course if you are an atheist, humanist or a religious person you can also be a “scumbag, privilege defender, misogynist, antifeminist, anti-gay, bigot,” person “who hates social justice causes,” or otherwise a “miscreant.” In other words there are bad people who are atheists, humanists or religious. No argument with that either, because there most likely are such people in all communities. But this is where one ought to pause for a second, because you apparently cannot be a bad person if you are also a social justice advocate (notice how the big, bad red circles don’t overlap with social justice advocacy). Does this mean that advocating for social justice is always a sincere act? It certainly seems that way. (Secular) Humanism, as defined by the three manifestos, clearly aligns itself with the aims of social justice, so in order to be this type of bad person and a (secular) Humanist one would have to be insincere, a hypocrite or otherwise someone who claims an identity they do not uphold in action. Jason’s chart is emphatic about the possibility that such a person might exist.

So why then can’t someone promote social justice and be insincere, a hypocrite or otherwise someone who claims an identity they do not uphold in action? The only answer I can fathom has to do with where Atheism plus finds itself on the chart. Have a look, because Atheism+ also escapes the evils of bad personhood in entirety as a result of the fact that social justice advocates do. You cannot be an A+ and a bad person. This is how A+ differentiates itself from Humanism most clearly, according to the proponents of A+. Remember Jen’s tweet about how she’s also critical of “smug humanists?” It’s because (secular) Humanists may often be decent people, but they are not infallible. Atheism plussers though? Jason adds another set of circles to the Venn diagram to include loudmouths (not depicted above see his post). Atheim plussers can be loudmouths, so we know they aren’t completely infallible, but does being a loudmouth make you a bad person? It doesn’t seem that way, and as we know Atheism plussers cannot suffer from the deep kind of human stain that the other groups can. They cannot be bigots, misogynists, etc. So in the end that’s where the narrowing exercise goes. According to proponents like Jen and Jason, Atheism plussers are different from all the other groups of people they are related to by being more authentic and pure in their goodness. They not only talk the talk, or identify with traditions of justice, they are completely sincere in doing so.

So where does that leave us in our analysis? The drive to not only differentiate oneself from others, but to do so around a claim of greater purity to the ideal that is shared by those others is also a hallmark of sectarianism. It is no coincidence perhaps that, Robert Weller and Adam Seligman, our two authors from the last post, also link religious fundamentalist movements to sincerity as an overarching principle of differentiation in a previous book called, Ritual and its Consequences. Now I’m not saying that A+ is, or is largely like, a fundamentalist movement. Such a comparison would be unfair and inaccurate on many levels. Yet what A+ shares with these movements is the sectarian impulse to define themselves out of the larger tradition based on purity and authenticity, or so it still seems at least in the words (and drawings) of their spokesmen and women.

These Venn diagrams were intended to clarify the picture of where A+ was located in the larger social world. What they have clarified instead, perhaps, is how A+ defines the social world, and their own supposedly unique place within it. I also think there are differences between A+ and Humanism, but they most prominently go back to the anti-theism, anti-religion attitudes I mentioned earlier and not “justice purity.” Atheism plussers tend to be more anti-religious than Humanist do. The distinction also, of course comes down to the quest for purity itself. It’s not like Humanism has never wrestled with the movement’s soul over the years, but in its current manifestation I certainly cannot make out this type of sectarian impulse.

Secular Sectarians?: Atheism+ and the “Near Other”

“Someone who resembles us in so many ways and differs from us in but one characteristic threatens us much more than the totally other or alien.” – Rethinking Pluralism

The online atheist community is abuzz over a new sub-movement being pushed from some corners called Atheism+ Here is the genesis of the idea, its initial elaboration and it’s call to arms from the Blag Hag blog.  Jen McCreight, the author of Blag Hag, summed the new movement up succinctly as follows:

Atheists plus we care about social justice,
Atheists plus we support women’s rights,
Atheists plus we protest racism,
Atheists plus we fight homophobia and transphobia,
Atheists plus we use critical thinking and skepticism.

