Weird Nones: The Moral Justifications for Religious Research on Non-Religious People

Samuel D. Stabler, Hunter College | Shai M. Dromi, Harvard University

Keywords: Nones, irreligion, secularism, Sunday Assembly, moral repertoires, sociology of religion


Social scientists employ a diverse set of moral repertoires to justify their research as morally worthy. By moral repertoires, we mean the logics defining the type of social good research ought to produce (e.g., research that promotes civic equality; studies that give voice to underrepresented populations; work that demonstrates particular methodological or theoretical creativity; etc.). In our work, we overview debates on secularization in the sociology of religion as a field rife with moral repertoires, along with other fields. We claim that the recent research on nones actively worked to move beyond questions about whether religion will ultimately die out, and towards questions that appealed to broader social concerns of their times. As this research has matured – in part, as the result of work by thinkers at the Secularity and Non-Religious Research network – it has increasingly justified itself by framing non-religious believers as making an active spiritual decision, rather than simply opting out. As the research on non-religious reveals, new research domains utilize the diversity of justifications for research that circulate amongst scholars of religion to both enliven research on the new topics and challenge old antinomies.

Varieties of Un-religion: Secularists and Sunday Assemblers

The shifting scholarly perspective on the irreligious is partly the culmination of a generation of post-secular theorists who emphasized that existing secularization narratives neglected the content of secular beliefs. At the most abstract level, philosopher Charles Taylor[i] insisted that “subtraction stories”—accounts of secularization that envisioned the process as the gradual negation of religion, rather than an active pursuit of alternatives to religion –missed the meaty core of changing religious landscapes. According to Taylor, secular ideas were not simply based on a vacuous empiricism that triumphed in the face of religious challengers. Instead, the idea of the secular was itself a result of shifting attempts to make life within an immanent frame worth living.

Today’s non-religion scholars adopt this substantive approach to secularity by interrogating the activities of the nonreligious as meaningful in their own right. They highlight the distinct perspectives of the of avowedly secular – the atheists, self-described secular, and variety of civic minded non-religious groups like the Secular Coalition for America, which replicate the organizational and meanings structure of religious groups in the hopes of advancing secular lifestyles. This statistical minority has increasingly taken center stage in the scholarship. Researchers have emphasized how practices of making meaning without theological commitments allow groups to form and identities to be deepened. Research has not only adapted by analyzing the prevalence of these actively non-religious folks. As scholars have increasingly focused on their activities, the process of concept reconstruction has led to new types of arguments. These new arguments justify continued research on the non-religious as a worthy means to help foster the civic inclusion of the non-religious, to promote their accurate representation in research and media, and to celebrate their inventiveness.

In an influential essay, Quack defines this strain of nonreligious studies by highlighting its connection to existing religious structures. Arguing that “no matter how ‘religions’ is understood in a distinct study, a religious field is always surrounded by a religion-related field that is constituted by a diverse set of religion-nonreligious relation”. Quack draws on what we call the efficiency repertoire, which is a logic that defines concepts and research as justified when they accurately represent reality and account for empirical evidence with precision. Here, research is justified according to the idea that more empirical information will improve our understanding of the phenomenon.

Given the historical links between religion and politics, it’s unsurprising that research on secular political advocacy has also grown popular in the field. Here authors draw on the civic repertoire, which concerns itself explicitly with the study of social problems, the fight for equality, and various processes of social change. Examining the activist work of the Secular Coalition for America, Blankholm argues that the group’s polysemous definition of secularity in terms of the separation of church and state, secular public engagement, secular forms of governance, and secular identity lifestyles gives it key political advantages. Thus, the secular’s importance is not in the way it entails a loss of meaning over time, but rather in the new attachment to alternative structures of meaning it offers. The twin goals of civic activism in the name of the secular and accurate representation of secular people motivate this research.

While civic notions animate some secular people, other secular notions like those related to “wonder and goodness” also animate many non-religious people’s engagement and are notably central to the activities of the Sunday Assembly Movement. Started in 2013 in London by two comedians who “wanted to do something that was like church but totally secular and inclusive of all—no matter what they believed”, the group holds regular worship-like services on Sundays. Research on the Sunday Assembly Movement often draws on the creativity repertoire to justify itself, by emphasizing that the groups unique social practices force researchers to find ways to transcend old theoretical antinomies, generate novel concepts, and propel innovation across the field more generally.

Using ritual theory and ethnographic evidence of a Sunday Assembly’s changing activities, Frost claims the group has developed something like a “‘trial-and-error’ approach to ritual creation”, working through different elements of religious ritual in the hopes of finding experiences which produce ritual fusion. Rather than being weakened by this approach, Frost reports that, “the important takeaway from my findings is that for at least some nonreligious people, ritual and rationality can go hand-in-hand, and many find a rational approach to ritual creation more meaningful than religious rituals”. Here the representation of non-religious people accurately is not merely a scientific concern, but also an explicitly moral one about how the analyst limits’ their own creativity by insisting that ritual’s must be inherited from tradition instead of being actively made up by actors.

“Good without God”: Weird Sociology of Religion

In their weirdness – their commitments to be “Good without God” as respondents often say[ii]  – the contemporary non-religious use a wide range of narratives about moral worthiness. The scholarship replicates this trend: as secular people have increasingly entered the public stage by a diverse means of social projects, the study of non-religion has flowered into a lush field of inquiry, rife with morally diverse understandings about its justification for researching these behaviors. In our book, we identify seven distinct repertoires that justify sociological research, with the point being that the diversity of distinct viewpoints enriches scholarship and helps advance social science.

Moreover, by amplifying the ambiguity (or ‘weirdness’) that results from a commitment to be “good without god” using religious tactics, the weird nones also help to paint a new vision for post-secular sociology. Rather than the tired questions about the potential demise of religion, the actively non-religious show that a sound sociology of religion works to map all the distinct ways that the traditions previously associated with religion are being transmuted into quasi-religious systems of social organization and meaning making. Exemplary in this regard is scholarship like Courtney Bender’s on New Age religious enthusiasts’ beliefs in past lives, which “place metaphysicals [non-believers] in multiple histories” and “bring to our [scholarly] attention the possible pleasures and terrors of living in conflicting temporalities”. Here, the scholarly study of religion draws attention to the way social actors participate in and are influenced by seemingly contradictory, or impossible happenings. Indeed, like many of the studies of weird nones, such research has much to teach scholars of religious life more general – when studying the sacred, the weirder the better.


Sam Stabler is a doctoral lecturer in the Sociology Department at Hunter College, CUNY and completed his PhD in Sociology at Yale University. His research examines how moral ideals shape, and are shaped by, conflicts surrounding the built environment, infrastructural development, and the management of religious diversity. By theorizing how moral landscapes are transformed into material settings, his research contributes to enduring debates in the sociology of religion, cultural sociology, and comparative-historical sociology. Beyond this, in three collaborative projects, he examines the moral implications of routine sociological debate, the links between humor and sociology, and the history of demographic research. His writing has appeared in Sociology of ReligionDemography, and Theory and Society.

Shai M. Dromi is Associate Senior Lecturer on Sociology at Harvard University. He is the author of Above the Fray: The Red Cross and the Making of the Humanitarian NGO Sector (Univ. of Chicago Press, 2020) and Moral Minefields: How Sociologists Debate Good Science (Univ. of Chicago Press, 2023, co-authored with Samuel D. Stabler). He is co-editor of the Handbook of the Sociology of Morality, Volume 2 (Springer, 2023). His work has appeared in journals such as Theory & SocietySociological TheoryNonprofit and Voluntary Sector Quarterly, and Rural Sociology. He publishes on religion, humanitarian aid, morality, organizations, and social knowledge production.


References

[i] Charles Taylor, A Secular Age (Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2007).

[ii] Epstein, Greg M. Epstein,  Good without God : what a billion nonreligious people do believe (1st ed. New York]: William Morrow, 2009).


Religious diversity in the workplace: Exploring the perceptions of nonreligious and Catholic business people and entrepreneurs

Iriana Sartor


The economic field is commonly characterized as rational, technical and, therefore, secular, with its own dynamics that differentiate it from other fields. However, various works identify a large segment of business people associated with “conservative” religious communities, for example, and others highlight the growing importance of new age spiritualities within the business community. This indicates that the economic field is not entirely separate from other spheres of life, and therefore the circulation, production and transformation of (non)religious beliefs in the field can be explored.

I am interested in exploring the perceptions of nonreligious and Catholic business people and entrepreneurs in Córdoba (Argentina) about religious diversity in their workplaces. We conducted 14 in-depth interviews that asked participants to respond to two hypothetical situations.[1] Five of the participants identified themselves on the nonreligious spectrum (atheists, agnostics, non-believers with an interest in Buddhism), while the rest are Catholics, some of them belonging to organizations such as Opus Dei and Saint John Society. They work in various fields: technology, media, development, services, food, toys and cooperatives. This research is part of a broader project on the trajectories, beliefs and practices of business people that is based at the Catholic University of Córdoba.[2]

The individual or the company?

The first hypothetical situation raised during interviews consisted of an employee’s request to leave work for a religious holiday when they had to deliver goods or provide a service in a very short period of time. A dilemma emerges between the needs of the company and the needs of the worker; that is, between the pragmatic, the economic and the financial on the one hand, and human dignity and respect for the individual on the other (Porth, 1997).

