Here is a concrete example. Our brains have a specialized facialrecognition
module. Much of what is known about the inborn structures of our minds comes
from studies of infants and brain injuries, and we know about the facial
recognition module from both. Shortly after birth, babies are uniquely attracted
to two circles with a slash beneath them, which is representative of a face. Later
on, brain injury or developmental anomalies can produce a disorder in which
people cannot recognize faces (including their own!)-even though other kinds of
visual processing are perfectly intact. This is called prosopagnosia. Most of the
time, though, our facialrecognition module overfiinctions rather than
underfiinctions. In ambiguous situations-looking at clouds, rocks, lumps of clay,
or ink blots-we have a tendency to see faces. Our brains automatically activate
the facial recognition machinery even though it doesn't really apply. Through
history people have seen gods, demons, ghosts, or the man in the moon looking
at them. Christians, whose interpretation of hazy shapes is further shaped by
belief in specific supernatural persons, see Jesus, the Virgin Mary, an angel, a
demon, or even Satan.
This illustrates a broader point that cannot be overemphasized in
understanding the psychology of religion: when faced with unknowns and
ambiguities, our brains activate inborn information modules even when they
don't really apply. We take unfamiliar situations and even random data and
perceive "simulacra," meaning patterns that are inherent, not in the external
world, but in our own minds. Furthermore, our patternrecognition systems err on
the side of being overactive rather than underactive. This tendency is called
apophenia. It is alarming to look at a face and not see it immediately as a face; it
is quite common to see a face in an array of leaves or shadows.
When we look at the world around us, we instinctively see more than faces.
We also "see" kindred conscious beings. Humans (and some intelligent animals)
have developed a capacity called "theory of mind." We not only have minds, we
imagine that others have them, and we think about what they might be thinking.
To guess what someone else might do, or to influence what they might do, it is
tremendously helpful to know what they want and what they intend. Theory of
mind is so important in navigating our way through society that we can think
about it several steps removed: I can imagine what Brian is thinking about how
Grace intends to respond to Janet's preferences. Furthermore, because our brains
process information about minds differently than information about bodies, we
can imagine human minds inside of all kinds of bodies (think stuffed animals,
pet rocks, or cartoon characters) or without any body at all (think evil spirits,
poltergeists, or God).
Because our theory of mind is so rich, we tend to overattribute events to
conscious beings. Scientists call this hyperactive agency detection. What does
that mean? It means that when good things happen somebody gets credit and
when bad things happen we look for someone to blame. We expect important
events to be done by, for, and to persons, and we are averse to the idea that stuff
just happens. We also tend to overassume conscious intent, that if something
consequential happened, someone did it on purpose.
This set of default assumptions explains why the ancients thought that
volcanoes and plagues must be the actions of gods. Even in modern times, we
are not immune from this kind of attribution: for some Christians, Hurricane
Katrina happened because God was angry about abortions and gays; the Asian
tsunami happened because He was disgusted with nude Australian sunbathers. If
gods are tweaking natural events, then we want to curry their favor. Around the
world, people make their special requests known to gods or spirits by talking to
them and giving them gifts. Athletes huddle in prayer before a game, just in case
those random bounces aren't random. After a good day at the casino, a thank-you
tip may go into the offering basket. Or it may be that the offering goes into the
basket beforehand.
All of this builds on the idea that supernatural beings are akin to us
psychologically. They have emotions and preferences. They take action in
response to things they like and dislike. They experience righteous indignation
and crave retribution. They like some people better than others. They respond to
our loyalty by being loyal to us. They can be placated or cajoled. They like
praise, affirmation, and gratitude. They track favors and goodwill in a kind of tit-
for-tat reciprocity.
Abstract theologies are a fairly recent invention in the history of human
religion, and they tend not to govern religious behavior. Even people who
describe their god as omniscient, or who insist that everything is predestined,
often behave as if they need to communicate their desires and can influence
future events by doing so. There are exceptions. An increasing number of
Christians have moved beyond the concept of a person-god to a sense of
mystical transcendence, participation in a divine reality that is made manifest in
small particulars throughout the universe. They believe that God's power is
brought into human lives more through our actions than through supernatural
interventions. But most people prefer the tangible familiarity of a powerful
person who watches over them and answers their prayers.9
An extraterrestrial anthropologist might look at Christianity's dogmas and
think how beautifully they reflect the nature of our species as social information
specialists. As we know, the social dimension of religion extends far beyond the
doctrines, which would gain little traction if they were just dry ideas. Part of
what keeps the doctrines alive is that they tap powerful emotions and
relationships. Nowhere is this truer than in the experience of conversion and
rebirth.
THE BORNAGAIN EXPERIENCE
"I prayed harder and just then I felt like everything I was saying was being
sucked into a vacuum. When I stood up, I felt like thin air; I had to brace
myself. I felt this energy, it was a kind of an ecstasy."
