MOTIVATION AND RELIGION
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ADVANCES IN MOTIVATION AND ACHEIVEMENT Series Editor: Martin L. Maehr Recent Volumes: Volume 9: Volume 10: Volume 11: Volume 12: Volume 13:
Culture, Motivation and Achievement - Edited by Martin L. Maehr and Paul R. Pintrich Advances in Motivation and Achievement Edited by Martin L. Maehr and Paul R. Pintrich The Role of Context - Edited by Timothy C. Urdan New Directions in Measures and Methods Edited by Paul R. Pintrich and Martin L. Maehr Motivating Students, Impoving Schools: The Legacy of Carol Midgely - Edited by Paul R. Pintrich and Martin L. Maehr
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ADVANCES IN MOTIVATION AND ACHEIVEMENT VOLUME 14
MOTIVATION AND RELIGION EDITED BY
MARTIN L. MAEHR and
STUART A. KARABENICK School of Education, University of Michigan, USA
2005
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CONTENTS LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS
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FOREWORD
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INTRODUCTION Stuart A. Karabenick and Martin L. Maehr
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METAPHYSICAL MOTIVATION: AN EXPECTANCY-VALUE PERSPECTIVE ON WHY RELIGIOUS BELIEFS MOTIVATE Martin Dowson
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VALUES, RELIGION, AND MOTIVATION N.T. Feather
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GOALS AND REGULATIONS OF RELIGIOSITY: A MOTIVATIONAL ANALYSIS Bart Neyrinck, Willy Lens and Maarten Vansteenkiste
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CHOOSING TO STAY RELIGIOUS IN A MODERN WORLD: SOCIALIZATION AND EXPLORATION PROCESSES LEADING TO AN INTEGRATED INTERNALIZATION OF RELIGION AMONG ISRAELI JEWISH YOUTH Avi Assor, Maya Cohen-Malayev, Avi Kaplan and David Friedman PERSONAL RELIGION AND PROSOCIAL MOTIVATION C. Daniel Batson, Stephanie L. Anderson and Elizabeth Collins v
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RELIGIOUS BELIEFS AND THEIR RELATIONSHIP TO COGNITION, MOTIVATION, AND BEHAVIOR Scott W. VanderStoep and Benjamin P. Norris
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MORALITY’S CONUNDRUM: A QUESTION OF MOTIVATION Lawrence I. Rosenkoetter
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PERSONAL INVESTMENT THEORY: UNDERSTANDING RELIGIOUS, SPIRITUAL AND FAITH DEVELOPMENT OF STUDENTS Larry A. Braskamp and Mark J. Hager
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RELIGION, MOTIVATION, AND SCHOOLING IN EAST ASIA AND THE UNITED STATES Akane Zusho
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AN INTRODUCTION TO HINDU INDIA’S CONTEMPLATIVE PSYCHOLOGICAL PERSPECTIVE ON MOTIVATION, SELF, AND DEVELOPMENT Robert W. Roeser
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THE ASIAN INDIAN HINDU ADOLESCENT IN AMERICA: RELIGIOUS IDENTITY AND THE NEED TO BELONG Revathy Kumar
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A PSYCHOLOGICAL ANALYSIS OF RELIGIOUS MOTIVATION WITH A FOCUS ON ISLAM AND THE MIDDLE EAST Farideh Salili
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RELIGIOUS AFFILIATION AS A SOURCE OF CULTURAL DIFFERENCES IN ACHIEVEMENT MOTIVATION Chu Kim-Prieto and Ed Diener
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SUBJECT INDEX
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LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS Stephanie L. Anderson
University of Kansas, Lawrence, KS, USA
Avi Assor
Ben Gurion University of the Negev, Beer Sheva, Israel
C. Daniel Batson
University of Kansas, Lawrence, KS, USA
Larry A. Braskamp
Loyola University Chicago, Chicago, IL, USA
Elizabeth Collins
University of Kansas, Lawrence, KS, USA
Ed Diener
University of Illinois, Champaign-Urbana, IL, USA
Martin Dowson
University of Western Sydney, Sydney, Australia
N. T. Feather
Flinders University, Adelaide, Australia
David Friedman
Ben Gurion University of the Negev, Beer Sheva, Israel
Mark J. Hager
Menlo College, Atherton, CA, USA
Avi Kaplan
Ben Gurion University of the Negev, Beer Sheva, Israel
Stuart A. Karabenick
School of Education, University of Michigan, USA
Revathy Kumar
University of Toledo, Toledo, OH, USA
Willy Lens
University of Leuven, Leuven, Belgium
Martin L. Maehr
School of Education, University of Michigan, USA
Maya Cohen-Malayev
Ben Gurion University of the Negev, Beer Sheva, Israel
Bart Neyrinck
University of Leuven, Leuven, Belgium vii
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LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS
Benjamin P. Norris
Hope College, Holland, MI, USA
Chu Kim-Prieto
The College of New Jersey, Ewing, NJ, USA
Robert W. Roeser
U.S. Fulbright Scholar, World Peace Centre, Maharashtra Institute for Technology, Pune, India
Lawrence I. Rosenkoetter
Oregon State University, Corvallis, OR, USA
Farideh Salili
The University of Hong Kong, Hong Kong
Scott W. VanderStoep
Hope College, Holland, MI, USA
Maarten Vansteenkiste
University of Leuven, Leuven, Belgium
Akane Zusho
Fordham University, New York, NY, USA
FOREWORD This volume of the Advances in Motivation and Achievement series reflects the growing interest in religion, indicated by the increasing number of articles on the topic that have appeared in books and in major psychological journals, including the American Psychologist. Much of this work has been generated by scholars and practitioners in the area of mental health. The interest of both editors in contextual and cultural influences on motivation over the years, along with a current stress on ‘‘faith-based’’ social initiatives, and a war that seriously represents a clash in religious perspectives all figured into a decision to examine the obvious: religion has been, and remains, a motivational force in today’s world. The idea for composing this volume in part emerged from Maehr’s experiences as a Pew Foundation fellow at the Erasmus Institute at Notre Dame University and to his membership on The Pew Psychology Panel, chaired by William Miller and Harold Delaney. Co-editor Karabenick especially acknowledges the following for their many conversations and insights regarding topics in this volume: Julie Karabenick, Jeff Dansky, Barry Fish, Michael Harris, Pam Jacobs, John Knapp, Phyllis Noda, Joseph Rankin, Ken Rusiniak, and Alida Westman.
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INTRODUCTION Stuart A. Karabenick and Martin L. Maehr Whereas the proverbial person in the street is likely on occasion to take note of religion as a motivational force in his or her life, the meaning that religion offers and the motivation that may result has seldom been systematically considered in most of the psychological and educational literature. It is indeed timely that the Advances in Motivation and Achievement series undertakes the assignment, not only in view of recent social and political events that place religion center stage, but also considering its pervasive influence and ubiquity in world history and evidence that new religious movements emerge daily, even in the face of scientific advances and forces of secularization (Lester, 2002). Although the incidence varies from virtually unanimous religious beliefs and practices in Islamic societies to lower rates of religiosity in Northern Europe, polls consistently document the prevalence of religious beliefs and practices in most countries. This is especially true in the U.S. where a belief in God is generally estimated at 95% of the adult population, and in one recent poll most U.S. adults considered religion either very (55%) or fairly important (28%) in their lives (Gallup Corporation, 2005). Similarly, 84% of U.S. adolescents (ages 13–17) profess their belief in God, 65% consider God a personal presence involved in their daily lives, and 71% believe in a judgment day when God will reward some and punish others (Smith & Denton, 2005). In light of such evidence the presence and influence of religion cannot be ignored.
Motivation and Religion Advances in Motivation and Achievement, Volume 14, 1–9 Copyright r 2005 by Elsevier Ltd. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0749-7423/doi:10.1016/S0749-7423(05)14001-1
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Interest in religion emerged early in the history of psychology; Freud (1913, 1927/1961, 1939) and James (1985/1902) were among the first to provide extensive analyses of religion’s functional significance. Interest in religion waned during the behaviorist era but has become more pervasive since that time. An important development in the history of religion and motivation theory was certainly David McClelland’s extensive program of research on culture and achievement motivation (nAch) (e.g., McClelland, 1961), based on Max Weber’s (1904–1905, 2002) seminal work on the Protestant ethic and the rise of capitalism. Much of the research on religion and motivation consists of attempts to explain why individuals are religious at all. Atran (2002) stated it very directly by asking why people engage in an activity that often involves considerable sacrifice, characterizing religion as ‘‘a hard-to-fake commitment to a counterintuitive world of supernatural causes and beings’’ (p. 264). According to Atran, the ingredient of sacrifice rules out purely cognitive explanations, because religions must provide sufficient motivational justification to overcome the costs. In other words, motivation is considered an indispensable component of an adequate explanation of ‘‘Why religion?’’ Concepts used for this purpose have included satisfying the search for meaning, needs for control and relationships, coping with death and existential anxieties, regaining the lost security of one’s father, mother or family, desire for community, and displaced sexual gratification (e.g., Spilka, Hood, Hunsberger, & Gorsuch, 2003). To this list we must add religion’s contribution to terror management (e.g., Becker, 1973; Greenberg, Solomon, & Pyszczynski, 1997; Florian & Mikulincer, 1998). Research to identify the motivational bases of religion continues unabated, with studies, for example, that have identified five factors that summarize self-reported motivation for Jewish religious behavior (Lazar, Krevetz, & Frederich-Kedem, 2002), and attempts to determine the association of religiosity with 15 basic human desires (Reiss, 2000). A related issue is religion’s influence on human health and happiness. This concern is expressed in multiple articles in psychological (as well as psychology of religion) journals, including the American Psychologist (Miller & Thoresen, 2003), a special issue of Psychological Inquiry (Baumeister, 2002), and an Annual Review of Psychology chapter by Emmons and Paloutzian (2003). A recent edited volume on Judeo–Christian perspectives on psychology (Miller & Delaney, 2005) includes chapters related to motivation, but only one explicitly so (Maehr, 2005). Although motivational principles are implicit in many analytical treatments of religion, and an increasing number of studies and chapters have been devoted to motivation, the literature on this topic is widely dispersed.
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Accordingly, this volume of the Advances series brings together a representative sample of theoretical and empirical perspectives on religion seen through a motivational lens. In addition to the continuing interest in the motivational bases of religious commitment (i.e., the Why religion? question), this effort also afforded opportunities to consider the implications of religious experiences and behavior for motivational theory (see also Exline, 2002; Pargament, 2002). For example, is the inclusion of ‘‘ultimate goals’’ or ‘‘intimacy with the divine’’ (e.g., Emmons, 2000) accommodated by current theoretical formulations, or do such ultimate experiences and concerns require the reassessment of foundational motivational assumptions? Although we did not expect to resolve these and other issues, the following chapters illustrate the variety of ways contemporary motivational theorists and researchers whom we invited to contribute approached the topic. We begin with Martin Dowson’s examination of salient beliefs of the world’s major religions from the perspective of expectancy-value theory. Within this framework, the strength and form of religious commitment depends on judgments of expected outcomes of faith-related activity. Each religious tradition stipulates the practices, such as prayer and pilgrimage, by which the faithful can achieve desirable (e.g., Nirvana) and avoid undesirable outcomes (e.g., Hell), both in this life and the next. Dowson’s analysis includes the concept of ‘‘religious efficacy’’ – beliefs about one’s religionrelated capabilities (e.g., to truly believe or carry out religious duties), and he discusses the role of religious agents that support religious efficacy (e.g., God’s intervention). Feather reviews research on values conducted by Rokeach and Schwartz in addition to his own extensive program in which he considers values as latent cognitive structures linked to affect, beliefs and attitudes. His research on religiosity and values includes, for example, evidence of direct associations between beliefs in the Protestant ethic (PE) and the importance of being obedient and self-controlled, as well as inverse relations between the PE and the importance of mature love and being broadminded. Such research, combined with outcome expectancies in an expectancy-value framework, contributes to understanding the causes of religious adherence and the prediction of religious behavior. Two chapters make extensive use of Self-Determination Theory (SDT; e.g., Deci & Ryan, 2002). Bart Neyrinck, Willy Lens and Maarten Vansteenkiste propose that SDT can resolve ambiguities inherent in Allport’s distinction between intrinsic (IR) and extrinsic religiosity (ER). In their view, IR is more closely aligned with an autonomous religious orientation (i.e., more intrinsically oriented regulation), whereas Allport’s ER is
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concerned with the content of goals individuals pursue (e.g., social approval). Their careful conceptual analysis creates new avenues for the exploration and assessment of religious behavior. Avi Assor, Maya CohenMalayev, Avi Kaplan and David Friedman employ SDT to examine the pressures modern societies bring to bear on children’s adoption of their parents’ religious beliefs and practices. The authors examine the socialization practices that foster traditional religious identities that are integrated and authentic versus those that engender introjected religious orientations that are experienced as relatively extrinsic and coerced. They then present evidence for two styles of exploration when coping with the conflict between traditional religious and modern influences – radical exploration and revisionist exploration. Daniel Batson, Stephanie Anderson and Elizabeth Collins focus on associations between religion and prosocial behavior based on Allport’s IR and ER dimensions of religiosity. According to their review there is no evidence that ER is associated with prosocial motivation or behavior, whereas IR is related to empathy, prosocial values and intentions. They contend, however, that prosocial behavior for individuals high on the IR dimension is primarily motivated by self-presentation rather than by IR. By contrast, the proposed third dimension of religiosity – quest – characterizes persons engaged in an open-ended religious pilgrimage (e.g., for life’s meaning and how to lead a virtuous life). Although unrelated to manifestations of faith (e.g., church attendance) and prosocial claims, quest religiosity is associated with prosocial behavior that is responsive to others’ needs. The authors discuss whether quest religiosity indeed represents altruism, or, alternatively, deeply held moral principles. Whatever the final resolution, the explicit examination of Allport’s original distinctions provides us with a much richer understanding of religion’s contribution to whether, and under what conditions, help is given and received. Scott VanderStoep and Benjamin Norris begin by describing psychology and religion, which they characterize as ways that religious-oriented psychologists’ worldviews influence how they approach their discipline in general and motivational research in particular. This includes what is studied as well as how results are interpreted. The influence of religious worldviews is illustrated with reference to beliefs about monism versus dualism, nature versus culture, freedom versus determinism, and the implications of these beliefs for such pragmatic issues as whether and how to treat homosexuality. The authors then report results of studies that exemplify the psychology of religion, specifically how religious commitment affects students’ epistemic beliefs (i.e., about the nature of knowledge and the process of knowing; Hofer & Pintrich,
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2002), and conclude that the more conservative are students’ religious beliefs the more they view knowledge as certain and less complex. Among the implications of their results are challenges to develop epistemic beliefs among the religiously faithful that are conducive to learning in disciplines where knowledge is complex and in constant flux (e.g., the sciences). Lawrence Rosenkoetter brings a motivational perspective to the issue of religion and the association between moral judgments and moral action – ‘‘the thought/action conundrum’’ – specifically, the absence of relationship between religiosity and moral behavior. Moral development models are reviewed, including how each resolves the conundrum. These include Kolberg’s proposed deontic element, Hoffman’s inclusion of empathy, Rest’s proposed four-component model, and Blasi’s self-theory approach that involves identity, personal responsibility and self-consistency. Rosenkoetter proposes that the salience of morality, personal responsibility, and selfconsistency mediate the relation between moral judgment and moral action. He suggests that research be directed at determining religion’s influence on these mediators as key to resolving this issue. Next, Larry Braskamp and Mark Hager draw on Maehr’s Personal Investment Theory (e.g., Maehr, 2005) to consider the role of religion in how college students address their existential concerns (i.e., meaning and purpose in life, sense of purpose, identity), specifically ‘‘faith development and the practice of faith’’ and consequences of that search for student decisions and experiences. The authors propose that a comprehensive account of student motivation necessitates taking faith and religious development into consideration. The relevance of PI Theory derives in part from its focus on the meaning and purpose of courses of action, a motivational framework for understanding the complex interactions between personal search and faithrelated options (e.g., prosocial behavior – cf. Batson et al. in this volume) available both on secular- and religion-oriented college campuses. As a consequence, the authors propose the theory can help student development practitioners design more holistic programs to promote student engagement. In her chapter, Akane Zusho examines the relationship between religion, motivation, and academic outcomes. Included are Confucianism’s role in facilitating the academic achievement of East-Asian and Asian-American students, the higher performance of students in Catholic schools, and religion’s role in the resilience of at-risk children in schools. Importantly, her approach adopts contemporary views of culture (e.g., Kitayama, 2002) to ‘‘unpack’’ religion to reveal its complex influences on school practices and academic values and beliefs rather than simple demographic comparisons (e.g., between religious groups). Zusho first describes how the tenets of
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Confucianism support learning in ways that are consistent with achievement goal theory. The promotion of mastery goals, which emphasize the importance of effort, self-improvement, and learning from mistakes, could then account for Asian students’ high levels of academic success. Similarly, the success of modern Catholic school doctrine is ascribed to doctrines that are designed to foster autonomous, self-reliant learners along with a supportive institutional structure that includes a strong academic focus where teachers hold high standards (academic press) in a caring, socially supportive, school context. Also reviewed is evidence that academic resilience is due to the social support that religion and religious institutions provide, especially among African American youth. Two chapters consider Hinduism. Robert Roeser provides an exhaustive examination of Hinduism and explores the theoretical implications of a contemplative, spiritual view of motivation. He describes how several aspects of contemplative psychology are expressed in different ages of Hinduism and their implications for how we view non-conscious and conscious forms of motivation. The analysis is aided by a comparison between Freud’s theory of id impulses and the Hindu theory of Karmic tendencies. Roeser concludes with suggestions for research on ego- versus non-attached forms of motivation, mindful learning, intuition and wisdom, and promotive educational practices. Revathy Kumar’s chapter illustrates how religion helps maintain the identity and cultural heritage of adolescent Indian Hindu immigrants in their new social settings. Conflicts between home and mainstream cultures, for example, can exacerbate concerns about social disruption and alienation, and the consequent need to belong. Kumar offers evidence of such concerns based on interviews with adolescents enrolled in an Indian activities center. As a buffer against potential alienation, not only did participation in center activities help maintain these adolescents’ religious identity, results also indicated that adolescents with stronger religious identities experienced less cultural conflict. Considering the importance of the need to belong and its implications for adolescents’ social well being and academic motivation, Kumar calls for more research on the role of religion with other immigrant groups, as well as comparisons with those active in non-religious organizations, and with non-active adolescents. According to Farideh Salili, despite their distinct rituals and texts, the motivational profile of Islam is the same as that of other faiths – fear of retribution, and protection against the forces of nature and inexplicable tragedies. Fear of God is a universal deterrent to satisfying instinctual needs, with punishment for transgressors. Salili invokes psychoanalytic, cognitive,
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and attribution theories to elaborate this proposition. Freud’s Oedipal conflict, for example, generalizes to fear of the Godfather, as well as forming the basis of similarities between religious acts and obsessive ceremonials. Turning to cognitive theory, the greater intensity of Islam in the Middle East is explained as a consequence of more elaborated schemas in that region, due to the degree to which religion saturates the culture. Salili also attributes varying degrees of adherence to Islamic faith and ritual to contextual characteristics present in different parts of the world. And attribution theory comes into play in the relationship to God as a causal agent who can be an ally in Moslems’ battles against forces they consider opposed to their religion and core cultural values and beliefs. In the final chapter, Chu Kim-Prieto and Ed Diener report the results of a 48-nation study of religious affiliation and indicators of achievement motivation. They specifically examine values indicative of the Protestant work ethic: material wealth, self-sacrifice, success, industry, and competition, and intentions to engage in intrinsically versus extrinsically motivated activity. Results indicated: (a) that Christians valued success more so than did Buddhists, (b) Muslims and Hindus both highly valued competition, and (c) Christians, Buddhists, and Jews were low in their endorsement of competition. And consistent with McClelland (1961), protestant Christians evidenced PE values (i.e., self-sacrifice and competition) more so than did nonProtestant Christians. In sum, contributors to this volume approached both religion and motivation from different vantage points and pursued their objectives in a variety of ways that reflect the considerable latitude they were afforded. Collectively, they include virtually all of the major motivational theories. Expectancy-value, SDT, psychoanalytic, attribution, and achievement goal theories are represented, along with attention to such specific needs as belonging and affiliation. Religion and motivation are, arguably, both as complex as they are important, and we have attempted to bring these two perspectives together under the same microscope. As editors, we are inclined to conclude simply that we have learned much, and believe that most readers will say the same and come away with more questions than answers. That, in our opinion, is as it should be.
REFERENCES Atran, S. (2002). In gods we trust: The evolutionary landscape of religion. New York: Oxford University Press.
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Baumeister, R. F. (2002). Religion and psychology: Introduction to the special issue. Psychological Inquiry, 13(3), 165–167. Becker, E. (1973). The denial of death. New York: Free Press. Deci, E. L., & Ryan, R. M. (Eds) (2002). Handbook of self-determination research. Rochester, NY: University of Rochester Press. Emmons, R. A. (2000). Is spirituality an intelligence? Motivation, cognition, and the psychology of ultimate concern. The International Journal for the Psychology of Religion, 10(1), 3–26. Emmons, R. A., & Paloutzian, R. F. (2003). The psychology of religion. Annual Review of Psychology, 54, 377–402. Exline, J. J. (2002). The picture is getting clearer, but is the scope too limited? Three overlooked questions in the psychology of religion. Psychological Inquiry, 13(3), 245–247. Florian, V., & Mikulincer, M. (1998). Symbolic immortality and the management of the terror of death: The moderating role of attachment style. Journal of Personality & Social Psychology, 74, 725–734. Freud, S. (1913). Totem and taboo. In: J. Strachey (Ed.), The standard edition of the complete works of Sigmund Freud, (Vol. 13, pp. 1–161). London: Hogarth Press. Freud, S. (19611927). In: J. Strachey (Ed.), The future of an illusion. New York: Norton. Freud, S. (1939). Moses and monotheism. In: J. Strachey (Ed.), The standard edition of the complete works of Sigmund Freud, (Vol. 23, pp. 3–137). London: Hogarth Press. Gallup Corporation (2005). Retrieved from http://www.gallup.com/poll. Greenberg, J., Solomon, S., & Pyszczynski, T. (1997). Terror management theory of self-esteem and cultural worldviews: Empirical assessments and conceptual refinements. Advances in Experimental Social Psychology, 29, 61–139. Hofer, B., & Pintrich, P. R. (Eds) (2002). Personal epistemology: The psychology of beliefs about knowledge and knowing. Mahwah, NJ: LEA. James, W. (19851902). The varieties of religious experience. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Kitayama, S. (2002). Culture and basic psychological processes – Toward a system view of culture: Comment on Oyserman et al. (2002). Psychological Bulletin, 128(1), 89–96. Lester, T. (2002). Supernatural selection. Atlantic Monthly, February 8, as cited in Atran (2002). Lazar, A., Kravetz, S., & Frederich-Kedem, P. (2002). The multidimensionality of motivation for Jewish religious behavior: Content, structure, and the relationship to religious identity. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 41(3), 509–519. Maehr, M. L. (2005). The meaning that religion offers and the motivation that may result. In: W. R. Miller & H. D. Delaney (Eds), Judeo–Christian perspectives on psychology: Human nature, motivation and change (pp. 133–144). Washington, DC: American Psychological Association. McClelland, D. C. (1961). The achieving society. Princeton, NJ: Van Nostrand. Miller, W. R., & Delaney, H. D. (2005). Judeo–Christian perspectives on psychology: Human nature, motivation and change. Washington, DC: American Psychological Association. Miller, W. R., & Thoresen, C. E. (2003). Spirituality, religion, and health: An emerging research field. American Psychologist, 58(1), 24–35. Pargament, K. I. (2002). Is religion nothing but y? Explaining religion versus explaining religion away. Psychological Inquiry, 13(3), 239–244. Reiss, S. (2000). Why people turn to religion: A motivational analysis. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 39(1), 47–52.
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Smith, C., & Denton, M. L. (2005). Soul searching: The religious and spiritual lives of American teenagers. New York: Oxford University Press. Spilka, B., Hood, R. W., Jr.,, Hunsberger, B., & Gorsuch, R. (2003). The psychology of religion: An empirical approach (3rd ed.). New York: Guilford. Weber, M. (190419052002). In: S. Kalberg (Ed.), The Protestant ethic and the spirit of capitalism. Los Angeles: Roxbury.
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METAPHYSICAL MOTIVATION: AN EXPECTANCY-VALUE PERSPECTIVE ON WHY RELIGIOUS BELIEFS MOTIVATE Martin Dowson Beliefs motivate believers. This axiom is true for the whole range of beliefs (i.e., beliefs about self, others, the world, and the next world) and the whole range of believers (e.g., individuals, groups, societies, and cultures). Beliefs are so central to human functioning and organisation that the social sciences in general may be represented as the study of beliefs, and their consequent influences on human thought, emotion, and behaviour. For example, anthropology may be characterised as the study of cultural beliefs and their affects, sociology as the study of social beliefs and their affects and psychology as the study of personal beliefs and their affects. Focussing on one branch of psychology, motivation psychology, both recent (e.g., Hood, 1998; McInerney, Hinkley, Dowson, & Van Etten, 1998; Pintrich, Marx, & Boyle, 1993; Ryan, Rigby, & King, 1993, Wigfield et al., 1997) and historic research (e.g., Allport, 1950; James, 1902; Lewin, 1936; McClelland, 1951; Tolman, 1932) has demonstrated that beliefs of many different types are critical to personal motivation. Motivation psychology
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research may be characterised as the search for important beliefs that influence motivational cognitions and consequent motivated behaviours (Dowson, 2003). Research thus far has demonstrated that beliefs about self (e.g., self-concept, self-efficacy, self-esteem, self-worth, personal autonomy), beliefs about others (e.g., beliefs about the beliefs and attitudes of others, especially towards the self), beliefs about tasks (e.g., beliefs concerning the purposes of tasks and the utility of tasks), and beliefs about the world more generally (e.g., beliefs about the nature of intelligence and the nature and sources of success and failure) all significantly influence the direction and intensity of motivation. In addition, individual components of major beliefs (what might be called sub-beliefs) contribute differentially to motivation. Moreover, major beliefs and sub-beliefs interact to influence motivation, and motivating beliefs, and sub-beliefs change over time (although some beliefs and subbeliefs appear to be more stable over time than others). As an example of these distinctions, an individual’s mathematics self-concept (a component of their overall academic self-concept) would be expected to influence their motivation towards mathematics more strongly than their motivation towards (say) English. At the same time, an individual’s mathematics and English self-concept interact to influence their overall academic motivation, and both self-concepts may change over time in response to intrapersonal, inter-personal, and environmental feedback (see for example, Marsh, 1993).
A FRAMEWORK FOR THE STUDY OF RELIGIOUS BELIEFS AND MOTIVATION While the motivational impact of personal beliefs about self, others, and the world has been widely investigated in psychology, the motivational impact of religious beliefs has been much less extensively investigated (at least within the recent history of motivation psychology). This is perhaps curious given the rich history of religion studies implicating motivational constructs (e.g., Allport, 1950; Fromm, 1950; James, 1902; see also Beit-Hallahmi, 1974), and the clear motivational impact that religious beliefs have on human behaviour (Batson & Ventis, 1982; Wulff, 1991). Today, however, there is a reawakened interest in religious beliefs in psychology in general (e.g., Baumeister, 2002; Hood, 1998; Pargament, 1997; Wulff, 1998) and within motivation psychology in particular (e.g., Ryan et al., 1993).
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Perhaps one reason for the relative absence of religious studies in motivation psychology has been the lack of an obvious theoretical framework within which to locate such studies. In order to address this theoretical issue, this chapter will examine potential reasons why religious beliefs exert such a strong motivational influence with specific reference to expectancy-value theory (e.g., Eccles et al., 1983). Specifically, this chapter suggests that religious beliefs are highly motivational because they (a) promise a set of highly valued outcomes, and (b) provide a set of ‘assured’ means by which those valued outcomes may be secured. Thus, in terms of expectancy-value theory, religious beliefs provide for high value and high expectancy – and, hence, high motivation.
Expectancy-Value Theory: Historical Developments Tolman (1932), among the ‘fathers’ of modern motivational psychology, recognised that one of the hallmarks of purposive behaviour in human beings was the ability to adjust actions based upon expectancies derived from perceived causal connections between behaviour and behavioural outcomes. Thus, purposive behaviour implies the ability to identify ‘means-end’ relationships. Tolman’s insights are important in the context of expectancyvalue theories, because these theories assume that individuals are capable of making and adjusting behavioural plans based on their experience and evaluations of outcomes associated with those plans. Another founding father, Lewin (1936), developed the Field Theory of decision-making (1936). Lewin’s theory postulates that decisions are made according to the psychological forces acting on a person. These forces include (a) the valence (i.e., the perceived positive or negative attractiveness) of particular objects or activities to the individual, and (b) the perceived ‘psychological distance’ between the individual and the object or activity of attraction. Although not explicitly stated in these terms by Lewin, the valence of an object or activity can be seen to be, at least partly, dependent upon the object’s or activity’s value to a person. Thus valence may be construed as, at least related to, a ‘value’ term. Psychological distance was later translated as subjective probability (an ‘expectancy’ term) in literature dealing with individual level(s) of aspiration. Finally, Lewin suggested that the combination of valence and distance creates ‘force’ which propels people to either approach or avoid particular behaviours. This force resulting from value- and expectancy-type considerations is, of course, a central idea in expectancy-value theories.
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The Next Generation Lewin’s field theory, in particular, had considerable influence on later researchers, such as Feather (1959) whose work will be mentioned later. It was not long, however, before formalised expectancy-value theories of motivation appeared. Perhaps the most fully developed of these formalised theories Subjective Expected Utility (SEU) theory (Edwards, 1961). In this theory, the expectancy variable (the likelihood of an event occurring) is seen as the subjectively estimated probability that the event will occur if a particular behaviour is undertaken. The value variable is the subjectively estimated utility – or usefulness – of the goal. As in all expectancy value theories, the expectancy variable is multiplied by the value variable. The product is the subjective, expected utility. Atkinson (1957) applied the basic SEU model to the domain of achievement motivation, and in the process redefined and added constraints to the ‘expectancy’ and ‘value’ variables. Atkinson was particularly interested in risk-taking behaviour, which is inherent in many achievement-related situations. As a result, Atkinson redefined motivation to achieve as a product of the individual’s perceptions of the probability of success (not just an outcome per se), and the incentive (as distinct from utility) value of that success. The concept of ‘success’ implies not only that a given outcome is achieved, but that the outcome is achieved at a given level of performance. So, for example, it may not be subjectively ‘‘good enough’’ to just pass an exam, but a ‘‘high mark’’ (subjectively determined) must be achieved for the outcome to be labelled as ‘‘successful’’. Atkinson defined the value of success as the intrinsic ‘‘pride of accomplishment’’ associated with attaining a successful outcome. This way of defining value implies that successful outcomes may be valued for more than just extrinsic (utility-type) reasons e.g., money. These utility-type reasons may, however, exist alongside intrinsic pridebased reasons. So, for example, gaining a ‘‘high mark’’ may have both intrinsic value (i.e., pride), and extrinsic utility value (e.g., as a means to achieving a ‘good job’ in the future). The constraint Atkinson placed on the redefined expectancy-value variables was that incentive of the intrinsic value was determined by probability of success, i.e., outcomes with low perceived probabilities of success would not have the same incentive value as outcomes with higher expected probabilities of success. In this way, incentive is dependent upon perceived probability of success, and success when it is achieved leads to value (feelings of pride and satisfaction).
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Expectancy Value Theory: More Recent Trends More recent manifestations of expectancy-value theory (e.g., Eccles et al., 1983; Nicholls, Cheung, Lauer, & Patashnick, 1989; Wigfield et al., 1997) have refined and extended Atkinson’s original formulation by suggesting: (a) that the expectancy-value framework can be applied to the whole range of behaviours, not just risk-taking behaviours; (b) that the strength of an individual’s motivation is based on evaluations of both the proximal and distal outcomes associated with a behaviour or pattern of behaviours, not just the immediate incentive value of a behaviour; and (c) motivation is dependent upon the subjective perception of the likelihood of a desired outcome occurring contingent upon engaging in a given behaviour or set of behaviours, not just upon the subjective probability of immediate success in a given activity. In other words, expectancy-value theory extended beyond risk-taking behaviours with immediate incentives and immediate subjective probabilities of success, to a range of behaviours with outcome-based expectancy-values contingent upon those behaviours rather than directly associated with the behaviours themselves (e.g., Feather, 1998). Raynor (e.g., 1970; Raynor & Rubin, 1971) was the first to modify Atkinson’s model to include expectancy-values associated with distal outcomes. Expectancy-values associated with distal outcomes are very important when examining the motivational structure of religious beliefs. This is because the central outcomes associated with religious belief (for example, the attainment of eternal life, Paradise or Nirvana) are all distal outcomes. In one sense, these are most distal outcomes that could be imagined because they are believed to occur only after death. For this reason, the recognition that expectancy-values need have no particular temporal ‘time-limit’ makes expectancy-value theory particularly suited to the examination of future-referenced religious beliefs. Stated somewhat differently, expectancy-values may be associated with a strong future-time perspective (e.g., Bembenutty & Karabenick, 2004; Lens & Moreas, 1994; Nuttin & Lens, 1985). Future-time perspective, or future orientation (Miller & Brickman, 2004), or future goals (Phalet, Andriessen, & Lens), refer both to the willingness and ability to conceptualise possible futures, and to organise present realities in the pursuit of possible futures. Importantly, future-oriented expectancy-values may be no less motivational than present-oriented expectancy-values if the perceived value of the associated (distal) outcome is very high. This is because highly valued outcomes appear psychologically closer than less-valued outcomes. Put simply, the value of a future outcome reorganises the individual’s perceptions of its distal-ity.
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This relationship between perceived psychological distance and value is important in the context of religious belief. This is because the relationship helps explain why the distal outcomes associated with religious belief (e.g., eternal life) may be at least as motivational as more proximal outcomes; the value of eternal life is so great that it makes this outcome appear much closer than would otherwise be the case. Put another way, the value of the religious outcome enhances the future-time perspective of the individual. In this way, the potentially distant future can ‘‘seem like tomorrow’’. Related to this, future-oriented expectancy-values may lead to particularly sustained action in the present. This is because the future outcome associated with the future-oriented expectancy-values is, by definition, not achieved immediately. This is important in the context of religious beliefs where, potentially, a lifetime of devotion to religious practice is required to achieve the valued outcome. Thus, the future-orientation of religious expectancy-values helps explain why these expectancy-values in particular can lead to sustained religious action over very long periods of time. With these extensions of Atkinson’s SEU model in mind, the same underlying motivational reasoning is ascribed to both formulations. It is theorised that individuals attempt to maximise their outcome-satisfaction by engaging in behaviours with the highest perceived expectancy value products. Included in this calculation (which does not necessarily involve conscious reflection) are subjective evaluations of the probability that an outcome will occur if no action is taken, the cost of engaging in a behaviour even if the outcome is achieved (i.e., the ‘opportunity cost’ of engaging in the behaviour), and the ‘negative value’ (i.e., ‘actual cost’ or ‘loss’) of not achieving the desired outcome. The opportunity cost of behaviour implies that most, if not all, behaviours cost something, at least in terms of time and effort. The individual includes this behavioural cost in their expectancyvalue calculations. Opportunity cost is distinguished from actual cost, which is tied to non-achievement of the outcome rather than to behaviours enacted in pursuit of the outcome. In addition to cost calculations, subjectively evaluated expectancies and values may be influenced by individual factors (such as self-esteem, self-efficacy, and perceived locus of control), situational factors (such as environments which preclude the completion of given behaviours), and relational factors (such as an individual’s perceptions concerning how significant others feel about the individual’s values and the appropriateness of behaviours contingent upon individual’s expectancy-value estimations). With respect to the latter point, Fishbein’s Theory of Reasoned Action (1967, Fishbein & Ajzen, 1981), which is essentially an expectancy-value
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theory, suggests that subjective norms are important in the formulation of an individual’s behavioural intentions. These subjective norms are the combination of a person’s subjectively evaluated beliefs about how significant others feel about the appropriateness of the proposed behaviour. Despite the importance of situational and relational factors, individual factors, particularly self-efficacy, may be highly salient influences on behaviours arising from expectancy-values (Schell, Bruning, & Colvin, 1995; cf. Schunk, 1991). For example, Eccles (2004) suggests that individuals ask three basic questions before engaging in any activity: 1. ‘‘Is ‘it’ (the outcome) worth ‘it’ (the cost of engaging in the behaviour)?’’ This is the Value question. 2. ‘‘Is ‘it’ (the behaviour) likely to result in ‘it’ (the outcome)?’’ This is the Expectancy question. 3. Am I capable of completing the behaviour so that the outcome is achieved? This is the Self-efficacy question. If the answer to the self-efficacy question is ‘no’, then motivated behaviour is threatened even if the initial expectancy and value questions are resolved in the affirmative. Thus, self-efficacy (which, of itself, is an important motivation-related construct, e.g., Bandura, 1997; Schunk & Pajares, 2004; Zimmerman, Bandura, & Martinez-Ponz, 1992) forms a critical third element in expanded expectancy-value framework for explaining motivated behaviour. The addition of self-efficacy to the expectancy-value framework is important because it explicitly recognises that perceptions of self, as well as perceptions of expectancies and values associated with outcomes, are critical to motivation. Thus, the addition of self-efficacy to the expectancyvalue framework implies an enhanced theoretical balance between how I evaluate myself and how I evaluate that which I might potentially wish to attain. For this reason, an expanded expectancy-value-efficacy theory might be expected to explain motivated behaviour better than either expectancyvalue theory or self-efficacy as an ‘isolated’ theoretical construct alone. Finally, one of the key strengths of expectancy-value theory is its flexibility; that is, expectancy-value theory may be used to explain motivation with respect to any behaviour or set of behaviours to which relevant values and expectancies may be attributed. For the purposes of this chapter, this means that behaviours associated with religion and religious beliefs may be examined from a motivational perspective because these behaviours implicate expectancies and values derived from the relevant belief framework.
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PSYCHOLOGICAL PERSPECTIVES ON THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN BELIEFS AND MOTIVATIONS Psychological perspectives on religious belief have typically viewed motives and motivations as antecedents of religious belief. For example, psychoanalytic perspectives drawing on the work of Freud (1927), see also Fromm (1950) attempt to identify personal unconscious motives (such as the desire to reduce fear or anxiety) in order to explain religious belief. Analytical perspectives following Jung (e.g., Jung, 1960) use historico-cultural motives (and motifs) to explain the motivation for personal religious beliefs. SocialRelational perspectives (e.g., Berger, 1967; Moore, Klous, & Rasmussen, 2001) focus on the need to relate as a critical motivational element in religious belief, and on the motivating influence of significant others to adopt religious beliefs (e.g., Berger, 1969). The common denominator of these approaches is the investigation of motivational forces acting within, or upon, the person leading to religious belief and behaviour. In diagrammatic form, this general approach may be represented as in Fig. 1(a). An alternative, but complementary, psychological perspective is to view motivation and motivated behaviour as a consequence of religious belief. This perspective views motivation as outcome of, rather than as an input to, religious belief. This perspective also focuses on the motivational structure of religious belief, and how the believer interprets this motivational structure.
(a)
Motivations
Beliefs
Behaviours
(b)
Beliefs
Motivations
Behaviours
(c)
Beliefs
Fig. 1.
Expectancy X Values
Motivated Motivations Behaviours
Approaches to the Psychological Study of Religious Belief.
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The central question then becomes not ‘‘What motivates people to believe?’’, but ‘‘Why do beliefs motivate believers?’’ In other words, the causal ordering in Fig. 1(b) is investigated. This chapter investigates the ordering in Fig. 1(b), with specific reference to expectancy-values as the mechanism by which behaviour-directed motivation arises. Hence, the augmented ordering in Fig. 1(c) is specifically investigated. The order in Fig. 1(c) is supported by earlier (e.g., Anderson & Fishbein, 1965) and more recent (e.g., Eccles, 1983; Nicholls, 1989) studies and reviews which emphasise the importance of the relationship between beliefs, expectations, and behavioural intentions. One basic model proposed by Fishbein (1967) postulated that a person’s primary beliefs were the ultimate determinants of their motivations and hence their behaviours. Triandis (1979) built on Fishbein’s model by asking how beliefs originated and what factors influenced the expression of those beliefs in action (thus integrating both orderings introduced above). In particular, Triandis viewed the perceived probabilities that belief-based behaviours will have particular consequences (their subjective probabilities) and the perceived value of those consequences (their subjective value) as having a direct impact on the extent to which potential behaviours are actually enacted, and on the interpretations individuals make concerning their behaviours and the results of those behaviours. Why Do Beliefs Motivate? The obvious and fundamental question arising from the ordering proposed in Figs. 1(b) and (c) is ‘‘why do beliefs motivate?’’ That religious beliefs motivate individuals, groups, and even whole societies is beyond doubt. In the name of religious beliefs people have gone to war and advocated peace, have hated and loved, have argued and been reconciled, have taken the lives of others and given their life for others, have been spurred to great achievement and have eschewed ‘worldly’ achievement altogether. In fact, if evaluated in terms of the motivational intensity of behaviours associated them, religious beliefs would appear to be among the most salient of human beliefs. What is more problematic, however, is why religious beliefs are so motivational. The answer to this implicit question may be somewhat simplified, however, using the expectancy-value theoretical framework outlined earlier. Specifically, religious beliefs may be seen to: (a) provide high values outcomes; (b) provide certainty with respect to designated behaviours that will result in the valued outcomes; and
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(c) provide processes and mechanisms by which designated behaviours may be, if not easily at least assuredly, achieved by the believer. In addition, referring to the other elements of the expectancy-value framework referred to earlier, religious beliefs may be seen as motivational because they: (d) define a very low (usually nil) probability that the desired outcomes will occur if no action is taken, (e) define a very low (or at least relatively low) opportunity cost for engaging in designate religious behaviours, and (f) define a very high actual cost of not achieving the belief-defined desired outcomes. Each of these points is explored below with specific reference to the religious beliefs and practices of five major religions: Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam, Judaism, and Christianity. For the sake of brevity, the discussion of religious motivation in this chapter is confined to these religions. However, I suggest that the expectancy-value framework applies to all religions and religious beliefs, as well as to other religious-type beliefs such as those beliefs associated with cults and cultic-groups.