We found that nonreligious participant responses were guided by an intention to prioritize their well-being. This was part of a personal vision that some described as “put people first,” which is actually intended to permeate their companies. In this regard, it was important for these interviewees to maintain a flexible work structure, as it seeks to create an environment in which employees feel comfortable working. Therefore, an employee’s ability to request time off for a religious holiday becomes a “necessity” along with other personal and/or family needs that may arise and require time off.

In contrast, for the five religious participants, their responses were mostly associated with respect for religious beliefs and its underlying importance. This approach is in line with a broader vision and values they demonstrated throughout their interviews. For example, Norberto[3]stated: “[Y]ou have to respect it because it is one of the transcendent values of the human being, so there is no discussion on that.” Danielsaid: “I am the first to respect religious holidays so I would never force anyone not to respect it.”

Four of the nine Catholic participants explained that some negotiation would be necessary for granting time off since productivity cannot be affected; that is, the individual can be benefited to the extent that the company can be benefited as well. Only one of five nonreligious respondents held this view, specifically for when the religious holiday is not an official public holiday.

Lastly, two participants, both self-identified agnostics, recognized that the company would perceive a benefit by granting the holiday, since it would have positive consequences on the employee’s work performance: “[T]his issue of believing has so much influence on the human being that he would come to the factory unhappy (…) I know that if I give him that day he will give it back to me with [economic] growth” (Ezequiel). In this way, “believing” or the emotional well-being of the individual in their terms, translates into profitability and productivity for the company in the medium/long term.

Few participants have experienced a situation like this hypothetical one proposed during interviews. One interviewee commented that his company respects Sabbath as a non-working day for Adventist employees; and another acknowledged that his work team was mostly atheist.

Religious and nonreligious expressions in high hierarchical positions

The second scenario involved the staging of a meeting with executives of the company or other companies, where one of the participants proposes a moment of prayer or meditation. The nonreligious participants expressed that they would respect the prayer, depending on the context and in some cases, as long as religion is not integrated as a central theme of the meeting; they commented that this scenario is more common when it comes to meetings with clients from other countries or executives from other companies. However, they are more open to the idea of meditation in the workplace. Two participants mentioned underlying benefits of meditation, stating it helps to detach from “daily baggage” and to be able to think “straight.”

Seven Catholic participants affirmed that they have encountered situations of this type, both within their companies, and with clients and executives from other companies. Some of them are part of business networks such as the Christian Association of Business Leaders (ACDE), where this kind of practice is common. In other cases, they seek out colleagues (usually of a higher position) with whom they share the same religion, and take advantage of certain work spaces to pray.

Norberto (Catholic), on the other hand, views religious practice as a private matter; such a situation would be inconceivable within his company. He states: “I would not do it to others because it seems to me that [one] should pray in his room and very much with God and there is no reason to go around publicly involving third parties in your moment of prayer.”

Conclusion

The link between beliefs and business or the economic field has been scarcely explored in the Argentine academic literature. The objective of this article is to make a small contribution by exploring the perspectives of 14 business people in the city of Córdoba about religious diversity in their workplaces, based on their answers to two hypothetical situations.

In general, a respectful attitude towards religion prevails in our interview data. Nonreligious business people conceive it as part of the individual’s emotional well-being, and Catholics as a “transcendental value.” A dilemma emerged from the first hypothetical situation that creates a tension between the individual and the company. However, two interviewees found a positive link between “believing” and profitability, so that such tension ceases to exist.

Regarding religious diversity, these business people did not perceive it as problematic, but its expressions and practices were not described as being promoted in their workspaces either. It seems that they limit their actions to the provisions of the Argentine regulations regarding employment, which are not very exhaustive. Nevertheless, the visibility of religious diversity in the workplace was described as being greater within hierarchical spaces and among religious peers.


[1] We have taken as a reference the work done by Stephen Porth in Religion, Spirituality and Business Decision-Making: A Preliminary Investigation, including our own adaptations. However, the participants’ answers are also based on concrete and real situations they have had in their companies/businesses.

[2] The research project “Transformations of lived religion in urban contexts of Latin America: the case of the business community in Córdoba” is directed by Hugo H. Rabbia, ph.D. (CONICET – IIPsi, UNC; UCC).

[3] All participant names have been changed to pseudonyms.


References

Porth, S. J. (1997). Religion, Spirituality and Business Decision-Making: A Preliminary Investigation. In Second International Symposium on Management Education and Catholic Social Teaching, Antwerp, Belgium. Retrieved May (Vol. 1,  p. 2006).


Iriana Sartor is a CONICET doctoral fellow in the Institute of Psychological Research (IIPsi) at the National University of Córdoba (UNC). Her research focuses on the role played by religious and non-religious organizations in the processes of assistance, reception and accompaniment of refugees and asylum seekers in Argentina. She is a research assistant for the Nonreligion in a Complex Future project, and also participates in the research project “Religious and business ethos: transnational experiences and practices in and from Latin America” at the Catholic University of Córdoba (UCC).

Religious Change Not Religious Decline: An Excerpt from Beyond Doubt: The Secularization of Society

Isabella Kasselstrand, Phil Zuckerman, and Ryan T. Cragun

The 2023 NSRN Annual Lecture, co-hosted by the Nonreligion in a Complex Future project, featured a presentation by Isabella Kasselstrand, Phil Zuckerman, and Ryan T. Cragun on their recent book, Beyond Doubt: The Secularization of Society (NYU Press, 2023). In the book’s first substantive chapter, the authors tackle secularization theory and the common criticism that the world is not experiencing religious decline, but simply changes in the way people do religion. They refer to this criticism as the ‘change not decline’ argument. In this post, the authors provide an excerpt from their book that outlines five counterpoints to the ‘change not decline’ argument. They also detail six criteria for ‘change not decline’ advocates who aim to demonstrate that secularization, or declining religiosity, is not taking place.


“First… secularization takes place at three levels—­macro, meso, and micro—­and secularization is best conceptualized as declining religious authority at all of these levels. When people ‘do religion’ outside of the framework of organized religion, that is a manifestation of secularization. Religious authority is not dictating how they are doing religion; individuals are dictating how they are doing religion. This is a decline in the authority of religion. Thus, invisible religion, private religion, spirituality outside of religion, spirituality but not religion, and lived religion are all manifestations of secularization, not arguments against it.

“Second, some [authors] have argued for very, very broad definitions of religion. McGuire (2008), for instance, gives the example of people gardening as a form of doing religion. If everything people do can be or is religion, then religion is everything. And if religion is everything, ipso facto, religion is also nothing, as the word ceases to meaningfully demarcate something in the world that is different from something else. By this line of reasoning, it would be possible to argue that the most strident atheist who actively works toward the destruction of organized religion, does not identify as religious or spiritual, and either rejects all notions of the supernatural or suspends belief toward them, is religious because they find the game Animal Crossing meditative and relaxing. Such a definition of religion does ‘violence to language,’ to quote Durkheim (1997). Let us be very clear here: Religion cannot encompass all things. Such an understanding of religion is meaningless.

“Third, while we find value in this kind of thick description of how people do religion, it is also important to continue to use traditional and consistent measures of religiosity over time. Without consistent measures of religiosity, it’s impossible to illustrate change. A simple example will help. Advocates of the ‘change not decline’ argument might suggest that measuring how often people attend religious services in Iceland fails to capture widespread belief in elves and the various actions people take to protect elves or to illustrate that they believe in elves (Warren 2017). Of course that is true. But that does not make measures of religious service attendance worthless or meaningless. Traditional measures of religious service attendance provide scholars with an indication of how often (or, more accurately in the case of Iceland, how seldom) people attend organized religious services and how that has changed over time. If we stop using such measures, there would be no way to illustrate that people’s behaviors have changed, increased, or declined.

“Fourth, the ‘change not decline’ argument has not, to date, been formulated as a theory. There is nothing theoretical about the claim that people customize religion to suit themselves and this is how they “do religion.” That is an empirical observation. But it is not a theory about religious change or about the relationship between modernization and religion or about rationalization, differentiation, or any other social processes. It’s literally just describing what people are doing. Descriptive research is perfectly fine. It is widespread in the natural sciences as people describe the behaviors of aardvarks or atoms or asteroids and should be more widespread in the social sciences. But lived religion, invisible religion, believing without belonging, and spirituality are not theories about religion but rather are descriptions of what people believe and do. To be considered theories, these ideas would have to explain the phenomena that they describe, and such explanation is lacking in this body of scholarship today.

“Fifth and finally, the ‘change not decline’ argument is a beautiful illustration of the ‘moving the goalposts’ fallacy. It would be apt to describe this as the ‘change not decline hydra.’ Whenever a scholar asserts that secularization is happening, the ‘change not decline’ crowd point to a new specific example of someone doing something lived religion/invisible religion/spiritual-­esque and assert that religiosity has just changed, not declined. When scholars like David Voas (2020), Steve Bruce (2018), or Isabella Kasselstrand (2021) muster evidence to challenge these claims, another head of the hydra pops up making the same claim over again but perhaps with a different example. It appears as though the ‘change not decline’ advocates continue moving the goalposts indefinitely when new evidence of religious decline is presented.”