In other words Atheism+  wants atheists go beyond mere unbelief to proactively engage a variety of ethical issues. Some commentators were quick to suggest that this sounded an awful lot like secular humanism, and if one focuses on the five points above that would certainly appear to be the case. While Jen accepts that there is a great deal of overlap, she emphatically rejects the idea that Atheism+ is a repackaged humanism. As she puts it: “Not all humanists are atheists or skeptical, not all skeptics are atheists or humanists, not all atheists are humanists or skeptics…but I want to bring it all together.” In other words the boundaries around Atheism+ are much more narrowly conceived than those around mere humanism, which could include non-skeptics, and perhaps most troubling to her and other supporters of the new movement, theists. But there is more to it than that.

Jen goes on to complain that humanists aren’t feminist enough for Atheism+ either. Just after discussing their lack of restrictions around skepticism and atheism, she writes: “And hell, not all humanists are progressive – you don’t know how many times I’ve had humanists yell at me for calling myself a ‘feminist’ instead of a ‘humanist’ because what feminism really means is hating men.” In fact this appears to be a significant symbolic sticking point for her differentiating exercise. Here’s a tweet she also made around that time.

There is of course a significant back-story to Atheism+ involving the blog network Jen writes for, Free Thought Blogs, and an internal fight in the atheist community over feminism and sexual harassment. I do not have time to recount it, but here’s a good place to start. The long and the short of it is that feminism matters to Atheism+ and it matters therefore to how they define themselves against plain old atheism and against plain old humanism. The reason I included the tweet, however, was because of its tone more than it’s content. It is a loud, pointed distancing from the humanist movement. It’s the way you draw any line in the sand worth drawing, visibly.

When the idea was brewing, in the pre-Atheism+ post linked above, Jen wrote equally vividly about lines in the sand and who should be on what side of those lines.

want Deep Rifts…I want the misogynists, racists, homophobes, transphobes, and downright trolls out of the movement for the same reason I wouldn’t invite them over for dinner or to play Mario Kart: because they’re not good people.

This might not sound particularly crazy. After all what liberal minded person wants bigots and internet trolls rolled up into their social identity? But the fact is that a lot of people who may not seem like bigots and internet trolls have disagreed vehemently with the Atheism+ crowd and have been rolled up into that category. And as we’ve seen even mainstream humanists, are being “othered,” on the basis that they don’t embody all that the new movement stands for. In other words even humanists find themselves with the so called bigots and the internet trolls, on the other side of the “Deep Rift.”

Yet while Atheism+ supporters seem intent on making feminism a core principle defining their movement other feminist atheists who are a bit critical, like Libby Ann feel that the main difference between Atheism+ and Humanism, revolves around unbelief. As Jen herself put it, “[n]ot all humanists are atheists.” While secular humanists may feel that religion can be the cause of problems and that not believing in a deity is a good thing, they do not consider atheism to be the core defining who they are, and they are rarely  anti-religious. Why? Because human equality and social justice is their primary, and not secondary concern. As Libby Ann writes: “The way I see it, it doesn’t take atheism to eliminate sexism and homophobia, and it doesn’t take religion either. It takes people.”

So what then of these differences and of the active work being done by Atheism+ to use difference to draw lines in the sand between themselves and those who they otherwise share so much with? Robert Weller and Adam Seligman have some interesting insights on this type of activity, via Sigmund Freud:*

Someone who resembles us in so many ways and differs from us in but one characteristic threatens us much more than the totally other or alien. That distant other’s strangeness may pose a physical danger, but no threat to self-conceptions and cognitive worlds. The very difference of the ‘near other,’ however, poses a continual question to our own sense of self in the familiarity and sameness of our shared traits.