-C athy.10
"Something began to flow in me-a kind of energy.... Then came the strange
sensation that water was not only running down my cheeks, but surging
through my body as well, cleansing and cooling as it went."
-Colson.11
"It was a beautiful feeling of wellbeing, warmth, and loving ...I went home
and all night long these warm feelings kept coining up in my body."
-jean.12
"I felt something real warm overwhelming me. It was in just a moment, yet
it was like an eternity .... a joy, such a joy hit me with such a tremendous
force that I jumped ... and ran."
-Helen.13
For many Christians, being born again is unlike anything they have ever known.
A sense of personal conviction, yielding, or release followed by indescribable
peace and joy-this is the stuff of spiritual
transformation. Once experienced it is
unforgettable, and many people can recall small details years later. In the
aftermath of such a moment, an alcoholic may stop drinking or a criminal
fugitive may hand himself in to the authorities. A housewife may sail through
her tasks for weeks, flooded by a sense of God's love flowing through her to her
children. A normally introverted programmer may begin inviting his coworkers
to church.
This experience, more than any other, creates a sense of certainty about
Christian belief and so makes belief impervious to rational argumentation. What
most Christians don't know is that these experiences are not unique to
Christianity. In fact, the quotations that you just read come from two bornagain
Christians, a Moonie, and an encounter group participant. Their words are
similar because the bornagain experience doesn't require a specific set of beliefs.
It requires a specific social/emotional process, and the dogmas or explanations
are secondary.
Conversion is a process that begins with social influence. As sociologists like
to say, our sense of reality is socially constructed. Missionary work typically
begins with simple offers of friendship or conversations about shared interests.
As prospective converts are drawn in, a group may envelope them in warmth,
goodwill, thoughtful conversations, and playful activities, always with gentle
pressure toward the group reality.
In revival meetings or retreats, semi-hypnotic processes draw a potential
convert closer to the toggle point. These include repetition of words, repetition
of rhythms, evocative music, and Barnum statements (messages that seem
personal but apply to almost everyone-like horoscopes). Because of the positive
energy created by the group, potential converts become unwitting participants in
the influence process, actively seeking to make the group's ideas fit with their
own life history and knowledge. Factors that can strengthen the effect include
sleep deprivation or isolation from a person's normal social environment. An
example would be a latenight campfire gathering with an inspirational storyteller
and altar call at Child Evangelism's "Camp Good News."
These powerful social experiences culminate in conversion, a peak experience
in which the new converts experience a flood of relief. Until that moment they
have been consciously or unconsciously at odds with the group center of gravity.
Now they may feel that their darkest secrets are known and forgiven. They may
experience the kind of joy or transcendence normally reserved for mystics. And
they are likely to be bathed in love and approval from the surrounding group,
which mirrors their experience of God.
The otherworldly mental state that I refer to as the domain of mystics is
known in clinical situations as a "transcendence hallucination," but this term
fails to reflect how normal and profound the experience can be as a part of
human spirituality. The transcendence hallucination is an acute sense of
connection with a reality that lies beyond and behind this natural plane. It
typically lasts for just a few seconds or minutes but may leave a profound
impression that lasts a lifetime. Transcendence hallucination can be triggered by
neurological events (like a seizure, stroke, or migraine aura) or by a drug (such
as psilocybin), but it also can be triggered by overstimulation or
understimulation of the brain.
Some mystics from the past have described or even drawn these events with
such impressive detail that a diagnostic hypothesis is possible. Hildegard of
Bingen, a medieval mystic, wrote of the intense pain accompanying her visions
and created scores of drawings that show the visual field distorted in keeping
with a migraine aura. In modern times, author Karen Armstrong describes the
seizures that she first thought to be triggered spiritually.14 In discussing an
altered state known as Kundalini awakening, one migraine sufferer commented,
"I usually don't follow any of the mystic/esoteric stuff, but I must say it is kind
of strange to see all my symptoms lined up like that outside of a western/medical
context."15
Let me emphasize, though, that these altered states don't depend on some kind
of neurological damage or pathology. They can be unforgettable, peak
experiences for normal people, long sought and hard won by those who care
about the spiritual dimension of life. Sensory deprivation, fasting, meditation,
rhythmic drumming, or crowd dynamics have all been used systematically to
elicit altered states in normal people.16
Since we humans are meaning-makers to the core, such a powerful experience
demands an explanation. In an evangelical conversion context like a revival
meeting or missionary work, religious interpretations of the snapping experience
are provided both before and after it occurs. These explanations become the
foundation stones on which whole castles of beliefs later will be constructed.
The authorities who triggered the otherworldly experience are trusted implicitly,
which gives them the power to now transform the convert's worldview in
accordance with their own theology.