After this passage, we suggest that it would be perfectly fine to argue that there is “change AND decline” rather than “change NOT decline.” We also suggest that the “change NOT decline” advocates should be held to very strict standards when making arguments that religiosity is not on the decline, including the following six criteria:

  1. They must demonstrate that whatever it is that they are observing can be considered religion or religious by well-­accepted definitions.
  2. Those claiming “change not decline” must establish that the function of these lived religion/spiritual activities is largely the same as the functions of traditional religion.
  3. Those claiming “change not decline” must demonstrate that these lived religion/spiritual practices are as meaningful to those engaged in them as were traditionally religious practices.
  4. Advocates of the “change not decline argument” must demonstrate that these lived religion/spirituality practices carry the same authoritative weight as did traditional, organized religion in decades past.
  5. Advocates of the “change not decline” argument must demonstrate that these lived religion/spiritual practices consume just as much physical or cognitive time as did traditionally religious practices.
  6. With the mountains of evidence that has accumulated in favor of secularization both from other scholars and what we include in the following chapters, the burden of proof has arguably shifted to the advocates of the “change not decline” argument. Those claiming that there is only change and not decline need to demonstrate that secularization is not occurring.

As scholars who embrace empirical evidence, we would be delighted to have someone present evidence that meets the above criteria. We would gladly change our minds and revise the next edition of our book in light of such evidence. Until that point, we will continue to suggest that the evidence for secularization is Beyond Doubt!


References:

Bruce, Steve. 2018. Secular Beats Spiritual: The Westernization of the Easternization of the West. New York: Oxford University Press.

Durkheim, Emile. 1997. Suicide: A Study in Sociology. Free Press. Pg. 66.

Kasselstrand, Isabella. 2021. “Secularization or Alternative Faith? Trends and Conceptions of Spirituality in Northern Europe.” Journal of Religion in Europe.

McGuire, Meredith B. 2008. Lived Religion: Faith and Practice in Everyday Life. New York: Oxford University Press.

Voas, David. 2020. “Is the Secularization Research Programme Progressing? Debate on Jörg Stolz’s Article on Secularization Theories in the 21st Century: Ideas, Evidence, and Problems,” Social Compass 67(2): 323–­29.

Warren, Rich. 2017. “More than Half of Iceland Believes in Elves.” National Geographic, December 1. https://www.nationalgeographic.com/travel/article/believes-elves-exist-mythology.

Persecution of the nonreligious: the handling of asylum claims based on nonreligion in the UK

By Lucy Potter


Signatories to the Refugee Convention have recognised persecution on the grounds of ‘religion’ is a basis for an asylum claim. However, anecdotal evidence from this project’s collaborative partner suggests there are significant misunderstandings in decision-making processes, for nonreligious asylum seekers who claim on the same grounds. Although the legalities and drawbacks of the British asylum system are generally well-documented, there are very few studies that address religion-based asylum claims in the UK.

The project will consider the legal landscape of nonreligious human rights, an analysis of the UK’s Home Office asylum determination policies, and apply a focus on the lived experience of nonreligious people who have sought asylum on these grounds. This project is funded by the University of Sheffield, conducted collaboratively with the leading human rights organisation – Humanists UK, in the hope that the outcomes of this project will lead to an improvement in the inclusion of the nonreligious in consistent asylum determination.

Through Humanists UK asylum advocacy work, this collaborative partner has unique access to the participants in this study. This PhD project will seek to capture in-depth and data-rich academic research. Underpinned by qualitative methodologies, it will undertake document analysis of key international law articles as well as the UK’S Home Office policies and guidance. It will also conduct interviews with individuals with experience of claiming asylum on these grounds, human rights advocates, and Home Office officials.

Freedom of Religion or Belief

Freedom of Religion or Belief (FoRB) is a fundamental human right, enshrined in international law under the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR). Yet, individuals and communities in many parts of the world experience discrimination and marginalisation due to the beliefs they hold. A range of identities can have their right to FoRB undermined such as the Baha’i religious minority suffering grave persecution in Iran. The limiting of access to justice, adequate food, housing and state-sponsored persecution against members of the Falun Gong in China. Women converts from Islam to Christianity in Afghanistan face house arrest, sexual abuse, violence and forced marriage.

As the above examples illustrate, current research surrounding asylum cases submitted under religious persecution are largely considered to be derived from religious minorities and conversion. Absent from these accounts, are how nonreligious beliefs may also be a basis for a religion-based asylum claim. Nonreligious people in particular are believed to be facing an increasing threat to their right of FoRB, yet they are notably overlooked in academic research.

To pick a few examples, in a report by the UK’S All-Party Parliamentary Group for International Freedom of Religion or Belief (APPG for FoRB), in Egypt several prominent atheists and agnostics have been arrested and convicted for their beliefs; the expression of  nonreligious  beliefs in Iran are deemed virtually impossible due to intense social stigma; and in Iraq the  nonreligious  are not able to formally identify their beliefs on national ID cards.

In 2022, over 70% of the world’s population reside in countries which severely discriminate against the nonreligious, as reported by Humanists International. The previous Special Rapporteur on Freedom of Religion or Belief, Dr Ahmed Shaheed stated, ‘In my observations, humanists, when they are attacked, are attacked more viciously and brutally than in other cases.’

What’s more, is that 13 countries hold the death penalty for blasphemy and apostasy, 40 more impose prison sentences. Plus, there are extrajudicial murders in several more, such as in Bangladesh and India.

Nonreligion

The number of people identifying as nonreligious is thought to be increasing. In 2010, the PEW Research Center surveyed 1.1 billion religiously unaffiliated people around the world, this made the unaffiliated the third largest religious group globally, following Christians and Muslims. Although, thorough global data is lacking and under-representative due to some states restricting individuals from identifying this way.

The nonreligious is a complex group consisting of a multitude of identities ranging from atheists to freethinkers and humanists. Though they hold different beliefs, they all share a profound experience of discrimination and marginalisation in many different parts of the world. Ranging from widespread distrust of atheists in the US (Gervais, Shariff, and Norenzayan 2011), being viewed as a threat to society and potentially dangerous (Beaman, Steele, and Pringnitz 2018), to deliberate prevention of the ability to express their nonreligious beliefs in society.

The British Asylum System

Due to the threat of persecution, some individuals seek asylum in the UK. However, there are significant misunderstandings of assessing religion-based asylum claims from nonreligious applicants in the British asylum system. This research will work closely with Humanists UK to draw on their work supporting nonreligious asylum claims. They state, ‘the Home Office often does not treat the nonreligious  as a distinct belief group with needs that are different to persecuted religious minorities.’  Nonreligious people seeking asylum in the UK are under-researched and there are no official statistics collected by the UK’s Home Office.

The first potential barrier faced by a nonreligious person seeking asylum comes from choosing a ground for asylum. Concerningly, grounds for ‘nonreligion’ are absent from the 1951 Refugee Convention and its 1967 Protocol. Thus, the nonreligious must choose the religion ground of the Convention. There are a series of problems with this. Including not being explicit that holding nonreligious beliefs is in fact a persecuted category. Therefore, this group tends to be overlooked in the British asylum system and hence religious persecution focuses on those from a religious minority or conversion. Due to this misperception, the questions in a credibility assessment are often inappropriate for the nonreligious.

For example, a notorious and well-cited case surrounds a Pakistani national who identifies as a humanist. Faced with death threats for his family after leaving Islam in Pakistan, Hamza bin Walayat made a claim for asylum in the UK. Strikingly, his original asylum claim was rejected by the Home Office because he was asked about his knowledge of Plato and Aristotle – neither of whom were humanists.

Additionally, the country-of-origin information utilised by the UK’s Home Office does not cover instances of religious persecution of the nonreligious at all  (with the exception of Bangladesh). In the UK, an assessment of an applicant’s credibility must be consistent with country policy and information notes. However, with a lack of well-established country guidance provided for nonreligious persecution, asylum claims often lead to refusal.

Recently*, the UK has seen the ‘Illegal Migration Bill’ proposed to create new legislation which will see anyone arriving in the UK through non-legal routes denied the right of entry. It is a new strategy put forward by government to act as a ‘deterrence’ policy, despite no evidence of these types of policies working in practice. Research does however demonstrate that enhancing borders leads people to make more dangerous journeys and increase risk of death; and making people more vulnerable to exploitation and forced labour. The Illegal Migration Bill may present new challenges to the nonreligious. It lists 57 countries that are ‘safe’ for people to be removed to, from the UK. In particular, the list includes Nigeria, which holds the death penalty for blasphemy.

There is no doubt more barriers and complications for nonreligious asylum applicants to navigate when seeking protection in the UK. The purpose of this PhD project is to seek out systematic inequalities within the asylum determination process which impede against those who hold nonreligious beliefs. This original contribution to academic research will seek to advance the field of nonreligion and migration studies.

Key words: Nonreligion, religious persecution, asylum, international human rights.

*The Illegal Migration Bill is now an Act of Parliament (law) after receiving Royal Assent on 20th July.


References

Beaman, Lori G., Cory Steele, and Keelin Pringnitz. 2018. “The inclusion of nonreligion in religion and human rights.” Social Compass 65, no. 1 (January): 43-61. https://doi-org.sheffield.idm.oclc.org/10.1177/0037768617745480.