THE MOTIVATIONAL STRUCTURE OF RELIGIOUS BELIEFS The rest of this chapter will be devoted to examining the motivational structure of religious beliefs from an expectancy-value-efficacy perspective. Table 1 presents a summary this motivational structure with specific reference to each of the five major religions identified above. Table 1 indicates that each of the religions examined has definable expectancy, value, efficacy, and cost components. Moreover, the expectancy and value components may each be broken down into two sub-components. Thus, religious expectancies are supported by Religious Devotions and Scriptures and Creeds, while valued outcomes may occur before or after death. The discussion below examines each of these components and subcomponents in turn, working down the columns of Table 1. In this way, a within-component/cross-religion perspective is initially taken. However, later I will demonstrate how reading across the rows of Table 1 (i.e., taking a cross-component/within religion perspective) can highlight some interesting effects with respect to the direction of motivation implied within each
Religion
Hinduism
Buddhism
Motivational Structure of Religion.
Expectancy Mechanism
Valued Outcome
Supporting Religious Efficacy
Religious Devotion
Scriptures and Creeds
Three Ways (works, knowledge and devotion) Eightfold Path of Enlightenment
Hindu Scriptures and Upanishads
Nirvana
Progressive union with Brahman
Divine assistance from various Gods
Three Baskets and Buddhist Creed Qur’an and Five Articles of Faith Law and Prophets and Statement of Faith Bible and various creeds
Nirvana
Wisdom leading to Enlightenment Purpose derived from duty to Allah Divine favour with Yahweh
Meditation and verbal puzzles
Islam
Five Pillars of Faith
Judaism
Repentance and obedience
Christianity
Acknowledging the Lordship of Christ
After death
Paradise
Heaven
Heaven
Cost of Religious ‘Failure’
Before death
Reconciliation with God through Christ
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Table 1.
Reincarnation, perhaps to a lower lifelevels Continued suffering
Allah’s ‘willed’ intervention
Hell
Yahweh’s attention to the penitent
Hell
Holy Spirit in the believer
Purgatory or Hell
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religion. Specifically, approach and avoidance tendencies within each religion may be identified by making cross-component comparisons.
Valued Outcomes All religions provide for valued outcomes. In all cases, these outcomes come in two sets. One set contains outcomes that will follow after death, contingent upon proper engagement in the disciplines and processes defined by the particular religion. These outcomes centre upon the eternal destiny of the religious believer. So, for example, in Hinduism, Nirvana represents the ultimate emancipation of the soul from the chain of rebirths established by reincarnation, with virtuous living resulting in reincarnation to higher states on the way to Nirvana. In Buddhism, Nirvana (differently conceived than the Hindu Nirvana) represents the negation of attachment and suffering (dukkha) achieved through adherence to Buddhist precepts and meditative disciplines. In Islam, Paradise (Janna, ‘‘the garden’’) is reserved for the true followers of Allah and the prophet Muhammad. In Judaism, Heaven is reserved for those who are judged by God to have followed the Law (Torah), and in Christianity Heaven is reserved for those who acknowledge Jesus Christ as their Lord and Saviour. Other religions (such as Jainism, Taoism, Shintoism, and Zoroastianism) also offer the possibility of ‘paradise’ (or its equivalent) for the ‘faithful’. The second set of valued outcomes accrues to the follower of the religion before death. These outcomes typically revolve around the provision of meaning and purpose for life, which in turn revolve around the attainment of life-after-death. So, for example, Hinduism promises progressive union with the divine Brahman through the study of Hindu Scripture and adherence to Hindu social and religious precepts. Buddhism promises wisdom (bodhi) leading to Enlightenment through structured meditation. Islam promises clear direction for life derived from faith (imam) in, and duty (din) to, Allah. Judaism promises Yahweh’s immediate (as well as His eternal) favour though repentance and obedience. Christianity similarly promises immediate reconciliation with God through Christ, contingent upon faith in Christ. In addition, and not unimportantly, all religions provide a ‘‘community of faith’’ to which the believer may belong. These communities, as will be discussed later, are critical for accentuating the expectancies associated with religious belief. However, these communities also provide valued outcomes in the relational domain including a sense of belonging, pastoral care, and
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opportunities for interpersonal communication and cooperation. As such, not only religious beliefs but also the communities that hold these beliefs provide valued outcomes for the believer. (The ‘‘community of faith’’ is not included as a specific value-variable in Table 1, because it applies in essentially the same form across all religions. However, it may help the reader to think about the primary location in which the community of each religion typically gathers. Hence, shrine, temple, mosque, synagogue, and church describe, in turn, the primary meeting place for the Hindu, Buddhist, Muslim, Jew, and Christian.)
Expectancy Mechanisms A second key motivational feature of religious beliefs is their provision of mechanisms and processes by which the attainment of valued outcomes may be, if not certainly and immediately, at least typically and eventually, assured. Thus, believers are provided with valued outcomes and with (usually) quite detailed means by which to achieve those outcomes. In Hinduism, salvation (or more properly, moksha, i.e., release from the cycle of re-births) may be gained through the Three Ways: the Way of Works (karma marga), the Way of Knowledge, and the Way of Devotion (bhakti). In Buddhism, Nirvana may be achieved by adhering to teachings of the Buddha (the dhamma), particularly the Eightfold Path of Enlightenment. In Islam, following Islamic Law (Shari’a), particularly the Five Pillars of Faith (Creed, Kalima; Prayer, Salat; Almsgiving, Zakat; Fasting, Ramadan; and Pilgrimage, Hajj) are all critical to the attainment of Paradise. In Judaism, repentance and obedience to the Law, particularly as expressed in the Ten Commandments, is essential for entry into Heaven. In Christianity, acknowledging the Lordship of Christ is essential to gaining entry to Heaven. From a motivational perspective, it is not only important that ways to attain valued outcomes are provided, but that these ways carry with them a degree of certainty with respect to the attainment of the valued outcomes. In other words, the believer must perceive that following the ways-of-faith will certainly (or almost certainly) result in the attainment of Nirvana, Paradise or Heaven. Religion certainly is provided by authoritative (holy) scripture, and credal statements summarising the most important doctrines arising from scripture. Each religion has a corpus of religious texts which carry with them the authority of the Deity (or Deities) associated with the particular religion, and the authority of the initial ‘fathers’ of the faith
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(e.g., prophets, law-givers and apostles). In Hinduism, The Vedas, the Ramayana and Mahabharata (national epics), the Puranas and, especially, the Bhagavad Gita all confer divine authority, and hence certainty, on Hinduism’s ways-of-faith. In Theravad Buddhism (the major stream of Buddhism), the Three Baskets (Tripitaka) – the Discipline Basket (Vinaya Pitaka), the Teaching Basket (Sutta Pitaka) and the Metaphysical Basket (Abidhamma Pitaka) – provide the authoritative basis. In Islam, the Koran (Qur’an) is the Word of God revealed though the Prophet Mohammad. For the Jews, the ‘‘Law and the Prophets’’ are the authoritative revelation of God to Moses and other key persons. In Christianity, the Bible is the ‘inspired’ Word of God. In addition to the certainty conferred by the divine origins (or at least the divine sanction) of particular scripture, the codification of key doctrines in the form of Creeds or Statements of Faith also provides a firm, as well as memorable, basis for faithful belief and action resulting in the key outcomes associated with each religion. This is important because it has been implicitly argued in this chapter that religious beliefs may be represented as cognitive schemas (e.g., McIntosh, 1995). If this is true, then mechanisms that solidify these schemas (such as creeds) are likely to lead to enhanced expectancy-values and hence enhanced motivation. In Hinduism, the Upanishads, although not specifically credal in form, contain specific teachings on religious truth and doctrine. In Buddhism, a Buddhist Creed (developed by the Theosophical Society) has been proposed and largely accepted as a common basis for the various forms of Buddhism. In Islam, the Five Articles of Faith (concerning God, Angels, Scripture, Prophets, and the Last Days) are a credal summary of the main doctrines of Islam. In Judaism, the somewhat disputed Statement of Faith proposed by Moses Maimonides in the 12th century is still largely accepted in traditional Judaism. In Christianity various Creeds (e.g., the Apostles’, Nicene, and Athanasian Creeds) and Statements of Faith (e.g., the 39 Articles and the Westminster Confession) form a credal structure for various streams of Christianity. Again from a motivational perspective, these credal statements provide cogent summaries of the key beliefs associated with each religion, both with respect to the values outcomes of the religion and the ordained means by which to achieve those outcomes. As such, they encapsulate and express the motivational structure of the religion in a way that is likely to be both memorable and assuring (or re-assuring), and hence motivational with respect to religious observance and behaviour.
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Religious Efficacy The third ‘leg’ of the Expectancy-Value formulation introduced earlier is self-efficacy. In this context, self-efficacy (what might be called religious efficacy) refers to an individual’s perceptions of their ability to hold given religious beliefs and enact given religions behaviours based on those beliefs. Religious efficacy is important because maintaining religious beliefs can be difficult in the face of significant life problems that may challenge or threaten faith. For example, the belief that God protects the believer may be threatened if the believer is hurt or harmed in some way. Similarly, maintaining religious behaviours based on belief, such as leading an ethically ‘pure’ life, may be difficult in the face of significant ‘temptations’ to behave otherwise. Perhaps tacitly recognising the importance of religious efficacy in assisting the believer to maintain religious beliefs, religious belief systems provide the believer with various forms of Divine and human assistance. These forms of assistance support the believer’s sense of personal ability to believe and act in ways which lead to valued outcomes ‘down here’ and ‘up there’. As such, these forms might be called ‘‘religious efficacy support mechanisms’’. Put another way, each religion provides mechanisms from which the believer can seek help when their sense of religious efficacy is under threat. Thus, religious help seeking is ‘rewarded’ with support for, and thus an enhanced sense of, religious efficacy. Specific supports for religious efficacy included the following. In Hinduism, Agni (the Vedic god of the altar fire) mediates between the gods and men, and various gods (e.g., Ganesa, the god of prudence and wisdom and Lakshmi, the goddess of beauty and wealth) may assist the Hindu to achieve moksha (liberation from the bondage of finite existence). In Buddhism (at least Zen Buddhism), Zaren (meditation) on a koan (a verbal puzzle) provides not only the structure but also the means by which Satori (enlightenment) may be attained. In Islam, Allah, if it is His will, may strengthen the believer who truly follows Him. In Judaism, God may ‘‘turn His ear’’ to those who repent and determine to follow Him. In Christianity, the Holy Spirit assists Christians to live a holy life in obedience to God. The point is that, in each religion, God (or Gods, or at least an impersonal divine ‘force’) helps the believer to lead a life of obedience. From a motivational perspective, this Divine assistance increases the believer’s sense of religious efficacy, and hence contributes positively to their overall religious motivation. Put another way, perceptions of religious efficacy
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are formed with respect to the interaction of person’s perceived religious capacities, perceptions of difficulty of the religious tasks to be fulfilled, and the religious resources available to the person to complete the designated tasks. So, for example, a person may perceive themselves to be incapable of performing a religious task without assistance, but capable of performing the same task with assistance. For this reason, the presence of Divine assistance would be expected to cause the believer to estimate their religious efficacy more highly than would otherwise be the case. (This situation parallels Vygotsky’s notion of the Zone of Proximal Development in the developmental literature e.g., Kozulin, 1990; and also relates to the effects of help-seeking behaviour in other domains, such as the academic domain (e.g., Karabenick, 1998; Newman, 1991). In addition to Divine help, one of the key functions of the communityof-faith in each religion is to bolster the individual believer’s sense of religious efficacy. In particular, religious leaders provide the believer with the guidance, support, and encouragement to continue in the faith, and overcome any difficulties experienced while attempting to live faithfully. In Hinduism, a Brahmin (priest) or Yogi (yoga-master) may assist the believer. In Buddhism, the Bodhisattva is one who postpones attaining Nirvana in order to assist others to achieve this goal. In Islam, the Imam or Mulla (teacher of Islamic Law) encourages and leads the followers of Allah. In Judaism, leadership is provided by the Rabbis, and in Christianity by priests and minsters. Finally, the rituals of faith (prayer, fasting, reading scripture, and other holy writings, observing Holy days, attending communal worship, etc.) are not only the required duty of the believer, but also a source of strength and encouragement to the believer. Thus, participation in these rituals acts to increase the believer’s perceptions that they are able to ‘be’, as well as to ‘behave’, as a Hindu, Buddhist, Muslim, Jew, or Christian. Moreover, the fact that rituals of faith are both an outcome and a reinforcement of religious belief opens the distinct possibility that a reinforcement ‘loop’ or feedback system is operating with respect to the relationship between religious beliefs and religious action – with beliefs promoting action and action-reinforcing beliefs. If this is the case, this loop or system may explain why religious beliefs and actions attain such intensity with at some believers of all religions. If beliefs and actions do act to reinforce each other, then the believer may ‘cycle’ over time to deeper and deeper religious commitment, expressed in more and more intense religious devotion. This cyclical reinforcement pattern may be a positive experience for the believer and those around them. For example, the believer may cycle
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towards greater and greater devotion to others, commitment to worthy lifegoals, and self-sacrifice (in the best sense of the word). Alternatively, the individual may cycle towards negativity and extremism, expressed in a mistrust or even hatred of those outside ‘the faith’, commitment to destructive life-goals, and even self-sacrifice in order to inflict pain on others. Thus, recent geopolitical trends and events relating to ‘‘religious extremism’’ (and not just Muslim extremism) may be explained, in part, by the presence of a negative feedback-loop acting within the particular religions resulting in destructive religious beliefs and behaviours.
Counting the Cost What has been argued so far is that religions are motivational because they provide highly valued outcomes, provided certainly that B identified religious beliefs and behaviours will lead to these outcomes, and provide believers with an enhanced sense of religious-efficacy with respect to their ability to believe and act in ways prescribed by the religion. However, as indicated above, in making expectancy-value (or what was reformulated above as expectancy-value-efficacy) calculations, individuals decide on the probability of achieving valued outcomes with no action, the cost of action, and the cost of not achieving the valued outcome. All religions deal with these motivational issues. First, religions typically define the probability of attaining the valued outcomes, by means other than those specified within the religion itself, as low, and in some cases zero. In the latter case, which is typically, but not exclusively, espoused by ‘‘fundamentalist’’ forms of the various religions, there is no probability of achieving values outcomes without action, and more to point, without right action (as defined by the religion). So, neither Nirvana (Paradise) nor Heaven may be attained by means other than those specified in each religion. Moreover, each religion, especially as interpreted in their fundamental forms, specifies mechanisms, which are said to assure this zero probability. In Hinduism, Karma assures that only those who do good will be released from the cycle of reincarnation (samsara). In Buddhism, Enlightenment can only be achieved through great spiritual effort (known in Zen Buddhism as Kensho or Satori). In Islam, Allah’s supreme justice and omnipotence ensures that only ‘true’ believers will enter Paradise. Similarly, in Judaism the standards of the Law and Yahweh’s enforcement of them are immutable. In Christianity, no-one comes to the Father except by Christ, and by implication, through the Christian ‘Way’. Thus, in fundamental religious forms, both the
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zero probability and the mechanisms by which this probability is concretised is clearly and absolutely determined. There is no room for manoeuvre. Despite the above, it should be recognised that less-fundamental forms of various religious traditions do leave open possibilities for those ‘‘outside the faith’’ to be accepted, or at least selected, for participation in the eternal benefits normally reserved for believers. In the Christian tradition, for example, both certain Church Fathers (e.g., Augustine) and modern theologians (e.g., C.S. Lewis) have reasoned that those outside the faith might come to be ‘‘saved’’ by various mechanisms. Moreover, in many theological traditions, issues surrounding the eternal destiny of unbelievers remain an unresolved uncertainty. The main point for the present, however, is that there is a range of theological opinions with respect to the status of unbelievers. For this reason, it cannot be stated definitively all religions, or all forms of all religious, specifically exclude non-believers from the benefits of lifeafter-death. The complementary recognition, however, is that fundamental forms of each religion do. In either case, it is certainly much more certain to be ‘inside’ than ‘outside’ if the benefits of religious belief both now and later are to be realised. Each religion also defines often substantial costs associated with the actions required for ‘salvation’. Hinduism requires unswerving adherence to the Articles and Pillars of Faith, and even minor transgressions from these may have profound consequences for a person’s cyclical existence. Buddhism requires abandonment of material desire, and potentially a calling to a life of discipline and austerity as a monk. Islam may require martyrdom, especially in the case of participation in a Holy War (Jihad). Judaism requires strict adherence to the Laws, rituals, and community of the faith, which may involve substantial personal cost. Christianity requires daily devotion to Christ, which may involve leaving family or abandoning material possessions in order to serve Christ. Despite these defined absolute costs, the relative cost of engaging in religious beliefs and behaviours is defined as exceedingly small in comparison with the gains to be made from doing so. Thus, material depravity, onerous devotion to ritual, and even death are considered to be small costs in comparison with the gains promised by each religion. If devotion to religion takes the believer’s life, they will receive eternal life in return. Austerity will be rewarded with riches, onerous work with eternal rest, fear and anxiety with joy and peace. In other words, the blessings of the promised futures identified in each religion far outweigh any present curses. Motivationally, this means that the relative cost of religious belief and behaviour is at all points minimised. This also explains (again from a motivational perspective)
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why each religion is heavily future-focussed. Without a continual emphasis on valued-futures, the perceived costs of present religious involvement may rise substantially, and the believer may reduce or even abandon their present faith-commitments. Conversely, if a strong future-focus is maintained, almost any behaviour (even one that costs the believer their life) may be seen as a small price to pay. Precisely because the future is so valuable, the cost of not achieving the valued-outcome is incalculable. Moreover, not only will the believer miss out on Paradise (or its equivalent) if they fail in their religious duty and devotion but, in all cases, they will be condemned to the opposite. Thus, failure to attain Moksha means condemnation to continued reincarnation, quite possibly to lower life-levels than at present. Failure to attain Nirvana leads to more suffering. In Islam, Judaism, and Christianity, failure to attain Heaven lead to condemnation to Hell (or at least purgatory). Hence, in each religion there is no scope for neutrality with respect to the future. The future is either all good or all bad. Motivationally, this maximises the cost of not attaining the valued-future. The paragraphs above suggest that the extrinsic, life-after-death rewards associated with religious beliefs are central to the motivational coststructure of those beliefs. This is not meant to imply, however, that the minimisation of religious costs is based only on calculations concerning extrinsic rewards to be gained in the after life. To the contrary, religious beliefs also identify and generate many intrinsic rewards, such as a sense of purpose, meaning, and empowerment for life-before-death. These intrinsic rewards might also be expected to enter into a person’s motivational cost– benefit calculations. Thus, both the extrinsic and intrinsic rewards of religion are important offsets of the costs of religious devotion. Related to the above, Allport (1950) suggested that individuals may follow a religion for either external or internal reasons. Hence, the religious individual may have either an extrinsic or an intrinsic religious orientation. The analysis above, however, suggests that individuals may hold simultaneous external and internal religious orientations – at least with respect to their motivational cost–benefit calculations. Thus, the additive effects of an individual’s estimations of the extrinsic and intrinsic rewards associated with religious belief are motivationally relevant in an expectancy-value-efficacy framework. In addition, it also may be that religion-as-quest (e.g., Batson & Ventis, 1982) enters into the believer’s cost–benefit calculations. Thus, the ability of religions to resolve significant existential questions may, alongside intrinsic and extrinsic rewards, be regarded as a significant benefit of religious belief. For this reason, recent studies in the psychology of religion
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have used a combined I-E-Q (intrinsic-extrinsic-quest) formulation, implicitly recognising that the motivational impact of religion works on all three levels (see Paloutzian, 1996).
Comparing the Internal Motivational Structure of Religious Belief-Systems The discussion above has taken a within-component/across-religion perspective. As indicated previously, however, it is also possible to take a within-religion/cross-component perspective. In the present case, this implies reading across the rows of Table 1. One value in doing so is that reading across the rows may give a sense of the directional impact of each religion with respect to the ongoing religious motivation of the believer. So, in any given religion, it may be that the positive factors (i.e., the things to be gained from an ‘approach’ to religious belief and devotion) are more salient than the negative factors (i.e., the things to be ‘avoided’ through religious belief and devotion) or vice versa. For example, continued reincarnation in Hinduism (which implies a kind of ‘second-chance’) may be a less salient negative (avoidance) factor than is (permanent) Hell in Islam, Judaism, or Christianity. Conversely, it may be that Paradise, particularly because Islamic paradise is so vividly described in Islamic sacred writings, may be more salient in Islam than is Heaven or Nirvana in other religions. Despite the examples above, it is probably not possible (or, at least, simplistic) to precisely define a given religion as more ‘approach’ or ‘avoidance’ oriented on the basis of a religion’s associated beliefs per se. This is because the approach or avoidance tendencies of a religion are not just a function of religious beliefs themselves. Rather approach and avoidance are determined by the interaction between religious beliefs, the social interpretation of those beliefs, and the believer’s personal interpretation of those beliefs. For example, in the Christian tradition, a given church (religious social unit) may emphasise a ‘‘fire and brimstone’’ or ‘‘Hell and damnation’’ approach to interpreting Christian religious belief. Such an approach would emphasise avoidance reasons for religious belief, i.e., believe to avoid Hell. Despite this, individuals within that church may, or may not, subscribe to this emphasis. Conversely, a church may emphasise the benefits of Christian religious belief, such as the ability to communicate with God both on earth and in heaven. Such an emphasis would be more approach oriented; that is, it provides positive reasons for belief. However, again, an individual within the church may or may not internalise such teaching, or do so to a lesser degree than the church as a whole.
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The examples above indicate that the approach and avoidance tendencies of a religion are generated in social (often institutional), personal (i.e., psychological), as well as epistemological (or theological) ‘space’. This highlights a somewhat more theoretical point. This point is that, at least with respect to religious beliefs, approach and avoidance tendencies can be examined within an expectancy-value framework. Thus, the way that certain expectancies or values, efficacy support mechanisms, or costs are interpreted, emphasised, or internalised determines the motivational direction (approach or avoidance) of the belief system. Put another way, the organisation of religious expectancy-value variables impacts upon the motivational direction of the religion in given social and personal contexts. By highlighting this relationship, the present framework may help to harmonise two ‘‘classic’’ approaches to motivation: expectancy-value and approachavoidance. Emotions As a final point, this chapter has focussed on the cognitive and social (community) aspects of religious beliefs. The affective (‘e-motional’) aspects of religious beliefs are, however, also critical. Expectancy, value, efficacy, and cost–benefit calculations all carry with them substantial emotional implications. It has been suggested by many authors that religion and religious beliefs tend to accentuate the emotional states of believers. From an expectancy-value perspective, emotions may be seen as derivatives of expectancy-value calculations. For example, expectancy of paradise might lead to strong positive emotions such as hope, peace, or gratitude. Conversely, unstable religious self-efficacy may lead to negative emotions such a fear and anxiety associated with the possibility of not (or not correctly) performing religious duties. Again, this perspective complements traditional perspectives that suggest that strong emotions are precursors of religious beliefs. For this reason, emotions may be seen as both precursors and derivatives of religious belief. Whatever the case, it is clear that emotions are strongly associated with religious belief, and are a critical impetus for religious behaviour.
SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION This chapter has sought to explain, from an expectancy-value-efficacy perspective, why religious beliefs are motivational. This explanation suggests
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that religious beliefs are motivational because they are comprised of, and emphasise, highly valued outcomes, assured expectancies, and positive religious efficacy. Religious beliefs also define small or zero probabilities for no action, low relative costs for religious belief and behaviour, and incalculably high costs for not achieving valued-outcomes. Finally, the social and personal interpretation of religious beliefs defines approach and avoidance tendencies, and expectancy-value calculations contribute to the creation of strong emotions associated with religious beliefs and behaviours. Taken together, these motivational features of religious belief explain, at least from a theoretical perspective, why religious beliefs are so powerfully motivational. Religions and religious beliefs create psychological environments, which ‘drive’ (motivate) religious commitment and behaviour. In fact, it could be argued that the motivational features of religious belief substantially define those beliefs. In other words, quite apart from any theological, philosophical, ethical or moral distinctions that separate religions, they all share a common motivational (and, hence, psychological) structure. If this is the case, then one of the enduring problems in the study of religion (i.e., defining the nature of religious belief) may be at least partly addressed by motivation psychology in general, and expectancy-valueefficacy theory in particular.
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Moore, T., Klous, B., & Rasmussen, R. (2001). A reunion of ideas: Complementary inquiry and collaborative interventions of spirituality, religion and psychology. Journal of Community Psychology, 29, 487–495. Newman, R. S. (1991). Goals and self-regulated learning: What motivates children to seek academic help? In: M. L. Maehr & P. R. Pintrich (Eds), Advances in motivation and achievement. A research annual (Vol. 7, pp. 151–183). Greenwich, CT, JAI Press. Nicholls, J. G. (1989). The competitive ethos and democratic education. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Nicholls, J. G., Cheung, P. C., Lauer, J., & Patashnick, M. (1989). Individual differences in academic motivation: Perceived ability, goals, beliefs, and values. Learning and Individual Differences, 1, 63–84. Nuttin, J. R., & Lens, W. (1985). Future time perspective and motivation: Theory and research method. Leuven & Hillsdale, NJ: Leuven University Press & Earlbaum. Paloutzian, R. F. (1996). Invitation to the psychology of religion (2nd ed). Boston: Allyn and Bacon. Pargament, K. (1997). The psychology of religious coping. New York: Guilford. Pintrich, P. R., Marx, R. W., & Boyle, R. A. (1993). Beyond cold conceptual change: The role of motivational beliefs and classroom contextual factors in the process of conceptual change. Review of Educational Research, 63, 167–199. Raynor, J. O., & Rubin, I. S. (1971). Effects of achievement motivation and future orientation on level of performance. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 17(1), 36–41. Ryan, R. M., Rigby, S., & King, K. (1993). Two types of religious internalization and their relations to religious orientations and mental health. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 65, 586–596. Schell, D., Bruning, R., & Colvin, C. (1995). Self -efficacy, attribution, and outcome expectancy mechanisms in reading and writing achievement: Grade-level and achievement level. Journal of Educational Psychology, 87, 386–398. Schunk, D. (1991). Self-efficacy and academic motivation. Educational Psychologist, 26, 207–232. Schunk, D. H., & Pajares, F. (2004). Self-efficacy in education revisited: Empirical and applied evidence. In: D. M. McInerney & S. Van Etten (Eds), Big theories revisited (pp. 249–274). Greenwich, CT: Information Age. Tolman, E. C. (1932). Purposive behavior in animals and man. New York: Century. Triandis, H.C. (1979). Values, attitudes, and interpersonal behavior. In: H. E. How Jr. (Ed.), Nebraska symposium on motivation (Vol. 27, pp. 195–259). Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press. Wigfield, A., Harold, R., Freedman-Doan, C., Eccles, J., Suk Yoon, K., Arbreton, A., & Blumenfeld, P. (1997). Change in competence beliefs and subjective task values across the elementary school years: A 3-year study. Journal of Educational Psychology, 89, 451–469. Wulff, D. W. (1991). Psychology of religion: Classic and contemporary views. New York: Wiley. Wulff, D. W. (1998). Rethinking the rise and fall of the psychology of religion. In: A. L. Molendijk & P. Pels (Eds), Religion in the making: The emergence of the sciences of religion (pp. 181–202). Leiden: Brill. Zimmerman, B., Bandura, A., & Martinez-Ponz, M. (1992). Self-motivation for academic attainment: The role of self-efficacy and personal goal setting. American Educational Research Journal, 29, 663–676.
VALUES, RELIGION, AND MOTIVATION N. T. Feather The role of religion in society has long been of interest to social scientists who are concerned with national identity, national development, social institutions, peace and war, and social attitudes and behavior. Social scientists accept that religion is a dominant force in many societies and that it is associated with both positive and negative outcomes. There is a bright and a dark side to the effects of religious beliefs. The high ideals inherent in many religions may coexist with punitive sanctions when these ideals are violated or when a religious orientation is challenged by groups or nations holding different religious views. In this paper, I propose that our understanding of the consequences of religious beliefs can be illuminated by considering the values that underlie those beliefs. These values may have widespread effects on thought and action, influencing the social attitudes that people hold and driving both benevolent and punitive forms of behavior. In what follows I first review the concept of value, focusing in particular on the contributions of Rokeach, Schwartz, and myself. I then present a selective review of research that relates either directly or indirectly to relations between religiosity and values. Finally, I present suggestions about how values might be incorporated within the motivational framework of expectancy-value theory, so as to enable predictions about relations between values and motivated behavior relevant to a commitment to religious belief.
Motivation and Religion Advances in Motivation and Achievement, Volume 14, 35–73 Copyright r 2005 by Elsevier Ltd. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0749-7423/doi:10.1016/S0749-7423(05)14003-5
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VALUE THEORY Rokeach Rokeach (1973) conceived of values as general beliefs about desirable ways of behaving or about desirable general goals. They are held by persons, are abstract in nature, and transcend situations. They have a prescriptive quality about them, involving what actions should or not be performed and what general goals should or should not be preferred. They are not cognitively neutral but are linked to the affective system. Values vary in their importance for self, some values being perceived as much more important for self when compared with other values. They become organized into value systems or hierarchies of importance. Rokeach placed values at the center of a person’s attitude-belief system, influencing the more specific beliefs and attitudes that a person holds and the plans and decisions that a person makes. He distinguished values from related concepts such as attitudes, needs, and social norms and developed a measurement procedure, the Rokeach Value Survey (RVS), that he applied to a range of interesting questions that included the analysis of political and religious values. These abstract ideas can be made more concrete by considering honesty and equality as values. A person may believe that both honesty and equality are important values in regard to self. Honesty is believed by this person to be an important way of behaving and is preferred to dishonesty; equality is believed to be an important general goal that one should support and is preferred to inequality. These values, along with others, would form an important part of the person’s self-concept, influencing thought and action in many ways. Their association with affect would be evident when pursuit of these values was frustrated or when these values were fulfilled in specific situations. Although Rokeach provided seminal ideas about the nature of human values and their antecedents and consequences, he did not develop a formal classification of different value types, except for his distinctions between instrumental values (concerned with desirable ways of behaving) and terminal values (concerned with desirable general goals), and between personal and social terminal values, and moral and competence instrumental values. His Value Survey presented respondents with 18 terminal values (e.g., freedom, equality, pleasure, a sense of accomplishment) and 18 instrumental values (e.g., being honest, independent, responsible, forgiving) that were selected to cover a wide range. Each value was accompanied by a short, defining
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phrase. Respondents were required to rank the values in each set in their order of importance for self, from most important to least important. The ranks assigned to a particular value could then be analyzed across groups or categories (e.g., male versus female, Republican versus Democrat, Protestant versus Catholic) or related to measures of attitudes and behaviors. The analysis could also focus on value combinations (as in Rokeach’s two-value model of political ideology) and value systems defined by the value hierarchy, and it could also involve attributed values (e.g., the values attributed to an organization such as a school or other institution) as well as selfrelated values. Rokeach also proposed that confronting a person with inconsistencies between the attitudes and the important values that person held would produce self-dissatisfaction and drive attitude and behavior change, given the relative stability of values and their central position in regard to self and the total system of a person’s beliefs and attitudes. A lot of basic research on values was conducted from the 1960s through the 1980s that used the RVS and that tested hypotheses about value differences, value correlates, value fit, and the effects of attitude/values confrontation (e.g., Ball-Rokeach, Rokeach, & Grube, 1984; Feather, 1975, 1984, 1986, 1996; Rokeach, 1973, 1979). Schwartz Schwartz (1992, 1996) subsequently built on Rokeach’s contributions by developing a theory of value types and the way they are organized, and by expanding the number of values that were contained in the measurement procedure that he developed. The Schwartz Value Survey (SVS) presents respondents with over 50 different values that are rated rather than ranked for importance, and that are then combined into 10 different value types on the basis of both theoretical considerations and empirical findings from the analysis of value ratings from student and teacher samples that were obtained from many different countries. The 10 different value types defined by Schwartz are presented in Table 1. Schwartz (1992) proposed that the value types could be organized around a circle with some value types being adjacent on the circle and other value types being opposite (Fig. 1). Empirical findings based on smallest space analysis (Guttman, 1968) supported the circular structure. The circular arrangement of value types is consistent with the theoretical idea that there are dynamic relations between value types that reflect compatibilities or
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Table 1. Power Achievement Hedonism Stimulation Self-direction Universalism
Benevolence Tradition
Conformity
Security
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Definitions of Motivational Types in Terms of their Goals and the Single Values that Represent them. Social status and prestige, control or dominance over people and resources (Social Power, Authority, Wealth) Personal success through demonstrating competence according to social standards (Successful, Capable, Ambitious, Influential) Pleasure and sensuous gratification for oneself (Pleasure, Enjoying Life, SelfIndulgent) Excitement, novelty, and challenge in life (Daring, a Varied Life, an Exciting Life) Independent thought and action-choosing, creating, exploring (Creativity, Freedom, Independent, Curious, Choosing own Goals) Understanding, appreciation, tolerance and protection for the welfare of all people and for nature (Broadminded, Wisdom, Social Justice, Equality, a World at Peace, a World of Beauty, Unity with Nature, Protecting the Environment) Preservation and enhancement of the welfare of people with whom one is in frequent contact (Helpful, Honest, Forgiving, Loyal, Responsible) Respect, commitment and acceptance of the customs and ideas that traditional culture or religion provide the self (Humble, Accepting my Portion in Life, Devout, Respect for Tradition, Moderate) Restraint of actions, inclinations, and impulses likely to upset or harm others and violate social expectations or norms (Politeness, Obedient, SelfDiscipline, Honoring Parents and Elders) Safety, harmony and stability of society, of relationships, and of self (Family Security, National Security, Social Order, Clean, Reciprocation of Favors)
conflicts. Some value types may come into conflict if they are simultaneously pursued (e.g., hedonism and stimulation versus conformity and security). Other value types may be compatible if they are simultaneously pursued (e.g., power and achievement; conformity and tradition; hedonism and stimulation). The conflicts and compatibilities were assumed by Schwartz to relate to the similar or different motivational goals associated with each value type. According to Schwartz, values ‘‘represent, in the form of conscious goals, three universal requirements of human existence: biological needs, requisites of coordinated social interaction, and demands of group survival and functioning’’ (Schwartz, 1996, p. 2). These universal requirements imply the different value types proposed by Schwartz and the motivational goals associated with each one (see Table 1). For example, the power value type has as its motivational goal ‘‘social status and prestige, control or dominance over people and resources’’, and it is represented by the following values in
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Circular Structure for Value Types. Source: Schwartz (1996).
the SVS: social power, authority, and wealth. The tradition value type has as its goal ‘‘respect, commitment, and acceptance of the customs and ideas that traditional culture or religion provide the self’’, and it is represented by the following values: humble, accepting my portion in life, devout, respect for tradition, and moderate. In Fig. 1, adjacent value types are assumed to be compatible because the values defining the types have similar motivational goals. For example, power and achievement value types both express goals relating to selfcenteredness and a desire to enhance self; conformity and tradition value types both express goals relating to conservation or resistance to change. Value types on opposite sides of the circular arrangement have motivational
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goals that are often difficult to pursue simultaneously. For example, trying to pursue universalism and benevolence values that express goals relating to self-transcendence may come into conflict with the pursuit of achievement and power values that express goals relating to self-enhancement. Other value conflicts would involve an opposition between value types that express openness to change (hedonism, stimulation, self-direction) and value types that express conservation (conformity, tradition, security). Schwartz (1996) also proposed that, given the circular arrangement of the value types, relations between the value types and an external variable should tend to follow a sinusoid or wavelike pattern with movement around the circle, although distortions in this pattern could occur depending on context (e.g., Feather, 2004; Sagiv & Schwartz, 1995). Beginning in the 1980s, a lot of the research on values used the SVS, much of it cross-cultural in nature (Smith & Schwartz, 1997).
Feather I conducted an extensive program of research on values that began in the 1960s. The initial findings were published in Values in Education and Society (Feather, 1975). The research was influenced by Rokeach’s contributions at the time and the importance of values was assessed by using the RVS. I also added new theoretical ideas which have been progressively developed in relation to research on values in a variety of contexts (Feather, 1982, 1990, 1992, 1995, 1996, 1998, 1999). The more recent studies in my research program concentrated on value types, and I used the SVS where different values are rated for importance for self rather than the RVS where a ranking procedure is used for a smaller set of terminal and instrumental values. My approach to the definition of values is consistent with the definitions proposed by Rokeach and Schwartz where values are identified as transsituational beliefs about desirable ways of behaving and general goals, that vary in their importance for self, and that people use as guiding principles in their lives. On the theoretical level, I add to the analysis by conceptualizing value as a latent cognitive structure or associative network that is linked to the affective system and to a range of beliefs and attitudes. This analysis developed from an earlier discussion of abstract structures or organized summaries of experience that capture the focal, abstracted qualities of past experience and that function as criteria or frameworks against which present experience can be tested, and perceived structures that
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represent the information that is immediately present in the environment and that is structured in some way in the individual’s perceptions (Feather, 1971). Values may then be conceptualized as abstract structures, each involving a central hub and a network of associations that can take different forms for different people. The structure is linked to the affective system and it may vary in its degree of differentiation, ranging from values with a limited network of associations to values with a high degree of differentiation. For example, national security may be an undifferentiated value that is defined without much elaboration for some people. On the other hand, a value such as equality may have a complex range of associations extending across a wide range of exemplars. The value structure may also vary along other dimensions that have been discussed in the literature concerned with cognitive structures (e.g., integration, isolation, and centrality). This form of analysis implies that individuals may differ in the content and form of the associative network attached to a value with the same verbal label (e.g., equality), but there may be a shared meaning for the value because there is a common core of key associations that defines the value across individuals. It should be clear, however, that values are not ‘‘cold’’ cognitive structures but are intimately tied to our feelings and to our sense of self. They have a prescriptive quality about them, involving what is desirable or undesirable, what ought to be preferred or not preferred. In the earlier research (Feather, 1975), I also assumed that people could make judgments about the value systems held by groups and organizations (see also Rokeach, 1979), and that their psychological well-being, as indexed by measures of satisfaction and happiness, would be positively related to how well the perceived value systems of these groups or organizations matched their own value systems. This person-environment fit form of analysis was tested in a large study involving Adelaide schools, where it was found that the happiness and satisfaction of children attending these schools was positively related to how similar their own value systems were to the values that the schools were perceived to promote (Feather, 1972). Conceptualizing values as cognitive structures linked to affect raises the question of how they are activated. I assume that their activation will depend on cues in the situation and also on how important the value is in relation to self (Feather, 1990, 1999). For example, some situations may reliably activate egalitarian values in most people when important issues concerning equality are salient or when equality is challenged. But this activation would be more likely to occur and would occur more rapidly among
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those for whom equality ranks high in importance within their own personal value systems. Once activated, a value may prime or activate beliefs and attitudes that are part of its associative network. The activation may also spread to other networked attitudes and beliefs. Attitudes and beliefs may also be induced or recruited to a value network when a person encounters novel situations and processes new information in relation to the cognitive affective system. This form of analysis is consistent with Lewin’s (1951) comment that values as properties of persons guide behavior and, along with needs, ‘‘determine which types of activity have a positive and which have a negative valence for an individual in a given situation’’ (p. 41). Values therefore have motivational significance in their ability ‘‘to motivate goal directed behavior by inducing valences (or incentive values) on certain environmental objects, behaviors, or states of affairs’’ (French & Kahn, 1962, pp. 11–12). Just as food becomes positively valent or more attractive when a person is hungry, so the activation of particular values will color a person’s view of a situation, inducing valences on objects and events. I therefore distinguish between the general values that people hold and the subjective values they assign to possible actions and outcomes in a specific situational context. Once activated, values ‘‘influence our affective appraisal or evaluation of the different actions and outcomes that are possible within specific situations’’ (Feather, 1996, p. 225). This assumption provides a bridge to integrating values into the motivational framework of expectancyvalue theory (Feather, 1982, 1990, 2004). I now present a brief summary of expectancy-value theory, returning to its application to religious behavior later in this article.
EXPECTANCY-VALUE THEORY Expectancy-value theory is a general approach to motivation that relates a person’s behavior in a situation to the expectations that the person holds and to the person’s subjective evaluation of the outcomes that may occur following the action. The potential outcomes may be perceived as attractive (or positively valent) or aversive (or negatively valent), or a mixture of both. The expectations encompass beliefs about whether the person can perform a particular action to some standard that defines a successful outcome, beliefs that the action taken will be instrumental in achieving the outcome, and beliefs about the positive and negative consequences that may follow that
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outcome. For example, a student’s decision to enroll for a particular course of studies at university (e.g., science) may be related to the student’s perception of how attractive success in that course of studies would be in comparison with other possible alternatives and on the student’s expectations that he or she can meet the required standards of performance and complete the topics that are required before he or she can graduate and thereby achieve the desired outcome. The attractiveness or positive valence of the successful outcome would depend upon a number of factors that would include the student’s needs and values and the perceived consequences (e.g., employment, economic rewards) that might follow the desired outcome. I reviewed expectancy-value theories of motivation in my book, Expectations and Actions (Feather, 1982), and added to the picture in subsequent publications (Feather, 1990, 1992, 1999, 2004). The approach has a long history. There were early applications of expectancy-value theory to the analysis of level of aspiration behavior (Lewin, Dembo, Festinger, & Sears, 1944), principles of performance (Tolman, 1955), achievement motivation (Atkinson & Feather, 1996), social learning and clinical psychology (Rotter, 1954), decision theory (Edwards, 1954), work and motivation (Vroom, 1964), and subjective probability and decision under uncertainty (Feather, 1959). Later contributions that are either directly or indirectly relevant include the theory of reasoned action (Fishbein & Ajzen, 1975), detailed analyses of different types of expectations (Bandura, 1986; Heckhausen, 1977; Olson, Roese, & Zanna, 1996), a focus on the role of causal attributions in relation to motivation and emotion (Weiner, 1986), the analysis of different forms of self-regulation (Higgins, 1997), consideration of the concepts of intention, volition, and action control (Gollwitzer, Heckhausen, & Steller, 1990; Kuhl, 1987), and the analysis of how to bridge the gap between values and actions (Feather, 1990, 1992). While it is clear that many behaviors such as habitual actions, the routine use of heuristics, and other relatively automatic actions occur without much thought or reflection, it is still the case that ‘‘a large portion of human behavior can be understood in relation to means-end structures that involve beliefs about possible events and outcomes, and subjective values or valences that are linked to the cognitive-affective system’’ (Feather, 1992, p. 121). Later in this article, I will show how the expectancy-value approach might be used to understand the motivation to seek out religion and to join a religious group. First, however, I will consider how religiosity relates to the values that people hold.