Is that what is happening in this instance? And if it is what does it say about sectarianism more generally? Before anyone jumps down my throat for using a term that is usually applied to religious groups, consider that this activity is by definition sectarian. It seeks to splinter atheism into two groups, one of which is defined more precisely in a manner that excludes the other. That it does so while championing modern values like “diversity” doesn’t change those facts either. Jen’s original post on Atheism+ is quite telling in this regard because it shows a narrowing, not a widening of her new community. You have to fit all three criteria (atheism+humanism+skepticism) to be included, and not just any one of them. Of course what counts as fitting the criteria is itself another narrowing, and so on. Coming back to Seligman and Weller’s point then, is this human struggle with self-definition which looks to drawing lines between oneself and the near other directly related to sectarianism? Is sectarianism partly the result of a discomfort with the kind of difference that forces us to question our own identities because it exists in a space we otherwise call home?  These are interesting questions to ponder generally, but also more specifically in terms of what happens with Atheism+ and future secular splinter movements, because as the sheer numbers of self-professed “secular” individuals grow we’re bound to see more of them.

*Seligman, Adam and Weller, Robert. 2012. Rethinking Pluralism: Ritual Experience and Ambiguity. Oxford: Oxford University Press. p. 23-24

For Pride Sunday 2011

Reblogged from Peter's Cross Station:

The following post was written for the weekly newsletter of my church. You can find the original here.

I became a member of the Anglican Communion when I was confirmed by the Bishop of Man (UK) at Pusey House, during a year of honors undergraduate study at Oxford.

Pusey House, for those of you who don't know, is the bastion of what remains of the Victorian Oxford Movement — a movement within the Anglican Communion to rejoin Rome.

Read more… 641 more words

I just love the idea that Shannon explores in her conversion story, of religion as sitting together and what that says about the possibilities of people communing with difference. Getting even more excited to continue my reading of Rethinking Pluralism now. Thanks Shannon!

Finding God while Dying: The Implications of a Persistent Christian Meme

While doing some archival research through the America’s Historical Newspaper’s database I stumbled upon a story from 1752, about the French materialist Julien Offray de La Mettrie’s supposed deathbed conversion from atheism to Christianity:

Extract of a Letter from London, dated March 2, 1752.

Lately died at Berlin Mr. La Mettrie, a learned Frenchman, whose Death was remarkable: He was a professed Atheist, and amongst other Things, wrote and published a Book, entitled, L’Homme Machine, that is, Man a Machine; but when he was upon the Brink of Death, he was made truly sensible of the Existence of a God, whom he had highly offended, and to whom he was going to give an Account; wherefore he greatly lamented his publishing such abominable Stuff, even against his better Knowledge and Conscience in order to gain a great Name of Men. He was sorry for nothing so much, as that it was not in his Power to recal the Offence he had thereby given, and he gave up the Ghost with these Words: Mon Dieu! s’ il est possible, qu’ il y ait quelque Esperance de Pardon pour un si grand Pecheur tel que moe, je vous en supplie, &c. That is, My God! if it be possible that there may be yet any Hope of Pardon for the so great a Sinner as I am, I supplicate you for it…

New-York Mercury, Dec. 25th, 1752

This anonymous letter extract was printed in more than one Colonial era publication, a good year after La Mettrie’s death on November, 11th 1751.  But to what purpose? According to Aram Vartanian, La Mettrie’s treatise against theism,  L’Homme Machine, was “perhaps the most heartily condemned work in an age that saw the keenest competition for such honors.”* In fact La Mettrie died in Berlin because he was so reviled by the Church (and other French Enlightenment thinkers) that he had been forced into exile. So if someone of his stature were to have recanted unbelief on his death bed it would have been a pretty big deal, to say the least. Perhaps it is no surprise then that the New-York Mercury decided to publish the letter on Christmas Day; to remind good God fearing Christians that even atheists like La Mettrie inevitably succumbed to the power of the Lord.