Gervais, Will M., Azim F. Shariff, and Ara Norenzayan. 2011. “Do you believe in atheists? Distrust is central to anti-atheist prejudice.” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 101, no. 6 (December): 1189-1206. 10.1037/a0025882.


Lucy Potter is a doctoral candidate in the Department of Sociological Studies at the University of Sheffield. Her research focuses on the British asylum system and cases submitted under grounds of nonreligiosity. She is an aspiring migration scholar, interested in research which intersects with asylum and human rights. Lucy is the network assistant for the Migration Research Group and a teacher of classical sociological theory.  

Religious Affiliation and Prejudice

By Nadia Beider


The relationship between religion and tolerance is unclear. Some studies report that certain aspects of religiosity, such as attendance and belief, are associated with prosocial behaviours and compassion. However, religious belonging is often associated with higher levels of prejudice, racism, antisemitism and xenophobia relative to those who do not identify with a religious tradition (Zuckerman 2009). The dichotomy between nones (who have no religious affiliation) and affiliates can be overly simplistic, especially as the size of the unaffiliated population increases apace. Given the importance of childhood religious socialization in determining subsequent religious, political and cultural orientations, distinguishing between disaffiliates, who were raised within a religious tradition and have since exited organized religion, and lifelong nones, who have never been affiliated, may give a clearer understanding of patterns of tolerance among religious nones and of the relationship between affiliation and prejudice.

Using data from the European Values Study, it is possible to compare the attitudes of disaffiliates, lifelong nones, and Christians towards a range of religious, national, and ethnic minorities in contemporary Europe. The pattern that emerges from the quantitative data analysis indicates that being a disaffiliate is correlated with a more positive attitude towards members of minority groups. Disaffiliates, who left the religion in which they were raised, are less Islamophobic, antisemitic, xenophobic and racist than either lifelong nones or Christians. As most nones in Europe and North America are disaffiliates rather than lifelong nones, these finding suggest that the apparent lack of prejudice among nones is, in fact, a function of the specific characteristics of disaffiliates, rather than simply a lack of religious belonging. The results are particularly surprising as we might have expected disaffiliates to occupy a half-way house position between Christians and lifelong nones, as they do for indicators of religiosity such as belief and attendance, which show that disaffiliates retain elements of their childhood and current religious identity.

Why are disaffiliates so tolerant?

There are a number of possible explanations for the positive attitudes of disaffiliates towards Jews, Muslims, immigrants/foreign workers, and members of a different race. Aspects of religion such as faith promote prosocial, altruistic behaviours, while others, such as affiliation may increase the likelihood of viewing others negatively (Ben-Nun Bloom, Arikan, and Courtemanche 2105). It may, therefore, be necessary to conceptualize religion, and indeed nonreligion, as a complex set of elements, each of which may have different and even contradictory outcomes. Disaffiliates, especially those who retain elements of religious faith and teachings are uniquely placed to feel some of the positive effects of religious commitment, without the social identity that renders the affiliated more likely to express intolerance of members of other groups.

Social identities increase the distance between members of different groups, bringing about positive evaluations of in-group members and negative attitudes towards others. Identifying as Christian, for example, increases the odds of negative evaluations of non-Christians. This effect is particularly marked among Christians whose religious identity is cultural or national, rather than a result of deep spiritual connection. The data indicate the active Christians (defined as those who attend religious services at least once a month) tend to be more tolerant than nominal Christians, for whom religious belonging may be an expression of ethno-religious identity. This form of Christian nationalism takes its most extreme form in Russia, where the identification of the nation with the church is used to frame a discourse that promotes intolerance of a range of ‘others’ situated outside of the national collective.

Alternatively, we may need to look more closely at the factors motivating disaffiliation. Hout and Fisher (2002) have argued that it is the discomfort of liberally oriented Christians that explains the huge rise in disaffiliation in the USA in the last few decades. Although the political conditions in Europe differ from those in the USA, there is evidence for this kind of Christian nationalism in the context of the debate over the EU referendum in the UK (McAndrew 2020). In that case, we may be witnessing a realignment in which those who have liberal values are more likely to reject their religious identity. In contexts in which religion is perceived to be intolerant towards minorities (for example sexual minorities) and hostile to liberal positions on a range of issue such as divorce, contraception and abortion, some may cease to identify as affiliated in order to bring their religious and social attitudes into alignment. If a liberal orientation is truly a predictor of disaffiliation, that may explain the high levels of tolerance found among disaffiliates.

Whatever the reasons, the data indicate that there are significant differences between the attitudes of lifelong nones and disaffiliates towards religious, national, and ethnic minorities. These findings problematize the notion that affiliation is associated with prejudice while being a religious none is linked with tolerance. It is impossible to fully understand the relationship between religious belonging and tolerance without distinguishing between nones on the basis of their childhood religious socialization experiences and dividing them into disaffiliates and lifelong nones. Over time, the proportion of lifelong nones within the nonaffiliated population is expected to rise, which will likely change the relationship between religious affiliation and tolerance. Should lifelong nones represent a higher proportion of the unaffiliated population, the difference between the levels of prejudice found among nones and affiliates would be expected to converge.

Keywords: disaffiliation, lifelong nones, prejudice, tolerance


Nadia Beider is a postdoctoral fellow at the Social Research Institute, University College London. Her research focuses on religious change, particularly the ways in which religious switching shapes attitudes and behaviors. 

Indigenous practice as culture in the Alberni case

Lauren Strumos


In Canadian legal cases, the framing of religious practices as ‘culture’ most often appears as a strategy to maintain Christian majoritarianism. In the Saguenay case, for example,a city in the province of Quebec argued that a prayer, which was recited at the start of municipal council meetings, was part of its ‘cultural and historical heritage.’ This argument was affirmed in 2013 by the Quebec Court of Appeal, but later rejected in 2015 by the Supreme Court of Canada.

In this article, I suggest that the more recent Alberni case brings to light an alternative approach: the construction of Indigenous practices as ‘culture’ as a way to foster inclusion and confront the hierarchy of settler colonialism. The Alberni case took place in the province of British Columbia. It was first heard in 2019 by the Supreme Court of British Columbia, with the decision being appealed in 2022 to the British Columbia Court of Appeal. Below I provide a summary of the case, followed by a discussion of how ‘culture’ appears in the Court of Appeal decision. I conclude by noting the potential relevance of Alberni to those interested in (non)religion in law and society.

Servatius v. Alberni School District No. 70

The Alberni School district is situated on the territories of Nuu-Chah-Nulth Nations of the West Coast of Vancouver Island, British Columbia. ‘Nuu-Chah-Nulth’ means ‘all along the mountains and sea.’ During the 2015-2016 school year, a public elementary school in this district invited two guests to demonstrate Indigenous practices. The first was a demonstration of smudging conducted in classrooms by an Elder. The second was a hoop dance at a school assembly during which a prayer was said by the dancer.

Candace Servatius, an evangelical Protestant and mother with two students at the school, claimed that these demonstrations infringed upon her freedom of religion as protected under Section 2(a) of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms, which is part of the Constitution of Canada.  She argued that (1) her children were compelled to participate in Indigenous ‘religious ceremonies’ that conflicted with her own religious beliefs, and (2) that the school board promoted Indigenous beliefs over others, breaching the duty of state neutrality.

In its 2020 decision, the Supreme Court of British Columbia determined that the demonstrations did not amount to an infringement of religious freedom, nor did they interfere with the school’s duty of religious neutrality. In its reasoning the court drew a line between religious education and education about religion. The students were witnesses of the smudging and prayer; they were not compelled to participate in them. Servatius appealed this decision to the British Columbia Court of Appeal, the highest court in the province. This court dismissed her appeal in December 2022.

Religion or culture?

In its 2022 decision, the Court of Appeal concluded that the hoop dancer’s prayer did not violate the duty of state neutrality. It compared this prayer to that of the Saguenay case, stating: “Unlike the situation in Saguenay, in this case, the one-off prayer said by a school guest as part of his performance of a hoop dance did not amount to the school showing a preference for a faith or creating a preferential space for anyone, Indigenous or otherwise” (para. 233). The Supreme Court of Canada concluded in its Saguenay decision that the prayer used to open municipal council meetings violated state neutrality.

In regard to the smudging, the Court of Appeal focused on determining whether it was a cultural or religious practice. It relied upon the submissions of Indigenous witnesses who made a distinction between cultural events on the one hand, and spiritual beliefs and practices on the other. It stated:

There was a strong evidentiary basis supporting the conclusion that the event that took place was not, as Ms. Servatius asserts, a “religious ceremony” or something akin to it. [The evidence] suggested that some members of the Indigenous community make a distinction between cultural events that they will share publicly, as a matter of community building, and spiritual beliefs and practices that they consider to be inherently private. (para. 186)

The court concluded that smudging in this context was a demonstration of Indigenous cultural practice. This approach rests in part on a conceptual public/private divide with culture belonging to the former. The public/private divide is also evident in arguments that frame majoritarian Christian practices as culture. The Canadian public sphere is viewed in and beyond law as multicultural. Hence if prayer is made to be cultural and not religious, it becomes suitable for the neutral and multicultural public sphere.