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RELIGIOSITY AND VALUES In the next sections, I review studies that have used direct measures of values or value types to investigate relations between values and religiosity. The review is selective, with the intention of bringing out some of the main findings.
Rokeach Value Survey In his book, The Nature of Human Values Rokeach (1973) summarized his research with the RVS on value similarities and differences between the religious, the less religious, and the nonreligious (see also Rokeach, 1969a, b; 1970). The findings were obtained from a national sample of adult Americans over 21 years of age, who completed a survey that included the RVS and other questions in 1968. Rokeach noted that all religious groups were similar in ranking a world at peace, family security, and freedom as the most important terminal values, and an exciting life, pleasure, social recognition, and a world of beauty as the least important. All groups (religious, less religious, nonreligious) ranked honest, ambitious, and responsible highest among the instrumental values, and imaginative, intellectual, logical, and obedient lowest in importance. Rokeach also found that Americans who identified themselves as Jews assigned more importance than Christians to equality, pleasure, family security, inner harmony, and wisdom among the terminal values, and more importance to instrumental values concerned with personal competence – being capable, independent, intellectual, and logical. Both Jews and nonbelievers ranked conventional values concerned with being clean, obedient, and polite as less important than did Christians. Which values stood out for the Christian sample? According to Rokeach (1973), two values – salvation and being forgiving – emerged as distinctively Christian, when Christians were compared with other religious groups and when other measures of religiosity were employed such as frequency of church attendance and the perceived importance of religion in a person’s daily life. The differences were still present when the various religious groups were matched for income and race. However, the results from the national survey showed no difference between Christians and non-Christians in the relative importance assigned to the instrumental values of being loving and helpful. Thus, these two values were not distinctively Christian.
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Rokeach also reported findings from a study of students at Michigan State University who were classified as high, medium, or low in the importance they assigned to religion on the basis of their responses to the question, ‘‘How important is your religion to you in your everyday life?’’ The largest difference found was for salvation, which on the average was ranked 1st, 16th, and 18th in importance for the three respective groups. Among the terminal values, those who regarded religion as highly important ranked family security as higher and a comfortable life, a sense of accomplishment, pleasure, and social recognition as lower in importance. Those who rated religion as important in their daily lives ranked the following instrumental values as more important – being forgiving, helpful, honest, loving, and obedient – and being ambitious, capable, independent, intellectual, and logical as less important. Rokeach (1973) also described results from the RVS relating to the distinction made by Allport and Ross (1967) between an intrinsic religious orientation, where religious teachings are internalized and guide a person’s daily behavior, and an extrinsic religious orientation, where religion is employed in an instrumental and utilitarian way to advance personal interests and to further the attainment of extrinsic goals such as status and success. He reported some differences in value patterns relating to the intrinsic/ extrinsic distinction, but they were not easy to interpret except to imply that ‘‘the intrinsically religious are more tolerant than those who are extrinsically religious who, in turn, are more tolerant than the indiscriminately proreligious’’ (p. 114). Finally, Rokeach also reported detailed results from the 1968 national survey showing that those who attended church on a weekly basis placed greater value than nonchurchgoers on salvation, being forgiving, helpful, and obedient, and usually lesser value on a comfortable life, an exciting life, freedom, pleasure, and being imaginative, independent, intellectual, and logical. I have used the RVS to study values that relate to the Protestant Ethic (PE) (Feather, 1984). Weber’s (1904–1905/1976) classic analysis of the origins of the modern capitalistic spirit emphasized the role of Protestant asceticism that ‘‘looked upon the pursuit of wealth as an end in itself as highly reprehensible; but the attainment of it as a fruit of labor in a calling was a sign of God’s blessing’’ (p. 172). The moral outlook that Weber described stressed the virtues of hard work, self-discipline, the denial of pleasure for its own sake, and individual activism as a person sought to fulfil his or her duty in a calling or vocation. These beliefs took on a deeper meaning when they were integrated into a religious system. In Calvinism, for example, being successful in a calling could be taken as a sign of being
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chosen by God as one of the elect, especially if one’s worldly pursuits were conducted in the spirit of ascetic self-control within the context of a sober, industrious career. As Weber (1904–1905/1976) put it: the religious valuation of restless, continuous, systematic work in a worldly calling, as the highest means of asceticism, and at the same time the surest and most evident proof of rebirth and genuine faith, must have been the most powerful conceivable lever for the expansion of that attitude toward life that we have called the spirit of capitalism. (p. 172)
Weber’s thesis has provoked much critical debate among social scientists, including sociologists and psychologists. McClelland’s (1961, 1971) longterm interest in the achievement motive and its assumed role in economic development was influenced by Weber’s analysis. My study investigated the hypothesis that there would be a relation between Protestant Ethic (PE) values and conservatism. I tested this hypothesis using a sample of students from Flinders University, Adelaide, who completed Form D of the RVS, the Mirels and Garrett (1971) Protestant Ethic Scale (PE Scale), and a Conservatism Scale (C-Scale) that was devised by Wilson and Patterson (1968) and discussed in Wilson (1973). The PE Scale consists of 16 items such as ‘‘Any man who is able and willing to work hard has a good chance of succeeding’’, ‘‘The self-made man is likely to be more ethical than the man born to wealth’’, and ‘‘Most people spend too much time in unprofitable amusements’’. The C-Scale consists of 50 items that relate to some familiar issue or concept (e.g., the death penalty, Sabbath observance, patriotism, working mothers, white superiority, chastity, nudist camps, strict rules, etc.). Respondents are asked whether they favor or believe in each issue or concept (Yes, ?, No). Both scales would now require updating in the light of changed social norms relating to nonsexist language and some of the concepts in the C-Scale. The results showed that, as predicted, PE scores and conservatism were positively correlated, rð107Þ ¼ 0:57; po0:001; and the correlations of each variable with the value importance scores showed that they had some values in common. If, however, we focus on values that relate to the Protestant Ethic, the results showed that PE scores were positively related to the importance assigned to salvation, a sense of accomplishment, social recognition, being obedient, and being self-controlled from Rokeach’s lists of terminal and instrumental values, and negatively related to the importance assigned to a world at peace, a world of beauty, mature love, being broadminded, and being imaginative. The correlations for the sets of terminal and instrumental
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values and the median value rankings across three levels of PE scores are reported in Table 2. The common set of values relating to scores on both the PE Scale and the C-Scale led me to the conclusion that: It is the salvation-minded and those who stress self-control and respect for authority who are more likely to be imbued with Protestant Ethic values and conservative social attitudes. Such people are also more likely to downgrade both terminal values concerned with beauty and with mature, loving relationships and instrumental values concerned with open-minded and imaginative solutions to problems. (p. 113)
Comparing relations between value importance and scores on each scale (PE Scale, C-Scale) showed that the PE variable was more strongly linked to the importance assigned to a sense of accomplishment and to social recognition as values, whereas conservatism was more strongly linked to the importance assigned to family security and to salvation, and less strongly linked to the importance assigned to an exciting life, freedom, and being imaginative from Rokeach’s lists. Thus, the results showed that the PE value syndrome distinctively involved some recognition of the virtues of achievement and they added to the overall picture of the conservative ‘‘as one who distrusts impulse and emotion but who values instead stable and secure relationships and a world that tends to be familiar, predictable, and orderly’’ (Feather, 1984, p. 1140) – see also Wilson (1973). The analysis of political conservatism has recently been updated in considerable detail by Jost, Glaser, Kruglanski, and Sulloway (2003) within the framework of motivated social cognition. My research, conducted some 20 years previously, also fits into that general framework. Schwartz Value Survey Research on religion and the SVS has been reviewed by Roccas (in press). Here I refer to some of the studies reviewed by Roccas and add to them information about research conducted at Flinders University. The studies using the SVS differ from those using the RVS in their focus on value types rather than single values and in their reference to a theory that concerns the content and structure of value types. Previously, I described these value types and their assumed circular arrangement. Within this integrative framework Schwartz and Huismans (1995) investigated value types and religiosity in two separate studies involving four Western religions. In Study 1, they used samples of Israeli Jews, Spanish Roman Catholics, Dutch Calvinist Protestants, and Greek Orthodox
Median Rankings of Terminal and Instrumental Values and Correlations of Value Importance with Protestant Ethic (PE) Scores. Median Rankings
Terminal Value
A comfortable life An exciting life A sense of accomplishment A world at peace A world of beauty Equality Family security Freedom Happiness Inner harmony Mature love National security Pleasure Salvation Self-respect Social recognition True friendship Wisdom
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Table 2.
Median Rankings
Low PE
Medium PE
High PE
r With Value Importance
Instrumental Value
Low PE
Medium PE
High PE
r With Value Importance
13.33 9.38 9.00
10.25 9.90 8.50
11.75 10.50 5.88
0.07 0.09 0.27
Ambitious Broadminded Capable
11.50 4.30 8.50
7.75 6.00 8.50
10.25 8.25 9.33
0.16 0.25 0.10
6.92 9.75 7.75 7.33 5.33 6.13 7.33 7.25 15.75 13.75 17.71 8.06 15.65 5.25 8.88
7.50 12.25 10.50 7.50 5.79 5.83 5.17 11.50 16.10 11.70 16.93 8.75 12.50 5.50 9.50
10.50 14.70 10.50 6.17 6.00 5.50 5.25 9.10 16.17 14.50 16.00 6.10 13.64 7.63 7.50
0.19 0.42 0.17 0.14 0.12 0.04 0.01 0.25 0.05 0.15 0.34 0.16 0.18 0.11 0.12
Cheerful Clean Courageous Forgiving Helpful Honest Imaginative Independent Intellectual Logical Loving Obedient Polite Responsible Self-controlled
8.50 14.50 8.50 8.10 8.50 3.75 9.75 6.50 8.50 11.50 4.67 17.59 13.90 8.10 12.50
5.25 13.50 10.50 8.00 8.50 5.00 12.50 10.00 9.50 12.75 4.33 16.25 10.70 7.50 10.00
9.00 15.13 9.20 7.00 10.00 3.42 14.25 7.33 11.00 10.80 7.00 15.80 13.13 5.67 8.63
0.13 0.02 0.05 0.14 0.06 0.05 0.36 0.07 0.06 0.11 0.14 0.39 0.08 0.13 0.28
N. T. FEATHER
Note: Lower medians denote higher relative importance. The values are from Form D of the Rokeach Value Survey. Rankings have been transformed using the normal curve tables to provide the measures of value importance (see Feather, 1984). po0:05: po0:01: po0:001:
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respondents. In Study 2, they administered their measures to a sample from West Germany involving Protestants and Catholics. Schwartz and Huismans based their hypotheses on theological, sociological, and psychological analyses of religiosity. They argued that a theological analysis would emphasize transcending material concerns and fostering attitudes of awe, respect, and humility as opposed to self-indulgent materialism and gratifying desires for pleasure and comfort. A sociological analysis would emphasize ‘‘the role of established religions in symbolizing, preserving, and justifying the prevailing social structure and normative system’’ (Schwartz & Huismans, 1995, p. 92). According to Schwartz and Huismans, established religions may sometimes oppose the prevailing political order (e.g., Catholicism in Communist countries), but generally the two are in some degree of harmony, with ‘‘established religions encouraging people to accept the social order and discourage questioning and innovation’’ (p. 92). A psychological analysis would draw attention to the role of religion in reducing psychological uncertainty, providing answers to fundamental, existential questions about purpose in life, death, disease, injustice, and the like, and thereby providing a degree of certainty and stability in daily life. These three analyses led Schwartz and Huismans to hypothesize that religiosity would have its strongest positive relation with tradition values and its strongest negative relation with hedonism values. They also expected that positive relations with religiosity would occur for conformity, benevolence, and security values, and negative relations with stimulation and self-direction values. Correlations between religiosity and the remaining value types (Power, Achievement, and Universalism) were more difficult to predict because these values may be related to religiosity through multiple processes that may be opposing (see Schwartz & Huismans, 1995, pp. 93–94). In two studies that respectively used different measures of religiosity (‘‘How religious, if at all, do you consider yourself to be?’’, and frequency of church attendance), and that used the SVS to measure value importance, Schwartz and Huismans found evidence that supported their theory-based analysis. In both studies the highest positive correlations were obtained between religiosity and tradition values. In Study 1, the highest negative correlations were obtained between religiosity and hedonism values. In Study 2, this negative correlation was also relatively strong but it was second in line to the negative correlation that was obtained between religiosity and stimulation values, perhaps reflecting the use of church attendance as the measure of religiosity in Study 2.
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The correlations for the remaining value types were generally consistent with predictions, and they tended to follow the sinusoid, wavelike order that was expected according to the structure of compatibilities and conflicts among the ten value types implied by their circular arrangement. Thus, the wavelike pattern of correlations between religiosity and the importance of the value types peaked at Tradition (highest positive correlation) and in Study 1 reached its lowest level at Hedonism (highest negative correlation), with correlations changing from positive to negative with the shift from Tradition to Hedonism and changing from negative to positive with the shift from Hedonism back to Tradition around the other part of the circle. In her review, Roccas (in press) noted that the relations between values and religiosity have been investigated in other cultural and religious groups and that these relations generally followed the pattern predicted by Schwartz and Huismans. Saroglou, Delpierre, and Dernelle (2004) conducted a meta-analysis of results from 21 samples from 15 different countries, all studies using Schwartz’s model of values. The meta-analysis showed that religiosity was positively related to favoring values that promoted conservation and social order (Tradition, Conformity, and to a lesser extent, Security), and negatively related to favoring values that promoted openness to change and autonomy (Stimulation, Self-Direction). Religiosity was also positively related to favoring values that allowed for self-transcendence at the interpersonal level (Benevolence, but not Universalism), and negatively related to favoring values that promoted Hedonism, and to a lesser extent self-enhancement (Power, Achievement). Saroglou et al. (2004) also found that many effects were similar across different denominations (Christians, Jews, Muslims) and cultures but the magnitude of the effects was moderated by the socio-economic development of the countries. I return to this point later. Roccas, Sagiv, Schwartz, and Knafo (2002), using a sample of Israeli Jews and a single-item measure of religiosity (‘‘How religious are you, if at all?’’), found statistically significant correlations (po0:01) between their religiosity measure and Tradition (0.59), Hedonism ( 0.44), Stimulation ( 0.33), SelfDirection ( 0.24), Universalism ( 0.22), Benevolence (0.22), Conformity (0.18), and Achievement ( 0.15). In a hierarchical regression analysis, they found that the values accounted for much more of the variance in religiosity when compared with the big five personality factors of Extraversion, Openness to Experience, Neuroticism, Agreeableness, and Conscientiousness. I have found similar results to those that I have described in a previously unpublished study of 208 Australian students (69 males, 137 females, 2 of unspecified gender) who were enrolled in an introductory psychology course
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at Flinders University in 1995. These students completed a questionnaire that included (along with other items) a single-item measure of religiosity (‘‘How religious are you, if at all?’’, scored on a 0 to 7 scale from Not at all ¼ 0 to Very religious ¼ 7) and the 57 values version of the SVS. Each value was rated for importance to self on a 1 to +7 rating scale according to the standard instructions ( 1 ¼ opposed to my values, 0 ¼ not important, 3 ¼ important, 6 ¼ very important, 7 ¼ of supreme importance). To obtain a score for each value type, I averaged the importance ratings for the values that comprised the value type. These constituent values for each value type and the internal reliabilities (Cronbach alpha) were as follows: Power (social power, wealth, authority, preserving my public image), a ¼ 0:66; Achievement (successful, ambitious, capable, influential), a ¼ 0:72; Hedonism (pleasure, enjoying life, self-indulgent), a ¼ 0:75; Stimulation (a varied life, daring, an exciting life), a ¼ 0:69; Self-direction (creativity, freedom, independent, curious, choosing own goals), a ¼ 0:68; Universalism (broadminded, wisdom, a world of beauty, equality, unity with nature, a world at peace, social justice, protecting the environment), a ¼ 0:78; Benevolence (honest, loyal, helpful, forgiving, responsible) a ¼ 0:76; Tradition (respect for tradition, humble, accepting my portion in life, devout, moderate), a ¼ 0:63; Conformity (self-discipline, obedient, politeness, honoring of parents and elders), a ¼ 0:70; Security (family security, national security, reciprocation of favors, social order, clean), a ¼ 0:71: Table 3 presents the correlations between the religiosity measure and importance ratings for each of the value types. These correlations were corrected for individual differences in scale use by computing each participant’s mean importance rating for the set of 57 values and controlling for its effect by partial correlation (Schwartz, 1992). Also presented in Table 3 are the results of one-way analyses of covariance for the importance ratings for each value type across three levels of religiosity (low, medium, and high) in terms of approximately equal one-thirds of the religiosity distribution (low ¼ 0; medium; 1; 2; 3; high ¼ 4; 5; 6; 7). The covariate was each participant’s mean importance rating. The statistically significant results in Table 3 show that religiosity had its highest positive correlation with tradition values. The positive correlation remained but was no longer statistically significant after removing ‘‘devout’’ from the set of values making up the composite measure for the tradition value type, rð196Þ ¼ 0:10; ns: The importance assigned to ‘‘devout’’ was highly correlated with religiosity, rð201Þ ¼ 0:78; po0:001: Schwartz and Huismans (1995) reported a similar result and suggested that orthodoxy is at the heart of subjective religiosity in the four religions that they studied.
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Table 3. Mean Ratings of Importance for Value Types, F Values in Relation to Levels of Religiosity, and Correlations of Importance Ratings with Religiosity. Level of Religiosity
Correlations with Religiosity
Value Type
Low
Medium
High
F
Power Achievement Hedonism Stimulation Self-direction Universalism Benevolence Tradition Conformity Security
2.17 4.18 4.78 4.36 4.93 4.40 4.43 2.03 3.42 3.61
2.08 4.41 4.53 4.02 4.87 4.49 4.58 2.29 3.66 3.96
1.98 4.42 4.22 3.94 4.86 4.56 5.00 3.27 4.27 3.96
3.15 1.77 9.96 8.00 2.71 0.68 0.83 19.97 4.90 1.92
Total sample 0.19 0.09 0.42 0.26 0.18 0.09 0.14 0.45 0.22 0.10
Protestants 0.39 0.27 0.64 0.42 0.23 0.14 0.39 0.58 0.31 0.10
Catholics 0.19 0.10 0.38 0.28 0.12 0.14 0.04 0.32 0.24 0.19
Note: For total sample N ¼ 204; for Protestants, N ¼ 56; for Catholics, N ¼ 45: There were minor missing cases on some variables. po0:05: po0:01: po0:001:
Table 3 also shows that religiosity was positively correlated with the importance assigned to conformity values, and benevolence values (Protestants only). Religiosity had its highest negative correlation with hedonism values. It was also negatively correlated with the importance assigned to power, achievement, stimulation, and self-direction values, although not all of these correlations were statistically significant. A study by Feather, Volkmer, and McKee (1992) is of interest because it studied members of the Baha’i religious faith as well as a general sample of Australians from metropolitan Adelaide. Two Baha’i samples were involved in the study. One was an expatriate Iranian sample who had lived in Australia for about 3 years on the average; the other was a sample of Australians who had joined the Baha’i faith. We used an earlier version of the SVS that included spirituality as a value type, comprising inner harmony and a spiritual life as the constituent values. The results of this study showed that the Baha’i groups ‘‘provided higher scores for values in the restrictive conformity, tradition, and spirituality domains but lower scores in the hedonism, self-direction, and stimulation domains when compared with the unselected Australians’’ (Feather et al.,
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1992, p. 100). Thus, these results are consistent with those from the other studies of values and religiosity that have already been described. In summary, results with the SVS show that reported religiosity is positively related to favoring tradition and conformity values that reflect conserving the status quo, respect for authority, and adherence to social norms; favoring benevolence values that reflect a self-transcendence that is evident in a concern with preserving and enhancing the welfare of close others; and de-emphasizing the importance of hedonism and stimulation values that reflect pleasure, stimulation, and openness to change. Other value types associated with religiosity emerged from the Saroglou et al. (2004) metaanalysis, but in most cases the relations (positive or negative) were weaker. The pattern of correlations tended to follow the sinusoid or wavelike pattern that is implied by the circular arrangement of the value types and the structure of conflicts and compatibilities.
Moderating Variables Note, however, that one would expect these relations to be moderated by context variables. One candidate as a moderator would be the socio-economic development of a country. In a review of results from 65 countries, Inglehart and Baker (2000) found that economic development and modernization within a country was associated with a shift from traditionalreligious values to secular-rational values, and from survival values to selfexpression values. In their World Survey, Inglehart and Baker used 10 items to measure these dimensions. Traditional-religious values were measured by five items emphasizing the importance of God in people’s lives, the importance of obedience and religious faith, opposition to abortion, a strong sense of national pride, and respect for authority. Secular-rational values emphasized the opposite. Survival values were measured by five items emphasizing priority to economic and physical security over self-expression and quality of life, description of self as not very happy, resistance to signing a petition, opposition to homosexuality, and care in trusting people. Self-expression values emphasized the opposite. Inglehart and Baker also found evidence supporting the impact of a society’s historical-cultural heritage on the persistence of values. Thus, they were able to map cultural zones defined in terms of historically Protestant, Catholic, and Communist zones in relation to their two value dimensions. Allowing for variation within clusters, Protestant countries gave high emphasis to secular/rational and self-expression values; Communist countries
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gave high emphasis to secular/rational and tradition values but low emphasis to self-expression values, and Catholic countries were lower on self-expression and higher on tradition values. They also found that their countries did not become increasingly secularized following industrial development. Instead Inglehart and Baker (2000) concluded that: The shift from agrarian to urban industrial society reduces the importance of organized religion, but this is counterbalanced by growing concerns for the meaning and purpose of life. Religious beliefs persist, and spiritual concerns, broadly defined, are becoming more widespread in advanced industrial societies. (p. 49)
Using the SVS, Schwartz and Sagie (2000) obtained data from matched samples of teachers from 42 nations. They investigated both the importance of values and the degree of consensus in value importance, defined by the standard deviation of the importance ratings. They found that both development and democratization correlated positively with the importance of openness and self-transcendence values, and negatively with the importance of conservation and self-enhancement values. Development and democratization had opposite effects on value consensus. Value consensus increased with level of socio-economic development but decreased with level of democratization, but not for all of the value types. These results suggest that relations between religiosity and values may vary depending on level of socio-economic development within a country. Saroglou et al. (2004) found evidence from their meta-analysis that supported this general hypothesis. Their results showed that: Overall, the more a society tended to be developed, the less religion implied conservation values (Conformity, Tradition, Security), discomfort with autonomy (Self-Direction) and Achievement, and the more it reflected self-transcendence values (Benevolence, Universalism) and neglect of Power. Comparison between three Western European countries (Belgium, Germany, the Netherlands) and from Mediterranean ones (Greece, Italy, Portugal, Spain), all with a Christian historical background, confirmed the above pattern concerning the conservation values, Self-Direction, and Universalism. In addition, the contrast indicated that religiosity in the former countries is less followed by discomfort with the hedonistic (Hedonism, Stimulation) values. (p. 731)
A further candidate that would be expected to moderate relations between religiosity and value importance is the relation between church and state, whether the relation is cordial or opposed. Relevant to this issue is a study by Roccas and Schwartz (1997). They studied Catholics in six countries. Three of these countries (Poland, Czech Republic, Hungary) had oppositional relations between church and state (Communism versus Catholicism) during the years preceding data gathering; the other three countries (Italy, Spain, Portugal) had a cordial separation between church and state. Roccas and
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Schwarz found that, in the countries with cordial but separated church–state relations, the results were consistent with those from the Schwartz and Huismans (1995) study and with ‘‘their characterization of the value orientations central to the Judeo-Christian religiosity of lay people: opposition to selfindulgence and materialism and to changing the status quo, coupled with concern for the well-being of close persons’’ (Roccas & Schwartz, 1997, p. 371). Confirming hypotheses, they also found that, in the countries with oppositional church–state relations, religiosity correlated less positively with valuing conformity and security, more negatively with valuing power and achievement, and more positively with valuing universalism than in the countries where there was a cordial separation between church and state. Commenting on this study in her review, Roccas (in press) noted the political changes that have occurred in the three Eastern European countries since the Roccas and Schwartz study was conducted, and the possibility of now conducting a natural experimental test based on theorizing about the moderating effects of church–state relations on associations between religiosity and values. The context variables that I have mentioned – level of socio-economic development of a country and church–state relations – are clearly important variables that affect relations between religiosity and values, but there are other variables relating to social context whose effects could be investigated both across countries and within countries. For example, Roccas (in press) proposed that future research might also investigate relations between religiosity and values in countries where church and state are mutually supportive, as would be the case in some Islamic countries (e.g., Iran). Studies might also investigate countries where a high percentage of the population is religious versus countries that are more secular in outlook. The correlation between religiosity and conformity values would be expected to be higher in countries where most of the population is religious. Within countries, the religiosity/values correlations might vary depending on socio-economic level, age, gender, and the urban/rural divide, to mention some obvious variables that merit further investigation. Note, however, that Schwartz and Huismans (1995) found that most demographic variables did not moderate the relations they found between religiosity and values.
Measuring Religiosity A final important issue in the research that I have described concerns the measurement of religiosity. Some studies used a single item measure of
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subjective religiosity (e.g., ‘‘How religious, if at all, do you consider yourself to be?’’); other research included other types of items such as belief in God and frequency of church attendance. Schwartz and Huismans (1995) argued for the use of a unidimensional measure in their cross-cultural study when the interest was in relating religiosity to values across countries with different religions, with samples that were heterogeneous with regard to religious commitment. They also noted that their single-item measure of subjective religiosity correlated fairly well with measures of religious observance, intrinsic orientation (Allport & Ross, 1967), and orthodoxy. Some other recent research has been based on Wulff’s (1991) classification of religious approaches into two bipolar dimensions: Exclusion versus Inclusion of Transcendence and Literal versus Symbolic. The first dimension specifies the degree to which a religious approach allows the objects of religious interest to participate in a transcendental reality; the second dimension indicates the degree to which a religious approach takes a literal versus symbolic stance in its interpretations. The combination of these two dimensions creates four quadrants that Wulff (1991, 1997) labeled Literal Affirmation, Restorative Interpretation, Literal Disaffirmation, and Reductive Interpretation. The first two quadrants reflect approaches that embrace religious belief, but that differ in the degree to which they find symbolic meanings in religion; the latter two quadrants reflect a rejection of the religious realm and they also differ in the attempt to find symbolic meaning (see Fontaine, Duriez, Luyten, & Hutsebaut, 2003). Hutsebaut (1996, 1997) developed the Post-Critical Belief Scale to measure individual differences in the four approaches to religion specified in the quadrants. This scale has been used in a series of studies with samples of students and adults in Belgium (Duriez, Fontaine, & Luyten, 2001; Fontaine et al., 2003; Fontaine, Duriez, Luyten, Corveleyn, & Hutsebaut, 2005). Including rather than excluding transcendence in the approach to religion was found to relate most positively to the importance of tradition values from the SVS and to a lesser extent to conformity values, and to relate negatively to the importance of hedonism, stimulation, and self-direction values (Fontaine et al., 2004). The correlations tended to follow the sinusoid pattern. Thus, these results replicated the findings of Schwartz and Huismans (1995) that used the unidimensional measure of religiosity, and they are consistent with the other findings that I have reported. They reflect the opposition between conservation values and openness to change values. Subscribing to a symbolic rather than to a literal interpretation of religion was most positively related to the importance of universalism values from the SVS and to a lesser extent to benevolence values, and negatively related
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to the importance of power and security values. These results reflect an opposition between self-transcendence values and a mixture of selfenhancement and conservation values. Taken together, these Belgian studies provide evidence that supports the need to distinguish between different facets of religiosity.
Right-Wing Authoritarianism In a previous section I described results that showed that scores on the Mirels and Garrett (1971) PE Scale were related to value priorities assessed by the RVS (Feather, 1984). Other scales have also been developed within the psychology of religion to assess such variables as intrinsic and extrinsic religious orientation (Allport & Ross, 1967), Christian orthodoxy (Fullerton & Hunsberger, 1982), the quest for answers to existential questions (Batson & Ventis, 1982), and religious fundamentalism (Altemeyer & Hunsberger, 1992). I would expect that scores on these measures would also be related to value priorities that overlap with those that I have described in previous sections. Here, however, I focus on right-wing authoritarianism and its relation to value priorities and religiosity. Research on authoritarianism has a long history that goes back to the publication of The Authoritarian Personality (Adorno, Frenkel-Brunswick, Levinson, & Sanford, 1950). Adorno et al. conceptualized authoritarianism by using ideas about personality dynamics that were derived from psychoanalytic theory and that emphasized childhood experiences of harsh parental discipline and adherence to social codes, defenses against anxiety, and displacement of aggression (see also Stone, Lederer, & Christie, 1993). They used the F Scale to measure authoritarianism, a measure that attracted criticism on psychometric grounds. There was renewed interest in right-wing authoritarianism in the 1980s and subsequently following publication of the results of an extensive research program by Altemeyer (1981, 1988, 1996, 1998). Central to this program was the development of the Right-Wing Authoritarianism Scale (RWA Scale) that was based on Altemeyer’s (1981) analysis of right-wing authoritarianism as a syndrome or pattern of personality traits involving authoritarian submission, authoritarian aggression or punitiveness, and conventionalism. These defining characteristics were also central to the Adorno et al. (1950) analysis, but Altemeyer emphasized the effects of social learning rather than psychoanalytic theory. Altemeyer proposed that fear of a dangerous world and self-righteousness were implicated in the hostility and punitive impulses that high authoritarians
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display (Altemeyer, 1988; Altemeyer & Hunsberger, 1992). The more psychodynamic interpretations of authoritarianism have also implicated the role of threat and the perception of a dangerous world as variables that are related to the development of authoritarian beliefs and attitudes (e.g., Doty, Peterson, & Winter, 1991; Peterson, Doty, & Winter, 1993). Duckitt (2001) also related authoritarianism to fear of a dangerous world in his dual-process cognitive motivational theory of ideology and prejudice. Altemeyer and Hunsberger (1992) reviewed evidence showing that authoritarians ‘‘tend to carry the teachings of their childhood religion into adulthood, and tend to go to church more often, pray, and read scripture more often that most others. They also report having experienced very little doubt about their religion throughout their lives’’ (p. 114). Altemeyer (1988) interpreted such findings in terms of social learning via the family and religious authorities. Certain types of religious training promoted right-wing authoritarianism by emphasizing submission to authority, condemnation of sinners, strict rules of conduct, and conformity to religious teachings and practices. Altemeyer and Hunsberger (1992) also summarized evidence showing that high authoritarians tend to more punitive, illiberal, and prejudiced when compared with low authoritarians. Studies conducted by Altemeyer (1981, 1988, 1996) over many years show this dark side of authoritarianism. Other examples come from research on retributive justice showing that high authoritarians judge crimes committed by ordinary citizens as more serious when compared with low authoritarians, but an offense committed by authorities (police) as less serious (Feather, 1996, 1998, 1999). Like authoritarianism, religiosity in some of its forms can also have negative aspects as far as punitiveness, hostility, closed-mindedness, and prejudice are concerned. Altemeyer and Hunsberger (1992) reviewed some of the evidence (see also, Gorsuch & Aleshire, 1974; Spilka, Hood, & Gorsuch, 1985). For example, Allport and Ross (1967) found that people with an intrinsic orientation toward religion (where religion is a central motive in a person’s life) were less prejudiced than those with an extrinsic or instrumental orientation (where religion is a means to an end), who in turn were less prejudiced than those with an indiscriminately pro-religious orientation (both intrinsic and extrinsic). Batson proposed that people who were questing for answers to existential questions about life were more tolerant and sensitive to the needs of others (e.g., Batson & Ventis, 1982). In their own study, Altemeyer and Hunsberger (1992) found that religious fundamentalism and nonquesting were linked to authoritarianism and prejudice toward a wide variety of minority groups. They proposed that the common factors
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linking these variables could be the fear of a dangerous world, selfrighteousness, and closed-mindedness. These various strands of evidence show that there are relations between authoritarianism, some forms of religious belief, and prejudice. Where do values fit into the picture? We have already seen that, when subjective religiosity is assessed by a single measure (‘‘How religious, if at all, do you consider yourself to be?’’), it is usually associated with a cluster of values that include tradition and conformity values on the positive side and hedonism and stimulation values on the negative side. Those who describe themselves as religious tend to rate tradition and conformity values as more important for themselves, and hedonism and stimulation values as less important, when compared with people who perceive themselves as less religious and especially with those who do not claim to be religious at all. Is authoritarianism associated with a similar set of values? Table 4 presents correlations between right-wing authoritarianism measured by the RWA, and value priorities assessed by the SVS, from four separate studies (Feather, 1996, 1998, 2002a; Rohan & Zanna, 1996). These correlations show a high degree of consistency across the four studies. High
Table 4. Correlations between Importance Ratings for Value Types and Right-Wing Authoritarianism (RWA) in Four Separate Studies. Correlations with RWA Value Type
Power Achievement Hedonism Stimulation Self-direction Universalism Benevolence Tradition Conformity Security
Study 1 (Feather, 1996) 0.02 0.05 0.37 0.36 0.48 0.43 0.14 0.53 0.57 0.39
Study 2 (Feather, 1998) 0.16 0.02 0.30 0.33 0.55 0.41 0.03 0.46 0.56 0.44
Study 3 (Rohan & Zanna, 1996) 0.23 ns ns 0.31 0.32 0.25 0.18 0.41 0.48 0.34
Study 4 (Feather, 2002a) 0.14 0.17 0.23 0.35 0.49 0.32 0.07 0.49 0.58 0.40
Note: Correlations between RWA and achievement and hedonism were not reported by Rohan and Zanna because they were not statistically significant (ns). po0:05: po0:01: po0:001:
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authoritarians when compared with low authoritarians were significantly more likely to emphasize values belonging to the tradition, conformity, and security value types and significantly less likely to emphasize values belonging to the self-direction, stimulation, universalism, and hedonism value types. Altemeyer (1998) reported similar findings and compared them with correlations between value priorities and scores on the Social Dominance Orientation Scale (SDO Scale) (Pratto, Sidanius, Stallworth, & Malle, 1994; Sidanius & Pratto, 1999). Social dominance orientation refers to ‘‘a general orientation toward intergroup relations, reflecting whether one generally prefers such relations to be equal, versus hierarchical, that is, ordered along a superior-inferior dimension’’ (Pratto et al., 1994, p. 742). Altemeyer (1998) found that high SDOs were not particularly religious in a fundamentalist sense but high RWAs were. He also found that high scorers on the SDO scale do not claim to be benevolent, but high RWAs do. In contrast, social dominators have a wisp of hedonism about them, but authoritarians disavow such. The former do not need structure nor value conformity and traditions, but the latter do y And, quite strikingly, high SDOs do not see the world being as nearly as dangerous as authoritarians do, nor do they appear to be nearly as self-righteous. (p. 61)
Altemeyer’s results also showed that high SDOs emphasized power values more than low SDOs and placed less emphasis on universalism values. These results demonstrate that there are important value differences between people who score high on authoritarian submission (high RWAs) and people who score high on authoritarian dominance (high SDOs). It is the former group who tend to be more religious. They live by a different set of values and a different social agenda when compared with the latter group who are more concerned with power and status. Duckitt (2001) made a similar distinction in his model of prejudice and ideology. He linked the authoritarian/conservative versus autonomy/openness ideology to punitive versus tolerant socialization, to conforming versus autonomous personality traits, to a threatening/dangerous versus safe/secure worldview, and to a motivational goal emphasizing social control/security versus personal freedom. In contrast, Duckitt linked the social dominance versus egalitarian/ humanism ideology to unaffectionate versus affectionate socialization, to tough versus tender-minded personality traits, to a competitive jungle versus cooperative/harmony worldview, and to a motivational goal emphasizing superiority and dominance versus altruistic concern. My focus has been on value differences and especially on the overlap between those values that predict high religiosity and those values that predict high authoritarianism.
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This focus adds another facet to Duckitt’s analysis and suggests that it may be useful to apply that analysis to the structure and function of religion. However, it is clear that the values that are related to religiosity, either in the positive direction or negatively, overlap with some of the values that are related to right-wing authoritarianism. The overlap is not complete because some values are associated with religiosity but not with authoritarianism, and vice-versa. For example, benevolence values that include being helpful, honest, and forgiving, are linked positively to religiosity but not to authoritarianism. Universalism values that include wisdom, equality, social justice, and unity with nature are linked negatively to authoritarianism but not to religiosity. So, we might expect religiosity to predict some pro-social and altruistic attitudes and behavior and authoritarianism to predict opposition to social and political policies that are designed to fulfil universalism values. Similarities and differences in the importance assigned to other values would imply that religiosity and authoritarianism sometimes predict in the same direction depending on context, but also sometimes in different ways to attitudes and behavior.
VALUES AND DIFFERENT RELIGIONS My review of relations between religiosity and the importance of different types of values showed similarity across different denominations in the pattern of correlations (e.g., Roccas et al., 2002; Saroglou et al., 2004; Schwartz & Huismans, 1995; my results in Table 3). This similarity should not be taken to imply that different denominations (e.g., Protestants, Catholics, Muslims, etc.) do not differ in their value priorities. I already noted that Inglehart and Baker (2000) found distinct value clusters for Protestant, Catholic, and Communist countries. I also noted that Rokeach (1973) reported value differences between Christians, Jews, and nonbelievers from his national survey using the RVS. Other evidence comes from a study by Saroglou and Galand (2004). They used the SVS with samples of late adolescents and young adults. They found that native Belgians, immigrants from Muslim Mediterranean countries, and immigrants from other countries had similar value patterns. However, Muslims rated tradition values as more important than did native Belgians, and native Belgians rated stimulation values as more important than did the Muslim immigrants. In the 1995 study with students from Flinders University that I described previously, I distinguished three groups who described themselves as belonging either to a Protestant religious denomination, or as Roman Catholic,
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or as belonging to no religious denomination. Table 5 presents the mean importance ratings for each of Schwartz’s 10 value types and the results of analysis of covariance with each respondent’s mean importance rating for the total set of 57 values as the covariate in order to correct for individual differences in scale use. These results show that Protestants assigned less importance to stimulation, self-direction, and universalism values when compared with the other two groups. Those reporting no religious affiliation assigned less importance to tradition, conformity, and benevolence values. Note, however, that the Protestant group combined different denominations (Anglican, Uniting Church, Baptist, Lutheran, and Other Protestant) and one might expect some differences in value priorities within Protestant groups and between different religions depending on such variables as the degree to which religious texts such as the Bible are held to be authoritative and to provide the literal truth, the degree to which retribution and just deserts are emphasized, the amount of group participation in worship and other religious activities, the importance of prayer and confession, the role of symbolism in the church, the emphasis on forgiveness and redemption, and other variables relating to doctrine and theology. Roccas (in press) points out that research on values should be extended beyond the monotheistic religions that have been studied so far to Eastern
Table 5.
Mean Importance Ratings of Value Types for Protestant, Catholic, and Nonreligious Groups. Mean Importance Ratings
Value Type Power Achievement Hedonism Stimulation Self-direction Universalism Benevolence Tradition Conformity Security po0:05: po0:01: po0.001.
Protestant (N ¼ 51)
Catholic (N ¼ 39)
Nonreligious (N ¼ 74)
F
1.98 4.26 4.24 3.75 4.51 4.21 4.89 2.62 4.04 3.78
2.22 4.56 4.63 4.37 5.01 4.51 4.65 2.97 3.89 3.98
2.14 4.29 4.61 4.22 4.97 4.59 4.55 1.99 3.40 3.75
0.37 0.06 2.02 3.20 5.82 4.92 4.81 12.38 9.85 0.05
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religions where the emphasis may be very different, especially in the context of conservation and openness to change values. Eastern religions such as Buddhism accept that there are different paths to enlightenment and selfimprovement. Roccas suggested that Eastern religions may play a lesser role in reducing uncertainty and that one might expect relations between religiosity and conservation values to be less positive, and between religiosity and openness to change values to be less negative, when compared with Western religions. She noted that this difference in emphasis is consistent with the finding from cross-cultural studies that people from East Asia tend to be more tolerant of inconsistencies (e.g., Choi & Nisbett, 2000).