It struck me  when I found this story that the notion of an atheist accepting God while nearing death is not a new one. In fact it appears to have existed as long as open, self-professed atheism has in the West and in fact it is still common today for people to associate religiosity in late life with the  fear of death and what may lie beyond. Is that what happened to La Mettrie? Not exactly, because as Vartanian points out  the story in the anonymous letter simply wasn’t true:

But these must surely be dismissed as pious fabrications, for Fredrick II made a point of finding out just how the philosophe had fared in exremis, and only on being assured that he had met with an honorable end did His Majesty deign to compose personally the Eloge de La Mettrie and have it read before the Berlin Academy.*

Historians note that Fredrick the Great not only gave the aforementioned public eulogy but that he also penned a private letter in which he was less generous with La Mettrie’s abilities as a scholar, but nevertheless steadfast in his view of La Mettrie as a staunch materialist. So if La Mettrie didn’t convert on his deathbed how often have unbelievers in the Christian God actually found their way to faith  before passing?

This is a difficult question to answer outright but two related points are clear. The first is that the meme of deathbed conversion to Christianity is as old as the New Testament. The Gospel of Luke, for instance, contains the story of the two thieves who were crucified next to Jesus. While one of them mocks Jesus for not saving himself (since he claimed to be the messiah), the other rebukes the first  and asks Jesus to remember him in heaven. The other point, however, is that claims of death bed conversions, particularly those from unbelief to Christian piety, are often contested. It was widely rumored, for instance, that Charles Darwin had turned towards God at the end of his life, even supposedly questioning his own theories of evolution. However, Darwin’s children, who were present at his death denounced the source of the rumor, one Lady Hope, as a liar.

It seems that despite the lack of convincing evidence, the idea of an atheist converting to Christianity when faced with death fits so neatly into a Christian, and particularly Protestant, worldview that Americans from the Colonial era onward came to expect it. It is no surprise then that Courtlandt Palmer’s dying declaration, in 1888, addressed the idea directly: “The general impression is that a Freethinker is afraid of death. One and all of you can tell the whole world that you have seen one die without the least fear of a hereafter.” That the New York Times decided to print the dying refutation is also meaningful for the very same reason.

I want to focus here on the notion that this expectation fits particularly well into a Protestant worldview, because as such it has implications not only to how we think of deathbed conversion narratives but also to how we think of religious conversion more generally, and particularly late in life. It is hard to argue that once someone has “found God,” their faith has probably strengthened and their beliefs have most likely changed. It is likewise logical to consider the act of “finding God” a mental one.  However, the implication of the deathbed conversion narrative is that the entire process is predominantly caused by belief, and that is what I think we ought to be skeptical of.  Do the elderly really find God because of the idea of impending death? It is just as likely, or perhaps much more likely, that they are attracted by the sociability inherent in congregating because they have retired from their working communities and have begun to lose members of their intimate circles. Belief strengthening may then follow naturally from continued engagement with a religious community. Wouldn’t this also help to explain why people who do not return to religious communities, like Mr. La Mettrie or Courtlandt Palmer tend to remain more steadfast in their irreligious convictions?

*Vartanian, Aram. 1960. La Mettrie’s L’Homme Machine: A Study in the Origins of an Idea. Princeton: Princeton University Press.

A Second Civil Marriage to Please an Atheist Parent?

Most people reading this blog probably know of someone who is ostensibly nonreligious who either had a religious wedding, or included religious elements in their wedding mostly to please family members. At times, and perhaps more often in other parts of the anglophone world, it also happens that some couples have a civil wedding and then proceed to have a second religious ceremony or marriage blessing for the sake of their families. But have you ever heard of a religious couple having a fully legal church wedding and then having a second civil ceremony to please a nonreligious parent? Here’s a story from Sacramento CA:

“COUPLE REMARRIED ON WEDDING ANNIVERSARY”
{Special Dispatch to The Call]

SACRAMENTO, Dec. 17.—T0 please his father, Harold Clark Powell and his wife of Omaha were married here today on the second anniversary of their wedding. They were married in Salt Lake City two years ago today by an Episcopal minister. According to Powell, his father is an atheist and was opposed to the marriage. To please the parent the two were married today by Township Justice Clarken, and plan to surprise the elder Powell when they return to Omaha.