As Lori G. Beaman indicates, the defense of Christian practices and symbols in Canadian law has deployed a narrative of ‘us Canadians’ that is ‘singularly Christian’. The Saguenay case demonstrated how this line of reasoning can support the exclusion of the nonreligious. Alain Simoneau, the complainant of the Saguenay case, is an atheist who experienced discomfort and isolation because of the municipal council’s prayer. In its decision the Supreme Court of Canada noted: “Although non-believers could also participate [in the prayer], the price for doing so was isolation, exclusion and stigmatization” (para. 120).  

The association between culture and public space in Alberni is operationalized to different ends. It does not work to erase difference in the construction of an exclusionary cultural narrative. Instead, the association between cultural practice (smudging) and public space (elementary school classrooms) is intended to build community and help Indigenous students feel more welcomed at school. Indeed, the demonstration arose from an initiative of the Nuu-Chah-Nulth Tribal Council to support Indigenous students in schools.

The smudging demonstration is also representative of actions being taken by educational institutions to redress the cultural genocide of Indigenous peoples. For instance, in its decision, the court referenced Canada’s church-run residential schools:

As part of its assimilationist policy, Canada adopted a residential school program for Indigenous children, separating them from their parents, indoctrinating them in Christianity, and punishing the children harshly if they spoke their own languages and engaged in their own cultural practices. Housed institutionally, without the protection and nurturing of their parents and community, many Indigenous children in these schools were subjected to emotional, physical and sexual abuse, and neglect. Indigenous parents and communities were left grieving and bereft. (para. 102)

The court situated the Alberni case in this sociohistorical context. It also maintained that educational institutions have a responsibility to advance reconciliation with Indigenous peoples. The ‘culturalization’ of smudging worked to make the practice appropriate for students at a secular school, and by extension, respond to the ongoing legacy of residential schools. (The court also notes that the Port Alberni residential school did not close until 1973.) In this sense, ‘culture’ was deployed in a way that works to advances the state’s interest in reconciliation. This raises the question of how ‘Indigenous culture’ might appear in cases that do not advance state interests but challenge them.

Conclusion

Although it is framed to not be religious, I hesitate to propose that smudging in this case can be thought of as a form of nonreligion. Viewing the smudging demonstration through a lens of nonreligion may overlook the social significance of the court’s reasoning. This reasoning rests upon the views of Indigenous witnesses, as opposed to a legal definition or conceptualization of religion on behalf of the court.

In Canada, affiliation to institutional Christianity is declining, the number of those who identify as having no religion is rising, and there is heightened awareness among the settler population of the ongoing legacy of colonialism. It is against the sociohistorical backdrop of settler colonialism that the court in Alberni determines what does not count as religion (i.e., smudging). If an understanding of nonreligion in law and society also entails an understanding of religion, then settler colonialism may constitute a relevant part of that picture.


Lauren Strumos is a doctoral candidate in the Department of Classics and Religious Studies at the University of Ottawa. She is currently a visiting student researcher at the Centre for Multidisciplinary Research on Religion and Society at Uppsala University. Drawing on theories of environmental and ecological justice, her research explores how religious and nonreligious settler activists conceptualize their opposition to an oil pipeline project in British Columbia.

Taking Bugbears Seriously: Why Does the “Secular Religion” vs. “Religion” Distinction Matter?


Professor Beth Singler, Assistant Professor in Digital Religion(s), University of Zurich


Many academics have bugbears:

Bugbear

noun

1. a cause of obsessive fear, anxiety, or irritation.

2. an imaginary being invoked to frighten children, typically a sort of hobgoblin supposed to devour them.

I am using the first definition, of course. Very few of us seek to scare children with pet monsters, though there may be metaphorical value in this definition as well!

We are, as academics, lovers of niche interests and that often means niche irritations as well. In the intersection of Artificial Intelligence (AI) and religion, where much of my research lies, one bugbear I have is the use of the term ‘secular religion’. Recently I was inspired to tweet about my irritation: a group I have done research on, the Longtermists, have garnered mainstream attention lately due to recent publications from experts on AI ethics. They have expressed concerns about the increasing social impact of Longtermist attitudes when so many high-profile and influential technologists and entrepreneurs seem to share them. And in these discussions the term ‘secular religion’ was being applied to this group.

In brief, Longtermism argues that an intervention that saves one human life is weighted as less important than an invention that could save billions of potential lives in the future. Sounds utilitarian, right? But traditional utilitarianism focusses on actual living beings in their calculations of the greatest good for the greatest number of people. Longtermism makes space for the unborn. Even those of the distant future. As a prominent Longtermist, William MacAskill, author of What We Owe the Future (2022), put it in the New York Times in August of this year:

Future people, after all, are people. They will exist. They will have hopes and joys and pains and regrets, just like the rest of us. They just don’t exist yet.

This focus on the future might distract us from current dire impacts of the very same vaunted technologies – not only AI, but also gene and nano-technologies – they think will bring about such a better future. For instance, another issue with Longtermism is that those future lives are very speculative, with ‘future people’ for some Longtermists including even virtual humans and posthumans in an imagined technologically enhanced future. Moreover, Longtermism can also look like a project of eugenics, due to its transhumanist emphasis on maximizing the potential of these coming human generations through alteration and improvement. These issues have been pointed out by scholars and journalists such as Émile P Torres, Susan B. Levin, and Timnit Gebru. Like these scholars and journalists, I have also drawn out how these groups and their ideologies partake of religious shapes, narratives, and tropes. But where I differ, and where my bugbear lies, is in calling Longtermism – with its utopian eschatology, charismatic figures, and Pascal’s Wager-like existential bets – a ‘secular religion’ rather than just a religion.

Why does this distinction matter? First, let us return to definitions again and think about what we mean by a ‘secular religion’. Commonly, this is used to refer to a belief system that rejects or has no explanation of the world in terms of the transcendental; be it a god, gods, or other cosmological systems of explanation. Common examples of ‘secular religions’ include ideologies with distinct utopian aims such as Marxism, humanist groups that practice communal activities together, and media and sports that are the focus of intense interest and ‘fannish’ behaviour, such as football or fiction fandoms. The term originates in a view, originally from Durkheim and built upon by other scholars of religion since the 19th Century, that there is the sacred and there is the profane – the religious and the secular – and that these two things might be objectively viewed both separately, and in their mixing.

But, as I tweeted, “The oxymoron ‘secular religion’ bothers me. When its applied to groups that are antithetical to religion [which includes some Longtermist, Transhumanist, and Rationalist groups focused on emerging technologies], it buys into their own distancing narratives. Yes, there is ideological harm possible in both calling something a religion, or not. But ‘SR’ [secular religion] enables boundary work w/o [without] critique.” Furthermore, “established, self-proclaimed, religions, known for a very long time, can also operate without calls to spirits/gods”. And in calling something a religion, or not, or a secular religion, “The boundary work is done both internally and externally [to the group], but the boundaries are defined into being and every new encounter is placed into one box or another”.

This is a form of ‘Taking “Secular Religion” seriously’ to paraphrase an approach found among contemporary religious studies scholars who have recognized that, “What gets to count as religion is ultimately a question of power and the outcome of sometimes complex and contested negotiations” (Taira 2022: 2). Likewise, what is recognized as secular, or as a secular religion, is based upon how we organize ourselves “by using the category of ‘religion’” (Taira 2022: 2). Scholars, including myself in this very post I admit, draw these lines in our attempts at observing, categorizing, and writing down phenomena. As do the groups themselves; in this case, performing distancing from the category of religion wherein lies irrational supernaturality, et al. Is this a problem as well?

Moreover, as one Twitter respondent pointed out, if there is no boundary drawn between the religious and the secular, then either everything is a religion, or everything is secular. Doesn’t any discussion then become very difficult? We might think of this as The Incredibles Argument Against Contesting the Term Religion (or Secular Religion) – as Mr Incredible says in the first film of the same name, “If everyone is special then nobody is”.

My tweeted response, which I think addresses both these issues and complements Taira’s (2022) discussion of possible next steps, stated that: “The question should be, why this label at this time, not which label should I use? Why ‘Secular Religion’ and not just ‘Religion’? There is a motivation behind reinforcing distinctions between religious and secular, or even between religious and spiritual”. We both, I think, recognise the institutional drives that lead to the use of ‘religion’ (and ‘secular’, and ‘secular religion’). These might include the need to deliver teaching in a digestible form, or how the natural sciences are distinguished from the social sciences and the humanities by universities. Or people’s needs to locate an ideology or a phenomena within a recognisable and familiar category. But still, it is necessary to face up to our academic bugbears. We must bring the little ‘hobgoblins’ into the light of analysis and critique when we encounter them in the wild of public discourse.