RELIGIOSITY, ATTITUDES, AND BEHAVIOR A value analysis of religiosity implies that people who report that they are highly religious may find that the values that are important for them sometimes have conflicting and compatible implications as far as attitudes and behaviors are concerned. Much depends on the situational context and the constraints and opportunities that the situation affords. I addressed the question of value conflict and value compatibility in previous publications (Feather, 1995; 1999, pp. 94–96; 2002b). There I proposed that the activation of values will depend on the nature of the situation and the relative importance of a value within a person’s value system, and that values, once activated, will influence a person’s cognitive affective appraisal of actual and potential events and their outcomes. Values may be engaged when the situation provides opportunities for their satisfaction, as would occur when outcomes that are relevant to values are clearly available and possible of attainment. They may also be engaged when a situation challenges or obstructs actions that would lead to their satisfaction, as when the election of a political party to office would signal the obstruction of values that are important for a person. In addition I proposed that ‘‘The structure of what is possible in a particular situation, in terms of the perceived connectedness of activities, barriers, and goals, has to be considered in relation to conflicts and compatibilities as well as the way value types are organized and relate to one another’’ (Feather, 1995, p. 1148). These points imply that ‘‘the conflicts and compatibilities that occur between values may not always follow the sort of Platonic form expressed in the Schwartz model’’ (Feather, 1995, p. 1148). The situation is an important influence and conflicts and compatibilities that involve values ‘‘are closely bound up with the motivational goals whose attainment the situation either
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facilitates or prevents’’ (Feather, 1999, p. 96). For example, although hedonistic and achievement value types are adjacent on the value circle, the pursuit of pleasure may be at the expense of high achievement and the pursuit of achievement may set limits on a hedonistic lifestyle. As another example, conformity and achievement value types are not necessarily in conflict, even though they are on opposite sides of the value circle. In some cultures, the expression of achievement values occurs in a context where interdependence, communal effort, and conformity to group norms are important instead of independence, individual effort, and self-direction (Feather & McKee, 1993; Triandis, 1995). Social and cultural norms may therefore constrain the way values can be expressed. The same argument applies to values that are associated with religiosity. Depending on the situation and on the normative context, the expression of benevolence values where another person needs help or forgiveness may be blocked by the activation of conservation values concerned with tradition, conformity, and security that may, for example, restrict positive behaviors to members of the same faith, denying altruism to outgroups comprising other religions and nonbelievers. These conservation values may be associated with a long history of prejudice and, in extreme cases, with actual religious conflict. Where there is strong identification with the religious group the consequences may be very negative. Charity may be seen to begin at home and outgroups are excluded or even denigrated. But benevolence values may sometimes override tradition values in a more optimistic world. As another example, in some religions the expression of stimulation and hedonistic values concerned with excitement and pleasure may be compatible with traditional and conformist ways of behaving in situations where public confession of sins is encouraged, religious festivals permit indulgence, and mass engagement promotes testifying to religious beliefs under conditions where the crowd stimulates and presses individuals into conformity. Thus, religion may have a bright side and a dark side; people who profess to be religious can talk on the high road but walk on the low road; but there are saints as well as sinners. The structure and content of a situation not only affects the particular needs and values that are activated and the subsequent way in which possible actions and outcomes are perceived as positively or negatively valent, that is, as attractive or aversive. The situation also provides cues that influence a person’s efficacy and outcome expectations. These, together with the valences, are important determinants of the final behavior that occurs (Feather, 1990, 1999). As I noted previously, some years ago I presented discussions of models that involve expectations and valences within the
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general framework of expectancy-value theory (Feather, 1982). This approach continues to be a central one in motivational theory and it is certainly open to further development in regard to the nature and determinants of expectations and valences and their combined effects on motivated behavior (Feather, 1999). The motivation to seek out religion and to join a religious group or denomination may be analyzed within the general framework of expectancyvalue theory. I presented a brief summary of this theoretical framework earlier in this article. People who place a high value on tradition and conformity, who emphasize benevolence, and who de-emphasize hedonism and stimulation values are probably more likely to be attracted to religion when compared with those with the opposite value pattern. These values induce valences on the sorts of events and outcomes religion is perceived to offer. When they are activated, potential actions and outcomes such as conforming to the authority of religious leaders, attending church, giving to charities, and accepting a literal interpretation of religious texts may become attractive or positively valent. Other potential actions and outcomes such as self-indulgent behaviors, challenging the authority of religious leaders, questioning religious doctrines, interpreting religious texts in a nonconformist way, and denying the existence of a supernatural being may become aversive or negatively valent. These positive and negative valences, together with outcome and efficacy expectations relating to actions and outcomes, determine motivational or action tendencies that along with other variables influence the decision either to become committed to religion or to pursue other alternatives. There would be differences in the nature of the valenced outcomes depending on the form a particular religion takes, but the general motivational approach in terms of expectations and valenced potential outcomes is a viable one for analyzing the choices that are made. Schwartz and Huismans (1995) made a similar point in their proposal that y individuals who have developed particular value priorities, in response to their personal needs and socially structured experiences, become more or less committed to religion depending on the opportunities or behaviors it poses to the attainment of their valued goals y . The overall pattern of consistent religiosity-value correlations suggests that valuing certainty, self-restraint, and submission to superior, external verities inclines people to become more religious in general; valuing openness to change and free selfexpression inclines people to become less religious. (p. 105)
Once a person becomes identified and committed to a religion other processes come into play that protect the decision that has been made. For example, Lewin (1951, p. 223) proposed that a decision has the effect of ‘‘freezing’’ the current ‘‘motivational constellation for action.’’ Post-decision
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processes also figure in dissonance theory (Festinger, 1957) and its later developments. More recently Kuhl (1985, 1987) argued that action tendencies wax and wane in the dynamic flow of behavior even when the expectancies and valences associated with them remain constant, an assumption that followed from the earlier detailed theoretical analysis of the dynamics of action by Atkinson and Birch (1970). Kuhl (1987) distinguished between a motivational or action tendency and an intention. An intention requires an act of will or volition, and the linking of the action tendency to a plan that can be accessed from memory (see also Gollwitzer et al., 1990). After the intention is activated it is maintained and protected according to processes of action control (Kuhl, 1987). There is a different mind-set once a person has ‘‘crossed the Rubicon’’ involving a new set of regulatory processes that are designed to maintain and protect the intentional commitment (Heckhausen, 1986; Heckhausen & Gollwitzer, 1987). These ideas help us to understand the effects of volitional choice and commitment on planned behavior, adding a further dimension to a motivational analysis. As I noted in an earlier publication (Feather, 1992): We may be able to go some way toward understanding the soldier’s acts of courage in defence of freedom, the behavior of the single-minded zealot who sacrifices others in defense of a cause, the martyr who dies rather than betray an ideal, the tyrant who treads on people so as to achieve absolute power, and the Mother Theresa who devotes her life to helping the needy. (p. 121)
In addition to these processes relating to volitional choice, we would also expect to find effects that relate to socialization in the direction of the theological doctrines and religious practices that are central to the religion. In most religions, these doctrines and practices emphasize respect for tradition and conforming to authority and they reject hedonism and unrestrained self-expression. My analysis implies that causation can flow in both directions. The values that people have already developed on the basis of family influence and other socialization pressures may lead them in the direction of religion; the religion that they adopt may strengthen the values that they already hold.
FINAL COMMENTS I conclude with comments on some final issues. Most of the recent research on values and religiosity has focused on the value types that are assessed by using the SVS. These value types were developed on the basis of theoretical
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ideas about the structure and content of human values and they are held to be universal, meeting biological needs, requisites for coordinated social interaction, and demands for group survival and functioning (Schwartz, 1996, p. 2). The 10 value types are related to different motivational goals (Table 1), and their existence has been empirically confirmed in cross-cultural studies across many different nations. Like other general value dimensions, such as those developed by Hofstede (2001) and Triandis (1995), they provide a way of looking at values at a higher level of abstraction when compared with the individual values that Rokeach (1973) listed and investigated using the RVS. There is a case, however, for returning to some of these single values in future studies of values and religion. Value types submerge individual values into a composite. In the case of the benevolence value type, for example, values such as being helpful, honest, forgiving, loyal, and responsible are combined together; in the case of the tradition value type, the composite consists of values that relate to being humble, accepting my portion in life, being devout, respecting tradition, and being moderate; in the case of the universalism value type the list of component values is even larger and more diverse, comprising such varied values as being broadminded, a world of beauty, unity with nature, wisdom, protecting the environment, social justice, a world at peace, and equality. The combination of different values into the one composite sacrifices the distinctive information and meaning that each single value provides. We need to develop valid and reliable scales for some of these single values that we might expect to be associated either positively or negatively with religiosity – values such as being forgiving, helpful, broadminded, honest, independent, and obedient; and other values that relate to general goals such as equality, social recognition, freedom, wisdom, pleasure, authority, salvation, and family security. There may also be values relating to spirituality that could be added to the list. The main point, however, is that a more nuanced approach to values and religiosity is required in addition to research based on the abstract value types and higher order dimensions proposed by Schwartz (1996), or the general dimensions proposed by other authors (e.g., Hofstede, 2001; Triandis, 1995; Smith & Schwartz, 1997). In that way, we can begin to look at the fine-grain of values-religiosity relations in addition to the more general picture. The other side of the coin, and one that is of equal importance, is the need to develop conceptually based measures of religiosity. What does religiosity involve? We can distinguish religious beliefs and feelings from such behaviors as worship, church attendance, reading religious texts such as the
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Bible and the Koran, proselytizing others on behalf of one’s religion, confessing one’s sins, assisting a religious charity and so forth. Are all of these part of religiosity? A single-item measure of religiosity such as the one used in many of the studies that I described ignores the diversity of ways in which religion is experienced and how religion functions at individual and group levels and in different cultures. As I noted previously, some authors have considered different aspects of religiosity (e.g., Allport & Ross, 1967; Altemeyer & Hunsberger, 1992; Batson & Ventis, 1982; Fontaine et al., 2003; Wulff, 1991, 1997). Others have described different measures of religiosity (e.g., Hill & Hood, 1999), and recently Huismans (2003) provided a framework based on facet theory for distinguishing between different facets of religiosity. However, more conceptual analysis of the different forms religiosity can take is required if we are to advance our understanding of associations between religiosity and values. Finally, we also need to consider the effects of social identity, social stereotypes, and group norms in relation to how values operate in regard to religion, especially as these variables affect harmonious or conflict-laden relations between groups. As an example, religious conflicts occur not only between individuals but also at the group level. These group conflicts usually involve strong identification with a religious ingroup, stereotyped views of the other group’s position, and a clash of values and other beliefs (e.g., Roccas, in press; Struch & Schwartz, 1989). Group norms that regulate behavior may also facilitate or constrain the way values are expressed by individuals and groups. Theories that take account of the social group and social identity provide a framework for research in this area (e.g., Abrams & Hogg, 1999; Hogg & Abrams, 1988; Tajfel & Turner, 1979). Thus, theoretical analyses at both the individual level and the group level are also necessary in order to provide a more complete understanding of how values operate in relation to religiosity.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS My research was supported by grants from the Australian Research Council. I also wish to thank Sonia Roccas, Johnny Fontaine, Vassilis Saroglou, Shalom Schwartz, and Sipko Huismans for kindly pointing me in the direction of relevant studies.
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GOALS AND REGULATIONS OF RELIGIOSITY: A MOTIVATIONAL ANALYSIS Bart Neyrinck, Willy Lens and Maarten Vansteenkiste ABSTRACT The fields of religious and motivation psychology have quite independently developed their own conceptualizations and research agendas. Few scholars, however, have examined issues that are at the intersection of both fields and, if so, most researchers in the psychology of religion did not make use of existing general motivational frameworks to enrich their understanding of the motivational dynamics for religious behaviors. The aim of the present chapter is to indicate how self-determination theory (Ryan & Deci, 2000a) might help to further refine Allport’s classical distinction between intrinsic and extrinsic religious orientation. Specifically, it is argued that the reasons or regulations for religious behavior (initially, intrinsic vs. extrinsic; later, autonomous vs. controlled) and the goals of religious behavior (intrinsic vs. extrinsic), as they are defined within self-determination theory, are not distinguished within Allport’s and other researchers’ frameworks. Both conceptual dimensions might better be disentangled, so that their independent effects could be studied.
Motivation and Religion Advances in Motivation and Achievement, Volume 14, 75–103 Copyright r 2005 by Elsevier Ltd. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0749-7423/doi:10.1016/S0749-7423(05)14004-7
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INTRODUCTION A PsychInfo search for articles over the last decade (1995–2004) that contain ‘‘motivation’’, ‘‘religion’’ and both ‘‘motivation and religion’’ as key words, resulted in 15,552, 4,997 and 120 hits, respectively. Hence, whereas the topics of motivation and religion have received considerable empirical attention from scholars, only a minority of articles has dealt with issues that are situated at the intersection of both domains. Similarly, most textbooks on motivation in general do not list religion in their subject index (Deci & Ryan, 1985; Reeve, 2001; Heckhausen, 1991; Weiner, 1992), although McClelland’s (1987) and Deci and Ryan’s (2002) form an exception on this rule. In contrast, student motivation, work motivation and sport motivation have received much more research attention. They indeed represent three important life domains, given that people spend a lot of their lifetime first in schools and then on the job, and that many children and adults alike are involved in competitive or leisure sport and exercise activities. However, for many people, for centuries and worldwide, religion constitutes an important, if not the most important aspect of their life. Religious beliefs and goals motivate millions of people, for better or worse. In the present chapter, we argue that general theories of human motivation could enlarge their ecological validity by trying to account for substantial variation in people’s religious beliefs, goals and behavior. Conversely, the psychology of religion might benefit from incorporating general motivational frameworks in its theorizing. As indicated by Kirkpatrick and Hood (1990, p. 448), ‘‘a serious approach to researching the topic of motivation for religious involvement y should begin with a rich psychological theory of human motivation’’. Hence, the purpose of the present contribution is to explore how various motivational conceptualizations and developments within the field of religious psychology can be placed within more overarching and well-validated motivational theories. One candidate to offer a well-grounded theoretical platform for such integration between both fields is Self-Determination Theory (SDT; Deci & Ryan, 1985, 2000; Ryan & Deci, 2000a). Broadly speaking, two conceptually different lines of motivation research have evolved within the SDT-tradition. First, a distinction is made between the different reasons (i.e., autonomous vs. controlled) that regulate individuals’ behavior, and, hence, that can also underlie religious activities (Ryan & Connell, 1989; Ryan, Rigby, & King, 1993). In a similar vein, various researchers in the field of religious psychology have built on Allport’s (Allport, 1950; Allport & Ross, 1967) seminal conceptualization to pay
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attention to individuals’ motivation for religious activities. Second, as a motivational theory, SDT also holds that people’s activities can serve different goals (i.e., intrinsic vs. extrinsic), that is, they might have different functions (Deci & Ryan, 2000; Kasser, 2002; Kasser & Ryan, 1996). Several scientists in the field of religious psychology have also detailed the various functions that religion might serve, either on theoretical grounds (e.g., Meadow & Kahoe, 1984; Yinger, 1970) or on the basis of empirical research (e.g., Gorsuch, Mylvaganam, Gorsuch, & Johnson, 1997; Pargament, 1997). The aim of the present contribution is to indicate how some of the motivational work conducted within the field of religious psychology can be placed within these theoretical developments within SDT, and how SDT might provide new research avenues that can be tackled in future religious research. This contribution contains three parts. First, we explore the motivational approaches within religious psychology frameworks. This research starts with Allport’s (Allport, 1950; Allport & Ross, 1967) conceptualization of mature/intrinsic vs. immature/extrinsic religious orientations. However, both empirical analyses of Allport’s extrinsic religious orientation (Gorsuch & McPherson, 1989; Kirkpatrick, 1989) and new theoretical developments within the field of religious psychology (e.g., Gorsuch et al., 1997; Pargament, 1997) suggested that a broader variety of religious goals could be identified. In a second part of this chapter, SDT’s conceptual distinction between the reasons or regulations for acting (i.e., autonomous vs. controlled) and the goals that people’s behavior serves (i.e., intrinsic vs. extrinsic) is introduced in more detail. In the third part, we aim to explore how SDT can help to clarify and integrate some of the conceptual and empirical work within the field of religious psychology. Following theoretical contributions of others (e.g., Spilka, Hood, & Gorsuch, 1985; Spilka & McIntosh, 1997), we hope to support and guide the rich body of literature in the psychology of religion with a general and well-validated theory of human motivation.
MOTIVATIONAL ISSUES IN THE PSYCHOLOGY OF RELIGION Allport’s Framework: Intrinsic and Extrinsic Religious Orientation Allport’s (Allport, 1960, 1966; Allport & Ross, 1967) distinction between intrinsic religious orientation (IR) and extrinsic religious orientation (ER)
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probably forms the most important inspiration for the examination of motivational issues within the domain of religious psychology. These concepts are rooted in his earlier contrasts between mature and immature religious sentiment (Allport, 1950), and between an interiorized and institutionalized religious outlook (Allport, 1958). An intrinsically oriented person finds religion one of the most important elements in life: it reflects a master life motive and fills one’s whole life with purpose and meaning. Intrinsically oriented individuals consider religion as an end in itself; their whole life is organized in the service of religion. Religious beliefs and values (e.g., humility, compassion, love of neighbors) are internalized ‘‘without reservation’’, and other needs and goals are accommodated, reorganized and brought in harmony with these religious contents. In contrast, an extrinsically oriented individual considers religion peripheral rather than central in his or her living. Religion is approached in a rather utilitarian or instrumental way: it helps to attain non-religious ends, including safety, solace, social standing, self-justification, sociability, distraction and social support. Furthermore, religion is oversimplified, not reflected upon, and ‘‘not well integrated in the deeper life of the subject’’ (Allport, 1950, p. 59). In contrast, it is lightly held and even shaped in the service of these non-religious goals. The difference between IR and ER is probably best described as follows: ‘‘the extrinsically motivated person uses his religion, whereas the intrinsically motivated person lives his religion’’ (Allport & Ross, 1967, p. 434; italics added). In accordance with this conceptual distinction, Allport and Ross (1967) constructed the Religious Orientation Scale (ROS) that contained 9 items measuring IR (e.g., ‘‘I try hard to live all my life according to my religious beliefs’’) and 11 items assessing ER (e.g., ‘‘A primary reason for my interest in religion is that my church is a congenial social activity’’). Although Allport and Ross originally conceptualized IR and ER as the opposites of one bipolar dimension (see also Hoge, 1972), their original findings indicated that IR and ER represent separate and orthogonal dimensions (r ¼ 0:21) (see also Batson, Schoenrade, & Ventis, 1993; Donahue, 1985, Hunt & King, 1971). In addition to developing scales to assess IR and ER, Allport and Ross (1967) also examined the relationship with prejudice (e.g., anti-black, anti-Jewish and general distrust). They demonstrated that people’s underlying motivational orientation toward religion plays an important role: extrinsically oriented individuals are more prejudiced than their intrinsically oriented counterparts. The development of the ROS instigated a tremendous amount of empirical research, in which IR and ER were related to a variety of different
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outcomes. Both Donahue’s (1985) meta-analysis and Batson et al.’s (1993) review replicated the finding that individuals who approach religion more in an intrinsic compared to an extrinsic manner are less prejudiced. Furthermore, in their meta-analytic review of 91 studies using the ROS, Batson et al. (1993) reported positive correlations between IR and several well-being indicators, whereas ER was mostly negatively or not related to these measures (see also Ventis, 1995). Batson et al. (1993) further found ER to be related with a decrease in helping behavior, as assessed through both selfreports and behavioral indices. In addition, their helping behavior was primarily motivated by the concern to avoid a bad image. In contrast, individuals who scored high on IR reported being more helpful and also effectively displayed more helping behavior. Although Allport’s conceptual framework is still popular in religious psychology, it has also been criticized for a variety of reasons (e.g., Donahue, 1985; Duriez & Hutsebaut, in press; Gorsuch, 1984; Kirkpatrick & Hood, 1990). First, several authors argued that the operationalizations of IR and ER did not completely fit the theoretical meaning of these concepts. For instance, Batson (1976) and Batson and Ventis (1982) missed several components of the original concept of mature religion in the original operationalizations of IR and ER. In an attempt to overcome this problem, they introduced ‘‘Quest’’ as a third religious orientation. A quest orientation is expressed in posing complex existential questions and in trying to formulate tentative answers to them. A second criticism pertains to the question whether IR and ER can be considered opposites on one underlying dimension, or whether they constitute indeed two different and relatively independent dimensions (see Dittes, 1969; Hunt & King, 1971; Kirkpatrick & Hood, 1990; Meadow & Kahoe, 1984). Third, Hunt and King (1971), see also King & Hunt (1969) have argued that the IR versus ER distinction suffers from conceptual ambiguity. For instance, they suggested that both IR and ER might contain various subcomponents. A fourth and related criticism pertains to the question whether IR and ER serve various other functions or goals that were not empirically distinguished by Allport. Although Allport and Ross (1967) originally only differentiated between the two broader categories of IR and ER, empirical studies pointed to a further distinction between an extrinsic-personal and an extrinsic-social orientation (Gorsuch & McPherson, 1989; Kirkpatrick, 1989). In the former, the primary goal of religiosity is to obtain personal security, comfort and emotional relief, whereas in the latter, religiosity is pursued to obtain affiliation or social contact. In addition to these two subcomponents of ER, several authors
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speculated on other possible functions religion can provide (e.g., Johnson, 1959; Leuba, 1933; Meadow & Kahoe, 1984; Pargament & Park, 1995; Yinger, 1970), and various researchers have identified other religious motivations and goals than those originally conceptualized by Allport (e.g., Gorsuch et al., 1997; Pargament, 1992, 1997). A brief review of possible goals people can pursue through religious behavior is presented in the next section.
Goals or Functions of Religiosity First, the essential goal of religious behaviors is for many people to establish, develop, maintain and foster a personal relationship with the divine (Vergote, 1988, 1997). Back in the early 1950s, Johnson (1959, p. 70) recognized that ‘‘It is the ultimate Thou whom the religious person seeks most of all.’’ The essential element of religious life is ‘‘the search for the sacred’’ (Pargament, 1992, 1997, 2002). This motivational goal has empirically been established in Webb’s (1965) factor of ‘‘need for reverence: adoration’’, in Gorlow and Schroeder’s (1968), (see also Welch & Barris, 1982) categories of ‘‘God-seekers’’, ‘‘Humble servants’’ and ‘‘socially oriented servants of God’’, and in Pargament and colleagues’ ‘‘spiritual purpose’’ scale (Pargament et al., 1990, 1992). Second, there is no doubt that religion can provide people with a sense of purpose or meaning in life (Freud, 1927/1964, 1930/1961; James, 1902; Jung, 1964). Several empirical studies found that religious commitment is indeed related to finding greater meaning in life (Chamberlain & Zika, 1992). More direct evidence for the search for meaning as a motivation for religious behavior was found by Gorsuch et al. (1997). Pargament et al. (1990, 1992) identified meaning and purpose as one of the functions that are sought by individuals who rely on religious coping styles in times of difficulties. Third, some have suggested that religion is rooted in the search for growth and self-actualization. For Fromm (1950, p. 37), a humanistic form of religion grows out of the impulse to ‘‘achieve the greatest strength, not the greatest powerlessness; virtue is self-realization, not obedience’’. Also Maslow (1964) defended the view that self-actualization often entails a religious flavor, as observed in ‘‘core-religious’’ and in mystical peak-experiences that self-actualized individuals are likely to experience (see also Meadow & Kahoe, 1984). Consistent with these theoretical claims, both Gorsuch et al. (1997) and Pargament et al.
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(1990, 1992) empirically identified a motivation for growth and self-development in religion. Next to these more personal goals, religion also serves a number of social goals. As early as James (1902) and Freud (1930/1961), sociability and intimacy were recognized as important functions that religion serves. Religion offers many people an opportunity for sheer social contact, quite apart from the inherently religious purposes of church (Meadow & Kahoe, 1984). As indicated above, one of the sub-factors of ER was indeed this extrinsicsocial orientation (Gorsuch & McPherson, 1989; Kirkpatrick, 1989). Pargament and colleagues (Pargament, 1992, 1997; Pargament et al., 1991) differentiate these motives for relatively superficial social contacts that characterize the extrinsic-social orientation from more basic drives for intimacy, connectedness, belongingness and social unity. Pargament (1997) further suggests that the social goal of religiosity can also be expressed as a desire to give to others or to make the world a better place. This expression of love for others is one of the most important values and even imperatives promoted by most religious traditions. Batson et al. (1993) empirically underscore this point by showing that religiously committed people describe themselves as more empathic and prosocial and by indicating that different forms of religion (e.g., intrinsic, extrinsic and quest) are associated with different kinds of helping behavior (see also Batson et al., 1993 for an overview). Potgieter (2002) finds that many South-African wives find strength and motivation in their religion to take care of their husbands who suffer from Alzheimer disease. These findings suggest that religious people pursue such goals as contributing to a better world, for example by helping others in the direct environment. In addition to these self-actualizing and social functions, religion can also serve a more ego-defensive or self-protective function, for instance by providing a sense of emotional security. Leuba (1933) understood the search for God mainly in terms of a desire for peace, assurance and moral strength. Similarly, in Freud’s (1927/1964) view the most basic function of religion was to bring relief, comfort and solace. Maslow (1954) believed that religion could meet basic safety needs by providing an organized, coherent view of the world. Similarly, Allport (1960, 1966) hypothesized that people with an extrinsic religious orientation used religion for finding comfort, security and solace. The above cited reanalysis of the ROS pointed to one extrinsicpersonal factor, measuring this search for personal security (Gorsuch & McPherson, 1989; Kirkpatrick, 1989), and research by Pargament et al. (1990, 1992) and Gorsuch et al. (1997) concur with this empirical finding.
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In sum, different religious answers can assure the believer and can help religious individuals to cope with elements that threaten their security (Meadow & Kahoe, 1984; see also Webb, 1965; Monaghan, 1967). A last noteworthy function is a search for behavioral and moral guidance. According to Meadow and Kahoe (1984) all religious codes help maintain a stable social order, insofar as the codes are internalized and followed. This is one of the elements first recognized in Monaghan’s (1967) category of authority-seekers, who prefer to depend on authority for guidance in religious, social and political attitudes and actions. Gorsuch et al. (1997) differentiated two motivational goal contents that were related to a search for an ethical or moral conduct. The goal of personal morality suggests that religion can provide guidelines for one’s personal moral conduct, whereas the goal of social morality turns religion into an important moral basis for societal conduct and norms. In conclusion, the most frequently used motivational framework regarding religious behavior is Allport’s original distinction between IR and ER orientations. Religion can be a goal in itself (intrinsic orientation) or a means to attain non-religious goals (extrinsic orientation). Since the pioneering work of Allport and Ross (1967), various researchers have made the case that especially the ER orientation is not as homogeneous as initially conceptualized by Allport, but that it comprises various subcomponents. The list of various non-religious ends that characterize the ER orientation has been extended, but unfortunately no strong theoretical basis has been provided for further insight into these different goals. Before indicating in detail how SDT might help to solve this issue, we first mention two earlier attempts that aimed to link religious goals with an overall motivational framework. Firstly, for Nuttin (1984; Nuttin & Lens, 1985) human beings have a basic need for interaction with the environment in which they live. These interactions constitute the person as a biological and psycho-social organism. The person is conceived of as one pole of a complex network of interactions in which the environment is the other pole. Nuttin distinguishes three types of environments in which people live: the biologic world, the psycho-social world and the existential or transcendental reality. In his relational theory of personality and motivation, Nuttin argues that we have basic needs for interaction and self-realization on each of those three levels. Without the intake of food or oxygen, the body will die-off. Psychologically one suffers from not being able to interact with the social world and the world of meaningful objects. Philosophical and religious systems create for many people the possibility to satisfy these basic needs for interaction and selfrealization on the third level. Religion can make life meaningful, and
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personal contact with God is one concretization of the need for contact and interaction on the existential and transcendental level. In earlier empirical research, Nuttin and his collaborators (Cossey, 1974; Nuttin & Lens, 1985; Nuttin, Lens, Van Calster, & De Volder, 1979) tried to gain insight in and categorize the broad variety of the motivational goals and concerns of many different groups of people (e.g., age, gender, education, culture, etc.). In all groups the frequency with which religious goals were spontaneously expressed was very low in comparison with other categories of motivational goals (e.g., achievement, social contact, health, possessions, etc.). However, religious goals were considered much more important than most of the other motivational categories. Contrary to what was often assumed in motivational psychology (Atkinson, 1958; McClelland, Atkinson, Clark, & Lowell, 1953), the frequency of expression is not a reliable index of the importance or strength of religious goals. The second is the recent work by Batson and Stocks (2004). They argued that the various functions of religion can be mapped onto Maslow’s hierarchical need model (Maslow, 1954). They suggested that each of the five needs can raise existential questions, which can be addressed by religion. To illustrate, religion can help people to cope with existential questions raised by physiological needs (first level); it can provide them a sense of emotional security (second level); religion can be a means to obtain sociability and intimacy (third level); it can provide an answer to existential questions concerning personal worth and being valued by others (fourth level); finally, religion can offer a means of personal growth and actualization: of ‘‘becoming everything one is capable of becoming’’ (Maslow, 1970, p. 46 as cited in Batson & Stocks, 2004). Next to these five conative, motivational needs, Batson and Stocks also describe Maslow’s (1970) cognitive need to know and understand, which evolves into the search for meaning and purpose, which religion can provide. The main issue of the present contribution is to draw links between the work that has been done within the Allport tradition and a general theory of motivation and personality. Based on SDT (Deci & Ryan, 2000; Ryan & Deci, 2000a), we argue that the IR versus ER distinction contains two important, but confused underlying dimensions, that are the reasons or regulations for pursuing religious goals and engaging in religious activities (‘‘why’’ of religiosity), and the goals or functions that religious behavior serves (‘‘what’’ of religiosity). Before dealing with these conceptual issues in more detail in the last section of this contribution, we first discuss these two conceptual dimensions as distinguished within SDT.
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SELF-DETERMINATION THEORY Regulation of Behavior A large body of theoretical and empirical work within SDT has dealt with the regulation of behavior; that is, with the type of reasons that underlie behavior (Deci & Ryan, 1985, 2000). Whereas initial work within SDT differentiated only between intrinsic and extrinsic reasons for performing the activity (Deci, 1975), later work indicated that a variety of extrinsic reasons can be distinguished, depending on the extent to which the extrinsic reason for the activity has been internalized. These issues are discussed in more detail below. Intrinsic and Extrinsic Motivation A thorough examination of the dynamic interplay between intrinsic and extrinsic motivation is offered within Cognitive Evaluation Theory (Deci, 1975), precursor and later regarded a subtheory of SDT. An activity is intrinsically motivated when it is autotelic or a goal in itself. Pure playbehavior is probably the best example of intrinsically motivated behavior. Intrinsic motivation refers to the basic propensity to discover, explore, understand and master the environment. Intrinsic motivation pertains to the engagement in activities for their own sake; they are undertaken because of their inherent appeal and attractiveness. Hence, they neither require nor imply any external reinforcements or consequences (Deci & Ryan, 1991). People can engage in praying or meditation simply for the pleasure derived from it. Intrinsic motivation represents the prototype of self-determined behavior, that is, an activity that ‘‘emanates from oneself, is enacted with a full sense of choice’’. One has ‘‘the experience of doing what one wants, without the feeling of coercion’’ (Deci & Ryan, 1991, p. 253). For this reason, intrinsically motivated behavior is characterized by an internal perceived locus of causality (I-PLOC; deCharms, 1968). In contrast, extrinsic motivation pertains to performing an activity to obtain an outcome that is separable from the activity itself. Hence, the activity is instrumental for reaching goals or outcomes that may follow upon the activity. A religious adolescent might pray because he or she derives some sense of inherent satisfaction from doing it (intrinsic motivation), but he can also be motivated to pray because his parents expected him to do so, and offered him some type of reward for attending church on a weekly basis. Some authors (e.g., Atkinson, 1964) argue that both types of motivation are
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additive, and Lens and Decruyenaere (1991) suggested that students’ motivation can be increased by increasing the intrinsic and the extrinsic component. However, in a series of experimental studies in the early 1970s, Deci and colleagues (Deci, 1975; Deci & Ryan, 1980, 1985) demonstrated that intrinsic and extrinsic motivation are not always additive. In contrast, they showed that external contingencies, such as rewards, supervision and deadlines, that intended to increase the total motivation by enhancing individuals’ extrinsic motivation, undermined the intrinsic motivation for performing the activity. When participants are intrinsically motivated for the activity, external rewards have the potential to let the inherent pleasure in the activity die, presumably because such contingencies became the primary reason for the activity. Lepper and Greene (1978) referred to this phenomenon as ‘‘the hidden costs of rewards’’ (see Deci, Koestner, & Ryan, 1999 for a recent meta-analysis detailing the effects of different rewardcontingencies).
Different Types of Extrinsic Motivation People often have to perform activities that are not interesting or intrinsically motivating by themselves (Deci & Ryan, 1991). Such activities are extrinsically motivated, that is, they are carried out to obtain an outcome that is separable from the activity itself. Hence, in such cases, the activity has instrumental value. In earlier theorizing (deCharms, 1968), intrinsic motivation was pitted against extrinsic motivation, with the former representing a self-determined type of motivation, and the latter implying a lack of autonomy. However, a number of experiments in the 1980s (Ryan, 1982; Ryan & Connell, 1989; Ryan, Mims, & Koestner, 1983) indicated that extrinsically motivated activities can also be performed in a choiceful or self-determined manner. As will be shown in more detail further on, the distinction between intrinsic versus extrinsic motivation became less important and was replaced by the distinction between autonomous (self-determined) versus controlled (non self-determined) reasons for engaging in an activity. Extrinsically motivated behaviors are considered self-determined or autonomous to the extent that the originally externally regulated reason for the behavior has been internalized within the self. Internalization refers to the process of ‘‘taking in’’, assimilate and integrate the originally external regulations into a coherent sense of self (Deci & Ryan, 1991). Because this process of internalization can be more or less successful, four types of extrinsic motivation were differentiated (Deci & Ryan, 1985; Ryan & Connell, 1989). These are described below.
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External regulation refers to the engagement in activities to meet an overtly external contingency, such as other’s expectations, the promise of a reward, or the threat of punishment. The reasons for performing the behavior has not been internalized at all, and the enactment of the behavior is typically accompanied by a sense of coercion, pressure and stress. Because of their clear lack of autonomy, these behaviors are characterized by an external perceived locus of causality (E-PLOC; deCharms, 1968). For example, an adolescent may attend a religious meeting because she feels that her parents oblige her to do so. In the case of introjected regulation, the behavioral regulation resides within the person, in the sense that it is no longer prompted by an external contingency. However, because the behavioral regulation has merely been taken in or ‘‘swallowed’’ by the individual, but not really accepted it as her/ his own, introjected regulation still represents a partial form of internalized regulation. When people’s behavior is based on introjected reasons, the behavior is enacted to gain self-approval or to avoid feelings of shame or guilt (Deci & Ryan, 1991; Ryan & Deci, 2000a, 2003). People who pray because they would feel bad or guilty if they did not do so would represent an example of introjected regulation. Because individuals in these instances still experience an inner tension between being regulated by the introjected forces instead of acting in a self-determined and volitional fashion, their behavior is also represented by an external PLOC (Deci & Ryan, 1991). Therefore, introjected regulation is often combined with external regulation in empirical research to form a ‘‘controlled motivation’’ composite (e.g., Vansteenkiste, Lens, Dewitte, De Witte, & Deci, 2004). A fuller form of internalized motivation is achieved when people accept the behavioral regulation as their own, labeled identified regulation within SDT. In this case, one identifies consciously with the importance or value of the behavioral regulation, and acts out of personal commitment toward the goal (Ryan, 1995; Ryan & Deci, 2000a). When people communicate their religious beliefs to others because they find that really important to do, they are said to display an identified regulation. When people manage to foresee the personal relevance of the activity, their behaviors are more likely to be accompanied with a sense of volition or self-determination (Ryan & Deci, 2003). Hence, identified regulation is represented by an I-PLOC. However, even when a behavioral regulation is experienced as personally important, this identification can still be isolated from other personally important values or goals. To achieve an even greater degree of internalization, the behavioral regulation needs to be brought into congruence or integrated with the person’s other values or goals (Ryan & Deci, 2000a,
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2003). Integrated regulation represents the most self-determined form of extrinsic motivation and, hence, is also characterized by an I-PLOC. A person who voluntarily spends time in various activities in his religious community, because that is the way he wants to live and organize his life, displays an integrated motivation. Notably, integrated regulation still refers to extrinsic motivation, because the behavior is performed in the service of a well-integrated goal or value instead of the inherent satisfaction or enjoyment that defines an intrinsically motivated behavior (Deci & Ryan, 1991). However, because identified, integrated and intrinsic regulation are all represented by an I-PLOC, they are often combined to form an autonomous motivation composite (e.g., Black & Deci, 2000). These various reasons for performing a particular behavior have been empirically identified in a broad array of domains, including politics, education, sports, (un)employment, interpersonal relations, leisure activities and health. In concordance with these theoretical assumptions, these studies have shown that the various reasons for performing an activity (varying from external regulation to intrinsic motivation) form an ordered selfdeterminationcontinuum or simplex pattern with subscales being closer to each other on the continuum being more strongly correlated than subscales further apart from each other (e.g., Ryan & Connell, 1989). Furthermore, these empirical investigations equally also showed that autonomous or selfdetermined regulation (i.e. identified, integrated or intrinsic) predicts a variety of positive outcomes, including physical and psychological well-being, effective performance and behavioral persistence, whereas controlled motivation predicts impaired functioning and ill-being (see Deci & Ryan, 1991, 2000; Ryan & Deci, 2000a; Vallerand, 1997 for reviews). The differentiation between autonomous and controlled motivation has also been applied to the domain of religiosity, as is discussed in more detail below. Autonomous and Controlled Motivation in Religion In a first study, O’Connor and Vallerand (1990) asked elderly people why they engaged in three religious activities: going to church, praying and practicing religion in general. Participants were administered the religious motivation subscale of the Motivation in the Elderly Scale (EMPA; Vallerand & O’Connor, 1991) that assesses three types of motivation: nonself-determined extrinsic motivation (‘‘because I should’’), self-determined extrinsic motivation (‘‘for my own good’’), and intrinsic motivation (‘‘for the pleasure of doing it’’). O’Connor and Vallerand (1990) reported that non-self-determined extrinsic motivation was directly related to depression, and negatively predicted life satisfaction, self-esteem and sense of meaning
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in life, whereas the opposite pattern emerged for self-determined extrinsic and intrinsic motivation. In a follow-up study, Ryan et al. (1993) focused on one particular type of non-self-determined extrinsic motivation, that is, introjected regulation, and contrasted it with a specific type of self-determined extrinsic motivation: identified regulation. However, a closer look at the items indicates that Ryan et al.’s (1993) measure of introjected regulation was a combination of external and introjected regulation, whereas their identified regulation was a combination of identified and intrinsic regulation. Several Christian samples participated in their study, and participants’ introjected versus identified reasons for four different religious behaviors (i.e., turning to God, praying, attending church and sharing faith with others) were assessed. Replicating and extending the findings by O’Connor and Vallerand (1990), Ryan et al. (1993) found that an introjected regulation was positively related to illbeing, as indexed by anxiety, depression and somatic complaints, and negatively predicted well-being, as indexed by self-esteem, identity integration and self-actualization. The opposite pattern of results was found for identified religiosity. The beneficial effects of an identified versus introjected regulation for enacting religious activities are not limited to personal well-being. For instance, Ryan et al. (1993) found identified regulation to positively predict church-attendance. Strahan and Craig (1995) replicated this finding and, in addition, found positive relations between identified regulation and proportion of finance donated to churches and frequency of family worship. Kneezel (2004) found identified regulation to relate with a secure, accepting and satisfying relationship with God, which in turn contributed to enhanced well-being. In contrast, individuals scoring high on introjected regulation were not more likely to attend church (Ryan et al., 1993), devoted a smaller proportion of finances, participated less in family worship (Strahan & Craig, 1995), and experienced God as more critical and more conditionally approving (Kneezel, 2004). Furthermore, Baard (1994, 2002) (see also Baard & Aridas, 2001) has studied the antecedents of individuals’ autonomous versus controlled religious motivations. The more church-attendees felt competent (i.e., felt challenged with opportunities to grow or learn new things in their religion), autonomous (i.e., free to express own ideas and opinions in their religious community) and related (i.e., getting along well with other church-attendees) in their church, the more identified and the less introjected their regulation appeared, the more frequently they attended church meetings, and the more they donated to the church. Finally, most recently Cohen-Malayev and Assor (2003) attempted to
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distinguish between individuals who had identified with their religious behavior after a thorough exploration process (‘‘explorative identified’’) and individuals who uncritically adopted certain values and behavioral regulations held by significant others (‘‘non-explorative identified’’). Non-explorative identified individuals showed identity statuses of foreclosure and identity diffusion (Marcia, 1993), implying respectively achieving an identity without exploration and neither exploring nor achieving a stable identity. Explorative identified individuals could be located in the moratorium phase, suggesting they were actually still in their exploration phase, prior to identity achievement. In sum, previous research has quite consistently shown that more selfdetermined regulation of religious behaviors is positively related with a variety of desirable outcomes, including well-being, positive relationship experienced with God, and behavioral measures such as church attendance and proportion of finance donated to church, whereas non self-determined regulation shows the opposite pattern.
Different Goals of Behavior In addition to differentiating between the autonomous versus controlled reasons or regulations that guide people’s behavior, a more recent development within SDT (Kasser & Ryan, 1993, 1996) has paid attention to the types of goals behavior serves. Specifically, SDT distinguishes intrinsic and extrinsic goals. Kasser and Ryan (1993, 1996) defined intrinsic goals as being congruent with individuals’ self-actualizing and growth tendencies. The pursuit of intrinsic goals (e.g., personal development, affiliation and community contributions) is said to be inherently satisfying and consistent with individuals’ basic psychological need satisfaction; hence, they should be associated with higher levels of well-being. In contrast, extrinsic goals (e.g., financial success, status, physical attractiveness) are expected to be less satisfying to pursue, because they are often undertaken in an attempt to obtain contingent approval or external signs of worth. From a dynamic point of view, the pursuit of extrinsic goals reflects an (in)direct attempt to capture admiration and positive regard from others (Ryan & Deci, 2003). Hence, extrinsic goal pursuits are more likely to be associated with stressful interpersonal comparisons (Sirgy, 1998) and to detract from opportunities for basic need satisfaction, leading to ill-being (Ryan, Sheldon, Kasser, & Deci, 1996). Consistent with these claims, a variety of studies has demonstrated that extrinsic relative to intrinsic goal pursuit is associated with (a) lower
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psychological well-being, as indexed by vitality, self-actualization and selfesteem, (b) more ill-being, as indexed by anxiety, depression and the presence of physical complaints, (c) lower socially adaptive functioning, (d) more externalizing problem behavior, including alcohol use, drug abuse and cigarette smoking and (e) decreased academic functioning (Kasser & Ryan, 1993, 1996, 2001; McHoskey, 1999; Ryan et al., 1999; Sheldon & Kasser, 1998; Vansteenkiste, Duriez, Simons, & Soenens, in press; Vansteenkiste, Simons, Lens, Sheldon, & Deci, 2004). This pattern of findings has been obtained using both correlational and experimental methodologies (Vansteenkiste, Simons, Soenens, & Lens, 2004), and has been replicated in collectivistic and individualistic countries across the globe (Kasser & Ahuvia, 2002; Kim, Kasser, & Lee, 2003; Ryan et al., 1999). Importantly, the differentiation between intrinsic versus extrinsic goals is conceptually different from the previously mentioned constructs of autonomous versus controlled motivation. Specifically, people can pursue both intrinsic and extrinsic goals for autonomous or controlled reasons. For instance, a religious person can donate to church and voluntarily help the religious community (i.e., an intrinsic goal), because she would feel guilty if she would not do so (i.e., controlled regulation) or because she personally values these activities (i.e., autonomous regulation). Similarly, a religious person may try to gain approval, status and power in his religious community (i.e., an extrinsic goal), because his parents expect him to be wellknown and admired by others (i.e., controlled regulation), or because he finds it personally important (i.e., autonomous regulation) to spend energy in improving the working of the community (i.e., an intrinsic goal) once he gets an influential position in his community. Empirically, it has been shown that extrinsic goals are often pursued for controlled reasons, whereas intrinsic goals are more often pursued for autonomous reasons (e.g., Sheldon & Kasser, 1995). However, both dimensions, that is, the types of regulation and the goals of people’s behavior, have been found to independently predict variance in well-being and positive adjustment (Sheldon, Ryan, Deci, & Kasser, 2004).