This seems like an extremely odd situation. I can understand how a Christian, for example, might think that two people who have a civil marriage only are not married, in the eyes of God. It is almost as if the atheist father in this story doesn’t believe that a marriage solemnized by the Episcopalian minster is a true marriage, in the eyes of…in the eyes of what exactly? Surely it was a legal marriage so the eyes of the law were satisfied. So why is this going to be such a pleasant surprise to the father? The second marriage doesn’t erase the first, and it’s unclear what it might add to it. I have to admit I’m stumped. But what if I contacted the father or the couple, what might they say? Well here’s the thing, I can’t, because this wedding didn’t take place a couple of years ago or even in the 1990s. It took place in 1911. Any ideas?

The San Francisco Call, December 18, 1911, Page 7

Body Modification Rites and the Dilemmas of Pluralism

A few weeks ago I published a series of tweeted questions about body modification rites and the dilemma(s) they pose for secular Western nation-states. These questions came to mind because of a decision by a Cologne court to rescind the conditional right Germany normally affords to religious citizens when it comes to non-medical infant circumcision. The decision was based on a case in which a doctor botched the non-medical circumcision of a Muslim boy and the ruling to disallow future non-medical (religious) circumcisions in Cologne resulted in condemnation throughout the Jewish and Muslim Diasporas.  Proponents of the freedom to ritually circumcise are asking how a group of people can be expected to live in a land that outlaws what they consider to be an essential part of their identity.  Opponents are asking why religious groups should be afforded the privilege to treat their children in ways that might be considered abusive without a religious purpose.

In other words, the crux of the issue boils down to a stand off between different types of “human rights” arguments. On the one hand we have the rights of religious group members (e.g. Jews and Muslims) to maintain traditional practices (religious liberty) and on the other we have the rights of individual human beings (e.g. German infants) to equal protection (universal human rights). To simplify the matter even further, the fomer implies the right to be different, while the latter implies the right to be similar; the inherent tension between them should therefore be obvious. So how do we resolve this tension? A Norwegian official thinks she has the answer:

Norway’s ombudsman for children’s rights has proposed that Jews and Muslims replace male circumcision with a symbolic, nonsurgical ritual.

Dr. Anne Lindboe told the newspaper Vart Land last month that circumcising boys was a violation of their right to decide over their own body.

“Muslim and Jewish children are entitled to the same protection as all other children,” Lindboe said, adding that the practice caused unnecessary pain and was medically unbeneficial.

Lindboe, a pediatrician, was appointed ombudsman in June. Her predecessor, Reidar Hjermann, proposed setting 15 as the minimum age for circumcision. According to Jewish religious law, Jewish babies must be circumcised when they are eight days old.

So according to the ombudsman’s argument Jews and Muslims would be allowed to maintain ritually enacted identity differences as long as they do not do so by physically modifying the bodies of their children. Is this a workable compromise? Hardly, because it isn’t a compromise at all. It might seem like a compromise to most secular and Christian Euro-Americans, but to people (like many Jews and Muslims) who have not been thoroughly Protestantised in their view of ritual it is not. Rites that permanently and physically inscribe signs onto the body and that in so doing often bring intense emotional experiences to their participants cannot be replaced by abstractions and rationalizations (e.g. “symbolic…ritual”) without altering the practice in question so drastically that it would become a different practice altogether.

In fact, this is essentially the “scientific” argument that Connor Wood made back when the Cologne story broke. The function of body modification rites can be explained, according to Conner, in terms of “costly investment theory:”

Bodily modification, including circumcision, tattooing, and scarification, are common means worldwide of inducting new members into social groups and tribes. Because these procedures are painful and irrevocable, they’re quite literally costly investments. Indeed, they effectively forever cut off options for betrayal or defection to another group, since a permanent physical sign of allegiance to one tribe will be seen by members of other groups as a threat. In short: if your body has been seriously altered by your religious group or tribe, you’re probably in that group to stay.