The conversion process as I have described it sounds sinister, as if
manipulative groups and hypnotic leaders deliberately ply their trade to suck in
the unsuspecting and take over their minds. I don't believe this is usually the
case. Rather, natural selection is at play. Over millennia of human history,
religious leaders have hit on social/emotional techniques that work to win
converts, just as individual believers have hit on spiritual practices they find
satisfying and belief systems that fit how we process information. Techniques
that don't trigger powerful spiritual experiences simply die out. Those techniques
that do trigger powerful spiritual experiences are refined and handed down.
With few exceptions the evangelists, from megachurch ministers to
"friendship missionaries," are largely unaware of the powerful psychological
tools they wield. They are persuasive in part because they genuinely believe they
are doing good. After all, they have their own bornagain experiences to convince
them that they are promoting the Real Thing. Consider, for example, the apostle
Paul, whose Damascus Road event (possibly a temporal lobe seizure)
transformed his moral priorities and sustained a lifetime of missionary devotion.
What decent person wouldn't want to share the secret to healing and happiness?
The challenge is trying to figure out exactly what that secret is. As I say to my
daughters, it is not enough to be well intentioned-even joyfully, generously so.
We also have to be right.
CONCLUSION
Understanding the psychology of religion doesn't tell us whether any specific set
of beliefs is true. I might believe in a pantheon of supernatural beings for all the
wrong reasons (childhood credulity, hyperactive agency detection, theory of
mind, group hypnotic processes, misattributed transcendence hallucination), and
they still might exist. Social scientists can't address the truth value of
otherworldly religious assertions or emotions, only the patterns,
norms, and
circumstances under which they occur. It remains the domain of philosophers
and ethicists to examine the rational and moral qualities of religious beliefs-to
examine internal coherence and virtue.
Despite these limitations, cognitive research does offer what is rapidly
becoming a sufficient explanation for the phenomenon of belief. More and more,
we can explain Christian belief with the same set of principles that explain
supernaturalism generally. This is a serious blow to orthodoxy-to a religion
based on right belief. In the past, one of the arguments put forward by believers
was that there simply was no explanation for the "bornagain" experience, the
healing power of Christianity, the vast agreement among believers, or the joy
and wonder of mysticism, save that these came from God Himself. We now
know this not to be the case. Humans are capable of having transcendent,
transformative experiences in the absence of any given dogma. We are capable
of sustaining elaborate systems of false belief and transmitting them to our
children. We are capable of feeling so certain about our false beliefs that we are
willing to kill or die for them.
One general principle that has worked well for humans seeking to advance or
refine our knowledge is called "parsimony," also known as Occam's Razor. It can
be paraphrased thus: " Usually the simplest explanation is the best one" or "Don't
multiply entities unnecessarily." If we can predict storms by looking at
barometric pressure and cloud formations, then there is no need to posit the
existence of storm spirits or angry ancestors causing us trouble. If we can predict
that an electric light will come on when a circuit is completed, we don't talk
about the invisible parallel circuit that makes the whole thing work. When a
scholar adheres to the principle of parsimony, explanatory factors get added only
when they allow us to predict with greater accuracy, or explain things that
previously were puzzling.
In fields of human knowledge other than theology, if we can find a sufficient
explanation within nature's matrix, we don't look outside. We no longer, for
example, posit that demons are involved in seizures or bubonic plague. It's not
that we know for sure that the demon explanation is wrong, but simply that it is
unnecessary for predicting or treating seizures.
What does all of this imply for the future of religious studies? Simply that
supernatural explanations for religious experience are becoming unnecessary.
Eighteenth-century French mathematician and astronomer Pierre Simone
Laplace wrote a volume on the movements of the heavenly bodies. When asked
by Emperor Napoleon I why he had not mentioned God in his treatise, he
replied, "7e n aipas cu besoin de cette hypothese." ("I had no need of that
hypothesis.") Modern scholars of religion, more and more, find themselves
echoing the words of Laplace. We have no need of that hypothesis.
NOTES
1. Bootie Cosgrove-Mather, "Poll: Creationism Trumps Evolution," CBS
News, November 22, 2004, http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2004/11/22/
opinion/polls/main657083.shtml; Pew Research Center Pollwatch, "Reading the
Polls on Evolution and Creationism," Pew Research Center far the People and
the Press, September 28, 2005, http://people-press.org/commentary/?
analysisid=118.
2. Bart Ehrinan, Lost Christianities: The Battles for Scripture and the Faiths
We Never Knew (New York: Oxford University Press, 2003).
3. Cordelia Fine, A Mind of Its Own: How Your Brain Distorts and Deceives
(New York: Norton, 2006), p. 19. See also David Linden, The Accidental Mind
(Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2008), and the entry for
"selfdeception" in Rohrer T. Caroll, "The Skeptic's Dictionary,"
Why Faith Fails The Christian Delusion Page 7