LINKING ALLPORT AND SELF-DETERMINATION THEORY The goal of this last section is to explore in more depth whether SDT’s distinction between autonomous and controlled regulations and
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intrinsic versus extrinsic goals can help to reinterpret and possibly clarify the motivational nature of Allport’s distinction between intrinsic and extrinsic religiosity and other proposed functions religion serves. In doing so, we first consider how Allport’s distinction can be related to SDT’s differentiation between autonomous and controlled regulations, and then indicate how both concepts might be linked to SDT’s distinction between intrinsic and extrinsic goals.
Intrinsic and Extrinsic Religious Orientation and SDT’s Regulation of Behavior Following the general outline of the former section on SDT, we first consider how Allport’s framework can be related to the distinction between intrinsic and extrinsic motivation, and then consider its possible links with the differentiation between autonomous and controlled motivation. Intrinsic and Extrinsic Motivation Allport’s contrast of IR versus ER is clearly related to Deci’s (1975) initial differentiation between intrinsic and extrinsic motivation. Just as extrinsic motivation refers to an instrumental or means-end relationship (Husman & Lens, 1999), extrinsically oriented individuals adopt a utilitarian, instrumental attitude toward religion; it is primarily viewed as a means to other non-religious ends (Allport, 1950; Allport & Ross, 1967). In contrast, for an intrinsically oriented person, the belief is an end in itself, a final good (Allport, 1966). Because the contents of the beliefs to which one is committed are, at a conceptual level, intertwined with one’s motives for holding religious belief contents, Gorsuch (1997, p. 13) refined the concept of intrinsic religious commitment, defining it as ‘‘the motivation for experiencing and living one’s religious faith for the sake of the faith itself. The person’s religion is an end unto itself, a goal pursued in the absence of external reinforcement’’. Clearly, this definition is identical to how intrinsic motivation is defined within classical motivational theories (Ryan & Deci, 2000b). In the light of previous work on the relationship between intrinsic and extrinsic motivation, the question can be asked how both kinds of religious motivation are related to each other. It is not unreasonable to assume that people are also, in their religion, both intrinsically and extrinsically motivated (e.g., members of the clergy are – hopefully – not only intrinsically motivated in their religion, they also earn money, make a living by holding
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religious services and receive recognition). Is it also possible that, even though the addition of extrinsic incentives to an already present intrinsic motivation increases the total amount of motivation, the originally intrinsic motivation for being religious might ultimately decrease because of the earlier described ‘‘hidden cost of rewards’’. Much less research has examined the conditions under which extrinsic rewards can induce an intrinsic motivation for the same activity. For example, a pupil who is very willing to make calculations because he receives rewards for doing it could find out that he is good at it (perception of competence) and, as a consequence, develop an intrinsic interest in calculus. An originally instrumental activity may become a goal in itself. For Woodworth (1918) this process shows that ‘‘mechanisms become drives’’ or an instrumental activity (doing calculus for receiving rewards) can become a goal in itself. Allport (1961) referred to outcome of this process as ‘‘the functional autonomy of motives’’. The fact that intrinsic and extrinsic motivation for one and the same activity are indeed additive at each moment in time but interactive over time is, of course, a highly relevant finding, given that people are probably mostly both intrinsically and extrinsically motivated for a given activity. It would be an interesting research topic for the psychology of religion to study the (reciprocal) interactions between Allport’s two types of religious orientation, in the same way as Deci and many others did for intrinsic and extrinsic motivation (Cameron, 2001; Deci, Koestner, & Ryan, 2001). This does not imply that Allport’s distinction between IR and ER requires no further elaboration in the light of the recent theoretical developments within SDT. Different Types of Extrinsic Motivation As indicated above, the ‘‘simple’’ differentiation between intrinsic and extrinsic motivation has in the past two decades been replaced by the distinction between autonomous and controlled regulation of behavior (Ryan & Connell, 1989). This conceptual shift emphasized that some types of extrinsically motivated behavior can still be experienced as relatively autonomous, given that people identify with and integrate the behavioral regulations within their self. We suggest that Allport’s description of IR yields indeed more than only an engagement in religious behaviors for its inherent pleasure (i.e., intrinsic motivation), but also reflects the extent to which religious behaviors are viewed as personally important (i.e., internalized extrinsic motivation). Consider the following descriptions of intrinsically oriented individuals by Allport and Ross (1967): intrinsically oriented individuals have ‘‘embraced a creed the individual endeavors to internalize it
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and follow it fully’’ (p. 434) and ‘‘in internalizing the total creed of his religion the individual necessarily internalizes its values of humility, compassion and love of neighbor’’ (p. 441). These descriptions suggest that religion and religious contents are very salient for intrinsically oriented religious individuals (Hunt & King, 1971) and are experienced as personally significant (Allport & Ross, 1967). Hence, these descriptions of intrinsically oriented religious individuals closely correspond to SDT’s process of internalization (Deci & Ryan, 1985). Intrinsically religious individuals appear to have ‘‘taken in’’ and identified themselves with the values or norms promoted by the adhered religion, and they seem to foresee the personal importance of their religious behaviors. According to SDT, identified motivations need to be brought in coherence with other existing values and norms in order to achieve a level of integrated extrinsic motivation. Specifically, the religious identity, consisting of assimilation and identification with several religiously promoted roles, values and norms, need to be transformed, integrated and unified with other personal values or social roles. In that way, the components of the religious identity can be ‘‘integrated into the self so that it can serve as personally meaningful and abiding guides to life’’ (Ryan & Deci, 2003, p. 255). This abiding guide to life is what Allport also seemed to suggest as the role of religion for the intrinsically religious oriented person. For instance, Allport stated that for a mature and intrinsically oriented person, the religious belief is the ‘‘outgrowth of many successive discriminations and continuous reorganization’’, and that intrinsically oriented individuals maintain ‘‘a genuine sense of wholeness into which the articulated parts fit’’(Allport, 1950, pp. 59–61). To further illustrate the point that religious behaviors and contents are fully integrated within other parts of one’s life, Allport and Ross (1967) stated that for intrinsically oriented persons ‘‘other needs are brought into harmony with religious beliefs and prescriptions’’ (p. 434). In sum, from the viewpoint of SDT, the concept of intrinsic religious orientation does not only pertain to the engagement in religious behaviors for its own sake, as the term ‘‘intrinsic’’ suggests, but also refers to the assimilation and integration of religious behaviors within other aspects of one’s living. Hence, given SDT’s recent conceptual developments, the term autonomous motivation might be better suited to describe the motivation of intrinsically oriented individuals that Allport and Ross referred to: autonomous motivation implies not only experiencing religious behavior as personally rewarding or satisfying, but also as vitally important. Intrinsically oriented individuals have fully internalized the personal
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importance of religion, and, hence, they enact religious behaviors in a willing or choiceful manner. Consistent with these suggestions, Ryan et al. (1993) found a correlation between IR and their operationalization of identified religious motivation that ranged between 0.33 and 0.77 across their three samples. If intrinsic religious orientation reflects the extent to which religious behaviors, norms and values are self-endorsed and enacted or pursued with a sense of willingness and psychological freedom (i.e., autonomous motivation), does this imply that extrinsic religiosity, as described by Allport, refers to the experience of coercion and obligation (i.e., controlled motivation)? In our opinion, the construct of extrinsic religiosity shares considerable overlap with the construct of controlled motivation, as used within SDT, but its operationalization does not. To illustrate the conceptual overlap, Allport (1950) pointed out that the immature, extrinsically oriented individuals conceived religious sentiment as ‘‘not really unifying’’, ‘‘segmented’’ and ‘‘partially integrative’’, suggesting only a partial internalization of the religious values and norms. Religious beliefs and values are ‘‘not well integrated with the deeper life of the subject’’ (p. 59), just as the pursuit of religious beliefs out of externally or internally controlling forces reflects a lack of integration. In spite of this conceptual overlap, we suggest that extrinsic religious orientation has been measured differently: the assessments have primarily focused on the type of goals that religion serves rather than focusing on the intra-individual experience of coercion and pressure (controlled regulation). However, we argue that even if religious behaviors serve non-religious goals, such as intimacy (Pargament, 1997), moral guidance, personal meaning (Gorsuch et al., 1997) or security (Kirkpatrick, 1989), these goals can be pursued in a controlled or stressful manner or in an autonomous and more willing manner. That is, both goals and regulations need to be considered. To illustrate, a person can rely on religion as a source of moral guidance, because he would feel guilty if he would not do so (i.e., controlled motivation), or because he identifies with the moral norms that are prescribed by his religion (i.e., autonomous motivation). Similarly, a religious person might search for purpose and meaning through praying and attending religious meetings because others expect her to experience faith as life-fulfilling and purposeful (i.e., controlled motivation), or because she foresees by herself how religion plays a critical role for her (i.e., autonomous motivation). From Allport’s point of view, these two individuals are extrinsically oriented toward religion, because they perceive religion as a means toward finding purpose and meaning in one’s life or as a source of moral conduct: religion is
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used for non-religious ends. However, based on SDT, we maintain that even when religious behaviors serve non-religious goals they can be regulated by autonomous or controlled reasons. Consistent with our suggestion that Allport’s measurement of ER is different from SDT’s concept of controlled motivation, Ryan, et al. (1993) reported that both were only moderately correlated. Correlations varied between 0.10 and 0.31 across the three studies and were much lower than the previously mentioned correlations between IR and autonomous motivation. However, if ER, as assessed in empirical research, does not completely reflect the experience of control as defined within SDT, how can the concept then be placed within SDT’s framework? As noted above, in addition to distinguishing between people’s reasons for behavior (regulation), SDT also conceptualizes the goals of behavior. In our view, the question whether religious behavior serves non-religious ends or goals pertains not so much to the regulation of behavior, but more to the goals of behavior. If this assumption is correct, the question can be raised whether the different purposes of religion that are empirically and theoretically identified by researchers in the field of religious psychology can perhaps be interpreted in light of the intrinsic versus extrinsic goal distinction within SDT. We elaborate on this issue in the next section.
Intrinsic and Extrinsic Religious Orientation and the Goals of Behavior As stated above, SDT discerns between intrinsic goals, such as affiliation, self-development and community contribution and extrinsic goals, such as status, financial success and physical attractiveness. Intrinsic goals are said to be inherently satisfying to pursue, because they reflect people’s intrinsic growth tendencies and are more consistent with basic need satisfaction (Kasser, 2002). In contrast, extrinsic goals are more likely to result in illbeing because they yield an outward orientation, and detract from basic need satisfaction. The question can be raised whether all different purposes or goals religion serves can be mapped on this intrinsic–extrinsic goal distinction? Our answer is no. Although some of the earlier mentioned purposes of religion can be placed in this framework, in the present conceptualization of SDT, not all of them fit in it. However, it should be noted that Kasser and Ryan’s intrinsic versus extrinsic goal framework was not aimed to be exhaustive. We argue that some previously mentioned goals can be placed within the intrinsic or extrinsic goal category. For instance, self-development, search for
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intimacy and search for a better world can easily be related to what in SDT (Deci & Ryan, 1985, 2000) has been considered intrinsic goals of self-development, affiliation and community contribution. For many people all over the world, religion is of utmost importance because they perceive it as a means to earn eternal life in heaven, where they will be reunited with their parents, friends and other loved ones. Taking into account how those people conceive of religion, their long distance goal of eternal life must be identified as an intrinsic goal of their religiosity, serving personal development even after their earthly life is ended. Searching through religion for a sense of purpose and meaning in life also fits well with SDT’s intrinsic goal of self-development. The goal of searching for a personal closeness with God might also be viewed as an intrinsic goal. It reflects the goal of searching for affiliation with God. To have satisfying relationships with family and friends can be projected onto having similar relationships with the divine dimension. This comparison is similar to (Kirkpatrick’s, 1992, 1997, 1998; Kirkpatrick & Shaver, 1992) comparison between attachment styles to parents and attachment styles to God. Although many of the proposed functions that are addressed by researchers in religious psychology can be conceptualized as striving for intrinsic goals from the point of view of SDT, less attention, if any, has been devoted to the extrinsic goals, as defined within SDT. As mentioned earlier, status/popularity, financial success and physical attractiveness all represent extrinsic goals, but not all of them are likely to be relevant for the study of the purposes of religion. Specifically, we believe that some religious individuals might see their engagement in religious activities as a means to enhance their status and influential position in the community, but it is unlikely that the extrinsic goals of financial success and physical attractiveness are pursued through religious behaviors.1 The pursuit of status in a religious context would mean wanting to be perceived by others as a good and decent person. Finally, it should be noted that some functions of religion that were pointed out by researchers in religious psychology cannot be readily accommodated within the intrinsic versus extrinsic goal distinction within SDT. For instance, do moral guidance or personal security represent intrinsic or extrinsic goals? The SDT framework does not (yet) provide clear answers about the theoretical position of the search for personal security (e.g., Kasser, 2002). It is equally unclear whether moral guidance constitutes a goal that is intrinsic or extrinsic in nature. Empirical research is needed to link these kinds of goals with SDT’s intrinsic and extrinsic goals (see Grouzet et al., 2004, for a recent attempt in this regard).
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CONCLUSION The primary goal of the present contribution was to locate Allport’s distinction between IR and ER within SDT’s well-validated motivational framework. In general, we aimed to point out that the concepts of IR and ER suffer from conceptual ambiguities, because IR tends to measure individuals’ reasons for being religious, whereas ER rather points to the type of goals that are served by being religious. Specifically, we argued that an intrinsically oriented believer (IR), as defined by Allport, is not only intrinsically motivated to engage in religious behaviors (i.e., being a religious person is experienced as inherently satisfying), but also identifies with the personal importance of religious behaviors and values, and integrates those values into an overall sense of self, so that religious behaviors are undertaken in a willing or autonomous manner. Hence, the SDT term ‘‘autonomous religious motivation’’ might be more appropriate to label such intrinsically oriented individuals, as described by Allport. Within SDT, the opposite of autonomy implies control and pressure, which is, in our view, not assessed by the concept of ER. From the point of view of SDT, ER, as measured by most researchers in the field of religious psychology, concerns the pursuit of particular goal contents, such as personal security and social contact among others. We argued that some of these goals that are served by religiosity could be located in the intrinsic versus extrinsic goal distinction that is made within SDT. It is our hope that these reconceptualizations of Allport and other’s motivational analyses of religiosity might stimulate new research that more accurately measures individuals’ autonomous versus controlled reasons for engaging in religious behaviors (see Ryan et al., 1993) and the intrinsic versus extrinsic goals that are pursued in religiosity. Developing more refined assessments of individuals’ regulations and goals of religiosity would be a first step in exploring in a more accurate fashion their relationships with external variables, including well being, helping behavior and security among others.
NOTES 1. Notably, the fact that some of the extrinsic goals (e.g., physical attractiveness) cannot be used to understand the purposes of religiosity does not weaken our theoretical points of comparison. Not all of the intrinsic and extrinsic goals, as outlined within SDT, are relevant in each life domain. For instance, in the domain of sport and physical exercise, people might often focus on the extrinsic goal of physical
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attractiveness, but the intrinsic goal of community contribution does not seem a useful goal in that life-domain.
ACKNOWLEDGMENT The third author’s contribution was supported by the Fund for Scientific Research Flanders (FWO-Vlaanderen).
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CHOOSING TO STAY RELIGIOUS IN A MODERN WORLD: SOCIALIZATION AND EXPLORATION PROCESSES LEADING TO AN INTEGRATED INTERNALIZATION OF RELIGION AMONG ISRAELI JEWISH YOUTH Avi Assor, Maya Cohen-Malayev, Avi Kaplan and David Friedman INTRODUCTION Across the world, religious communities aspire to transmit their religious practices and beliefs to their youth. Yet, many parents who want their children to adopt religious beliefs and way of life also want them to be familiar with important aspects of the secular late modern or postmodern context (e.g., Rosenak, 1987, 2003). This late modern or postmodern context can include technological innovations and comforts, work opportunities, various secular domains of knowledge such as science, art, and culture, and leisure activities such as sports and travel. Such modern ideas and life Motivation and Religion Advances in Motivation and Achievement, Volume 14, 105–150 Copyright r 2005 by Elsevier Ltd. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0749-7423/doi:10.1016/S0749-7423(05)14005-9
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practices often contradict important components of religious ways of life. Indeed, fundamentalist religious communities often perceive secular ideas as antagonistic to their religious beliefs and practices and attempt to prevent exposure of their children to these ideas and lifestyles. The more moderate religious communities face a difficult problem: how to educate children in ways that would enable them to participate in the modern world but nevertheless endorse essential components of their traditional religion (e.g., Schachter, 2000; Rosenak, 1987, 2003; Gross, 2003)? Interestingly, the desire to maintain important aspects of religion as practiced by parents and grandparents is experienced not only by the older generations, but also by many of the youth themselves. Although this youth wish to adopt various late modern practices that are incompatible with their childhood religion, they also find it difficult to distance themselves from a religious way of life which is closely attached to their identity, their family, and their community of origin (e.g., Gross, 2002; Schachter, 2000). It appears, then, that for many adolescents and young adults, religious sentiments anchored in childhood experiences conflict with secular ideas and lifestyles. Thus, many religious parents and youth grapple with the question of how to facilitate a harmonious and authentic integration of religious practices and beliefs with a late modern-secular way of life. The present chapter focuses on socializing practices and internalization processes that may affect the extent to which religiously raised youth can develop an integrated traditional religious identity within a late modern context; that is, a set of beliefs and a way of life that preserves most of the religious practices and values one was raised on, which is experienced as originating from within and as reflecting who one really is and who she/he wants to become. The concept of an integrated religious identity indicates that the motivation for enacting various religious practices is experienced as autonomous rather than as controlled or coerced. The conception of integration presented in this chapter is based mainly on self-determination theory (SDT, Ryan & Deci, 2000). SDT explicitly focuses on processes that are involved in the gradual integration of various aspects of the self and the social context. Moreover, the theory specifies various socializing practices and internalization processes that can promote or hinder the development of an integrated identity. In addition, however, we employ understandings from identity formation theories; in particular, those concerned with the ways by which exploration leads to the formation of a more integrated and mature identity (Erikson, 1963; Marcia, 1966, 2002; Grotevant, 1987). Based on the above theories, we propose socialization and developmental processes that foster or undermine the autonomous motivation
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of late modern youth to maintain significant aspects of their childhood religion. In addition, we also attempt to identify socialization processes, which promote controlled (coerced) motivation to maintain the religion of origin. Fig. 1 describes two developmental pathways that emerge from two different socialization approaches and which are hypothesized to affect the extent to which religiously raised youth living in a modern context would be likely to integrate the religion of their community of origin into their identity. The upper pathway depicts a process that undermines the attainment of an integrated internalization, whereas the bottom pathway depicts processes hypothesized to contribute to an integrated internalization of the religious way of life one was raised on. The chapter begins by reviewing the socializing approaches that appear on the left side of Fig. 1 and the internalization processes that they are assumed to generate. Then, we describe two types of coping with the potential conflict between religion and modernity, labeled ‘‘radical’’ and ‘‘revisionist’’ exploration, which are hypothesized to result, at least in part, from the contrasting modes of socializing and internalization presented at the left part of the figure. We end the description of our theoretical model with a description of different effects that radical and revisionist exploration are hypothesized to have on the integration of traditional religion among religiously raised youth living within a modern context. We follow with a description of empirical studies that provide support to the hypothesized processes, and end with a discussion of implications for theory and research in the domains of religious motivation, religious socialization, and identity formation. For example, we propose that the construct and scale of revisionist exploration may help to identify a type of religious motivation that is not only autonomous or intrinsic, but also reflective and critical (see Ryan, Rigby, & King, 1993, on this problem).
CONTROLLING VERSUS AUTONOMY-SUPPORTIVE SOCIALIZATION AND THE CONSEQUENCES TO THE INTERNALIZATION OF RELIGION SDT (Ryan & Deci, 2000) distinguishes between two broad categories of socializing approaches or practices according to the extent to which they frustrate or support children’s need for autonomy. Controlling (or autonomy suppressive) practices pressure children to act in ways they do not really want to through the use of threats or positive rewards that are not
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Socialization Practices
Youth Internalization Processes
Childhood Internalization Processes Modes of coping with the religion-modernity conflict
Conditional Love
Providing Rationale & Intrinsic Value Demonstration
Fig. 1.
Radical Exploration
Identification
Experiential level:
Behavioral Level:
Religious practices & beliefs are perceived as "choiceful" & authentic
Observance of many basic practices of the religion of origin
Revisionist Exploration
Processes Affecting the Development of an Integrated Internalization of Religious Practices in Religiously Raised Youth.
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Encouraging Independent Religious Thinking
Introjection
Integrated internalization of religious practices one was raised on
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inherently related to the expected behavior (Assor, Roth, & Deci, 2004; Assor, Kaplan, Roth, & Kanat-Maymon, 2005; Grolnick, Deci, & Ryan, 1997). In contrast, autonomy-supportive practices promote children’s willingness to engage in specific behaviors through facilitating endorsement of the inherent value of these actions (Assor, Kaplan, & Roth, 2002; Grolnick et al., 1997). Thus, whereas controlling practices evoke feelings of coercion and conflict with regard to the parentally expected behavior, autonomysupportive practices foster feelings of autonomy and coherence.
Controlling Practices It is possible to distinguish between two types of controlling socializing practices according to the motivational processes they engender in children (e.g., Grolnick et al., 1997). One type of controlling practices includes offering or withdrawal of material benefits, as well as threats of physical punishment. These socializing practices are assumed to lead to what SDT terms external regulation: a perception that the reason for acting lies outside the person. Behavior that is externally regulated is displayed only when the external agent is present to administer rewards or punishments. In the domain of religion, external regulation could manifest, for example, in children’s engagement in religious practices in order to keep getting weekly allowance from parents or to avoid being ‘‘grounded.’’ Another category of controlling socializing practices involves the use of various forms of conditional love, guilt and shame (Assor et al., 2004; Assor & Roth, 2005; Knafo, Assor, & Schwartz, in press). The use of conditional love as a socializing practice involves the offering of more affection or attention when the child complies with parental expectations and the withdrawal of affection or attention when the child does not comply with parental expectations. SDT posits that the socializing practice of conditional love drives children to develop a mode of self-regulation that, in contrast to external regulation, does involve some internalization of socially expected behavior, yet the behavior is still experienced as rather coercive. This mode of regulation is termed introjected internalization (Assor et al., 2004; Deci & Ryan, 2002) and it represents a rigid adoption of expectations for behavior without completely accepting the behaviors’ inherent value. Introjected internalization emerges as a result of a process in which parents’ contingent acceptance or rejection is transformed into self-acceptance or self-rejection. As a result, children observe various religious practices because they want to avoid feeling unworthy of love or guilty, and/or
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because they want to feel worthy of love and proud of themselves. According to SDT, introjection is experienced as somewhat less coercive and controlling than external regulation, because the coercion comes from within and not from outside. Yet, the dependency of parental- and self-love on religious observance creates feelings of internal pressure and resentment that make it difficult to enjoy parentally valued religious practices. Therefore, in introjected internalization, religious practices are still experienced as fairly coercive and somewhat aversive. Consistent with this view, research by Ryan et al. (1993) has shown that introjected internalization of religious behavior in youth is associated negatively with indicators of well-being and positively with depression and anxiety.
Autonomy-Supportive Practices The category of autonomy support includes socializing practices that aim to promote behavior that is self-determined. According to SDT, socialization that supports children’s sense that their behavior is self-determined includes practices such as taking the child’s perspective, acknowledging his or her feelings, minimizing pressure, explaining the rationale for adults’ expectations, providing choice, allowing criticism, and demonstrating the intrinsic value of a behavior (e.g., Assor et al., 2002, 2005; Assor, Roth, & Deci, 2000; Chirkov & Ryan, 2001; Deci, Eghrari, Patrick, & Leone, 1994; Grolnick & Ryan, 1989; Koestner, Ryan, Bernieri, & Holt, 1984; Roth & Assor, 2003). These practices are hypothesized to facilitate the internalization of beliefs and action to the point of endorsing them as one’s own. SDT distinguishes between two types of internalized self-determined behavior: identified and integrated. In identified internalization, beliefs are held and behaviors are enacted because the person understands and identifies with their value – their utility and/or moral desirability. However, despite the sense of self-determination that accompanies identified action, there still may be a mild sense of tension involved since the person may also identify with the value of an incompatible behavior. Indeed, often people endorse values and actions that are non-complementary. This could manifest, for example, in Jewish women’s wish to have many children (a normative practice) while simultaneously wishing to devote more time to religious studies. Nevertheless, identified internalization is associated with a relative sense of self-determination. Ryan et al. (1993) assessed identified internalization of religious practices and found it to be associated positively with indicators of well-being and negatively with depression and anxiety.
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It is in the second type of internalized self-determined behavior, integrated internalization, that beliefs and behaviors are organized into a coherent selfdefining structure. In this highest and most self-determined level of internalization, beliefs are held and acted upon with the sense that they reflect central aspects of one’s self-defined identity and basic needs. To attain integrated internalization, people often have to resolve inconsistencies and sometimes also conflicts between practices and goals that are important to them. This can be done by prioritizing goals and by modifying practices so that they fit each other, and most importantly, so that they reflect one’s authentic inclinations and self-chosen values. In SDT, this process is termed mutual assimilation of separate identifications (Grolnick et al., 1997). To the best of our knowledge, no research to date has assessed integrated internalization of religious beliefs. Two socializing practices that support identification in childhood and might lay the foundation for integration in later developmental stages are: (1) provision of rationale, and (2) demonstration of an intrinsic value (i.e., convincing modeling). Socializing practices that clarify the rationale of a behavior promote understanding of the value of the behavior and identifying with it. Research by Assor et al. (2002), Roth and Assor (2003), and Skinner and Belmont (1993) demonstrated the importance of providing a rationale to the development of self-determined internalization of expected behaviors in the domains of schoolwork and of emotional regulation. In the religious domain, this could manifest, for example, in parents having frequent conversations with their children about the meaning and importance of various religious practices that the children are expected to observe. Demonstration of intrinsic value involves adult behavior that naturally conveys the sense of satisfaction and growth that accompanies engagement in a behavior. Adults are likely to be convincing models of a given behavior to the extent that they do indeed fully identify with the behavior and feel content and fulfilled when engaged in the action. It is important to note that we are not talking here about a deliberate attempt to show satisfaction, but rather a sense of fulfillment that emanates from people when they engage in something that is satisfying and meaningful to them; for example, the inner peace and sense of purpose that some parents convey when praying or when saying grace after the meal. Research by Assor et al. (2000), Assor and Roth (2005), and Roth and Assor (2003) has demonstrated the contribution of intrinsic value demonstration in several domains. Whereas both practices are likely to promote identification with the value of parentally expected behaviors and may lay a foundation for later integration, it may be that they alone would not suffice to promote integration
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of religious practices that are inconsistent with potent modern ideas and practices. This is because those practices do not prepare the religiously raised youngster for the experience of coping with contradictions and uncertainties that emerge with increasing exposure to modern ideas. They only clarify why it is important to maintain the religion of origin, thus making it more difficult and less tempting to give it up or even modify it. Consistent with this view, Gross (2002) reported that religious teenage girls felt that the religious education system did not prepare them for the encounter with the modern-secular world, even when their educators avoided controlling practices and demonstrated the value of religion in their own life. Some participants in Gross’ study suggested that what was missing was open encouragement of critical thinking on religious matters. It may indeed be that when youth already identify with a religious lifestyle, yet experience a sense of conflict when considering contradictions between religious and modern ideas, adults’ acceptance and encouragement of critical and independent thinking on these contradictions would facilitate integration. Such a socialization approach entails clear endorsement of the view that in many religious matters there could be different and sometimes contradictory opinions. It involves an encouragement to turn to different religious texts and authorities for consultation, as well as an understanding that ultimately each person should arrive at his or her own judgment about some religious issues. Clearly, such endorsement of critical thinking may seem to involve an inherent threat to religious parents: the possibility that the exploring youth would arrive at a decision to abandon important religious practices. Yet, it can also be hypothesized that when children are exposed to this socialization approach, they may be less troubled by religion–modernity contradictions, and may have more tools to cope with and resolve such conflicts in ways that preserve important aspects of their parents’ religion. When adults endorse this socialization perspective, their children’s understanding of religious observance is likely to include the perception that thinking differently from others on religious issues is not a sign of lack of faith, lack of religiosity, or absence of religious depth. Therefore, such contradictions and their personal resolution would be less threatening to these adolescents’ religious self-concept and identity. In addition, it is reasonable to assume that when parents encourage and value critical discussion, they may allow exposure to modern ideas at an earlier age. Consequently, children are exposed to the potential conflict between religious and modern values and practices relatively early, and thus the integration process can be gradual and less intense. Past research has shown that the acceptance and encouragement
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of critical and independent opinions has positive outcomes (Assor et al., 2002; Assor, 1999). However, the contribution of this practice to the development of religious integration has not been previously examined. Summary The different socialization approaches, which SDT categorizes into the two broad categories of ‘‘controlled’’ and ‘‘autonomous,’’ are assumed to be associated with different types of internalization of parents’ religion. Based on the SDT perspective and research by Assor and his colleagues (e.g., Assor & Roth, 2005), we posit that controlling socializing practices involving conditional love would lead to an introjected religious motivation among youth. In contrast, autonomous socializing practices involving the provision of rationale and demonstration of intrinsic value would lead youth to identify with the religious practices and values espoused by their parents. In addition, parents’ encouragement of critical thinking on religious matters would enable youth to cope with the potential tensions between the religious and the modern in ways that, ultimately, facilitate an integrated internalization of central aspects of the parents’ religion. We further posit that the contrasting internalization paths associated with the controlling and autonomous socializing practices would lead to different modes of coping with the religion–modernity conflict. We have termed these two modes of coping ‘‘radical’’ and ‘‘revisionist’’ exploration and now turn to describe these psychological processes in more detail.
RADICAL VERSUS REVISIONIST EXPLORATION: TWO MODES OF COPING WITH THE RELIGION–MODERNITY CONFLICT Exploration as a Coping Mechanism In moderate orthodox communities, religious adolescents and young adults are increasingly exposed to late modern ideas and lifestyles. As they become more independent and mobile, and particularly when they begin to make transitions from home to different social contexts, some of which are secular (e.g., college, army, work), adolescents are likely to encounter beliefs and practices that may conflict with the traditional beliefs and lifestyle they grew up with. Particularly at this developmental stage, when people strive to
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assume an autonomous voice and attempt to form an identity, such exposure is likely to elicit questioning and exploration (Erikson, 1968; see also Arnett, 2004; Schwartz, 2001). The identity-formation process involves attempts to explore the possibility of integrating childhood and contemporaneous identifications into a larger, self-determined, and relatively coherent set of self-identified ideals that feels authentic and meaningful (Erikson, 1968). Exploration, which Grotevant (1987) argued to be the ‘‘work’’ of identity formation, describes a core process of finding and processing self-relevant information and attempting to integrate such knowledge into a comprehensive set of values and commitments. In our research (Cohen-Malayev & Assor, 2003), we identified two styles of exploration that religiously raised youth employ when they cope with the religion–modernity conflict: Radical Exploration and Revisionist Exploration. Radical exploration is characterized by a highly emotional, and at times oppositional, questioning of one’s personal–emotional relations with the religion’s core beliefs and lifestyle. This type of exploration revolves around the personal costs involved in maintaining a religious way of life and the extent to which a religious lifestyle conflicts with personal dispositions and beliefs (e.g., an assertive feminist woman who opposes what may seem to be gender discriminatory religious practices). It also includes a concern with the sense of authenticity and level of internalization of one’s religious involvement (e.g., ‘‘Why is it that I became a Catholic? Does it reflect the real me?’’). The term ‘‘radical exploration’’ highlights the emotional intensity and the grappling with deep and fundamental personal issues that are associated with this process. Although radical exploration often involves questioning of the merits of a religious way of life, it is usually not particularly sophisticated, thorough, or cognitively complex. In fact, because of its highly emotional nature and its commonly oppositional quality, radical exploration often may be quite unsystematic and simplistic. This type of exploration seems to be focused more on raising difficult questions and on making extreme decisions than on the process of resolving the conflict through synthesis and integration. In comparison, revisionist exploration focuses mainly on synthesis and integration: the question is not whether to maintain the religion of origin, but how to do it in ways that would be coherent with various beliefs one endorses? Thus, in this style of exploration, fundamental religious tenets and the merits of maintaining a religious way of life are not questioned. In addition, revisionist exploration involves little preoccupation with the personal emotional costs of maintaining a religious lifestyle or the extent to
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which one’s religiosity feels authentic and self-chosen. Rather, such exploration involves serious reflection and decision-making concerning the kind of religious life one wants to lead. In the Jewish and Christian religions, revisionist exploration may involve, for example, grappling with questions concerning the role of women in religion, sexual relations before and after marriage, issues pertaining to human rights (e.g., abortion, euthanasia, and homosexual relations), and the meaning of scientific theories and findings to religion. Although these are serious and often emotionally laden issues, their examination is not dominated by intense emotional reactions involving personal costs, and therefore is relatively balanced and cognitively complex. In terms of basic orientation toward religion, it appears that radical exploration has a disconfirming and oppositional approach, whereas revisionist exploration is basically confirming in its orientation. We now turn to socializing and internalization processes assumed to promote the two modes of exploration, and to the expected effects of the two exploration modes on young adults’ motivation and capacity to form an integrated religious identity.
Developmental Origins and Effects of Radical and Revisionist Exploration Controlled Socialization, Introjected Motivation, and Radical Exploration Our model suggests that parental conditional love fosters introjected internalization, which, in turn, leads religiously raised youth to cope with the religion–modernity conflict through a process characterized by radical exploration. Because the religious practices were acquired using a socializing approach that evokes a great deal of anger and internal conflict, it is very difficult for youth to fully own them and feel at peace with them (see Assor et al., 2004, 2005). The poor internalization and the internal conflict characterizing introjected religious beliefs dispose youth holding those beliefs to be rather susceptible to the influence of contradictory modern ideas. Therefore, when developmental and contextual processes converge to highlight the discrepancy between religious and modern-secular lifestyles (e.g., when late adolescents go to college, Arnett, 2004), youth with introjected internalization of religion are likely to experience a strong internal conflict. Perhaps they even feel tempted to adopt modern ideas as a way of expressing their resentment against the coercive process that has caused them to adopt the religious way of life as a way of maintaining parental love. This resistant reaction may develop along the lines sketched by Brehm’s theory of reactance (Brehm, 1966, 1993; Brehm & Brehm, 1981).
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Thus, it is possible that modern ideas join latent internal reservations concerning the religious way of life to produce a type of questioning that is not aimed at the attainment of coherent integration, but rather toward liberating one from what is experienced as an internal religious tyranny. Moreover, the emotional turmoil which accompanies introjected internalization makes it difficult to consider complex possibilities for integrating the secular-modern and the religious belief systems. Therefore, the questioning that would arise from encountering the religion–modernity conflict is likely to be framed in radical terms: either one or the other. Radical exploration is not likely to lead to the formation of an integrated internalization of the religion of origin because persons involved in such exploration do not possess the psychological and developmental foundations on which such a coherent identity can securely rest. To the contrary, the intense and radical exploration of one’s religious way of life is likely to further erode what are already unstable religious foundations. Yet, interestingly, it is not at all clear that intense radical exploration would lead to the abandonment of religion and the full adoption of a nonreligious way of life. The use of conditional love to promote introjection of religious practices is based on implied threats of love withdrawal and derogation if the child fails to adopt the expected practices. In the case of religious beliefs, the loss of esteem and love is not only from one’s parents, but also from God and from most, if not all, the older generation in one’s community of origin. Thus, abandoning, or even considering the abandonment of religious practices, may evoke strong emotions of guilt, worthlessness, and loneliness (Barzilai, 2004). In addition, renunciation of religion may also undermine youth’s sense of meaning. Religion provides a structure that enables many people to handle and find meaning in pivotal and often unsettling aspects of life (death, birth, marriage). Loss of such a structure can be experienced as very threatening (Granqvist & Hagekull, 1999; Saroglou, Delpierre, & Dernelle, 2004). Thus, whereas some of the young adults who engage in radical exploration may indeed decide to reject religion and adopt a secular lifestyle, many others would not. However, even those who choose to maintain their religious identity and lifestyle are unlikely to form a harmonious and integrated religious identity. Thus, the intense radical exploration of one’s religiosity, and the experience of inner-coercion that would be associated with the decision to maintain the religious way of life, are likely to make it very difficult to reach a state of authentic integration of the religion of origin. In summary, while radical exploration is not likely to lead to an integrated internalization of religion, it is also unlikely to lead most youth to reject the
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religious way of life. Rather, it may lead most youth to an intense crisis and vacillation between the religious and the modern. Autonomous Socialization, Identified Motivation, and Revisionist Exploration The second path in our model suggests that the autonomy supportive socialization practices of providing rationale and demonstrating the intrinsic value of engagement in religious practices are likely to contribute to identified internalization of religious beliefs and practices among youth. When children identify with the religious way of life, they tend to adhere to it because they understand and like it. Consequently, when adolescents with identified religious internalization face contradictions between religion and modernity, they prefer to settle it in ways that preserve the fundamentals of the religion they have come to appreciate and love. Moreover, the warm and appreciative feelings toward one’s childhood religion (including the way religious adherence was fostered), cause questions like the merit of a religious way of life to have self-evident positive answers. As a result, to the extent that these youth engage in an attempt to resolve the tension between the modern and the religious, they do it via a revisionist rather than radical exploration. However, provision of rationale, demonstration of intrinsic value, and the resulting identified motivation may not be sufficient to support a revisionist exploration that involves thorough examination of and adequate coping with the potential contradictions between modernity and religion. Serious attempts at resolving contradictory belief systems require psychological resources and skills beyond those associated with identification (cf. Flum & Kaplan, in press; Fowler, 1981; Perry, 1968; Ryan & Deci, 2000). Here, the socializing practice of encouraging critical thinking on religious matters may provide those resources and skills. It is the willingness to withhold judgment, to entertain uncertainty and paradox (cf. Fowler, 1981), to accept the coexistence of non-complementary systems of explanation, and to engage in complex self-reflection and reasoning, that critical thinking on religion may help to develop and that would aid young adults in integrating both religion and modernity into their identity. It appears, then, that thorough revisionist exploration is likely to develop most fully in youth with identified religious internalization whose parents encouraged critical religious thinking. Fig. 1 describes the construct of integrated internalization as involving experiential and behavioral aspects. At the experiential level, religious practices and beliefs are perceived and felt as ‘‘choiceful’’ and authentic; that is reflecting who one really is and wants to be. At the behavioral level, there is continual enactment of many religious practices because they are perceived
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as reflecting one’s authentic, self-chosen religious identity, and not because of external or intojected reasons. It is important to note that integrated internalization of the religion of origin in modern contexts is a dynamic process that, probably, never comes to a complete conclusion. Thus, people who have reached a fairly high level of religious integration are still likely to encounter new issues and practices that challenge some of their religious beliefs and practices and that raise conflicts, which may remain unresolved or lead to changes and revisions. It appears, then, that one of the identifying features of people who have reached integrated religious internalization within a modern context might be their ability to live with some inconsistencies, and their willingness to acknowledge that in some areas they (and various religious authorities) have not been able to attain a satisfactory solution. While continuing to search for a satisfactory resolution, these people do not experience feelings of great urgency or stress regarding such unsolved issues, even if they understand that solutions may not be found. In the next sections, we review empirical findings which bear on our model. We first summarize previous studies conducted in this domain, and then follow to present the studies that we have conducted.
INDIRECT EMPIRICAL SUPPORT Whereas no published research has examined all, or even most, of the components in the model presented above, several studies provide indirect support to some of its important aspects. In the following section, we begin with a review of research pertaining to parents’ role in religious socialization, focusing mainly on parental strategies which appear to moderate the relations between parent and offspring religiosity. We follow with a brief review of theory and research concerned with exploration – its antecedents and its influence on religious identity and behavior.