References

Gebru, T (2022) Tweet about Longtermism as a Silicon Valley religion, 1.05.2022, available at https://twitter.com/timnitGebru/status/1520532465474883584 [accessed 11.11.2022]

Samuel, S. (2022) “Effective altruism’s most controversial idea” in Vox, available at https://www.vox.com/future-perfect/23298870/effective-altruism-longtermism-will-macaskill-future accessed 11.11.2022

Taira, T. (2022) Taking ‘Religion’ Seriously: Essays on the Discursive Study of Religion, from Supplements to Method & Theory in the Study of Religion, Volume: 18, Leiden, Netherlands: Brill, pp 1-19. Available at https://brill.com/display/title/61969 [accessed 11.11.2022]

Torres, E. (2021) “Why Longtermism is the World’s Most Dangerous Secular Credo”, in Aeon, available at https://aeon.co/essays/why-longtermism-is-the-worlds-most-dangerous-secular-credo [accessed 11.11.2022]

Torres, E. (2021) “The Dangerous Ideas of ‘Longtermism’ and ‘Existential Risk’” in Current Affairs, available at https://www.currentaffairs.org/2021/07/the-dangerous-ideas-of-longtermism-and-existential-risk [accessed 11.11.2022]


Prof. Dr. Beth Singler is the Assistant Professor in Digital Religion(s) at the University of Zurich. Prior to this she was the Junior Research Fellow in Artificial Intelligence at Homerton College, University of Cambridge, after being the post-doctoral Research Associate on the “Human Identity in an age of Nearly-Human Machines” project at the Faraday Institute for Science and Religion. Beth explores the social, ethical, philosophical and religious implications of advances in Artificial Intelligence and robotics.

Fabricating the Secular: Towards a Materialist Approach to Non-religion

By Jacob Copeman and Mascha Schulz


On World Drama Day 2017, a theatre group in Sylhet, Bangladesh, staged a martial arts inspired dance known as Bratachari (bratacārī nr̥tya), which stood out in a programme otherwise made up of street theatre plays advancing clear didactic messages. The Bratachari performance was distinct not only for its aesthetics and impressive rhythmic choreography, but also for the absence of any narrative or explicit message of the kind promulgated in the other acts. And yet, according to the leader of the theatre group, which is known for its radical progressive agenda, the group had chosen to perform this particular dance because of its secular nature: to perform such cultural traditions is to help cultivate secularist sensibilities.

Many readers might find the performance of an apparently non-polemical dance as a means of fostering secularity puzzling. Yet many Bangladeshi secularists find the association between secularism and certain cultural genres obvious and self-evident. This is partially related to the history of secularism in Bangladesh and its particular connotations, which has resulted into a close association between Bengali performative arts and secularity. However, we suggest that a further key reason why dance as a form of secularist activism can occasion surprise is due to the ongoing salience of (unhelpfully) normative conceptions of non-religion and the secular as dematerialized and belief-centered, composed principally of debates, public discourses and personally held non-religious convictions. But sociologists and anthropologists of non-religion have recently begun to move beyond this to focus on lived non-religion rather than abstract formal doctrine – that is to say, the focus has shifted from atheism to atheists – with several scholars urging us to pay closer attention to practical, material, affective and sensory dimensions of non-religion.

In the introduction to the recently published edited book Global Sceptical Publics: From Non-religious Print Media to ‘Digital Atheism’, we engage the work of Birgit Meyer to show how study of non-religion might take inspiration from concepts developed by scholars of material religion. In so doing, we foreground the mediated, material and affective basis of non-religion. Such an approach enables us to grasp not only why Bengali cultural activists associate local cultural genres such as folk dances with secularity, but also to provide new perspectives on non-religion more generally. Rather than considering non-religion as negation, absence of religion or a neutral ground, we argue that a focus on non-religious fabrications enables us to ask pertinent questions about how non-religiosity is produced and made tangible and socially significant in different contexts. 

Non-religious is not non-material

We are not the first to note that typical considerations of non-religion as ‘all in the mind’ are a problem and barrier to understanding. Lack of research on non-religious sensoria and aesthetics is attributable to the conventional assessment of secular humanism that it is a hyper-intellectual exercise (Lee 2012; Engelke 2012) that is antithetical to aesthetics (Binder 2020) and so unconcerned with, indeed divorced from, matter, affect and the senses. This is ironic given the normative commitment of secular humanists to materialism. On the other hand, there does indeed exist ‘a kind of “Enlightenment story”, in which bodies, affects and emotions are supposed to play minor roles’ (Engelke 2019, 200). This is a story that should be taken seriously as informing some atheists’ self-understandings and that indeed is reflected in certain self-ascribed labels such as ‘freethought’, ‘scepticism’ and ‘rationalism’, but it is a story that should not be treated uncritically or taken for granted, and it is important to recognise its bias in terms of European intellectual history.

Non-religious Fabrication

In the study of religion, Birgit Meyer has been key to the endeavour to foreground the material and affective bases of religion and thereby to counter dematerialised belief-centred approaches that define religion in terms of internalised mental representations and propositional assents. We suggest that Meyer’s (2014, 209) emphasis on the significance of ‘form’ – ‘not as a vehicle but as a generator of meaning and experience’ – and interest in processes of fabrication (via texts, sounds, pictures, objects, etc.) as means of generating a sense of the sublime or transcendent are as apt for non-religion as they are for religion. We suggest that a sense of the immanent, of the non-religious, should not be considered the neutral ground from which such religious fabrications begin, but that it is a sense that itself must be fabricated. To paraphrase Meyer (2014), foregrounding fabrication in the study of non-religion prompts very concrete empirical questions about the specific practices, materials and forms employed in generating senses of the non-religious. Which materials are used and how are they authorised as suitable? What steps are involved in procedures of de-sacralisation? How does a non-religious fabrication inspire or help sustain non-belief?

Nonreligious Fabrication and the Bratachari Dance

Secular humanists have sought to fabricate selves, spaces and events free from, or beyond, religious iconography in various ways. Taking away or covering religious symbols at a chapel for a humanist funeral forms an obvious example for Christian contexts. In South Asia, non-religious fabrication can consist of attempts to overcome communal boundaries based on caste or religion. Transgression of food-based purity taboos at gatherings where different caste communities share meals is one such vital means. In these cases, activists attempt to materially engineer what we call ‘immanent, this-worldly other worlds’ that both represent and hope to eventuate a condition of moving beyond normative religious identities. In other cases, such as non-religious commitment to body donations as a means both of circumventing religious death rituals and contributing to medical science, it is precisely because non-religion is so often considered in terms of mental attitudes and interiority that many atheists find it important to give their irreligious convictions a material form.

Yet non-religious fabrication does not necessarily take the form of enactment or materialization of secularist convictions. This becomes clear in the example of the Bratachari dance. Through engagement with its physically demanding choreography, one can ‘become a whole human’, the group’s leader suggests, irrespective of religion, class and caste. Such a connection between aesthetics, a specific cultural genre that supposedly indexes ‘Bengaliness’, and the cultivation of universalist humanism indicates a prominent Bangladeshi notion of secularism that foregrounds non-communalism and equal respect to all religious groups. The close association between ‘Bengali culture’ and secularity is the outcome of a complicated history in which language-based and Islam-based nationalisms competed for dominance. Initiated amidst increasing communal tensions in the 1930s, the Bratachari movement sought a spiritual and social renewal of the Bengali ‘nation’ irrespective of sex, religion or caste through engagement with folk traditions and physical exercise. Its founder, Gurusaday Dutt (1882– 1941), like many cultural activists saw folk culture as contributing ‘significantly to the development of a national culture by providing indigenous models of secularism’ (Chatterji 2016, 101). So, while Bratachari dance certainly indexes particular ideals and ideological commitments, it serves more broadly to affectively reproduce and revitalize a regionally specific and historically salient notion of secularity that co-implicates Bengali culture and aesthetics and the secular. In consequence, reference to, and appreciation of, certain aesthetic traditions by itself is considered sufficient to demarcate oneself as secular.

To be able to grasp such affectively charged and engaged forms of secularist activism requires scholarly engagement with aesthetics and material practices, including consideration of the different media through which non-religion is made tangible, whether oral, material, visual or affective, which are not neutral: we must pay attention to ‘the consequences of the particular materiality within which [non-religious] objectification…takes place’ (Miller 2001, 152). Essays contained in Global Sceptical Publics do exactly that, highlighting the striking diversity of non-religious aesthetic and material encounters ranging from the aesthetics of sceptical propagation via speech, film and street theatre to the affective strategies employed by Lebanese atheists on social media, the role of humour and ridicule in the criticism of religion in a US TV series and the visually arresting ‘ungodly’ memes shared among young Indian atheist social media users. In such ways, Global Sceptical Publics reflects but also extends emerging approaches to non-religion that no longer treat it as a domain divorced from aesthetics and the sensory.

Bio notes of the authors:

Jacob Copeman is Research Professor, University of Santiago de Compostela, and Distinguished Researcher (Oportunius). His most recent monograph, co-authored with Dwaipayan Banerjee, is Hematologies: The political life of blood in India (Cornell University Press, 2019). His most recent edited collection, co-edited with Mascha Schulz, is Global Sceptical Publics: From Non-religious Print Media to ‘Digital Atheism’ (UCL Press, 2022). He is principal investigator of the ERC-funded project ‘Religion and its others in South Asia and the world: Communities, debates, freedoms’.

Mascha Schulz is a postdoctoral research fellow on the ERC project ‘Religion and its others in South Asia and the world (ROSA)’ and is based in the Department of Anthropology of Politics and Governance, at the Max Planck Institute for Social Anthropology, Halle. She is a political anthropologist currently working at the intersection of politics, economics and non-religion. Drawing on long-term ethnographic research in urban Sylhet (Bangladesh), she is working on a book titled Cultivating Secularity: Politics, embodiment and criticism of religion in Bangladesh. She has also published on the state, political parties and student politics in South Asia.