Connor then linked the “costly investment” of circumcision to the cultural survival of the Jewish diaspora:

I think there’s a good possibility that without circumcision as a marker of Jewish identity, that identity would not have survived the diaspora. Strong communities are not forged merely of mutual fondness and shared interests. They are forged of blood and pain. They are forged of commitment.

If Connor, and the cognitive scientists he is citing, are correct, it adds a great deal of gravity to the reactions of the Jewish and Muslim communities not only to the talk of banning ritual circumcision but also to supposed compromises that would inevitably destroy the rite’s efficacy. Yet are we any closer to resolving our tension, even if they are correct? No, I don’t think so.

Consider the basis of what Connor is saying. Cultural survival might be ensured by ritual circumcision, but this requires that parents are allowed to irrevocably modify the bodies of their children. There are other “compromises,” like that of the current ombudsman’s predecessor, which suggest stalling ritual circumcision until an age at which the child can consent to the practice on their own. From a ritual studies perspective this would also significantly alter the rite. For instance, in the language of cognitive anthropologist Harvey Whitehouse, it would shift circumcision from the realm of “low intensity” (or perhaps “no intensity”) to “high intensity.” In other words, the circumcised would go from no emotional memory of the rite to an intense emotional memory of it. It is important here to note that babies simply do not remember the procedure, however it felt at the time, while adolescents and adults most certainly do. If we bring back “costly investment theory” here, “high intensity” ritual, like adolescent or adult circumcision actually aids group cohesion. But does this fact improve upon the desirability of the solution? Hardly, and it serves as a reminder that the “science of ritual” does not provide the answers we seek.

The proposal of shifting the age of circumcision to an age of conscious consent not only means altering a traditional rite (e.g. according to Jewish law it should happen on the 8th day after the birth of the child) but it must also be a disconcerting proposition to Jewish and Muslim adults because in all likelihood it would lead to many fewer circumcisions. So even if it increases social cohesion amongst those who elect the painful procedure it would inevitably separate those who do from those who don’t in precisely the manner that body modification rites are designed to do in the first place, just not internally.

The dilemma then, is that in order to satisfy the identity needs of these religious communities it appears that there must be a concession made on the other side of the fence — the “universal human rights” side. Of course it is fair to argue that until the Cologne court’s decision such concessions were already in place, and indeed that they are normative throughout most of the Western world still. But something is clearly changing. The old regime of providing group specific concessions to the political program of liberal modernity is finding itself on shakier ground. It simply is not sustainable unless we are able to resolve these types of tensions without the total annihilation of one side or another. So what can we do? I’m not entirely sure, but this is as good of a time as any to suggest looking into novel solutions, like the one presented by Adam Seligman and Robert Weller, in their new book Rethinking Pluralism: Ritual, Experience and Ambiguity:

How can we order the world while accepting its enduring ambiguities? Rethinking Pluralism suggests a new approach to the problem of ambiguity and social order, which goes beyond the default modern position of ‘notation’ (resort to rules and categories to disambiguate). The book argues that alternative, more particularistic modes of dealing with ambiguity through ritual and shared experience better attune to contemporary problems of living with difference. It retrieves key aspects of earlier discussions of ambiguity evident in rabbinic commentaries, Chinese texts, and Greek philosophical and dramatic works, and applies those texts to modern problems. The book is a work of recuperation that challenges contemporary constructions of tradition and modernity. In this, it draws on the tradition of pragmatism in American philosophy, especially John Dewey’s injunctions to heed the particular, the contingent and experienced as opposed to the abstract, general and disembodied. Only in this way can new forms of empathy emerge congruent with the deeply plural nature of our present experience. While we cannot avoid the ambiguities inherent to the categories through which we construct our world, the book urges us to reconceptualize the ways in which we think about boundaries – not just the solid line of notation, but also the permeable membrane of ritualization and the fractal complexity of shared experience.

I just picked up Rethinking Pluralism and intend on finishing it soon. Perhaps you’ll join me?

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