Parental Practices as Determinants of Offspring Tendency to Internalize Parents’ Religion Many contemporary researchers view parents’ religiosity as central in determining their adolescents’ religiosity. There is a common perception that adolescents are more likely to embrace religion if their parents participate in religious practices (see Arnett, 2004; Clark, Worthington, & Danser, 1986;
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Francis & Brown, 1991; King, Furrow, & Roth, 2002; Willits & Crider, 1989; Martin, White, & Perlman, 2003). However, there is less agreement concerning the extent to which children of religious parents remain religious after they enter emerging adulthood (see Arnett, 2002; Francis & Brown, 1991; Willits & Crider, 1989; Hoge, Johnson, & Luidens, 1993, 1994; Hoge, Dinges, Johnson, & Gonzales, 1998). For example, whereas Arnett (2004) claims that there is no relationship between emerging adults’ religious beliefs and practices and those of their parents, Myers (1996) contends that parents play a very influential role in offspring’s religious socialization even after they establish their independent households. Such contradictory findings suggest that the relation between parents’ and emerging adults’ religious beliefs and practice is labile and that it depends on a variety of factors. One important factor that might moderate the relations between parents’ and young adults’ religiosity might be the type of socializing practices that parents employ. Thus, several studies found that when the parent–child relationships is close and supportive, or when offspring report secure attachment to their parents, there is greater correspondence between the religious beliefs and practices of parents and their offspring (Granqvist, 1998; Granqvist & Hagekull, 1999; Hoge & Petrillo, 1978; Hood, Spilke, Hunsberger, & Gorusch, 1996; Strahan, 1991; Myers, 1996 – although see Nelsen, 1980). In the proposed model, one component that comes close to the variable of parental support (more precisely lack of support) is the practice of parental conditional regard, which implies lack of dependable, unconditional parental support. The findings indicating that lack of parental warmth and support appears to undermine the inter-generational transmission of religious beliefs are consistent with the notion that conditional regard is not likely to facilitate integration of parents’ religion. Yet, conditional regard is quite different from lack of parental warmth, support, or secure attachment, and therefore its effects should be tested more directly. The empirical findings (based on research done by other authors) that are most relevant to the proposed model come from the longitudinal study reported by Myers (1996), which found that parental support and moderate strictness (control) had a direct effect on offspring religiosity 12 years later. In addition, those parental practices moderated the effects of parents’ religiosity on their offspring’s subsequent religiosity. Thus, parents’ religiosity was found to have a stronger impact on offspring’s religiosity at higher levels of parental support and at moderate levels of strict control. The findings concerning the positive effects of moderate strictness appear to contradict our assumptions that controlling parental practices do not promote
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integrated internalization of parents’ religion. However, the nature of the variable termed moderate parental strictness is not clear. It is quite possible that in the Myers (1996) study, low parental strictness reflected parental neglect rather than autonomy support. And as shown in many studies (e.g., Baumrind, 1971; Grolnick et al., 1997), it is possible that controlling parenting is better than neglectful parenting. One qualitative study that bears on the concept that encouraging independent religious thinking can lead to further religious internalization was done by Gross (2003), which examined the perceptions of female emerging adults concerning their religious education and the ways it influenced their religious worlds. Gross interviewed 40 young religious female emerging adults regarding their religious high school schooling. Gross concludes that teachers have a rather limited influence on the emerging religious world of their students. Furthermore, it appears that most teachers were not perceived as encouraging reflective processes, although reflective teachers are apparently preferable to instrumental ones insofar as construction of one’s religious identity in concerned. The female emerging adults perceived four major aspects of teaching to have a defining effect on their religious development: positive interaction with teachers (including an empathic attitude, respect, and pleasantness toward students), a favorable personal religious example set by the teachers, description and analysis of teachers’ own religious experiences (which can be viewed as a form of reflection on behavior), and encouragement of critical reflection on religious issues (although this aspect of teaching was rarely reported, it was viewed as very meaningful when it occurred). Although Gross’ study did not refer to parental practices, the finding that reflection-oriented teachers were perceived as preferable and as more helpful in the construction of religious identity is consistent with our assumptions regarding the positive effect of parenting which encourages critical religious thinking. Overall, the survey of the pertinent research literature suggests that, while parental practices involving support and warmth, and to a lesser extent strict control and encouragement of critical thinking, received some attention, no study to date has examined the effects of parental autonomy support or conditional love on inter-generational transmission of religion. The study of the latter parental practices (on which the proposed model focuses) is particularly important because it can perhaps show that, at least in the case of conditional love, low strict control (as indicated by low conditional love) is associated with a higher degree of inter-generational religious transmission than moderate strict control, and this is especially so when low conditional love is associated with a high degree of autonomy support.
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Exploration: Its Antecedents and Its Influence on Religious Identity and Behavior As the proposed model focuses also on the process of exploring religious questions, we now survey research related to religious exploration – its antecedents and its influence on religious identity and behavior. Grotevant (1987) offers a process model of identity formation where the exploration process is a central component. This model emphasizes the role of the social context in identity formation. The social context includes the societal/cultural level as well as family, friends, school, and/or workplace. Grotevant and Cooper (1985) examined the influence of the family context on exploration and identity formation. They indicate that patterns of family interaction were different in families with adolescents who are high versus low on exploration. In families of adolescents high on exploration, differences among family members were openly examined, whereas the families of adolescents low on exploration tended to avoid dealing with differences. Identity achievement was enhanced when the family context was supportive, cohesive, and encouraged examination of differences of opinion among family members. Although this study did not deal directly with religious exploration, it did include religious exploration among the various exploration domains that were considered in determining participants’ identity status. As the status of identity achievement is closely related to the notion of integrated internalization (see Marcia, 1966, 2002) and encouragement of different opinions is closely related to the fostering of critical thinking, it is reasonable to assume that the findings reported by Grotevant and Cooper (1985) are consistent with our view that parents who encourage independent and critical thinking facilitate the development of an integrated identity. The study, however, did not examine directly the notion that youth whose parents’ encourage critical religious thinking are more likely to reach an integrated internalization of their parents’ religious way of life. One study that did focus more directly on the influence of relationships with parents on the way offspring cope with religious issues and on religious development was conducted by Granqvist and Hagekull (1999). It was found that youth who reported poor attachment to their parents described their religiosity as involving sudden religious conversions and intense religious changes at a later life period, and their attitude to religion was highly emotional. In contrast, youth whose religiosity is characterized by early, gradual, and less emotional adoption of religious practices and standards reported secure attachment to their parents.
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Granqvist and Hagekull (1999) description of the rather emotional and crisis-oriented religious development of youth with insecure attachment is close to our notion of radical exploration as rooted in introjection and conditional parental love. In addition, the gradual and less emotional religious development of youth with secure attachment has some features in common with the proposed concept of revisionist exploration. Yet, the concepts of insecure attachment and conditional love are quite different, as are the constructs of revisionist exploration and the gradual pattern of religious development described by Granqvist and Hagekull (1999). Moreover, it is quite possible that parents who are experienced at providing secure attachment can still be perceived as using more benign forms of conditional love in the religious domain (mainly those relying on conditional praise). Interestingly, despite the centrality of religion within Erikson’s (1963) theory of identity and psycho-social development, very little research has examined religious identity development (see Markstrom, 1999; Hunsberger, Pratt, & Pancer, 2001 for a review), and most of that research does not pertain directly to our proposed model concerning the role of religious exploration in the development of religious integration. In addition, all of this research uses a global indicator of identity status across different domains (including religion) and does not provide information on the specific correlates of identity status in the religious domain. Despite this problem, it is reasonable to view the status of identity achievement as a remote indicator of some kind of religious integration, where foreclosure can be viewed as representing a less advanced level of internalization and integration, which often is a product of introjective processes. Fulton (1997) studied college students and found that the status of identity achievement correlated positively with an internalized religious orientation. Fulton’s study, however, did not inform us about the socialization or developmental antecedents of religious integration or on its effects on religious behavior. Hunsberger et al. (2001) examined the relations between identity formation and two styles of consultation when having religious doubts: belief-confirming consultation (BCC) and belief-threatening consultation (BTC). The interesting results regarding the exploration styles were as follows: Identity achievers were found to be seeking both BCC and BTC. Moratoriums were seeking BTC but avoiding BCC, whereas foreclosures were seeking BCC but avoiding BTC. Finally, diffusers were avoiding any consultation altogether (both BCC and BTC). The finding that the status of identity achievement is related to an internalized religious orientation and to the capacity to consider both supportive
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and controversial opinions suggests that identity achievement can be treated as a remote indicator of religious internalization and integration. Markstrom-Adams, Hofstra, and Dougher (1994) studied the relations between identity status and church attendance among high school students. They found that both Foreclosure and Identity Achievement were related to increased church attendance. A similar pattern was also found by Hunsberger et al. (2001) in a much larger sample of adolescents. The finding of positive correlation between identity achievement and church attendance is consistent with our view that religious integration (as indicated by identity achievement) leads to religious behavior. The positive correlation between foreclosure and behavior can also be expected in the case of high school students. However, it can also be expected that after leaving home and being confronted with conflicting values and ways of life, many of the foreclosed individuals who did not engage in revisionist exploration and tend to be highly introjected, would find it difficult to adhere to their religion of origin. Markstrom (1999) studied the relations between identity formation status and religious involvement in a rural sample of high school students. This time, however, identity status did not relate to religious involvement. The difference between the results of the studies in which Markstrom was involved might stem from the fact that in the second study participants were from smaller, more rural and poorer communities, which might be much more controlling with regard to religion and therefore do not allow personal differences to affect religious behaviors. Taken together, the studies conducted within the identity formation paradigm suggest that some youth do form an integrated internalization of their childhood religion, which is associated with a more advanced level of general identity formation. When this occurs in contexts that are not highly controlling (e.g., in communities that are large and less rural) religious beliefs that are integrated also contribute to religious behavior. Given that parental contexts that encourage critical thinking were found to contribute to identity development (Grotevant & Cooper, 1985), and given the link between identity development and religious integration, we can assume that criticism-enabling parental practices are also likely to contribute to the development of integrated religious internalization. However, clearly there is a real need for research that examines those processes directly. This was the aim of the following three studies. The studies were conducted with religious Jewish Israeli youth and examine different parts of the proposed model of processes affecting the development of an integrated internalization of religious practices (see Fig. 1). While the first two studies employed quantitative methods, the third one
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used a qualitative methodology. The first study focused on socializing practices hypothesized to affect the quality of offspring internalization of parents’ religion (i.e., the left part of the model depicted in Fig. 1), The second investigation examined the role of integrated religious internalization as a potential mediator of the relations among revisionist and radical exploration and religious observance (i.e., the right part of Fig. 1). Finally, the qualitative study explored most of the processes included in our theoretical model. Together, those studies provide data that directly bear on the validity of the proposed model.
DIRECT EMPIRICAL SUPPORT: QUANTITATIVE STUDIES Study 1: The Relations Between Perceived Parental Practices and Religious Internalization Study 1 (Assor & Friedman, 2005; see also Assor & Roth, 2005) investigated the hypothesized relations between adolescents’ perceptions of their parents’ strategies of conditional regard and of providing rationale and demonstrating intrinsic value and their introjected and identified internalization of religious practice, respectively. Two hundred and twenty-two ninth–eleventh grade students in two all male and two all female Jewish-orthodox religious high schools in Israel responded to self-report surveys in their classroom. Items in the survey were modeled after similar instruments in different domains (e.g., Assor & Roth, 2005; Assor et al., 2000, 2004; Knafo & Assor, 2005; Knafo et al., in press; Roth & Assor, 2003) and included three scales assessing parental strategies of mother and of father in the domain of religious practice: (a) perceptions of parental conditional love (e.g., ‘‘I feel that I would lose some of my father’s/mother’s affection if I would not keep Kosher;’’ ‘‘I feel that my father/mother would give me more affection if I pray everyday in the synagogue’’); (b) perceptions of provision of a rationale (e.g., ‘‘My father/mother explains what is the source of the commandments (‘mitzvoth’) that are hard to keep’’); and (c) perceptions of demonstration of intrinsic value (e.g., ‘‘My father/ mother enjoys studying the Torah;’’ ‘‘My father/mother prays with seriousness and intensity (with ‘kavana gdolah’).’’).
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The survey also included scales assessing three levels of internalization of religious practice: identified internalization (‘‘When I say grace after meals, I do so because I understand the importance of this commandment (‘mitzvah’))’’; introjected internalization (‘‘I keep the Sabbath so that I would not feel guilty’’); and external internalization (‘‘I keep the Sabbath because this is what is required of me’’). In addition, extent of religious observance was also assessed. All scales manifested appropriate statistical properties. As expected, the two autonomy-supportive parental strategies – provision of rationale and demonstration of value – were positively and strongly correlated with each other, but only mildly correlated with the controlling strategy of conditional regard. Identified regulation was negatively correlated with external regulation, whereas introjected regulation was mildly and positively correlated with external as well as with identified regulations. This pattern replicates the Simplex structure assumed by self-determination theory (see Ryan & Connell, 1989), in which constructs representing closer levels of internalization (e. g., external and introjected) are expected to have stronger positive correlations than constructs representing more distant levels of internalization (e.g., external and identified). As hypothesized, perceived use of conditional maternal and paternal regard was positively correlated with introjected as well as with external regulations of religious practice, but was unrelated to identified regulation. In contrast, demonstration of intrinsic value and provision of rationale were positively correlated with identified regulation, but were unrelated to or negatively related with introjected and external regulations. In addition, while perceptions of intrinsic value demonstration and providing rationale were positively related to offsprings’ reports of religious observance, perceived parental conditional regard was mostly unrelated to offspring religious observance. Study 1 had two methodological limitations. First, we relied only on adolescents’ reports to assess parents’ practices. Second, we employed data collected at one point in time. Nevertheless, the results were consistent with our conceptualization regarding the socializing antecedents of identified versus introjected modes of internalization of a religious way of life.
Study 2: Exploration, Integrated Internalization, and Religious Observance This study (Cohen-Malayev & Assor, 2003) aimed at developing instruments to assess radical versus revisionist exploration of religious identity, as well as integrated internalization of religious practice. In addition, we
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examined the hypothesis that revisionist, but not radical, exploration enhances integrated internalization of the practices of one’s childhood religion, which then results in present adherence to those practices. Participants in this study were 160 religious Jewish young adults (ages 18–30), whose participation was voluntary. Participants responded to a survey that included scales assessing the above variables as well as open, free response, questions (the findings of which are reported in a later section of this chapter). The first phase of this study involved the construction of scales assessing radical and revisionist exploration of a religious identity. Following generation of items, an exploratory factor analytic procedure, and reliability tests, two scales were created to assess the two respective variables. Items assessing past radical and revisionist exploration appear in Table 1.
Table 1.
Items Assessing Past Radical and Revisionist Exploration.
Past Radical Exploration: 1. In the past, I often questioned the extent to which the halachic approach is suitable to me 2. In the past, I dealt with subject matters in Judaism, which disturb me personally 3. In the past, I dealt with the difficulties I experience when fulfilling the mitzvot (commandments) 4. In the past, I had strong emotional responses in relation to religion and it was important to me to examine their significance 5. In the past, I thought of my personal motives for keeping the mitzvot (commandments) 6. In the past, I wondered if I would have become Jewish if I was raised in a different environment 7. In the past, I asked myself why do I really keep the mitzot (commandments) 8. In the past, I dealt with the question: is my Jewish religious devotion originating from my personal choice and understanding or is mainly a product of the influence of others on me. Past revisionist exploration: In the past, I tried to find out how different approaches to Judaism deal with the following subject matters: 1. Women’s status/women’s role: 2. The attitude of Judaism to other nations (the notion of the chosen people) 3. The holocaust 4. The authority and power of the civil courts (especially the Supreme Court) versus the religious courts 5. The relations between religion and science (for example, with regard to the theory of genesis) 6. Sexuality (homosexuality, full sexual relations prior to marriage) 7. Human rights (euthanasia as an example) 8. Religious coercion – obliging secular Israeli Jews to behave according to religious law: marriage, burial, keeping the Sabbath (religion–state relations, separation between state and religion).
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The items assessing past radical exploration capture a preoccupation with the sources of one’s adherence to religious practices (i.e., Why am I a religious person? and Why do I observe religious laws and practices?) as well as with the emotional costs of such commitment to religious law. The items assessing past revisionist exploration capture attempts to examine different perspectives within Judaism concerning various controversial issues over which liberal-modern values and those of orthodox Jewish institutional religion in Israel are in tension. These are, for example, the status of women, homosexuality, premarital sexual relations, abortion, euthanasia, and more generally, the separation of church and state, which currently does not exist in Israel, due to a large extent to pressure of orthodox religious parties and institutions. The correlation between radical and revisionist exploration was r ¼ 0.21 (po0.05). We also constructed a scale to assess integrated internalization of religious practice. The items ask the respondent to indicate how much enactment of specific practices and adherence to various religious beliefs is ‘‘choiceful’’ and reflects the personal identity she or he has constructed (e.g., ‘‘I make an effort to keep the commandments because keeping the commandments is an important part of the identity I formulated for myself,’’ ‘‘when I wear a yarmulke/dress modestly I express my decision to be an observing Jew – something I thought about a lot in the past.’’). Behavioral observance of orthodox religious practices was assessed by a scale that asked participants to indicate the frequency of observing certain commandments such as ‘‘keeping the Sabbath,’’ ‘‘keeping Kosher,’’ ‘‘wearing a yarmulke/dressing modestly,’’ and ‘‘studying Jewish law.’’ All scales manifested appropriate statistical characteristics. As expected, revisionist, but not radical, exploration was associated positively and significantly with integrated internalization and with religious observance. Mediation analyses supported the hypothesis that revisionist exploration leads to integrated internalization, which in turn leads to behavioral observance. Thus, the positive and significant regression coefficient (b) of revisionist exploration on observance dropped significantly (Sobel’s, 1982 test, po0.05) when integrated internalization was entered as a second predictor of observance. Although the mediation is only partial and the design does not allow us to test causal hypotheses, the results are consistent with the view that while revisionist exploration leads to integrated internalization of the religion of origin in youth living in modern contexts, this is not true in the case of radical exploration. The findings from studies 1 and 2 provide initial support for the proposed model. However, it is clear that much more research is required in order to
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establish the temporal links between the various constructs. For that, longitudinal designs are imperative. Moreover, the conceptualization of radical and revisionist exploration is still in its inception. Therefore, more in-depth exploratory methods are required in order to gain a richer and more comprehensive understanding of these modes of religious exploration. We provide a beginning of such an endeavor in the next section, in which we report on the findings from the qualitative part of the second study presented above.
A Preliminary Qualitative Investigation of Radical versus Revisionist Religious Exploration Objectives and Method To gain further insight into the nature and dynamics of radical versus revisionist exploration, we asked 11 persons who participated in the larger study and currently belong to a sub-sample of 53 students attending a secular Israeli university to respond to an open-ended questionnaire. Six of the participants were selected to represent clear cases of radical exploration, whereas five represented clear cases of revisionist exploration. Thus, in the group representing radical exploration, participants scored at least half of a standard deviation above the mean of the total sample on the radical exploration scale. In addition, they also scored higher on the radical exploration scale than on the revisionist exploration scale. The reverse was true for the five persons representing revisionist exploration. The students were asked to describe the questions and/or issues pertaining to religion that have occupied them in the past and/or are occupying them in the present, what started the questioning and what did they do or are doing about it. The general framework used to analyze the students’ responses was based on the phenomenological approach for identifying themes in verbal accounts (Giorgi, 1975; Creswell, 1998; Ratner, 2002). However, as our research question emerged from a specific theoretical background, we combined a priori theme analysis with a more open-ended theme analysis. It is important to note that the researchers who conducted the analysis were blind to the classification of the participants as radicals versus revisionists. Plan of Analysis First, we attempted to assess the extent to which the features that define the two exploration styles according to the self-report scales were also present in the open descriptions. Specifically, we looked for three features: (1) the extent to which participants deal with religious issues (including the tension
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between religion and modernity) in a very emotional way, emphasizing the personal costs of a religious way of life, (2) the degree to which those persons are concerned with the sources of their belief and the extent to which their religious adherence is a product of their own choice, and (3) the manner of coping with the religion–modernity conflict: a self-disciplined and gradual attempt to find the solution within the realm of Jewish scholarship versus a more impatient and open search, which includes examination of non-orthodox and even secular ways of life. Then, we looked for other features of radical versus revisionist exploration that we might have neglected in our self-report scales but did appear in our conceptualization. The result of this was the discovery of the central place of existential questions such as the existence of God, his goodness, and the merits of doing Mitzvoth (commandments). Then, we turned to educational or family sources of the ways in which participants cope with religious questions and finally to the possibility of deep integration of traditional religion with the present or future lives of our participants. Findings As can be expected, based on our conceptualization of radical versus revisionist exploration, religious practices and questions evoked more negative emotions in participants scoring high on the self-report radical exploration scale (i.e., ‘‘radicals’’) than in participants scoring high on the self-report revisionist exploration scale (i.e., ‘‘revisionists’’). Thus, most of the radicals emphasized personal difficulties and costs involved in the attempt to maintain a religious way of life, which sometimes lead to anger or resentment toward religion. In response to the question ‘‘Describe religion-related topics that have occupied you in the last year, what caused you to think of them, and what did you do about it?,’’ one ‘‘radical’’ (David) responded in the following way: Faith – Doubts that rose in me concerning faith. The doubts undermined my whole identity, I talked with my brother and with Rabbis in the Yeshiva about it. Divine providence (Hashgacha Elyona), sin and punishment – Things I saw, I felt an existential difficulty with the suffering in the world from a faith (emoonit) perspective, I talked with my Rabbi in the Yeshiva about this. Modesty – Coming to the University and bumping into an immodest reality, a feeling of an almost impossible conflict between the duty of ‘‘watching your eyes’’ and the nonmodest reality all around; I asked myself if I am not ‘‘screwed’’ because I am religious, a feeling of some resentment (our emphasis). I talked with my Rabbi in the Yeshiva I once studied in and he strengthened me and eradicated the feeling of resentment. Prohibitions on touch – A feeling of resentment toward the Halacha (religious law) (our emphasis); I talked about it with my Rabbi in the Yeshiva that I once attended and he
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explained me the logic of the prohibitions of touching, and has eradicated the feeling of resentment (Quote # 1).
David’s resentment toward religion is clearly expressed vis-a`-vis the sexual religious prohibitions that stand in sharp contrast to the modern university context he now lives in. The way in which he deals with this conflict would be discussed later in relation to the possibility of religious integration among the radicals. The theme of having to sacrifice sexual pleasures because of religious codes appeared in the response of another man (Jacob) to the question regarding issues he was lately concerned about: Relations between man and woman, to what extent is it necessary to be strict about it and to sacrifice (our emphasis), how do I overcome instincts and urges, leave the marginal and focus more on Torah and Mitzvoth. (Quote # 2).
Jacob then added that stresses in the university and traumas that he went through were some of the causes that led him to examine important aspects of religion. The issue of personal difficulties as an instigator of religious questioning appeared also in the answer of one young radical-exploration woman (Tamar), who wrote that she started questioning the existence of God ‘‘because my personal situation and the situation of the country were both not so good’’ (quote # 3). Although she does not get into an elaborate discussion of her personal difficulties, it appears that the religious exploration emerged, at least in part, from personal distress. A second radical-exploration woman (Yael) also focused on emotionally problematic aspects of religion as sources of her religious exploration. In response to the question regarding what caused her to become concerned with various religious questions she wrote: a. The feeling that religion causes life to be less joyful and flowing (not in an absolute way, depends how you do this) b. I felt that the climate I grew up in (that was related to the religious way I was educated in) did not do me good. (Quote # 4).
Interestingly, Moshe, another radical-exploration man, who provided a very brief three-sentence response, also mentioned the difficulties that religion causes. Thus, his longest sentence was: ‘‘why is this heavy burden of religion?’’ (Quote # 5). The highly emotional nature of the radical-exploration process is, perhaps, best exemplified by the sixth member of the radical exploration group (Rachel), who provided the following summary of the history of her religious
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questioning and the ways she has tried to cope with her religious doubts and needs: y In grade seven, I was struck by the recognition that sacrificing is a religious ritual which is similar to pagans’ and other cultures’ religious rituals. This understanding lead to the collapse of the conception that the Jewish religion is more exalted and absolute, and slowly other understandings and axioms were shattered, leading me to finally doubt G-d’s existence. I felt tremendous guilt – I did not share this with anyone – as well as felt great fear because I felt I lost something tremendous and was left alone. I decided to continue my studies in a more liberal religious high school since I felt that by belonging to a liberal setting it will be easier for me to keep living within the religious framework. During high school I have developed the illusion that I am comfortable with living with this contradiction. However, at some point I understood it is not realistic and that it causes me pain and frustration. I decided that once high school will be over I will become secular. In a way I was looking for appreciation from the people around me about the transfer I made, mainly from religious people – actually because I wanted to be convinced back. Today I am dealing in a deep and non-compromising fashion with all these questions with myself along with my (religious) boyfriend. I accumulated a lot of anger toward the religion and G-d which ‘‘disappointed’’ me and today I am in a state of reconciliation. (Quote # 6).
Clearly, the above summary is consistent with the view that the radicals perceive religious questions as personally disturbing and as evoking negative feelings such as guilt, fear, anger and loneliness. The above quote has other important features, which we will discuss later. In contrast to the participants scoring high on radical exploration, participants scoring high on the revisionist exploration scale dealt with religious questions in ways that are less emotional and angry. Thus, while revisionists did note that the various religious practices are quite problematic and do not fit modern ideas, they dealt with those issues in a less personal and emotional manner, sometimes even adopting a scholarly way. Another theme that appears in three of the six responses of the radicals, and is completely absent in the case of the revisionists, is the concern regarding religious practice as being freely chosen rather than externally induced. That is, a concern with the sources of one’s religious adherence and the extent to which the religious way of life feels autonomous or self-determined versus controlled. Thus, Yael, who was cited above (quote # 4) noted that in the past she was concerned with the question: ‘‘To what extent is my connection to religion internal and real?’’ In addition, Rachel (who is also cited in quote # 5) writes: ‘‘I want to feel free – liberated while I am religious.’’ Finally, one radical (Tamar) explicitly focuses on the reasons for observing the religious code: The sheer fact that I am Jewish is the cause and the reason for observing the Mitzvoth. I would not observe the mitzvoth (religious commands) because I would be rewarded
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to-day or in the future but rather observe the mitzvoth because I was born Jewish. And if I were someone else, the commands of the Jews would not have been binding for me (our emphasis). I accepted this approach cognitively but not emotionally. As a result I am still working to accept this approach and to accept it out of love and not only because of the thought that it is the right way. (Quote # 7).
Interestingly, this participant is aware of various reasons or motivations for religious behavior, and appears to struggle with an acute awareness that she observes the religious practice because she has to and not because she fully identifies with it. The lack of deep identification with the religion of origin appears to be reflected in her tendency to consider ‘‘the commands of the Jews’’ from the external perspective of those who are not Jews. As we read her account, we get the impression that the fact that she was born and raised in a religious-Jewish community is a source of an internal conflict for her. In terms of SDT, she appears to be trying to move from a controlled and introjected religious motivation to a more autonomous integrated and perhaps even intrinsic religious motivation. A third theme that distinguishes between the ‘‘radicals’’ and the ‘‘revisionists’’ is their style of coping with the religion–modernity conflict. Thus, while four out of the five ‘‘revisionists’’ try to resolve the conflict through a fairly demanding, gradual and complex exploration process involving considerable study of religious writings, the ‘‘radicals’’’ search for answers appears to be more impatient, relying almost exclusively on other people as authorities or sources of ideas rather than taking the more laborious route of inspecting various writings and making the decision themselves. We will illustrate this difference with some examples. Miriam, one woman scoring high on the ‘‘revisionist’’ exploration scale, has been recently dating a secular young man who feels that physical contact and sexual relationship are central to intimate relationship and thus would like to have some sexual relationship. After describing her partner’s view, Miriam proceeds to describe her response: My feeling – internal conflict – on the one hand the natural desire for physical contact and on the other hand – the Halacha and Judaism as I perceive it. What do I do – I am still struggling with this problem y I read a little of the Jewish opinions on the subject (our emphasis).
The turning to religious writings in an attempt to make up her own mind also applies to other issues that have concerned this woman, issues such as good and evil, the logic of various religious commands, morality, and the creation of the world (genesis). With regard to her preoccupation with the
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logic of religious commands (Mitzvoth) she writes: This issue rose because of my difficulty to keep a mitzvah that seems to me without purpose or logic. Especially with mitzvoth that I find personally difficult to apply. Then I had a greater need to ask – why should I do this? What is the logic y What did I do – At the beginning I tried to read on and understand each mitzvah that was unclear to me and hard – to understand what underlies it, but while simultaneously studying Jewish philosophy and thought (our emphasis) – I arrived at some reconciliation that not everything has a reason that I will understand, and an important part of the principles of Judaism is to act also if you do not understand.
The above quote also highlights the less emotional and less angry nature of the ‘‘revisionist’’ exploration process. Thus, although adherence to the religious codes clearly complicates this woman’s current romantic relationship and she also does not understand the justification for many religious commands, she still does not express anger or resentment toward religion or God. Another person in the revisionists group (Haim) is concerned with the fact that children born out of wedlock are considered by Jewish law ‘‘bastards’’ and are hurt, although it is not their fault. He tries to deal with this disturbing aspect of the Jewish religion by turning to religious writings, although he notes that he still does not understand the reason for this practice also after he examined various sources. Importantly, although Haim is concerned with many morally problematic aspects of religious law and practice (e.g., euthanasia, civil marriage, keeping of Sabbath in Israel, drafting of young women to military service), he still does not show an angry or oppositional attitude toward Jewish religion as a whole. Daniel, another ‘‘revisionist,’’ wrote that what caused him to question various religious practices is ‘‘the difference that is present between the classical sources and references of the Halacha [Mishnah/G’marah] and life nowadays.’’ In particular, he refers to the place of women in the synagogue and in the Jewish religion versus their place within the modern world. He then proceeds to suggest the following way of resolving the tension between religion and modernity: I arrived at the conclusion that one should examine the historical development of the Halacha while understanding the importance of keeping the tradition as we have received it today. Following this, I am open to Jewish studies of all approaches and I am still trying to formulate and consolidate my religious lifestyle – Halachicly speaking.
Perhaps the best example of the willingness of the revisionists to engage in a serious religious exploration as a way of addressing the modernity–religion
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conflict is provided by Yehuda, who provides the following account: I was preoccupied with things like the development of the Halacha versus its continuity, fitting the religious values to the modern world, relevance of Jewish subjects to my identity y relations between the sexes, a deeper learning of the religious system y the ‘‘seculars’’, limits and red lines, the issue of modesty as an example of some clash between the different eras y Generally, I chose to immerse myself in religious subjects out of a will to live as a critical and thinking religious person. I did not consider taking extreme steps in this matter but it was important to me to live as a thinking (reflective) religious person who understands Jewish thought and law (Halacha). I chose to study after high school in a certain Yeshiva, because I felt that there they give room to every real question that arises and there is no thought ‘‘censorship’’. Generally, I was raised to think critically and therefore when I was confronted with religious issues that were difficult for me, it was important for me to study them and cope with them y it was important for me to examine to what extent and in what ways does the Halacha adapt itself to the changing world and how is it possible to promote such issues that are important to me. Male–female relations – I also talked to people about this issue and read about it in an attempt to see what is the ‘‘recommended’’ way according to the religion y This topic, of course, occupies many people my age in my surrounding, and in my opinion it is the number one reason for identity problems and conflicts regarding religious observance during adolescence and later on. Today, I am still in the process of searching for a way to grant a place to the religious world within a lifestyle which is not within a religious framework y The status of women – for me this issue is very problematic. There is no doubt that there is a gap between our perception of this subject as people in a modern society and the way the Halacha treated this issue until very recently. In my opinion a change in this domain is starting to emerge y and I hope that this tendency would continue with an understanding for the need of the Halacha to be conservative and to defend the value system it represents.
Yehuda appears to have been deeply concerned with the conflict between modernity and religion for a long time, yet he is not angry or guilty because of it. Rather, he seems to have the patience and initiative to cope with the various dilemmas in a thorough and gradual way, turning to both books and people, selecting an open-minded learning context, and above all, trying to make his own decisions in a balanced and critical way, rather than turning to some external authority to make the decision for him. Yehuda’s account is a prototypical example of a revisionist response in some other ways, as will be demonstrated later on. Unlike the revisionists, the ‘‘radicals’’ cope with the modernity–religion conflict in ways that appear more impatient, less complex, and at times less willing to take responsibility and make one’s own decisions. For example, David repeatedly writes that he has tried to deal with modesty and sexuality issues by turning to his Rabbi, and indeed the Rabbi has succeeded to ‘‘strengthen’’ him and drive away the resentment (see quotes 1 and 2). In the
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case of David, then, it appears as if he could not gather the strength and the courage to make his own decision and had a strong need to rely on an external authority to make the decision for him. The turning to external authority in this case stands in sharp contrast to the more active and autonomous way in which Yehuda and Miriam (two revisionists) seek to resolve their conflict on issues pertaining to male–female relations. Jacob, another ‘‘radical,’’ does not cope with his religious conflicts by turning to an external authority that would make the decisions for him. Yet, he also does not give any indication of what specific actions he has taken in an attempt to make up his mind on the issues that concern him: One has to check, to examine, to get deeper and to think, trying with the Torah and the Mitzvoth, to be more observant and rigorous, to ask questions and to look for answers.
As we read his response it seems that he has not initiated any systematic attempts to solve his dilemmas. In that sense, his explorative process seems to be less serious than the type of effortful investigation described by the revisionists. Other ‘‘radicals’’ either do not describe how they are trying to resolve the serious conflicts they are coping with (Tamar, Moshe) or they briefly mention exposure to a variety of religious people and opinions as a way of coping, without ever mentioning self-study of religious sources (Yael, Rachel). The contrast between the radicals and the revisionists is particularly apparent in the ways in which two participants (Rachel – a radical woman and Yehuda – a revisionist man) have approached and utilized their stay within a relatively open religious educational context. While Yehuda seems to have used his stay in the relatively liberal context to ask difficult questions, Rachel does not mention such questioning and appears to have retained her questions to herself. Although our questions did not address directly the quality of the internalization of the religion of origin and its socialization sources, it is interesting to examine the responses from this perspective as well. With regard to internalization, the themes of conflict, resentment, and guilt that appear only in the responses of the radicals strongly suggest that these persons indeed have internalized the religion of origin in a highly introjected way. This conclusion is further supported by the fact that half of the radicals are explicitly concerned with the extent to which their connection to religion feels ‘‘internal and real’’, suggesting that, as can be expected in the case of introjection, the beliefs do not feel authentic and self-expressive. One of the radicals, Yael, also linked her conflict with religion to the type of religious education she got and the way she was raised, and another
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radical woman, Rachel, writes that when her religious doubts emerged at the seventh grade, she felt a tremendous sense of guilt and did not share her doubts or feelings with anyone. This suggests that the type of context she grew up in perhaps did not encourage open discussions of religious issues and might have even fostered a sense of guilt as a way of promoting religious internalization. In contrast to the introjected nature of the radicals’ responses, the accounts of the revisionists suggest a more autonomous type of religious internalization. Thus, although all the revisionists viewed certain aspects of religion as problematic and inconsistent with desirable modern ideas and were deeply concerned with those issues, these concerns were not accompanied by feelings of anger, fear, or guilt, which often suggest the existence of introjective processes. Moreover, the accounts of the revisionists suggest deep appreciation of religion even when it has some problematic aspects. This type of appreciation, together with the absence of feelings of anger, fear, or guilt suggests that the revisionists identify with core aspects of the religion of origin. Yet, the fact that most of the revisionists still experience serious religious dilemmas and struggles indicates that most of them have not reached a highly integrated level of internalization of the religion of origin. Interestingly, while none of the radicals mentioned an educational or familial background that encouraged critical thinking, at least one of the revisionists did refer to such a background. Let us now turn to the possibility of an integrated internalization of the religion of origin. The strong feelings of anger and resentment characterizing the radicals, together with the diffuse way in which they try to cope with the religion–modernity conflict suggest that they are not likely to form an integrated internalization of key aspects of their religion of origin. The radicals do care about religion, and many of them may try hard to keep their connection with it. However, their anger and guilt may not allow them to conduct the kind of gradual exploration and integration that systematically examines and reorganizes one’s religious views until one has reached a religious way of life that is coherent with one’s modern principles and lifestyle. Thus, although David turns to his Rabbi to ‘‘strengthen’’ him and help eradicate the doubts and the resentment, one gets the sense that this method of coping is not likely to result in deep integration because he does not think about his religious doubts and resentment seriously in an attempt to form a type of identity that would address the contradictions underlying his doubts and anger. Rather, there is a recurrent attempt to simply push the doubts and the anger away with the help of respected external authorities. However, the anger and the doubt appear to continue to simmer also when David feels
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temporarily strengthened, and we get the impression that David makes no real progress toward a religious self-definition that takes into account the religion–modernity conflict. The deep need of the radicals to retain the connection to the religion they grew up with is evident also in the account of Rachel who says she has accumulated a great deal of anger toward religion and God that have let her down. Thus, she says that even when she left the religious way of life (in the army), she actually wanted to be ‘‘convinced’’ back. Today, despite her anger, she describes herself as being in a state of reconciliation with religion and as investing much effort and time in trying to find an orthodox religious way of life that would fit her. While it is possible that Rachel might eventually reach a workable integration of the modern and the religious, the strong shifts between the religious and the secular and the extreme feelings and terms that appear in her account do not suggest that she is moving in a direction of a thorough and relatively comfortable integration of the modern into the religious. In fact, although she has been concerned with the religion–modernity conflict for a long time (since the seventh grade), she does not describe even one specific area in which she has made some integrative progress, and has formed an approach that indeed represents mutual assimilation of the religious and the modern or the creation of an identity that accommodates the modern within the religious. In contrast to the radicals, the revisionists appear to be engaged in a thorough and less emotional exploration process that will allow them to maintain fundamental aspects of their religion of origin, while at the same time revising their religious beliefs and lifestyle in a way that allows them to accommodate aspects of modernity they find important. For example, although Yehuda thinks that there must be a substantial change in the way Jewish orthodox religion treats women and other issues where religion contradicts valuable modern ideas, he also thinks that Jewish law should be changed in a cautious way that attempts to preserve core religious values. As we read Yehuda’s account, we get the impression that although he is forming a religious identity that deviates from the traditional orthodox practices in many ways (and is compatible with modern ideas and practices), his selfconstructed identity still retains the core beliefs and practices of his religion of origin. A similar attempt to create a balance between Jewish orthodox religion and modernity appears in the responses of Daniel, who is actively engaged in an attempt to form his own approach to various religious issues, yet emphasizes the importance of keeping the tradition. Interestingly, Daniel says that lately he is less interested in issues of justness of different ways of
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life and is more interested in issues of practice (what kind of religious practices he adopts and what kind of a community of practice he fits into). The move from abstract justice questions to issues of practice may be interpreted as an indication of increased commitment to a religious way of life, a commitment that is not based on ignoring basic abstract questions, but on the understanding that a religious identity also involves doing and belonging to a community, along with a continued deliberation on some unresolved fundamental issues. The account of Miriam – a revisionist – highlights an aspect of religious integration that is particularly worth noting and perhaps is more likely to appear among revisionists than among radicals. Miriam struggles with various aspects of religion that she finds difficult to accept. She studied various Jewish sources in an attempt to understand the logic of various sexual prohibitions and formulate her own opinion. Yet, she wrote that in parallel with her studies in Jewish thought she got to: Some acceptance of the fact that not everything has a reason I would understand y not in the sense of being stupid, but accepting the fact that you are small and not everything we could understand here y an issue of faith in G-d in which one has to act even if one does not always understand.
The willingness to accept some problematic aspects of traditional religion not because of feelings of guilt and fear or because an admired Rabbi said so, but as an act of faith may be construed as one route to the integration of the religion of origin in cases where it collides with modernity. But, note that, at least in the case of Miriam, the acceptance without understanding emerged from a serious examination of the troubling issue, it applied only to some issues, and it did not grow out of fear or guilt. The notion of acceptance of incomprehensible religious commands is of course an important issue in many religions and has occupied many religious writers and philosophers (e.g., see Malantschuk’s, 1971 analysis of Kierkegaard thought). Fowler (1981) in his theory of religious development also suggests that some acceptance of inconsistencies can be a part of mature religious thinking. Thus, thought-based, guilt-free, conscious acceptance of incomprehensible problematic religious elements can be part of the integration of the religion of origin among youth living in a modern context. We further assume that strong identification with the religion of origin allows revisionist youth to accept some incomprehensible aspects of it because they have already experienced the value of a religious way of life. Thus, the basic appreciation of religion and the interest in its preservation allow the revisionists to accept some problematic religious practices and to fully
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acknowledge the fact that there are some aspects of their faith and practice that they cannot explain. We now turn to one factor that distinguishes among the revisionists and the radicals, yet was not included in our quantitative assessment. This factor is the preoccupation with doubts concerning the existence of God and the possibility of a personal connection with a God. Thus, David writes about doubts concerning faith, sin, and punishment (Sachar Vaonesh), which ‘‘undermine my whole identity.’’ Jacob’s crisis of faith is expressed even more directly: ‘‘Does G-d exist? ... Do I really believe?’’ Tamar is also concerned with the existence of God and the extent to which God really pays attention or is concerned with every individual. Her approach to this issue is now more favorable toward the traditional religious view than it was in the past, but she is still concerned with fundamental existential questions and doubts: Often, the questions I was concerned with in the past mainly originated from the question of the existence of G-d in the world and his connection to us y often, I am still concerned with those questions, but, today my approach to those questions has changed. It turned from an anti and a negative examination of Judaism to prove to myself that I am right in my decision not to be religious, to a search for answers that would help me decide if I want to be a religious Jew.
It appears that although Tamar is trying to develop an integrated orthodox religious identity, her strong doubts (together with her long-standing conflict with religion and a lack of a natural worm connection to religion (indicated in previously cited quotes)) would make it difficult for her to really form an integrated and (internally harmonious) religious way of life. Finally, Rachel also writes that both in the past and at present she has been concerned with the question of the existence of God, and in particular the existence of G-d as a choosing and intervening entity, that is ‘‘interested’’ in people’s way of life and the thought of crime and punishment.
In contrast to the radicals, none of the revisionists raised doubts concerning the existence of God or the idea of a connection between God and oneself. At present, it is not clear what is the role of doubts concerning the existence of a God (often, a personal God) in the radical exploration process. Based on the socialization and internalization conception that has guided our investigation, we tend to assume that controlling inter- and intrapersonal processes cause youth to develop negative feelings against religion and God, which ultimately lead them to doubt God’s existence, power, or benevolence. There is, of course, another way to explain the connection between basic doubts concerning the existence of a (personal) God and radical exploration.
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Thus, it is possible that due to some incidents that are not related to a controlling style of socialization, youth lose their faith in God, and this in turn causes them to experience emotional difficulties and become concerned with the authenticity of their religious way of life. According to this alternative view, radical youth reveal what appears to be a highly emotional and introjected approach to religious practices and questions because their belief in God has been shuttered and not because of their controlling socialization. Because the open questions given to the participants in the qualitative part did not focus on socialization experiences, the qualitative study cannot help us in the attempt to understand the place and role of basic existential questions and doubts in the religious exploration process. Ongoing research is now attempting to address this issue.