Jacob Copeman is Research Professor, University of Santiago de Compostela, and Distinguished Researcher (Oportunius). His most recent monograph, co-authored with Dwaipayan Banerjee, is Hematologies: The political life of blood in India (Cornell University Press, 2019). His most recent edited collection, co-edited with Mascha Schulz, is Global Sceptical Publics: From Non-religious Print Media to ‘Digital Atheism’ (UCL Press, 2022). He is principal investigator of the ERC-funded project ‘Religion and its others in South Asia and the world: Communities, debates, freedoms’.

Mascha Schulz is a postdoctoral research fellow on the ERC project ‘Religion and its others in South Asia and the world (ROSA)’ and is based in the Department of Anthropology of Politics and Governance, at the Max Planck Institute for Social Anthropology, Halle. She is a political anthropologist currently working at the intersection of politics, economics and non-religion. Drawing on long-term ethnographic research in urban Sylhet (Bangladesh), she is working on a book titled Cultivating Secularity: Politics, embodiment and criticism of religion in Bangladesh. She has also published on the state, political parties and student politics in South Asia.

Human Augmentation Research Network (HARN) and Transhumanism


Sharday Mosurinjohn, Jacob Boss, and Jeremy Cohen


In 2018 we – Jacob Boss, Jeremy Cohen, and Sharday Mosurinjohn – founded the Human Augmentation Research Network (HARN) to build community around a religious studies approach to researching transhumanism. Transhumanism is shorthand for a constellation of movements working to transcend human limitations through technology. Much of the work to date has come from theologians critical of transhumanism. HARN encourages expansion of the types and range of research in transhumanism. Our communities of study are the grinders, a grassroots group of cyborg punks (Jacob), immortalists and radical life extensionists (Jeremy), and psychedelic scientists and psychonauts (Sharday). We remain fascinated by the ways the people we study variously reject “religion” for self-description, endorse it, want to replace it with an imagined better alternative, incorporate it, or otherwise position themselves in relation to it.

Among the grinders, Jacob has seen science experiments conducted in the same chair as people getting scarification with religious symbols. His interlocutors have made claims about religion ranging from “None of this is religious and I’m not religious in any way” to “We are Nazarenes,” “It’s totally a religion,” and “I am the Ultrapope of the Ultrachurch.” Jeremy has observed that the immortalist organization People Unlimited promotes life-extension technologies using a mix of biomedical and New Age reasoning. And though the community draws both on secular and religious reasoning to explain how human thought can cure illness and change our genetic structures, it claims to be largely suspicious of narratives it considers religious or spiritual. Sharday routinely hears psychedelic neuroscientists define their work as rigorously empirical and their motivations as spiritual. They talk about their experiences with DMT elves in the same breath as they talk about their search for the scientific basis of “mystical experience.”

Our research groups defy the religion and science dichotomy, provoking us to develop new theoretical tools for the study of non-religion and secularity. There has been extensive work done on how this dichotomy is terribly ahistorical to begin with (like Peter Harrison’s The Territories of Science and Religion or Jason Ā. Josephson-Storm’s The Myth of Disenchantment), but it seems that so far it has not been as effective and far reaching as it deserves to be in the academy and the public. In our experience as teachers, fieldworkers, and observers of culture, it looks to us that the lay position remains very much either that science and religion fit Stephen J. Gould’s model of “non-overlapping magisteria,” or that science and religion are mutually contaminating substances (cf. Sharday’s 2014 work on contagion) sometimes imagined as needing to be protected from each other. Beyond our own experience, it has been shown by Elaine Ecklund and David Johnson that “a significant part of the public wrongly sees scientists who are atheists as immoral elitists who don’t care about the common good.” And yet, in reality, many atheist scientists are culturally religious, spiritually atheist, partnered with religious people, or apply moral frameworks from religions to their lives and scientific work.

And so how should we think about the groups we study, and how should we talk about them, when they court such pollution? A few years ago, Sharday, along with her then-student Emma Funnell-Kononuk (2017) offered the conceptual framework of “new secular spiritual movement” (NSSM) for groups who do not easily fall into the category of religion, but for whom terms like spirituality, the sacred, and new religious movement are applicable. A new term was needed, they argued, as “a way of pointing out some of the strengths and limitations in the existing conceptual repertoire that defines things by relationships of similarity or difference to religion” (117). This repertoire includes academically orientated terms like ‘secular sacred,’ ‘spiritual but not religious’ (SBNR), and ‘new religious movement’ (NRM). In the case of secular transhumanists who do not self-define as religious – like, for instance, People Unlimited – categorizing them as nonetheless religious “would be to smuggle in some unarticulated theory of religion as a sui generis thing” (121). But any analytical method risks creating prescriptive boundaries, and the use of the words religion, community, NRM, and NSSM are themselves laden with presuppositions and assumptions. 

Like our research groups, our students defy the religion and science dichotomy. As they negotiate university life, students navigate religion and non-religion. At Jacob’s university sidewalks blossom with chalk advertisements for campus religious groups at the start of every semester. Jeremy has observed the phenomenon of students code switching between believer and non-believer depending on their on-campus audience. In ten years of teaching, Sharday has noted students making connections between their secular studies and their confessional identities, claiming a unity between them, such as with statements like “the study of neuroscience and Torah are the same.” Clearly, students want to talk about their theological struggles, as well as their struggles organizing religious practices in their atheist lives. 

We are not defending theology; we are saying that these conversations should be perfectly comprehensible for the religious studies scholar. We are the best positioned discipline to engage with these struggles, but there are those in our field who want to insist on a religion and theology dichotomy, and they often want to maintain the purity of religious studies by not only critically deconstructing the “religion” category, but refusing to have conversations with the people who constitute our discipline about how they are navigating religion and non-religion in their lives. But no amount of critical deconstruction and silence adds up to a cure for the contamination of the religion that people track into religious studies.

The study of transhumanism drives our impatience with the insistent separation of religion and non-religion. If you’re questioning the nature of the human, you’re already in the territory of religion, and this has significance for the development of critical thinking. To deny students the opportunity to form and test their opinions, including opinions colored with theology, is to do damage to their intellectual growth and the potential of religious studies. To categorically deny the experience of our students is to impede their flourishing.

So as we navigate, as participant observers and as teachers, the ways science marks out secular, non-religious, and religious positions among transhumanists, we want to keep alive the question: does religion contaminate the conversation? Can we really avoid exposure? Are we taking ourselves seriously when we argue that religion is very many things? And that no part of culture can be totally unalloyed with at least some of them? Is it that religion is somehow embarrassing, or unseemly – can we talk about religion only so long as it doesn’t get us high on spirit? Does religious studies need a carbon monoxide monitor that looks for collective effervescence? Or might transhumanists show us some additional ways of dissolving the science-religion dichotomy to which religious studies largely remains bound?


Sharday Mosurinjohn is Associate Professor in the School of Religion at Queen’s University (Kingston, ON). Her research explores ontological and aesthetic dimensions of mind-augmenting technologies ranging from AI to psychedelics. Her first book is The Spiritual Significance of Overload Boredom (2022; McGill-Queen’s University Press). Her new book project considers the “psychedelic Renaissance” as an entheogenic NRM in the long history of esotericism.

Jacob Boss is a doctoral candidate in the Department of Religious Studies at Indiana University. His research focuses on human augmentation and body modification. His ethnographic study of grassroots transhumanism entitled “Punks and Profiteers in the War on Death” was recently published by Body and Religion

Jeremy Cohen is Assistant Professor in the Department of Religious Studies. His ethnographic research focuses on communities and new religious movements seeking radical-longevity and immortality, including transhumanism, as well as the historical and cultural framework of changing North American relationships to technology and death. Jeremy Cohen has presented his research at the annual meeting of the American Anthropological Association (AAA), the American Academy of Religion (AAR), and the Society for the Anthropology of Religion (SAR), and has given numerous guest lectures on transhumanism, immortality, conspiracy theories, and the ethics of radical-longevity. His research is funded by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada (SSHRC).

Religion at the Edge: Nature, Spirituality, and Secularity in the Pacific Northwest


Sarah Wilkins-Laflamme, University of Waterloo
New director of the NSRN, 2022-2024


“I’m Jeremy. I’m 30. I have a little business here. I do, like web development and stuff, and lots of different work. And I’d also be under the kind of irreligious banner.” Jeremy, born in 1988 and currently living in Vancouver B.C., does not typically mention his irreligious identity when introducing himself and interacting with others in everyday life. Yet, he does so when probed with survey, in-depth interview or focus group questions on the topic. Although for the most part an unseen phenomenon in day-to-day life, when we as researchers start asking, we quickly realize that Jeremy is not alone in his irreligion.

From 2017-2021, our research team undertook a social scientific, historical and philosophical study of religion, spirituality and secularity in British Columbia, Canada as well as in the states of Washington and Oregon in the U.S. The research project aimed to explore many themes in the region known as Cascadia, notably the influence of the Canada-U.S. border in understandings of the region as a whole; the current-day impact of a unique contested history between Indigenous, British, American, and other diverse peoples; and how the natural beauty of the landscapes infuses people’s understandings of their everyday lives.