DISCUSSION The motivation of religiously raised youth living in modern contexts to stay religious was viewed in this chapter as a motivational outcome, which is affected by various socialization, internalization, and exploration processes (e.g., Cohen-Malayev & Assor, 2003). While there are processes that motivate such youth to stay religious (e.g., the sense of meaning and belongingness that religious observance provides), there are other processes that drive youth to give up or modify many of the religious beliefs and practices they were raised on (e.g., introjection, incompatibility with modern ideas). The studies described in the previous sections have provided initial support for the proposed model of processes which facilitate an integrated internalization of the religion of origin in youth living in modern contexts. Assuming that this model would be supported by further empirical research, it is now interesting to examine possible theoretical implications of our conception. We first focus on implications for the domains of religious socialization and religious motivational orientations, and then discuss potential implications for conceptions of exploration and identity-formation processes in general. Religious Socialization The motivation of youth who were raised religious to maintain their religious identity and observance presents a complex issue for investigation. In his research on the religious beliefs of emerging adults, Arnett (2004), for example, argues that one of the strongest finding concerning the development
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and change of religious beliefs is ‘‘how little relationship there is between the religious training [people] received throughout childhood and the religious beliefs they hold by the time they reach emerging adulthood’’ (p. 174). Whether this finding is ubiquitous or not, clearly there are multiple processes that play a role in the decisions that adolescents and adults make with regard to their religious life. The model that we propose suggests that processes specified by self-determination theory may shed light on at least some of the mechanisms underlying people’s religious choices. Moreover, this perspective allows us to forgo the question concerning the extent to which offspring maintain their parents’ religious beliefs and practices, and ask instead: what are the parental and contextual attributes which enhance the tendency of emerging adults to adopt their parents’ religion in ways that feel integrated and authentic? Self-determination theory suggests that when social environments support the basic psychological needs of autonomy, relatedness, and competence, offspring are more likely to internalize parental values. Previous studies showed that family contexts that support the need for relatedness usually facilitate inter-generational transmission of religion (e.g., Granqvist, 1998; Granqvist & Hagekull, 1999; Hood et al., 1996; Strahan, 1991; Myers, 1996). The research that we conducted goes beyond those studies and suggests that, in addition to relational support, autonomy support also plays a crucial role in fostering internalization of religion. Moreover, our research specifies three autonomy-supportive socialization practices that are likely to facilitate self-determined motivation to maintain basic features of the religion of origin in the face of ideological and practical life conflicts. Those three autonomy-supportive socialization practices are: (1) provision of a rationale for adopting questionable or demanding religious beliefs and practices, (2) demonstrating the intrinsic values of such beliefs and practices, and (3) encouraging critical thinking on various religious practices and beliefs. The practice of provision of a rationale has been shown to be a facilitator of autonomous internalization in multiple contexts (see Grolnick et al., 1997). In our research, we have also highlighted the important roles of demonstration of intrinsic value and the encouragement of critical thinking – autonomy-supportive practices about which there are only a few studies. Our research in the religious domain, as well as in other domains, also points to the practice of conditional love as a problematic socializing practice (Assor et al., 2004; Assor & Roth, 2005). It is important to note, however, that the type of internalization and exploration that youth experience is likely to be affected not only by parents’ socializing methods, but also by the religious ‘‘content’’ which they seek to
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transmit to their children. SDT will suggest, for example, that religious practices that strongly frustrate basic human needs (e.g., practices which cause physical pain, and involve humiliation, coercion, detachment, or sexual frustration) can never be autonomously integrated. Therefore, according to SDT, parents and educators living in a modern context who are interested in the transmission of their religious way of life to their offspring are more likely to succeed in this difficult task if they endorse religious practices that are compatible with basic psychological needs, and, in addition, rely on autonomy supportive methods. Motivational Orientations Toward Religion Ryan et al. (1993), following Batson and Ventis (1982), pointed out that extant measures of an internalized religious orientation (for example, the identification sub-scale developed by Ryan et al. (1993) or the scale developed by Allport and Ross (1967)), do not differentiate between critical and reflective believers and those who are not reflective and critical. In fact, some people who score high on those measures might be rather dogmatic ‘‘true believers.’’ Batson and Ventis (1982) and Batson, Schoenrade, and Ventis (1993) attempted to address this problem through their Quest scale, which is aimed at capturing a more critical, doubt-valuing, and reflective orientation to religion. However, research has indicated that this scale often reflects lack of endorsement or internalization of religiosity (see Donahue, 1985; Fulton, 1997; Ryan et al., 1993). It is possible that the present conceptualization and measures of revisionist exploration and integrated internalization may allow us to distinguish between critical and non-critical internalization of a religious way of life, and therefore fulfill the need for measures of a reflective and critical religious internalization. Thus, participants scoring high on revisionist exploration and on integrated internalization engage in critical thinking on important religious issues, while simultaneously valuing and observing the religious way of life. Thus, researchers attempting to capture an idenitified/ autonomous religious orientation that is also critical and reflective would do well to look for people scoring high on both identified/integrated religious internalization and on revisionist exploration. Different Views of the Exploration Process: What Kind of Exploration is Desirable? The different qualities associated with radical and revisionist explorations raises interesting questions regarding the criteria that we use when
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evaluating a process of exploration as desirable, mature, or ‘‘deep’’ versus ‘‘shallow.’’ Some philosophical conceptions of freedom and autonomy would highlight the desirability of radical questioning of the most fundamental nature (see Aviram, 1986 for a review of different approaches to autonomy). Indeed, existentialists such as Sartre (1956) and Binswanger (1963) hold such skepticism concerning normative and institutionalized beliefs and practices as the cornerstone of individual liberation. From this philosophical standpoint, radical exploration may be considered more valuable and desirable, despite the social and emotional difficulties that are involved – or perhaps because of these difficulties. Indeed, some philosophers may see such exploration as an act of courage that represents personal as well as universal responsibility. However, psychological conceptions such as Erikson’s (1968) psycho-social approach and Deci and Ryan’s self-determination theory (Ryan & Deci, 2000) suggest that the criterion for desirable exploration is not the extent to which it involves the most daring questioning of fundamental issues, but rather the extent to which such exploration allows people to best reconcile conflicting values, goals, needs, and commitments in a way that promotes development and well-being. From this point of view, basic and sacred axioms should be questioned only to the extent that they appear to clash with other axioms and identifications, and even more importantly – with one’s basic needs. Clearly, the question regarding which type of exploration is more desirable is philosophical and ethical, and requires a discussion that is beyond the scope of this chapter. Nevertheless, the model we proposed and our research results point to various practical or empirical issues that should be taken into consideration when thinking about the kind of exploration we would like to foster in youth. For example, whereas radical exploration may reflect a more courageous willingness to engage with the ‘‘unquestionable,’’ the cognitive quality of this exploration can at times be rather shallow. Consequently, this type of exploration might fail to meet the criteria of philosophers who would advocate for such a process, and thus may not justify the emotional costs, which often accompany this exploration. On the other hand, it is possible that leaders of religious, moral, and social breakthroughs in highly traditional, hierarchical, and collectivist societies must engage in radical exploration, and such exploration might contribute to the development of a powerful revolutionary ideology even when it is not very thorough from a cognitive point of view (see, for example, Erikson’s, 1962, analysis of young man Luther).
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Integrating Different Traditions in the Study of Identity Formation and Self-Development: Foreclosure as an Example One of the strengths of our model is its integration of three different traditions in the study of identity formation and self-development: a humanistic emphasis on the search for authenticity and self-realization as a key aspect of identity and self-development (Ryan, 1993; Waterman, 1999; Sheldon, 2002), Marcia’s (1966) notion of exploration and commitment, and perspectives emphasizing the striving for continuity and sameness (Schachter, 2004; Van Hoof, 1999; cf. Waterman & Archer, 1990; Sheldon, 2002). More specifically, the model employs understandings from these three traditions to suggest an integrated premise concerning the fundamental motivations and processes guiding the development of identity: People strive to feel authentic and to experience their life (or life-story) as coherent and meaningful, and they engage in exploration as a major developmental vehicle for fulfilling these motivations. Accordingly, individuals who engage in practices that they feel as unauthentic or contradictory (due to various past and present experiences, introjections, and identifications) seek to reconcile contradictions as well as to liberate themselves from non-authentic features by creating an authentic and relatively coherent identity (i.e., a way of life and a set of beliefs and goals). So far, our research suggests that while revisionist exploration leads to relatively successful resolution in terms of authenticity and coherence, this is less so in the case of radical exploration. The merit of a theory combining the notions of authenticity and internalization based on SDT and the constructs of exploration/commitment and the resulting identity statuses (Marcia, 1993) can be illustrated with regard to the identity status of foreclosure. Before we proceed with this example, let us recall that in SDT terms, feelings of perceived of autonomy and depth of internalization are considered phenomenological manifestations of the extent to which a certain value or action is authentic. The status of foreclosure is characterized by uncritical commitment to parental values and expectations, so that major life plans, decisions, and opinions are adopted without any attempt at exploring options which are different from those espoused by one’s parents and community of origin. In identity statuses theory (e.g., Marcia, 1993), the foreclosure status is therefore characterized by high commitment and low exploration. Consideration of temporal and cross-domain continuity is not likely to add much to our understanding of the foreclosure status as most foreclosures are likely to be quite consistent in their actions, opinions, and choices.
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However, if we examine this status using the authenticity criteria we can see that people in the foreclosure status may fall on different points on the authenticity, perceived autonomy, and internalization continuum posited by SDT. Thus, some foreclosures adhere to parental values due to introjective processes and therefore are likely to feel fairly stressed and pressured by their commitments. Others might endorse parental values due to identification processes and therefore do not feel pressured by their commitments, perhaps even feel a clear sense of choice. Consistent with this analysis, we have shown that, at least in the religious domain, some foreclosures hold an introjected internalization, whereas others hold an identified internalization (Cohen-Malayev & Assor, 2003). It can be seen, then, that adding the authenticity or perceived autonomy dimension to the identity status typology enables us to distinguish between very different types of foreclosures. It is also important to note that Marcia’s descriptions of the foreclosure status depict mostly an introjected type of foreclosure, but without explicitly adding authenticity or introjection as a third dimension (in addition to commitment and exploration). Given that past research (Marcia, 1993) often failed to detect the hypothesized problematic correlates of foreclosure (particularly for women), it is possible that consideration of the authenticity/autonomy dimension would lead to the identification of the expected foreclosure-related difficulties.
Limitations and Concluding Remarks Many questions are left unanswered. Our research has established only initial support for the model by relying on ad hoc methods and by exploring the processes in one particular group of participants: Israeli-Jewish young adults who were raised religious and who live in late modern context. Future investigations should aspire to examine these processes longitudinally. Moreover, theoretical and empirical developments should examine the relevance of similarities and differences between Judaism and other religions to the processes described as socio-cultural processes operating across religious groups as well as within Judaism may prove highly relevant for these processes. For example, internalization and exploration in search of an authentic self may take different forms in cultural groups that are characterized by independent versus interdependent self-schemas. Finally, conditions and factors such as persecution, minority–majority relations, inter-national and inter-ethnic conflicts, affluence, and poverty, can all affect the development of religious identity and religious motivations.
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These challenges hint at the daunting task of investigating the processes involved in religious motivation and the construction of a religious identity. The multitudes of issues that emerge as potentially relevant suggest that such investigations would benefit greatly from integration of understandings from multiple disciplines and domains of knowledge. In that, the seemingly fundamental human experience of religiosity (cf. Arnett, 2004) may hold the potential to facilitate scholarly collaboration and to contribute to our understanding of basic, ever relevant, human processes.
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PERSONAL RELIGION AND PROSOCIAL MOTIVATION C. Daniel Batson, Stephanie L. Anderson and Elizabeth Collins INTRODUCTION Does religion motivate prosocial behavior? Clearly, it intends to. Some version of the Golden Rule, ‘‘Do unto others as you would have others do unto you,’’ is known in all major religions, East and West. The faithful are admonished to love neighbor as self. And who is one’s neighbor? Jesus replied, ‘‘A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.’ Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?’’ (Luke 10:30-36 NRSV)
The answer is obvious. There are even frequent admonitions to extend the scope of concern for others beyond strangers in need to enemies as well: ‘‘Love your enemies, and Motivation and Religion Advances in Motivation and Achievement, Volume 14, 151–185 Copyright r 2005 by Elsevier Ltd. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0749-7423/doi:10.1016/S0749-7423(05)14006-0
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do good to those who hate you. yIf you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love themy’’ (Luke 6:27, 32 NRSV). Similarly, the Buddhist is encouraged in the Sutta Nipata to show: An all-embracing love for all the universe in all its heights and depths and breadth—unstinted love, unmarred by hate within, not rousing enmity. (Burtt, 1957, p. 248)
The universal compassion advocated in such teachings is often considered to be a defining feature of world religions, in contrast to tribal religions. A conviction of moral obligation toward all men, simply because they are men, is born. The wall that circumscribed sympathetic feeling and kept it within the tribe is broken down, and the sense of community is encouraged to open out beyond that limit; the idea takes root that we are essentially members of a society embracing all human beings on the same terms and in which therefore all men are brothers. This involves a radical and decisive transcendence of customary morality and of the attitudes which pervade it. (Burtt, 1957, p. 108)
Saintliness: Mixed Reviews An impulse toward universal compassion seems clearly manifest in the lives of deeply religious individuals such as Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Mother Teresa. It also seems apparent in the lives of many unnamed Christians who sheltered Jews from the Nazis during World War II (Oliner & Oliner, 1988). William James (1902) spoke of the motivation to care for others evoked by religion in three lectures on ‘‘Saintliness’’ in The Varieties of Religious Experience. Among the features of saintliness, common across religious traditions, James listed: A shifting of the emotional center towards loving and harmonious affections, towards ‘‘yes, yes’’ and away from ‘‘no,’’ where the claims of the non-ego are concerned. y The shifting of the emotional center brings y increase of charity, tenderness for fellowcreatures. (1902, p. 217) Religious rapture, moral enthusiasm, ontological wonder, cosmic emotion, are all unifying states of mind, in which the sand and grit of the selfhood incline to disappear, and tenderness to rule. y Like love or fear, the faith-state is a natural psychic complex, and carries charity with it by organic consequence. (1902, p. 221)
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To illustrate, James recounted a Buddhist legend ‘‘where the future Buddha, incarnated as a hare, jumps into the fire to cook himself for a meal for a beggar – having previously shaken himself three times, so that none of the insects in his fur should perish with him’’ (1902, p. 224n). Characteristically, James’s view of saintliness was not one-sided. Along with the virtue, he also saw excesses that leave us asking, what really is going on? Francis of Assisi kisses his lepers; Margaret Mary Alacoque, Francis Xavier, St. John of God, and others are said to have cleansed the sores and ulcers of their patients with their respective tongues; and the lives of such saints as Elizabeth of Hungary and Madame de Chantal are full of a sort of reveling in hospital purulence, disagreeable to read of, and which makes us admire and shudder at the same time. (1902, p. 225)
These last examples raise an interesting, if troubling, possibility. Rather than being motivated to care for others in need, the saint may be motivated to show others, self, and God that he or she is the good, kind, caring – even heroic – person that his or her religion celebrates. Saints may be motivated more by concern to put a star in their own crowns than by concern to alleviate the suffering of those in need. The Question of Motivation What difference does it make why the religious help others, as long as they do? The answer is that motives differ radically in their consequences. If my motive for helping is actually to benefit myself by looking good, then my help may be relatively insensitive to others’ actual needs. On some occasions my help may be just what does the most good. On other occasions I may engage in dramatic acts of self-sacrifice that appear very helpful but do little real good. What is the possible benefit to patients with sores to have them cleansed by my tongue rather than by normal washing? On still other occasions, I may fail to respond to the needy because they or their needs do not fit my conception of how one should respond in order to show compassion. This latter possibility was clearly recognized in the parable of the Good Samaritan. The parable not only extols the compassion of the neighborly Samaritan, encouraging the faithful to go and do likewise. It also condemns the piety of the priest and Levite, suggesting that their very religiousness led them to pass by on the other side. The problem is not that the priest and Levite never helped others in need. The problem is that their help was limited to situations in which it would be recognized and applauded. They
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were quite ready to help the right person at the right time, but not the wrong person at the wrong time, such as the man who fell into the hands of robbers on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho. One can imagine the unhelpful priest and Levite looking with disdain on this man. Clearly, he was not the sort of riffraff with whom upstanding moral pillars of the religious community like they should get involved. One can also imagine the priest and Levite among those who, when called to account for their actions, would say, ‘‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?’’ (Matthew 25:44 NRSV). They would willingly have helped the right person, but they never saw that person in need. All they saw were the poor, lonely, downtrodden, and diseased. Hence, the question of motivation: Does religion produce increased concern for others in need and desire to relieve those needs, or does it produce increased self-concern and desire to meet one’s own need to appear good, kind, and caring? This question is not simply about the association between religion and helping behavior. It is a question about the nature of the prosocial motivation – i.e., motivation to benefit one or more others – evoked by religion. Specifically, it is a question about whether this motivation is altruistic or egoistic.
DEFINING ALTRUISM AND EGOISM To address this question, we need to be clear about what we mean, and do not mean, by altruism. As we are using the term, altruism is a motivational state with the ultimate goal of increasing another’s welfare. Altruism is juxtaposed to egoism, which is a motivational state with the ultimate goal of increasing one’s own welfare (see Batson, 1987, 1991). Note that by these definitions altruism is not synonymous with helping or with doing good, even at considerable cost to oneself. These and other prosocial acts can be the product of either altruism or egoism, two distinct forms of prosocial motivation. If seeing a lost and frightened child wailing in a shopping mall causes you distress, and you rush over to comfort him to reduce your own distress, then your motivation is egoistic. True, you are seeking to relieve the child’s distress, but that is not your ultimate goal. It is only instrumental in allowing you to reach the ultimate goal of feeling better yourself. Similarly, if you help in order to avoid feelings of guilt that you anticipate were you to ‘‘pass by on the other side’’ or to gain the selfsatisfaction and pride of showing yourself to be a Good Samaritan, then
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your motivation is egoistic. (As this example makes clear, there are multiple possible egoistic motives.) If, however, you help in order to relieve the child’s distress as an end in itself, then your motivation is altruistic. By relieving the child’s distress you probably also relieve your own distress, avoid feeling guilty, and feel some self-satisfaction and pride. Yet, to the extent that these outcomes are not your ultimate goal but only unintended consequences of pursuing the ultimate goal of relieving the child’s distress, your motivation is altruistic.
Ultimate Goals, Instrumental Goals, and Unintended Consequences This analysis assumes that it is possible – and important – to distinguish among ultimate goals, instrumental goals, and unintended consequences (see Heider, 1958; Lewin, 1951). Ultimate goals are the valued states the individual is seeking to reach. ‘‘Ultimate’’ does not here mean ‘‘cosmic’’ or ‘‘most important’’; it simply refers to the state or states a person is seeking at a given time. Each different motive has a unique ultimate goal evoked by an opportunity to obtain or maintain some valued state. Instrumental goals are sought because they are stepping-stones to ultimate goals. When the ultimate goal can be reached more efficiently by other means, an instrumental goal is likely to be bypassed. Pursuit of a goal, whether instrumental or ultimate, may produce effects – sometimes dramatic – that are not themselves a goal. These are unintended consequences. It is possible to benefit others as an unintended consequence of pursuing some other goal, such as pursuit of self-benefit through cooperation. (For further discussion of the relations among valued states, goals, motives, and consequences, see Batson, 1991, 1994). A major implication that both Lewin (1951) and Heider (1958) wished to draw from the distinctions among ultimate goals, instrumental goals, and unintended consequences was the importance of focusing on motives rather than on behavior or consequences, even if one’s goal is to understand the occurrence of some behavior, such as helping others. Behavior is highly variable. Whether a given behavior will occur in a given situation depends on the strength of some motive that might evoke that behavior as well as on (a) the strength of any complementary and competing motives, (b) how the behavior relates to each of these motives, and (c) the other behavioral options available in the situation at the time. The more directly a given behavior promotes an ultimate goal, and the more uniquely it does so among the behavioral options available, the more likely it is to occur. Behavior that
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promotes an instrumental goal can easily change if the causal link between the instrumental and ultimate goal is broken or if behavioral pathways to the ultimate goal arise that bypass the instrumental goal. Unintended consequences can easily change as the behavioral options change, unless these consequences are a product of some behavior that directly and uniquely promotes the ultimate goal. Invariance – and explanatory stability – is found not in behavior or consequences but in the link between a given motive and its ultimate goal. This perspective on motivation is based on the work of Kurt Lewin (1951). His approach can be contrasted with the approach of another pioneer in research on motivation, Henry Murray. Lewin (1951) treated goals as force fields within the current life space of the individual; he treated motives as goal-directed forces in these fields; and he treated valued states as power fields that could, under appropriate circumstances, activate motivational forces. These motivational forces could, in turn, produce behavior, or movement within the life space. Murray (1938) and his followers treated motives as relatively stable dispositions or needs (e.g., the achievement motive – McClelland, Atkinson, Clark, & Lowell, 1953), similar to valued states rather than to motives in Lewin’s framework. In the Murray tradition, these dispositional motives are distinguished from motivation, motive activation by environmental cues. Following Lewin, we shall use both terms, motive and motivation, to refer to goal-directed forces. As noted, Lewin emphasized the distinction between instrumental goals, ultimate goals, and unintended consequences; Murray gave little attention to these distinctions. For Lewin, the list of potential motives is endless. It is as rich and varied as one’s preferences. Murray and his followers attempted to identify a relatively small number of primary motives.
Inferring Ultimate Goals from Patterns of Behavior If helping benefits both the person in need and the helper, how are we to know whose benefit is the ultimate goal? Applying the insights of attribution theorists like Heider (1958) and Jones and Davis (1965), three principles seem important when making inferences about a person’s ultimate goal. First and most obviously, we do not observe another person’s goals or intentions directly; we infer them from the person’s behavior. Second, if we observe only a single behavior that has several possible ultimate goals, the true ultimate goal cannot be discerned. It is like having one equation with two unknowns; a clear answer is impossible. Third, we can make reasonable
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inferences about a person’s ultimate goal if we can observe the person’s behavior in two or more different situations that involve a change in the relationship between the different potential ultimate goals so that one can be obtained without also obtaining the other. The behavior should always be directed toward the true ultimate goal. There is no reason to act in a way that enables one to reach an instrumental but not an ultimate goal. We use this strategy when, for example, we infer whether a student is really interested or only seeking a better grade (What happens to the student’s interest after the grades are turned in?), or whether politicians mean what they say or are only after votes. We also use it when someone does us a favor or is kind. Applying this logic to the problem of the nature of religious prosocial motivation, two steps seem necessary. First, we need to identify the possible egoistic goals of prosocial behavior associated with religion. Unless we have some idea that a given goal may be the person’s aim, there is little likelihood of concluding that it is. Second, we need to observe the behavior of more or less religious individuals under systematically varying circumstances. The circumstances need to vary in a way that disentangles the relationship between potential egoistic and altruistic goals, making it possible for some individuals to obtain one goal without having to obtain the other. The behavior chosen in such a situation should prove diagnostic. These two steps provide an objective basis for inferring the nature of religious prosocial motivation.
Potential Egoistic Goals of Prosocial Behavior Associated with Religion So, what are the potential egoistic goals of prosocial behavior associated with religion? Two seem most likely: (1) Acquisition of social or self-rewards in the form of praise and esteem for ‘‘adding another star to one’s crown.’’ (2) Avoidance of social and self-punishment in the form of shame (social censure) or guilt (self-censure) for failure to live up to the prosocial, moral standards associated with religion. Does one or both of these egoistic motives underlie the prosocial behavior associated with religion? Or is the motive altruistic – i.e., directed toward the ultimate goal of increasing the welfare of those in need? To provide a context for addressing these questions, let us first address the question of whether religion is associated with prosocial behavior. As it turns out, the answer to this question is not as straightforward as one might think.
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PROSOCIAL ATTITUDES, PROSOCIAL BEHAVIOR, AND RELIGIOUS INVOLVEMENT Surveys conducted since 1950 have consistently found that being more religious is associated with stronger advocacy of prosocial attitudes and values. Batson, Schoenrade, and Ventis (1993, pp. 336–337) summarized the results of 11 relevant studies, all of which found a positive association between religious involvement and endorsement of prosocial, moral standards. The association is particularly pronounced for ‘‘personal sins’’ such as gambling, drinking, and premarital sex. It is less apparent for ‘‘social sins’’ such as stealing, lying, and cheating, possibly because there is consensus in the society at large that these social sins are wrong. If there is less variability, religion can have less effect. Do the faithful actually practice what they preach? Do they show more care for others at a behavioral level? When prosocial behavior is assessed by self-reports, the answer appears to be yes. Batson et al., (1993, pp. 339–340) summarized findings from nine relevant studies, all of which suggested that religious involvement and self-reported helpfulness are positively correlated. Typical are the Gallup Poll results presented by Langford and Langford (1974); 58.7% of 526 US respondents who reported having attended church in the previous 7 days said that they ‘‘almost always’’ took concrete action on behalf of others in need, whereas only 31.4% of 862 non-attenders said that they did. Statistically, this difference was overwhelmingly significant (po0:0001) When, however, prosocial behavior is assessed not by self-reports but by actual behavior, a very different answer must be given. Batson et al. (1993, pp. 340–342) found that only one of five relevant studies provided evidence that the more religious actually help more. And even the one positive finding was not very encouraging. Among residents of an upper-middle-class apartment complex in central Israel, Yinon and Sharon (1985) found that religious residents donated more money to help a needy family than did secular residents. However, this difference was statistically reliable only when the person soliciting contributions wore a yarmulke, indicating that he was religious. In light of this qualification, Yinon and Sharon (1985) concluded that, ‘‘the behavior of the religious subjects was guided by the need for positive self-presentation’’ (p. 726). There are, of course, other possible interpretations of this result. However, given the results of additional research reviewed below (e.g., Batson & Gray, 1981), Yinon and Sharon’s conclusion seems justified.
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In sum, although the more religious express stronger prosocial attitudes and say they are more helpful, they are no more likely than the less religious to actually help – except when presented with a request for help under conditions that heighten concern for positive self-presentation. The more religious see themselves as more caring. When it comes to behavior, however, the research provides no evidence that they are.
PROSOCIAL BEHAVIOR AND DIFFERENT WAYS OF BEING RELIGIOUS Psychological Dimensions of Personal Religion Around 1970, the focus of research on the relation between religion and prosocial behavior began to shift. Rather than treating religion as a single, unitary construct in the life of the individual, researchers began to make a distinction between different ways of being religious. They suggested that being religious in one way does not increase prosocial behavior; at best, it increases a desire to appear compassionate without actually showing compassion. However, being religious in another way increases compassion not only in word but also in deed. Extrinsic and Intrinsic Religion In 1950, Gordon Allport made a distinction between immature and mature religion (Allport, 1950). Later, he reframed this distinction in less valueladen terms, speaking of extrinsic and intrinsic religion. Extrinsic religion involves using one’s religion as an instrumental means to the self-serving ends of gaining social status and personal security. Intrinsic religion involves pursuing one’s religion as an end in itself, a master motive in life. In Allport’s words, extrinsic religion ‘‘is strictly utilitarian: useful for the self in granting safety, social standing, solace, and endorsement of one’s chosen way of life’’; in contrast, intrinsic religion ‘‘is oriented toward a unification of being, takes seriously the commandment of brotherhood, and strives to transcend all self-centered needs’’ (Allport, 1966, p. 455). According to Allport, then, prosocial motivation associated with intrinsic religion should be altruistic, whereas any prosocial motivation associated with extrinsic religion should be egoistic.
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Allport and his students developed self-report questionnaire measures of both the extrinsic and intrinsic orientations to religion for use with people from Christian backgrounds. The 11 items on the Extrinsic scale included, for example: ‘‘Although I believe in my religion, I feel there are many more important things in my life.’’ ‘‘The church is most important as a place to formulate good social relationships.’’ ‘‘What religion offers me most is comfort when sorrows and misfortune strike.’’ The nine items on the Intrinsic scale included, for example: ‘‘I try hard to carry my religion over into all my other dealings in life.’’ ‘‘If I were to join a church group I would prefer to join a Bible study group rather than a social fellowship.’’ ‘‘My religious beliefs are what really lie behind my whole approach to life.’’ (For a full list of the items on each scale, see Batson et al., 1993, p. 162.) These scales were assumed to measure opposite ends of a single bipolar dimension. Means, Ends, and Quest Dimensions of Personal Religion Allport’s bipolar extrinsic–intrinsic model of ways of being religious soon ran into problems. Allport and Ross (1967) found that the Extrinsic and Intrinsic scales were not measuring opposite ends of the same dimension, as had been assumed, but defined two independent dimensions. This finding, as well as differences between Allport’s earlier concept of mature religion and his later concept of intrinsic religion, led Batson (1976) to propose a threedimensional model of ways of being religious. Batson’s model included two orthogonal dimensions that corresponded conceptually to Allport’s (1966) extrinsic and intrinsic orientations (and were measured principally by his Extrinsic and Intrinsic scales). These dimensions were called religion as means and religion as end, respectively. The model also included a third dimension, orthogonal to the other two, called religion as quest. This third dimension concerned the degree to which an individual seeks to face religious issues, such as issues of personal mortality and meaning in life, as part of an open-ended quest. An individual who approaches religion in this way recognizes that he or she does not know, and probably never will know, the final truth about such matters. Still, the questions are deemed important and, however tentative and subject to change, answers are sought. A number of writers, both theologians (e.g., Bonhoeffer, 1953; Niebuhr, 1963) and psychologists (e.g., Barron, 1968; Fromm, 1950), have suggested the importance of a quest dimension of religion. Indeed, this dimension was an important component of Allport’s (1950) concept of mature religion, which he described as being ‘‘the outgrowth of many successive discriminations and continuous reorganization’’ (p. 59). Religion as quest was not, however, clearly represented in Allport’s (1966) concept of
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intrinsic religion, especially as that concept was operationalized using the Intrinsic scale. Batson and coworkers developed a reliable and valid 12-item measure of the quest dimension, called the Quest scale (Batson & Schoenrade, 1991a, b; Batson et al., 1993). This scale, again designed for use with people from Christian backgrounds, included items such as: ‘‘It might be said that I value my religious doubts and uncertainties.’’ ‘‘God wasn’t very important to me until I began to ask questions about the meaning of my own life.’’ ‘‘Questions are far more central to my religious experience than are answers.’’ (For a full list of items on this scale, see Batson et al., 1993, p. 170.) In contrast to Allport’s (1966) claim that intrinsic religion as measured by his Intrinsic scale is associated with altruistic prosocial motivation, Batson (1976) suggested that intrinsic religion so measured might instead be associated with an egoistic desire to be seen as kind, caring, and helpful. Batson (1976) also suggested that the quest dimension might relate not to increased egoistic motivation to appear helpful but to increased altruistic motivation.
Evidence To evaluate these competing predictions, it is once again essential to distinguish between results of research using self-report measures of prosocial tendencies and results of research using behavioral measures. Self-Report Measures Consider first the results of three studies that used self-report measures of compassion or helpfulness. Tate and Miller (1971) found that intrinsically religious individuals (those who scored above the mean on the Intrinsic scale and below the mean on the Extrinsic scale) considered the values helpful, loving, and responsible from Rokeach’s (1969) value survey to be of greater personal importance than did extrinsically religious individuals (those who scored above the mean on the Extrinsic scale and below the mean on the Intrinsic scale). Watson, Hood, Morris, and Hall (1984) found that scores on the Intrinsic scale correlated positively with scores on a self-report questionnaire measure of dispositional empathy, which assessed self-reported sensitivity to and concern for the needs of others ðr ¼ 0:26Þ; whereas scores on the Extrinsic scale correlated negatively ðr ¼ 0:22Þ: Watson, Hood, and Morris (1985) found that scores on the Intrinsic scale correlated positively with scores on a different self-report measure of dispositional empathy ðr ¼ 0:31Þ and on a self-report measure of Christian altruism ðr ¼ 0:51Þ: Scores
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on the Extrinsic scale correlated negatively with dispositional empathy ðr ¼ 0:24Þ and were not reliably related to Christian altruism. Scores on the Quest scale were not reliably related positively or negatively to self-reports of either dispositional empathy or Christian altruism. If scores on these self-report measures of prosocial values, empathic concern, and Christian altruism can be taken as valid indexes of concern for others in need, then the results of these three studies clearly support Allport’s view of the effect on prosocial motivation and behavior of different ways of being religious. The more intrinsically religious a person is, the more important are prosocial values and the more empathic concern and Christian altruism reported. The more extrinsically religious a person is, if anything, the less of these traits reported. But scores on these self-report measures may say more about how respondents would like to be seen by self or others than about their true level prosocial concern. If so, then these results would not support Allport’s view. Instead, they would support the view that the intrinsic, end dimension of personal religion is associated with increased egoistic motivation to appear compassionate. Behavioral Measures Some initial light was shed on these two possibilities by the results of five studies that used less reactive, behavioral measures of helping. Two of these studies were reported by Bolt (1982). In his Study 1, two different requests for help were made to students in an introductory psychology class. The first request was for volunteers to record the required course readings on audiotape for blind students who might enroll in the course in the future. The second was for volunteers to serve as uncompensated participants in Psychology Department research during the next semester. Scores on the Intrinsic scale had low but statistically significant positive correlations with volunteering in response to each request (rs ¼ 0:23 and 0:29; pso0:01). Scores on the Extrinsic scale had low but statistically significant negative correlations (rs ¼ 0:24 and 0:25; pso0:01). In Study 2, introductory psychology students were asked to complete a brief survey to help an upper-level psychology major finish a research project for another course. Once again, scores on the Intrinsic scale correlated positively with agreeing to help ðr ¼ 0:29; po0:05Þ; scores on the Extrinsic scale correlated negatively ðr ¼ 0:30; po0:05Þ: Bolt (1982) included no measure of the quest dimension in either study. Results of these two studies indicate that intrinsic religion correlates positively with actual helping behavior, not only with self-reports. Extrinsic
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religion, on the other hand, correlates negatively. It is important to note, however, that helping in these two studies involved a relatively low-cost response to a direct request from a relatively high-status person. This kind of help could be the result of concern for those in need, or it could instead be the result of a desire to gain the pat on the back or warm feeling inside that comes from showing oneself to be a kind, caring person. The other three studies that used behavioral measures of helping addressed this latter possibility. Darley and Batson (1973) examined the relationship between the three dimensions of personal religion and helping behavior in an experiment modeled on the parable of the Good Samaritan. Male seminarians individually on their way from one building to another encountered a shabbily dressed young man slumped in a doorway in an alley. Head down, the young man coughed and groaned as each seminarian passed, providing a somewhat ambiguous need situation. None of the three dimensions of personal religion – extrinsic means, intrinsic end, or quest – predicted who would stop and offer help to the young man. Only a situational variable, degree to which the seminarian had been told to hurry, predicted who would stop. Those in a hurry were less likely to stop. Different ways of being religious did, however, relate to the type of help offered. When helping responses were dichotomized between persistent forms and more tentative forms, an interesting pattern emerged. Scores on the intrinsic, end dimension correlated positively with persistent forms of helping ðrpb ¼ 0:43Þ; whereas scores on the quest dimension correlated negatively with persistent forms ðrpb ¼ 0:54Þ: The difference between these two correlations was highly significant ðpo0:01Þ: What does this difference mean? If a seminarian stopped and offered help, the young man looked up, thanked him, and explained that he was all right, that he had already taken medication, that he just needed to rest for a few minutes, and – if the seminarian persisted – that he wished to be left alone. When the more devout, intrinsically religious seminarians encountered this young man, he seemed to trigger a pre-programmed response (e.g., taking him for coffee, to the infirmary, or praying for his welfare), and this response was little modified by what the young man said about his need. Darley and Batson (1973) suggested that this persistent helping seemed to reflect a desire to display one’s helpfulness. In contrast, the tentative helping positively associated with higher scores on the quest dimension seemed more attuned to what the young man said about his need. As Darley and Batson were aware, this interpretation of their results was entirely post hoc. Perhaps, as some other scholars suggested (e.g., Gorsuch,
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1988; Watson et al., 1985), the more persistent help associated with the intrinsic, end dimension reflected more genuine caring and concern, whereas the tentative forms associated with the quest dimension reflected relatively weak caring. Perhaps at the first obstacle those scoring relatively high on the quest dimension abandoned their halfhearted efforts to help, whereas those scoring high on the intrinsic, end dimension persevered. (In this and the following two studies, the extrinsic, means dimension was either unrelated or negatively related to helping behavior. Given the consistency of this finding and the lack of controversy about it, we have omitted discussion of findings for this dimension.) Results of a study reported by Batson (1976) lent additional support to the idea that the quest dimension is associated with increased sensitivity to another’s need, whereas the intrinsic, end dimension is not. Male undergraduates were asked to adopt the role of a lay referral counselor. They heard excerpts from tape-recorded referral interviews with six male clients (actually fictitious). Each client made a situational attribution for his problem. After hearing each client discuss his problem, the undergraduates filled out a referral form on which they indicated whether they thought the client’s problem lay with the client as a person or with his social situation. Scores on the quest dimension correlated more positively ðr ¼ 0:36Þ with making situational rather than personal attributions – reflecting what the client himself said – than did scores on the intrinsic, end dimension ðr ¼ 0:19; po0:05Þ: Finally, Batson and Gray (1981) reported an experiment in which female undergraduates received three notes from another undergraduate, Janet, who was quite lonely and in need of a friend. Janet indicated either that she did or that she did not want the undergraduate reading her notes to volunteer to meet her and possibly become her friend. When she said she did not, Janet explained that she felt she really needed to deal with the problem on her own. Batson and Gray reasoned that volunteering to meet Janet after she said that she did not want this would show insensitivity to Janet’s expressed need. Batson and Gray also collected participants’ self-reported ratings of their helpfulness and concern for others. This was done by having each participant complete a self-perception questionnaire before they received Janet’s first note. Scores on the intrinsic, end dimension were positively correlated with self-reports of greater helpfulness ðr ¼ 0:28; po0:05Þ and concern ðr ¼ 0:35; po0:01Þ; suggesting a greater desire to be helpful – or to appear helpful. Scores on the quest dimension did not correlate reliably with these self-reports. (Rowatt, Ottenbreit, Nesselroade, & Cunningham, 2002, provided a conceptual replication of this pattern of self-report results.)
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Actual helping behavior revealed more complex associations. Scores on the intrinsic, end dimension correlated as positively with offering help after Janet said that she did not want help as after she said that she did (rpb ¼ 0:27; po0:02; pooled across conditions). In contrast, scores on the quest dimension correlated positively with offering help after Janet said that she wanted it ðrpb ¼ 0:37; po0:05Þ but correlated negatively with offering help after she said that she did not want it ðrpb ¼ 0:32; po0:09Þ: The difference between these two correlations was highly significant ðpo0:01Þ: Overall, these results seemed most consistent with the idea that the intrinsic, end dimension of religion is associated with increased desire to see oneself or to be seen by others as helpful, whereas the quest dimension is associated with increased desire to respond to the expressed needs of others.
NATURE OF THE MOTIVATION TO HELP ASSOCIATED WITH DIFFERENT WAYS OF BEING RELIGIOUS It is time to return to the question of motivation. The question has, however, become more complex. Rather than asking whether the prosocial motivation associated with religion is altruistic or egoistic, we must ask about the nature of the motivation associated with each of the different dimensions of personal religion. Moreover, even if higher scores on a given dimension are not associated with an increase in the absolute amount of prosocial motivation, higher scores may be associated with a shift in the nature of the motivation, either from egoistic to altruistic or the reverse. Most psychologists of religion, following Allport (1966), would assume that any prosocial motivation associated with the extrinsic, means dimension is egoistic. There is disagreement, however, about the nature of the motivation associated with the intrinsic, end dimension and the quest dimension. Of particular interest is the nature of the motivation associated with the intrinsic, end dimension. Allport (1966) assumed that intrinsic religion would produce selfless concern for the welfare of others – i.e., altruistic motivation. The research of Darley and Batson (1973), Batson (1976), and Batson and Gray (1981) raises a different possibility. It suggests that the intrinsic, end dimension may be associated not with altruistic motivation but with a desire to gain social and self-rewards for appearing helpful – i.e., a form of egoistic motivation. This research also raises the possibility that the quest dimension, which was found to be associated with helping that is
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responsive to the expressed desires of the person in need, might be associated with altruistic motivation. As noted earlier, there is also the possibility that either of these dimensions of personal religion might be associated with egoistic motivation to avoid social or self-punishment (censure, shame, guilt) for failure to help. Three studies have been explicitly designed to explore these different possibilities.
Volunteering but not Qualifying to Help Batson et al., (1989) reported two of these studies. In their first, undergraduate participants were provided with an opportunity to help under conditions in which, even if they volunteered to help, they would be allowed to do so only if they met a certain performance standard on a qualifying task. How might having to perform a qualifying task disentangle possible motives for helping? An example illustrates the logic. Imagine a young man who wants to appear helpful or to avoid censure and guilt by volunteering to serve as a bone-marrow donor. Imagine he also wants to avoid the discomfort of this rather painful procedure. He should be relieved and quite content if, after having volunteered, a blood-type mismatch disqualifies him as a possible donor. He has displayed his helpfulness because, after all, ‘‘It’s the thought that counts.’’ Better yet, he has done so without incurring the cost of helping. If, however, this young man were altruistically motivated, the blood-type mismatch should not cause relief and contentment but disappointment; it would prevent him from reaching his goal of eliminating the other’s need. In the bone-marrow example, qualifying to help is entirely out of the potential helper’s control. Blood types either match or they do not. But imagine a slightly different situation in which, rather than potential helpers simply learning that they are or are not eligible, they learn that they must perform a task requiring effort in order to qualify to help. In such a situation, how hard the potential helper tries on the qualifying task should give us a basis for inferring whether he or she is altruistically motivated to reduce the needy individual’s suffering (which requires qualifying) or egoistically motivated to enhance esteem or to avoid censure and guilt (which does not). This should be true, however, only when the qualifying standard is difficult enough that failure can be attributed to the difficulty of the standard and not to lack of effort. When the qualifying standard is easy, egoistically motivated helpers cannot enhance esteem or avoid censure and guilt without
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qualifying. When the qualifying standard is difficult, they can – even if they reduce their effort in order to make sure they do not qualify. That is, they can gracefully take a dive. Building on this logic, if the intrinsic, end dimension is associated with altruistic motivation to help, as Allport claimed, then when the qualifying standard is easy, there might be no relationship between scores on this dimension and performance on the qualifying task. This is because even those scoring low may volunteer and expend effort to look good or to avoid looking bad. When the standard is difficult, however, low scorers would no longer need to work hard; they could take the dive. In contrast, high scorers should volunteer and work even harder in an effort to reach their ultimate goal of relieving the needy person’s distress. This pattern should produce a positive correlation between measures of intrinsic religion and performance on the qualifying task when the qualifying standard is difficult. If, however, the intrinsic, end dimension is associated with egoistic motivation to enhance esteem or avoid censure and guilt, then when the qualifying standard is difficult, there should be a positive correlation of measures of the intrinsic, end dimension with volunteering to help but not with volunteers’ performance on the qualifying task. By volunteering to help and then not trying especially hard to qualify, high scorers on the intrinsic, end dimension can reach the goal of appearing helpful without incurring the cost of actually having to help. Finally, if the quest dimension is associated with altruistic motivation to help, then scores on measures of this dimension should have a positive correlation with performance of volunteers on the qualifying task when the standard is difficult. To test these predictions, Batson et al. (1989, Study 1) provided undergraduates with an opportunity to help under conditions in which, even if they volunteered to help, they would be allowed to do so only if they met a certain performance standard on a qualifying task. Ostensibly, the purpose of the research was to pilot test an innovative community program designed to assist individuals with high medical expenses. This program involved allowing volunteers to take part in walkathons, thereby earning donations from local corporations for those in need. Participants read a description of one client of the program, Billy, a (fictitious) 7-year old with a rare genetic disorder that prevented him from having social contact with anyone outside his immediate family. Participants were then given an opportunity to volunteer to take part in a walkathon, earning contributions to help Billy get the expensive medication that would enable him to go back to school and play with his friends.