Additionally, our study explores how one of the most secular regions in North America functions as a society of coexistence between large groups of religious and nonreligious individuals alike. British Columbia in Canada as well as the states of Washington and Oregon in the U.S. have some of the lowest measures of conventional religious behavior, believing and belonging on the continent; measures that have been on the decline for many generations now. For example, those who say they have no religion when asked about their religious affiliation make up an estimated 44% of Washington’s and Oregon’s general adult populations and 49% of British Columbia’s general adult population according to the Pacific Northwest Social Survey we ran in 2017 for the research project. Historically, a frontier mentality focused on mobility and resource extraction, political contestation between Indigenous, British, and American groups, a physical and psychological distance from the rest of the continent, and a desire to be free of the Establishment in all its forms ensured that organized Christianity did not get as strong a foothold in the region in the 19th century as elsewhere in the United States and Canada. In fact, Tina Block and Lynne Marks, authors in this edited volume, argue that what defined northwestern exceptionalism in matters of religion was most notably the irreligious experience of many of its European settler residents. The Pacific Northwest was to a certain extent born secular, characterized by lower rates of regular church attendance among its population that date back to the 19th century. Religion never became as socially entrenched during the mid-nineteenth to mid-twentieth centuries among a majority of its population as it did in more eastern, central and southern parts of the continent. Additionally, the large waves of East Asian immigration to the region, among whom saying one had no religion was much more common, contributed to making non-religion even more socially acceptable on the whole.

Our study aimed to examine what religion, spirituality and secularity looks like in a context where being nonreligious is so common. The new edited volume, Religion at the Edge: Nature, Spirituality, and Secularity in the Pacific Northwest, published with British Columbia University Press in 2022, is the culmination of this research.

Reverential Naturalism, instead of Religion

Whereas love of religion was absent among many of our study’s participants in the Pacific Northwest, love of nature came up frequently in the interviews and focus groups we conducted. Stephanie from Seattle explains the reasons for her love of the outdoors:

Reduction in distraction is a huge part of being in nature for me. But I guess it also represents an opportunity to strip down to a more basic form of myself and let my mind wander, or focus on what is in front of me. Whereas in the average, everyday existence, you know, there’s advertisements here, and people talking here, and bus going down the street there, and it’s like all I can do to focus on what I’m trying to get done. But practicing more of just being is definitely a big value that I get out of being in nature.

Samuel from one of our study’s Victoria B.C. focus groups goes further and describes his experiences in the outdoors as spiritual:

[…] I’ve had spiritual feelings while out surfing, or just being on beaches. […] I feel like being kind of immersed in nature in that way, physically being in the ocean, being present there, like, witnessing all of these natural powers, whether or not it’s animals or waves coming at you or whatever, and just like seeing the landscape from out there has a very kind of awe-inspiring effect on you. To me, when I think about describing it, it feels profound, it feels spiritual, it feels significant.

Within the context of these interviews and focus groups in the Pacific Northwest, the natural world and spiritual experiences within it are often contrasted with experiences of conventional religious groups. Susanna Morrill puts it best on pp. 236-237 of the edited volume in her chapter titled ‘Everything Old Is New Again: Reverential Naturalism in Cascadian Poetry’:

For these interviewees who found some aspect of their spirituality in nature, nature created an experiential moment, one that is not defined by institutional structures, either architectural or theological. Interviewees identified their experiences in nature as being spiritual in a way that placed these experiences in opposition to more traditional expressions of religion. Indeed, […] they seemed to find spiritual truth in nature because it is not constrained by institutional experiences and expectations. These experiences in nature seem to be quite individual and, on the surface, unmarked by communal, social, or cultural dimensions and, again, this seems, for those interviewed, to undergird the authenticity of their encounters.

Paul Bramadat coins the new term reverential naturalism in his chapter in the context of the Pacific Northwest region of North America. Reverential naturalism for Bramadat:

[…] favours an orientation that is both accepting of scientific approaches to nature and inclined to perceive and imagine the natural world in ways that are redolent (from the Latin olere, “to smell”) of mysticism, panentheism, animism, pantheism, and inclusive forms of theism. Reverential naturalism may be considered a metanarrative – with concomitant attitudes, assumptions, habits, and practices with respect to a breathtaking natural world – that animated the individual stories and perspectives of almost all the people we met during our research (p. 24).

Part of this concept covers some individuals’ specific spiritual experiences with nature; or in other words the sublime or ecstatic dimension of nature for humans:

[…] experienced as beautiful (in the conventional sense of being harmonious, well-balanced, pleasing, picturesque, attractive) but also mystical and terrifying […] the land and sea are framed as extremely vulnerable and imbued with an indefatigable capacity to humble, nurture, and inspire humans (p. 30; p. 33).  

Bramadat sees spiritual experiences of interconnectedness with nature throughout mainstream culture and among a large proportion of the population – albeit at times in implicit ways. Yet, reverential naturalism as a concept also goes beyond this. It refers to a regional metanarrative that:

[…] permeates what we might call the dominant cultural rhetoric of the region […] an overarching meaning-conveying narrative according to which deference to and, for many, veneration of nature is framed as a distinctive, even definitive, feature of what it means to live well [in the Pacific Northwest] (pp. 24-25).

In a region characterized by the exceptional beauty of the Cascade mountains, Pacific Coast, and wild boreal and temperate rainforests, and by relatively easy access to many regional and national public parks as well as other natural spaces, a dominant cultural narrative and source of common identity has emerged in the Pacific Northwest in which nature and outdoor activities are seen as the primary source of human rejuvenation, balance, happiness, physical and mental wellbeing, as well as individual journeys.

This metanarrative of reverential naturalism is distinct from, although in some ways also inspired by, Indigenous spiritualities in the region. Indigenous spiritualities refer more specifically to the much longer history and contemporary realities of traditional ways of life among First Nations, Inuit and Métis peoples traversed by spirit beings, personal and community healing, ceremony, the teaching of Elders, the Medicine Circle, intimate relationships with nature, and the journey of learning to live in the world put in place by the Creator. Reverential naturalism on the other hand is more of a sublime experience of nature found especially among White middle- to upper-class European-settler urban populations.

Although the social scientific concept of reverential naturalism is fairly new, the phenomena and discourses to which the term refers in the Pacific Northwest are not. Susanna Morrill also shows in her chapter that it has a history in the region, with many similar references to the sublime and awe-inspiring dimensions of nature found throughout European settler poetry and diaries from the 19th century as well as throughout family history interviews in the region. Morrill also points out that reverential naturalism was actually formed in the 19th century to the detriment of local Indigenous populations, with the White economic elite invested in keeping economic, social, and cultural power in the hands of Euro-Americans and Canadians who were arriving in the Pacific Northwest to enjoy and exploit its natural resources and land taken from Indigenous peoples. Some of these practices of cultural genocide and land theft continue to this day, with some of those seeking their own reverential naturalism dreams ignoring and invading remaining Indigenous lands and culture. This said, many within the reverential naturalism frame also take inspiration from Indigenous spiritualities. Sunny, a resident of Vancouver Island in her late 30s from a British family background, says: “I think teachings around the interconnected nature of everything as one, which are really core teachings in a lot of Indigenous contexts, is one that really just makes a whole lot of sense to me, it really does.”

Despite its history in the region that dates back to the 19th century, this metanarrative of reverential naturalism seems to be especially prevalent now in contemporary Pacific Northwest society. There is an economic dimension feeding the metanarrative of reverential naturalism in the region. Historically, railroad companies in the late 19th century promoted the exceptional natural resources of the region to potential Euro-American and Canadian settlers as key to profit-making and recreation. More recently, outdoor equipment, cottage development, eco-tourism and other such companies in the Pacific Northwest are some of the big promoters of the idealized images of happy, beautiful, physically fit (and usually White) people having their ‘authentic’ experiences within a stunning natural (and usually devoid of other human beings) landscape – with all the latest gear or course (for those who can afford it); images that can be found plastered on these companies’ store windows, websites, ad campaigns and social media. They act as an important source of socialization for individuals into the common identity of reverential naturalism in the region, along with other sources of socialization into this identity such as family traditions tied to nature experiences.

The current prevalence of the reverential naturalism metanarrative in the Pacific Northwest also seems to be tied to the relative weak presence of conventional religion in the area. Without one or a few dominant religious traditions to write the regional metanarrative, this has opened up the space for reverential naturalism tied to the incredible natural beauty of the regional landscapes to define personal and regional identities instead among religious, spiritual and nonreligious individuals alike.

Religion at the Edge: Nature, Spirituality, and Secularity in the Pacific Northwest explores this concept of reverential naturalism further as well as many more fascinating findings about North America’s most secular region and society.


Sarah Wilkins-Laflamme is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Sociology and Legal Studies at the University of Waterloo (Canada). She completed her DPhil in sociology at the University of Oxford in 2015. Her research interests include quantitative methods, sociology of religion, immigration and ethnicity and political sociology.

Dr. Wilkins-Laflamme currently has 16 articles published in top Canadian and international peer-reviewed journals in the fields of sociology of religion, religious studies and political science, including the Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, Canadian Review of Political Science, Sociology of Religion, Canadian Review of Sociology, Studies in Religion, and the British Journal of Sociology. She is co-author of the 2020 book None of the Above: Nonreligious Identity in the U.S. and Canada, with New York University Press.