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Before being given the opportunity to volunteer, participants read about a qualifying task used to determine who was sufficiently physically fit to participate in a walkathon. Participants read that only those individuals who passed this qualifying task could walk for Billy, even if they volunteered. The qualifying task involved stepping up onto a stone block and off again as many times as comfortable in 30 sec. All participants were to perform this task, whether or not they volunteered. Participants were not told what level of performance was necessary to qualify, but they were told about the difficulty of qualifying. Participants in the easy qualifying-standard condition read that the standard was ‘‘moderately stringent,’’ that 60% of young adults (including college students) qualify. Participants in the difficult qualifying-standard condition read that the standard was ‘‘extremely stringent,’’ that only 15% of young adults qualify. It was assumed that participants in the easy-standard condition would not be able to justify to themselves and others a failure to qualify, whereas those in the difficult-standard condition would. Thus, the difficult-standard condition provided a relatively safe opportunity to volunteer because it was unlikely that one would have to follow through – especially if one did not try hard on the qualifying task. Results of this study are summarized in Tables 1 and 2. Table 1 presents correlations of the three religious dimensions with helping in the two experimental conditions; Table 2 presents correlations with performance on the qualifying task. As can be seen, the extrinsic, means dimension correlated negatively with volunteering to help Billy in both easy and difficult qualifying-standard conditions (overall rpb ¼ 0:37; po0:01), and in neither experimental condition was this dimension associated with performance on the qualifying task among either helpers or non-helpers. These associations
Table 1.
Association between Dimensions of Personal Religion and Helping when Qualifying is Easy or Difficult. Difficulty of Qualifying Standard
Dimension of Personal Religion
Easy (n ¼ 24)
Difficult (n ¼ 22)
0.39 0.02 0.12
0.33 0.50 0.03
Extrinsic, means Intrinsic, end Quest Source: Adapted from Batson et al. (1989, Study 1). po0.05, one-tailed. po0.01, one-tailed.
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Table 2. Association between Dimensions of Personal Religion and Performance on Qualifying Task for Helpers and Non-Helpers when Standard is Easy or Difficult. Difficulty of Qualifying Standard Easy ðn ¼ 24Þ
Dimension of Personal Religion Extrinsic, means Intrinsic, end Quest
Helpers ðn ¼ 13Þ
Non-helpers (n ¼ 11)
0.29 0.12 0.28
0.04 0.17 0.13
Difficult ðn ¼ 22Þ Helpers ðn ¼ 14Þ 0.03 0.24 0.51
Non-helpers ðn ¼ 8Þ 0.20 0.69 0.18
Source: Adapted from Batson et al., (1989, Study 1). po0.05, one-tailed.
suggested that the extrinsic, means dimension was associated with decreased motivation to help. The intrinsic, end dimension was significantly positively correlated with volunteering to help only when participants were informed that the standard was difficult, and so the likelihood of actually having to help was low ðrpb ¼ 0:50; po0:01Þ: Moreover, among the volunteers in the difficult-standard condition, the intrinsic, end dimension did not correlate positively with trying harder on the qualifying task; it correlated non-significantly negatively ðr ¼ 0:24Þ: The intrinsic, end dimension correlated positively with trying harder in the difficult-standard condition only among participants who had not volunteered to help ðr ¼ 0:69; po0:05Þ: This pattern of results suggested that the motivation to help associated with intrinsic, end religion was not directed toward meeting Billy’s need; it was directed toward meeting a personal need to appear helpful without having to follow through. The quest dimension was not correlated with helping in either experimental condition, suggesting that this dimension was not associated with either an increase or a decrease in the overall amount of prosocial motivation. However, among those who volunteered to help in the difficult qualifyingstandard condition, scores on the quest dimension were positively correlated with performance on the qualifying task ðr ¼ 0:51; po0:05Þ: This pattern of correlations suggested an association between the quest dimension and the nature but not the amount of prosocial motivation. The motivation of high scorers on the quest dimension appeared to be directed more toward the
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altruistic goal of benefiting Billy. When they thought it would be especially difficult to qualify to help, high scorers worked even harder to do so. They did not seem content to use difficulty of the standard as an excuse for not having to help.
Using the Inaction of Others to Justify not Helping In their second study, Batson et al. (1989) provided a different way for participants to justify not helping and still save face. The purpose of this study was to gain more clarity about the nature of the egoistic motivation to help associated with the intrinsic, end dimension. As noted earlier, this motivation might be either to gain the social and self-rewards for appearing helpful or to avoid the social and self-punishments for appearing unhelpful. In the research reported thus far, the behavioral patterns that should be produced by these two forms of egoistic motivation were always the same. The procedure of this study disentangled these two forms by enabling some participants to avoid social and self-punishment for not helping (e.g., shame and guilt). However, these participants would still need to help to get social and self-rewards. Batson et al., (1989) reasoned that one way to justify not helping was by an appeal to social norms. (‘‘No one else is helping, so I won’t look bad if I don’t help.’’) Accordingly, they provided individuals confronted with a request for help with information about how previously asked peers had responded to the request. Some learned that most peers had helped, so they might look bad if they did not help too (high social pressure). Others learned that most peers had not helped, so they could decline without looking bad (low social pressure). Building on this logic, if the intrinsic, end dimension is associated with motivation to help based on altruistic concern for the other’s welfare, then even though there might be no correlation with helping when the social pressure to help is high, there should be a positive correlation between measures of intrinsic, end religion and helping when the social pressure is low. When pressure is high, even those scoring low on intrinsic, end religion may help in order to avoid looking bad. But when pressure is low, low scorers should not need to help in order to save face. High scorers should still help because that is the only way for them to reach the altruistic goal of relieving the needy person’s distress. This pattern of helping would produce a positive correlation between measures of intrinsic, end religion and helping when pressure is low.
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If, however, an increase in intrinsic, end religion is associated with additional motivation to avoid looking bad, then there should be a positive correlation between measures of this dimension and helping when pressure is high. There should not be a positive correlation when pressure is low. When pressure is low, those high in intrinsic, end religion can justify their failure to help as the normative thing to do. Finally, if the quest dimension is associated with altruistic motivation to meet the expressed needs of the victim, then even though there might not be a positive correlation between helping and scores on this dimension when pressure is high, there should be a positive correlation when pressure is low. Batson et al. (1989, Study 2) tested these predictions by giving female undergraduates the chance to volunteer time to help Katie Banks, a (fictitious) senior at their university who was struggling to support her younger brother and sister after the tragic death of her parents in an automobile accident. For some research participants, social pressure to help was high; for others, it was low. Pressure was manipulated by having participants indicate whether they wished to help Katie on a pledge form that included spaces for the names and responses of eight people. The first seven spaces were already filled, ostensibly by previous participants. In the high-pressure condition, five of the seven previous participants had volunteered to help; in the low-pressure condition, only two of seven had volunteered. Participants were told that if they were the last person to sign the form (as all were), then they should seal the form in an envelope and give the envelope to the experimenter. This procedure assured participants that no other participant in the study would see their name and response. In order that participants did not feel that they were Katie’s last chance for help, it was made clear that theirs was not the only response form. The chance to volunteer to help Katie was being presented to all participants in the study. To avoid differential perception of Katie’s need, it was also made clear that as many volunteers as possible were needed. Results of this study are summarized in Table 3. As can be seen, scores on the extrinsic, means dimension were negatively correlated with helping in the low-pressure condition ðrpb ¼ 0:41; po0:025Þ; suggesting that the relatively weak motivation to help associated with higher scores on this dimension found in previous studies is directed toward the self-serving goal of avoiding looking bad, in one’s own eyes or in the eyes of others. Scores on the intrinsic, end dimension failed to correlate significantly with helping in either pressure condition, providing no clear evidence of either motivation to avoid looking bad or motivation to relieve the needy individual’s suffering. The pressure manipulation used in this study was not
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Table 3.
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Association between Dimensions of Personal Religion and Helping when Pressure to Help is High or Low. Pressure to Help
Dimension of Personal Religion
High pressure ðn ¼ 24Þ
Extrinsic, means Intrinsic, end Quest
0.05 0.00 0.13
Low pressure ðn ¼ 22Þ 0.41 0.10 0.36
Source: Adapted from Batson et al., (1989, Study 2). po0.05, one-tailed. po0.025, one-tailed.
designed to detect motivation to look good. So, in combination with the results of the preceding study, the results of this study suggested that the motivation to help associated with intrinsic, end religion is most likely directed toward the egoistic goal of obtaining self-benefits for looking good, not avoiding looking bad. Only measures of the quest dimension were significantly positively correlated with helping in the low-pressure condition ðrpb ¼ 0:36; po0:05Þ: This correlation is the one we would expect if this dimension of personal religion is associated with altruistic motivation to relieve the needy person’s suffering, not egoistic motivation to help in order to avoid looking bad. Also note that results of this and the preceding study contradict the suggestion that the quest dimension is simply associated with halfhearted helping (cf. Gorsuch, 1988; Watson et al., 1985).
Thoughts Associated with Helping Batson and Flory (1990) used a very different technique to assess the nature of the motivation to help associated with the different dimensions of personal religion. They used a Stroop task to identify goal-relevant cognitions. A Stroop (1938) task is a clever way to assess what a person is thinking about at a given moment. When we see a printed word, we automatically read it. Even if we are asked to respond to some physical feature of the word, such as naming as quickly as possible the color of ink in which it is printed, we still process the meaning of the word. If the meaning of the word is related to our thoughts at the time, this relation will distract us from the color-naming task, and response time will be slower – i.e., the color-naming
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latency will be greater. For example, our color-naming latency for the word PIZZA is likely to be greater when we are hungry than when we are not. Taking advantage of this cognitive-interference effect, a Stroop task seeks to determine what is on people’s minds by asking them to name as quickly as possible the color of the ink in which different words (potentially related to their thoughts) appear. Employing a Stroop procedure, Batson and Flory (1990) had research participants first listen to a brief pilot radio broadcast that presented the need of Katie Banks, the young woman who was attempting to care for her younger brother and sister and prevent them being put up for adoption after the tragic death of her parents in an automobile accident. Then participants learned that in a few minutes they would have a chance to volunteer time to help Katie. It was suggested that they think about the decision. In the interim, they performed a Stroop task. The Stroop task was presented as a reaction-time measure of the effect of the pilot radio broadcast on thoughts. Participants had previously been told that they would be shown a series of words, some relevant to possible thoughts after hearing the broadcast, others not. Different words would appear in different colors. For each word, participants assigned to the test group would say as quickly as possible whether it was relevant to their thoughts; participants assigned to the control group would say as quickly as possible the color in which the word was printed. Written instructions explained, ‘‘Responses of people in the control group will provide a baseline needed to interpret the responses of people in the test group. Therefore it is important that you do your best no matter to which group you have been assigned.’’ All participants were informed that they had (ostensibly at random) been assigned to the control group. Their task would be to name the color – red, blue, green, or brown – in which each word appeared. (Mention of the test group made it plausible not only that the reaction-time measure be taken but also that some of the words be relevant to thoughts evoked by the broadcast.) Participants were then shown reward-relevant words (NICE, MERIT, HONOR, PRAISE), punishment-relevant words (DUTY, GUILT, SHAME, PUNISH), victim-relevant words (CARE, NEEDY, ADOPT, TRAGIC), and neutral words (PAIR, CLEAN, EXTRA, SMOOTH). Their task was to name as quickly as possible the color of the ink in which each word was printed. (The words were intermixed, and both order and pairing with color were counterbalanced across participants.) After they finished the Stroop task, participants were given a form on which to indicate whether they wished to help Katie and, if so, how much time they wished to volunteer.
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Batson and Flory (1990) reasoned that if the motivation to help associated with a given dimension of personal religion is directed toward the egoistic goal of getting social and self-rewards for helping, then helping by high scorers on this dimension should be positively correlated with increased color-naming latency for reward-relevant words on the Stroop task. If the motivation is directed toward the egoistic goal of avoiding social and self-punishments for not helping, then helping by high scorers should be positively correlated with increased color-naming latency for punishmentrelevant words. If the motivation is directed toward the altruistic goal of reducing the young woman’s need, then helping by high scorers should be correlated with increased color-naming latency for victim-relevant words. Results indicated that the amount of help offered by participants scoring high on the extrinsic, means dimension was not reliably related to colornaming latency for any of the three types of words. (To correct for individual differences in general reaction time, all latencies were adjusted for latency to name the color of the neutral words.) Amount of help offered by participants scoring high on the intrinsic, end dimension was associated with thoughts of the rewards for looking good ðr ¼ 0:55; po0:01Þ; it was also non-significantly positively correlated with thoughts about the victim ðr ¼ 0:36Þ: This latter correlation was not, however, independent of the correlation with thoughts of rewards ðrpartial ¼ 0:05Þ; suggesting that attention to the victim’s need was only instrumental to reaching the ultimate goal of gaining the social and self-rewards for doing a good deed. Controlling for associations with the reward- and victim-relevant words, color-naming latency for the punishment-relevant words was negatively correlated with amount of help among individuals scoring high on the intrinsic, end dimension ðrpartial ¼ 0:47; po0:03Þ: This correlation suggested that thoughts of social and self-punishment were more salient for those high scorers who were less likely to help, indicating that thoughts of punishment were not a motivator of helping but were triggered by deciding not to help. None of these associations appeared among individuals scoring low on the intrinsic, end dimension. Amount of help offered by participants scoring high on the quest dimension was non-significantly positively correlated with color-naming latency for the victim-relevant words ðr ¼ 0:24Þ; and this correlation appeared to be independent of correlations for the reward- or punishment-relevant words. This correlation suggested that the helping of individuals scoring high on the quest dimension might reflect concern for Katie’s welfare. However, given the lack of statistical significance, such a suggestion must be regarded with caution.
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IMPLICATIONS Looking back over the evidence reviewed, we can begin to draw some implications concerning the nature of the prosocial motivation associated with the different dimensions of personal religion. Specifically, we can draw some implications concerning Allport’s (1966) claim that although extrinsic religion may lead to self-centered concern for Number One and self-serving motivation to help others in need, intrinsic religion leads a person to transcend self-centered needs and display true compassion and universal love. We can also draw some implications concerning the contrasting claim that the intrinsic, end dimension relates not to altruistic concern for others but to an egoistic desire to appear concerned, and the claim that the quest dimension relates to genuine concern.
Prosocial Motivation and Extrinsic Religion The evidence suggests that the first part of Allport’s claim is probably correct. In study after study, extrinsic religion is not associated with increased helping; if anything, it is associated with a decrease. Moreover, the results of Study 2 by Batson et al. (1989) suggest that the weak motivation to help associated with this dimension is directed not toward concern for the needy person’s welfare but toward the self-serving goal of avoiding looking bad. This dimension correlated with helping only when participants knew that most people were helping.
Prosocial Motivation and Intrinsic Religion The evidence suggests that the more important and controversial second part of Allport’s claim – that intrinsic religion evokes true compassion and altruistic motivation – is probably not correct. There is evidence that higher scorers on the intrinsic, end dimension report being more compassionate, caring, and helpful (Tate & Miller, 1971; Watson et al., 1984, 1985). There is also evidence that they are more likely than lower scorers to help in response to direct, low-cost requests (Bolt, 1982). But Darley and Batson (1973), Batson (1976), and Batson and Gray (1981) each found that responses associated with the intrinsic, end dimension were relatively insensitive to the expressed needs of suffering individuals. The responses appeared to be directed instead toward meeting the helper’s own need to be helpful.
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Focusing more directly on underlying motives, the combined results of the two studies by Batson et al. (1989) suggest that, although the intrinsic, end dimension can at times be associated with increased helping, this helping is not motivated by altruistic concern for others. It is motivated by egoistic concern to gain social and self-rewards for showing oneself to be a good, kind, caring person. Adding further support to this suggestion, Batson and Flory (1990) found that the helping of individuals scoring high on the intrinsic, end dimension was positively correlated with the salience of thoughts about the social and self-rewards of helping, thoughts associated with the words NICE, MERIT, HONOR, and PRAISE. These results are hard to reconcile with Allport’s (1966) claim that intrinsic religion evokes altruistic motivation. They are far more consistent with the claim that intrinsic, end religion is associated with increased egoistic prosocial motivation – motivation to gain the rewards of seeing oneself and being seen by others as a kind, caring person.
Prosocial Motivation and Quest Religion What about the claim that the quest dimension is associated with altruistic motivation? Although there is no clear evidence that higher scores on this dimension are associated with a greater amount of motivation to help, there is considerable evidence that higher scores are associated with a change in the nature of the motivation to help. But what is the character of this change? Is the new motivation altruistic? Darley and Batson (1973) and Batson and Gray (1981) found that this dimension was associated with helping that appeared more responsive to the expressed needs of the suffering individual. Batson (1976) found that this dimension was associated with adopting needy individuals’ perceptions of their needs. These findings suggest that the quest dimension may be associated with increased altruistic motivation. Also consistent with this claim are the results of the two studies reported by Batson et al. (1989). In Study 1, although scores on the quest dimension were not associated with a greater amount of helping, they were associated with trying harder to qualify to help in the difficult-standard condition. In Study 2, higher scores on the quest dimension were associated with increased helping in the low-pressure condition. There is also some evidence that calls this claim into question. First, scores on measures of the quest dimension are not positively correlated with reports of increased feelings of sympathy or compassion for people in need,
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either as a general disposition (Watson et al., 1984, 1985) or in response to specific needs (Batson, Schoenrade, Bolen, Cross, & Neuringer-Benefiel, 1984). If anything, the quest dimension seems to be associated with reduced feelings of sympathy and compassion. So, if the quest dimension evokes altruistic motivation, then it apparently does so independent of the empathic feelings of sympathy and compassion that have been found to be a key source of altruistic motivation (Batson, 1991). Second, in the Batson and Flory (1990) study, the correlation between helping and color-naming latency for the victim-relevant words among individuals scoring high on the quest dimension, although positive, was not statistically reliable. The weakness of this correlation could be due to chance variation. However, both it and the apparent lack of relation to reports of sympathy and compassion raise the possibility that higher scores on the quest dimension are associated not with a shift toward increased altruistic motivation but with a shift toward some other form of prosocial motivation. What other form? Perhaps higher quest scores are associated with a motive to uphold some general moral principle, such as a principle of justice or of care. Consistent with this possibility, Cheuvront and Ventis (1982) and Sapp and coworkers (Sapp & Gladding, 1986; Sapp & Jones, 1986) have repeatedly found positive correlations (typically from 0.30 to 0.50) between scores on measures of the quest dimension and principled scores on Rest’s (1979) Defining Issues Test (DIT), an objective measure of Kohlberg’s (1976) principled morality. (Correlations for the extrinsic, means dimension are typically close to zero; those for the intrinsic, end dimension are typically negative – ranging from 0.20 to 0.40.) If a person comes to adopt a moral principle like justice or care as a guide for action, as higher scorers on the quest dimension apparently do, then this person may be motivated to rectify any situation that violates this principle. An innocent person in need violates these principles. So, relieving this person’s suffering may not be the ultimate goal of helping; it may be an instrumental means to reach the ultimate goal of upholding a moral principle. In the helping situations used in the studies we have described, pursuit of the impersonal goal of upholding a principle of justice or care would produce the same pattern of results predicted if the quest dimension evoked increased altruistic motivation – the pattern that has been observed. Because of this last possibility, it seems premature to conclude that the studies we have reviewed provide clear evidence for the claim that the quest dimension is related to increased altruistic prosocial motivation. The studies do suggest that the quest dimension is not associated with egoistic motivation to help in order to look good or to avoid looking bad, but future
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research must determine whether the ultimate goal is to enhance the other person’s welfare – altruistic motivation – or to uphold one or more moral principles. Perhaps those high in quest religion have taken to heart Kant’s (1785/1889) admonition to love our neighbor as ourselves ‘‘not from inclination, but from duty’’ (Section 1, paragraph 12).
TWO FURTHER THOUGHTS Before concluding, let us briefly explore two further thoughts about the association between different ways of being religious and prosocial motivation. The first concerns the scope of compassion associated with the different dimensions of personal religion.
Universal Compassion and Dimensions of Personal Religion As noted at the outset, a defining feature of world religions as opposed to tribal religions is a doctrine of universal compassion (Burtt, 1957). One is to respond with compassion not only to those who are members of one’s own group or who think like one thinks but also to those who are members of out groups, who think and act in ways that violate one’s own values, who are even one’s enemies. Allport (1966) claimed that intrinsic religion promotes universal compassion of this kind. To test Allport’s claim, Batson, Floyd, Meyer, and Winner (1999) conducted an experiment in which they gave individuals scoring high and low on Allport’s Intrinsic scale the chance to help someone whose behavior violated conventional moral and social values. Batson et al. were careful to separate (a) an opportunity to help when helping would support value violation from (b) an opportunity to help when it would not. This separation was deemed important in light of the adage, ‘‘Hate the sin, but love the sinner.’’ If intrinsically religious individuals hate the sin but love the sinner, then they might be reticent to help a value-violating individual in a way that encourages or promotes value violation, but they should show no reticence to help in a way that does not. Such a pattern would still be consistent with a principle of universal compassion. If, however, they reject sinner as well as sin, then they should be reticent to help a value-violator even when the help would not promote value violation. Such a pattern would suggest circumscribed not universal compassion.
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Following this logic, Batson et al. (1999) gave undergraduates an opportunity to work on either or both of two digit-circling tasks, earning another student raffle tickets for a $30.00 gift certificate. One task would benefit a fellow student about whom they knew nothing; the other would benefit a student – Jerry (Jenny) – from whom they had received two self-disclosing notes. For two-thirds of the participants, the first self-disclosing note revealed that Jerry (Jenny) was gay; for the other third, this note was identical except that there was no mention of being gay. The second note, received just before participants performed the tasks, specified what Jerry (Jenny) would do with the $30.00 gift certificate. Half of the participants who knew that he (she) was gay learned that the money would be used to attend a gay pride rally in San Francisco. All other participants learned that the money would be used to visit grandparents in Santa Fe, a quite innocent activity that did not promote a gay lifestyle. The second note always ended: ‘‘I wasn’t sure I’d be able to save enough in time to go, but $30 would sure help out a lot! I really want to go. The money would be great!’’ Batson et al. (1999) found that participants scoring high on the Intrinsic scale helped the gay Discloser less ðpo0:05Þ than the non-gay Discloser even when their help would not promote homosexuality but would simply enable the Discloser to visit grandparents. These results suggested that, at least in this experiment, intrinsic religion was associated with compassion that is circumscribed, not universal. There seemed to be rejection of the homosexual person, not just of promoting homosexuality. In contrast, participants scoring high on the Quest scale were as apt to help the gay Discloser as the non-gay Discloser, and they were as apt to help when doing so promoted homosexuality as when it did not. In light of these results, as well as results reviewed previously, might the quest orientation to religion – not the intrinsic orientation – be associated with universal compassion? Batson, Eidelman, Higley, and Russell (2001) sought to address this question in a follow-up study using much the same procedure. To address this question, however, it was important that the Discloser clearly violate the values of open-mindedness and tolerance characteristic of those scoring high on the quest dimension. Being gay might not do this. Therefore, Batson et al. (2001) changed Jerry’s (Jenny’s) first note so that instead of being gay he (she) was anti-gay, writing ‘‘the thought of homosexuality really disgusts me.’’ Participants scoring high on the Quest scale were, once again, as likely to help the Discloser who was anti-gay as the one who was not – as long as the help did not promote anti-gay values. That is, even a person who violated their values of open-mindedness and tolerance was not excluded from their
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circle of care. In contrast, participants scoring high on the Intrinsic scale were less ðpo0:05Þ likely to help the Discloser who was anti-gay than the one who was not – even if the help was to visit grandparents. As in the previous study, the compassion of those high in intrinsic religion seemed circumscribed. Goldfried and Miner (2002) conducted a conceptual replication of the Batson et al. (2001) study, again presenting individuals either low or high on a measure of quest religion with a Discloser who either was or was not intolerant. However, instead of having the intolerant Discloser be anti-gay, he (she) was an avowed fundamentalist who wrote, ‘‘I believe my religion is the only true religion that holds the fundamental truth about the world.’’ Goldfried and Miner found that participants scoring high on their measure of quest religion were less likely to help the Discloser who was fundamentalist than the one who was not ðpo0:02Þ2even if the help did not promote fundamentalist values. They concluded that their study provided evidence that when the person in need is one who violates the value of religious openmindedness and tolerance, the quest dimension is not associated with universal but only circumscribed compassion. There are, however, two reasons to question this conclusion. First, Goldfried and Miner (2002) included in their sample not only participants from Christian backgrounds (52) but also a substantial number who either identified with some other religion (14) or who had no religious affiliation (24). The low proportion of participants from Christian backgrounds is a potential problem. The measures of religious dimensions were developed for use with people from Christian backgrounds who have at least moderate interest and involvement in religion. It is not clear that these measures are valid when used with people from other religious backgrounds, nor is it clear that they are valid when used with non-religious people. (What does it mean to be asked how you are religious when you are not religious at all? It is like being asked what kind of Republican you are when you are not a Republican at all.) Second and even more problematic, Goldfried and Miner (2002) did not use the Quest scale developed by Batson and coworkers that has been used in the other studies reported here. Instead, they used a scale developed by Altemeyer and Hunsberger (1992) called the Balanced Quest scale. This scale might more appropriately be called an anti-fundamentalism or anti-orthodoxy scale, given that Altemeyer and Hunsberger found that scores on it correlated 0:79 with scores on a fundamentalism scale, and given that its 16 items include only 1 of the 12 items on the Quest scale. If the Balanced Quest scale is actually a measure not of an open-ended quest
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orientation to religion but of anti-fundamentalism, then it is not surprising that Goldfried and Miner’s participants who scored high on this scale would not help a fundamentalist. Anti-fundamentalism should not, however, be equated or confused with the quest dimension of personal religion described above. Before Goldfried and Miner’s (2002) conclusion is accepted, the possibility that those scoring high on the quest dimension fail to show compassion to those who espouse religious intolerance needs to be tested again using a more appropriate sample and a more appropriate measure of the quest dimension.
Institutional Versus Individual Response to Needs We have considered the association between religion and prosocial motivation at the level of individual response to needs. Individual response is clearly covered by religious teachings such as the parable of the Good Samaritan, but needs in our society are often addressed at an institutional level. And religious institutions have long been among the most likely to respond – with help for the poor and lonely, with visits to the sick and elderly, with building of hospitals and orphanages, and with financial contributions to one or another relief fund (Park & Smith, 2000; Uslaner, 2002). Prosocial implications of religion at the institutional level are apt to be quite different from the implications at the individual level. The sensitivity and response to expressed needs of a broad range of others associated with the quest dimension seem desirable forms of individual response. However, those scoring higher on this dimension are not necessarily more involved in institutional religion or in institutional response to needs. The relative insensitivity to the wishes of individuals in apparent need and the concern to appear helpful rather than actually help associated with the intrinsic, end dimension seem less desirable forms of individual response. However, those scoring higher on this dimension are more likely to be involved in institutional religion and in institutional response to needs (Batson et al., 1993; Hansen, Vanderberg, & Patterson, 1995; Park & Smith, 2000; Uslaner, 2002). At the institutional level, then, the intrinsic, end dimension is likely to be associated with more helping. Individual motivation is an important source of prosocial action, but it is not the only source. Active involvement in a religious institution is another important source. Accepting this point, research is needed to examine what motive or motives might underlie helping through religious institutions. Might, for
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example, such help be motivated at least in part by a desire to be – or to be seen to be – a good group member? Or, paralleling the other-oriented character of altruism, might the ultimate goal be to increase the welfare of the religious community? Or is institutional helping something one does relatively automatically as a member of a religious community, without any sense of choice, obligation, or desire?
SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION Religious teachings call for a bountiful harvest of prosocial fruits. Psychological research suggests a more meager and more variable harvest. The prosocial fruits of religion range from sweet to sour, and they often look better than they turn out to be. Some sense can be made of this variability by attending to the different roles that religion plays in the life of the individual. First, research reveals that religious involvement is associated with stronger prosocial attitudes and moral values, as well as with self-reports of greater concern for the welfare of others. At a behavioral level, however, the more religious do not appear to be any more helpful than the less religious, unless self-presentation concerns have been aroused. Turning to the association between prosocial motivation and different dimensions of personal religion, research indicates that an extrinsic, means dimension has little effect on prosocial motivation and behavior. This dimension does not seem to increase the desire either to appear or to be more helpful, unless strong normative pressure is present. Research indicates that an intrinsic, end dimension is associated with saying one is helpful and concerned, and it is associated with increased helping in response to direct, low-cost requests. Moreover, this dimension is likely to be associated with increased involvement in and helping through religious institutions. However, the helping behavior associated with the intrinsic, end dimension can be insensitive to the expressed needs of the person seeking help, and it seems to be circumscribed to those who do not violate one’s values. Rather than an altruistic concern for the needy person’s welfare, helping associated with this dimension seems motivated by an egoistic desire to show oneself to be a good, kind, caring person. Research indicates that a quest dimension is not associated with personal claims of helpfulness or with increased likelihood of helping. Nor is it associated with increased involvement in religious institutions, and so it is not likely to be associated with helping through these institutions. It is, however, associated with (a) helping that seems responsive to the expressed needs of
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the person seeking help and (b) helping that extends to at least some value violators. Whether this helping is motivated by increased concern for those in need – altruistic motivation – or by desire to uphold moral principles is not yet clear. In sum, the research to date provides some clues where to find the sweet and the sour prosocial fruits of religion. It is far too soon, however, to claim that we know how to produce a crop of Good Samaritans rather than priests and Levites.
REFERENCES Allport, G. W. (1950). The individual and his religion. New York: Macmillan. Allport, G. W. (1966). Religious context of prejudice. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 5, 447–457. Allport, G. W., & Ross, J. M. (1967). Personal religious orientation and prejudice. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 5, 432–443. Altemeyer, B., & Hunsberger, B. (1992). Authoritarianism, religious fundamentalism, quest, and prejudice. International Journal for the Psychology of Religion, 2, 113–133. Barron, F. (1968). Creativity and personal freedom. Princeton: Van Nostrand. Batson, C. D. (1976). Religion as prosocial: Agent or double agent? Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 15, 29–45. Batson, C. D. (1987). Prosocial motivation: Is it ever truly altruistic? In: L. Berkowitz (Ed.), Advances in experimental social psychology (Vol. 20, pp. 65–122). New York: Academic Press. Batson, C. D. (1991). The altruism question: Toward a social-psychological answer. Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum Associates. Batson, C. D. (1994). Why act for the public good? Four answers. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 20, 603–610. Batson, C. D., Eidelman, S. H., Higley, S. L., & Russell, S. A. (2001). ‘‘And who is my neighbor?’’ II: Quest religion as a source of universal compassion. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 40, 39–50. Batson, C. D., & Flory, J. D. (1990). Goal-relevant cognitions associated with helping by individuals high on intrinsic, end religion. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 29, 346–360. Batson, C. D., Floyd, R. B., Meyer, J. M., & Winner, A. L. (1999). ‘‘And who is my neighbor?’’: Intrinsic religion as a source of universal compassion. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 38, 445–457. Batson, C. D., & Gray, R. A. (1981). Religious orientation and helping behavior: Responding to one’s own or to the victim’s needs. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 40, 511–520. Batson, C. D., Oleson, K. C., Weeks, J. L., Healy, S. P., Reeves, P. J., Jennings, P., & Brown, T. (1989). Religious prosocial motivation: Is it altruistic or egoistic? Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 57, 873–884.
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Batson, C. D., & Schoenrade, P. A. (1991a). Measuring religion as quest: 1. Validity concerns. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 30, 416–429. Batson, C. D., & Schoenrade, P. A. (1991b). Measuring religion as quest: 2. Reliability concerns. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 30, 430–447. Batson, C. D., Schoenrade, P. A., Bolen, M. H., Cross, J. H., & Neuringer-Benefiel, H. E. (1984, October). Religious orientation and response to a lady in distress: Egoistic or altruistic? Paper presented at the annual convention of the Society for the Scientific Study of Religion, Chicago. Batson, C. D., Schoenrade, P. A., & Ventis, W. L. (1993). Religion and the individual: A social– psychological perspective. New York: Oxford University Press. Bolt, M. (1982, August). Religious orientation, belief in a just world, and prosocial behavior. Paper presented at the annual convention of the American Psychological Association, Washington, D.C. Bonhoeffer, D. (1953). Letters and papers from prison. New York: Macmillan. Burtt, E. A. (1957). Man seeks the divine: A study in the history and comparison of religions. New York: Harper. Cheuvront, J. B., & Ventis, W. L. (1982). A study of the relationship between religious orientation, fundamentalist beliefs, and cognitive moral judgment. Unpublished manuscript, College of William and Mary, Williamsburg, VA. Darley, J. M., & Batson, C. D. (1973). ‘‘From Jerusalem to Jericho’’: A study of situational and dispositional variables in helping behavior. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 27, 100–108. Fromm, E. (1950). Psychoanalysis and religion. New Haven: Yale University Press. Goldfried, J., & Miner, M. (2002). Quest religion and the problem of limited compassion. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 41, 685–695. Gorsuch, R. L. (1988). Psychology of religion. Annual Review of Psychology, 39, 201–221. Hansen, D. E., Vandenberg, B., & Patterson, M. L. (1995). The effects of religious orientation on spontaneous and nonspontaneous helping behavior. Personality and Individual Differences, 19, 101–104. Heider, F. (1958). The psychology of interpersonal relations. New York: Wiley. James, W. (1902). The varieties of religious experience. New York: Longman. Jones, E. E., & Davis, K. E. (1965). From acts to dispositions: The attribution process in person perception. In: L. Berkowitz (Ed.), Advances in experimental social psychology (Vol. 2, pp. 219–266). New York: Academic Press. Kant, I. (1785/1889). In: T. K. Abbott (Trans.), Kant’s critique of practical reason and other works on the theory of ethics (4th ed.). New York: Longmans, Green & Co. (Original work published 1785) Kohlberg, L. (1976). Moral stages and moralization: The cognitive-developmental approach. In: T. Lickona (Ed.), Moral development and behavior: Theory, research, and social issues. New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston. Langford, B. J., & Langford, C. C. (1974). Church attendance and self-perceived altruism. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 13, 221–222. Lewin, K. (1951). Field theory in social science. New York: Harper. McClelland, D. C., Atkinson, J. W., Clark, R. A., & Lowell, E. L. (1953). The achievement motive. New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts. Niebuhr, H. R. (1963). The responsible self. New York: Harper.
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Oliner, S. P., & Oliner, P. M. (1988). The altruistic personality: Rescuers of Jews in Nazi Europe. New York: The Free Press. Park, J. Z., & Smith, C. (2000). ‘‘To whom much has been given y’’: Religious capital and community voluntarism among churchgoing Protestants. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 39, 272–286. Rest, J. R. (1979). Development in judging moral issues. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Rokeach, M. (1969). Religious values and social compassion. Review of Religious Research, 11, 24–38. Rowatt, W. C., Ottenbreit, A., Nesselroade, K. P., Jr., & Cunningham, P. A. (2002). On being holier-than-thou or humbler-than-thou: A social–psychological perspective on religiousness and humility. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 41, 227–237. Sapp, G. L., & Gladding, S. T. (1986, August). Correlates of religious orientation, religiosity, and moral judgment. Paper presented at the annual convention of the American Psychological Association, Washington, D.C. Sapp, G. L., & Jones, L. (1986). Religious orientation and moral judgment. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 25, 208–214. Stroop, J. R. (1938). Factors affecting speed in serial verbal reactions. Psychological Monographs, 50, 38–48. Tate, E. D., & Miller, G. R. (1971). Differences in value systems of persons with varying religious orientations. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 10, 357–365. Uslaner, E. M. (2002). Religion and civic engagement in Canada and the United States. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 41, 239–254. Watson, P. J., Hood, R. W., Jr., & Morris, R. J. (1985). Dimensions of religiosity and empathy. Journal of Psychology and Christianity, 4, 73–85. Watson, P. J., Hood, R. W., Jr., Morris, R. J., & Hall, J. R. (1984). Empathy, religious orientation, and social desirability. Journal of Psychology, 117, 211–216. Yinon, Y., & Sharon, I. (1985). Similarity in religiousness of the solicitor, the potential helper, and the recipient as determinants of donating behavior. Journal of Applied Social Psychology, 15, 726–734.
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RELIGIOUS BELIEFS AND THEIR RELATIONSHIP TO COGNITION, MOTIVATION, AND BEHAVIOR Scott W. VanderStoep and Benjamin P. Norris Psychology and religion have a long history of intellectual debate and companionship, the details of which are beyond the scope of this chapter. Suffice it to say that whatever the nature of the past relationship between psychology and religion, some modern-day psychologists see such a relationship as important, as evidenced by the publication of this volume and others (e.g., Miller & Delaney, 2005a; VanderStoep, 2003a). In this chapter we argue that this relationship can take at least two forms. One form is represented by psychologists who engage in philosophical exploration of how one’s religious faith informs their science or practice of psychology (e.g., Miller, 2005b; Evans, 2005; Tjeltveit, 2003b; Gunnoe, 2003; Jones, 1994; Jones & Hostler, 2005; VanderStoep, 2003b; Looy, 2003). For example, Jones (1994) argues that the relationship between religion and psychology is greater in psychology than it is for other disciplines, noting that ‘‘In the human (behavioral, social) sciences, there is good reason to expect any understanding of human data to be profoundly affected by religious presuppositions, in addition to other factors, because religion has so much to say about the human condition’’ (p. 193). This approach might be called psychology and religion. In this section, we try to identify ways in which this connection between psychology and religion has direct implications for the study of motivation.
Motivation and Religion Advances in Motivation and Achievement, Volume 14, 187–218 Copyright r 2005 by Elsevier Ltd. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0749-7423/doi:10.1016/S0749-7423(05)14007-2
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Perhaps the most compelling example is the work of Baumeister (e.g., Baumeister, 2005). We see his work on self-regulation as an example of how religion implicitly impacts how we study and understand motivated behavior. Another approach to exploring the relationship between psychology and religion is through the empirical study of religious phenomena (e.g., Witvliet, Ludwig, & VanderLaan, 2001). These studies can take the form of religious attitudes as independent variables or individual-difference variables (Batson et al., 2001; Thoreson, Oman, & Harris, 2005) and religious behaviors as dependent variables (e.g., Brown & Miller, 2005; Miller, 2005a). This approach might be called the psychology of religion. The first half of this chapter reviews important concepts considered in the integration of a religious worldview on psychological research and practice – psychology and religion. These questions have given rise in our own work to specific empirical questions of how religion impacts human behavior. Thus, the second half of the chapter reviews two recent studies we have conducted on the effects of religious beliefs on one aspect of human behavior in which we have been interested – critical thinking and epistemic beliefs. Since one of the underlying themes of this chapter is that one’s religious perspective influences greatly one’s approach to doing and interpreting psychological science, it seems important that we disclose our own religious perspective. As readers may infer from our writing, we are both American Christians in the Protestant/Evangelical tradition. Although we do believe that one’s perspective matters in psychological inquiry, we also believe that having a religious orientation in general explains much of the variance in one’s perspective. This is not to discount sub-group differences, which are real on many psychological dimensions. For example, Cohen, Siegel, and Rozin (2003) found that religious Jews differed from religious Protestants in what it meant to define a person of their own religious tradition. For Jewish participants in this study, self-rated religiosity was predicted by the extent to which they were engaged in religious practice, however their religious beliefs did not predict self-reported religiosity. In contrast, for Protestants, although their self-reported religiosity was predicted by religious practice, their religiosity was also predicted by their religious beliefs. In short, the two religious groups were similar in the importance they placed on religious practice but differed in the importance they placed on religious beliefs. Despite such differences, we feel for the purposes of this chapter that it is helpful to think of the ways in which religious beliefs in general impact the understanding of psychological science, and thus we refer to religion generally throughout most of this chapter rather than describe differences of religious sub-groups.
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PSYCHOLOGY AND RELIGION In this section, we discuss one way in which we believe psychology and religion interact: that religious beliefs animate one’s perspective on human behavior, which in turn have implications for psychological research on motivation, cognition, and behavior. The section is centered on some of the recurring questions to which we believe religious psychologists should pay attention. Although not a part of the fabric of daily activity of most researchers or practitioners, even if they claim a religious worldview, these questions address controlling ideas about the nature of persons and the nature of research. Religious Worldview and the Nature of Persons In this section, we focus on three meta-theoretical questions about human nature that we believe are affected by one’s religious beliefs: monism/ dualism, nature/culture (i.e., nature/nurture), and freedom/determinism. These questions impact various phases of the research process, such as the selection of research to be studied, the creation of the measures, and the interpretation of results.1 Monism and Dualism Many religious and philosophical traditions posit a distinction between a person’s material body and the immaterial substance. (This is either usually considered ‘‘soul’’ in religious discussions or considered ‘‘mind’’ in psychological discussions.) Perhaps because of a belief in life after earthly death, some religious people see the truly human part of human beings is, as Plato believed, the immaterial soul. It is beyond the scope of this chapter to deal with this question exhaustively, but suffice it to say that a dualistic belief in human nature, possessed by many religious people, creates challenges for the scientific study of human behavior. Consider two of those problems. First, in positing a material entity (brain or body) and a non-material entity (mind or soul), it becomes difficult to conceptualize how these two distinct entities interact. Does the material give rise to the immaterial? Can one entity exist without the other? Such questions make theory building and hypothesis generation potentially problematic. Second, one could argue that a dualistic belief of human nature makes psychology asynchronous with the rest of scientific investigation. For example, Wacome (2003) argues that if one believes that psychology is continuous with the theories and methods of
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other sciences, then one must adopt the view of human nature that is similar to that of other sciences (i.e., monism). Otherwise, psychology becomes a completely different (and Wacome would argue non-scientific) endeavor altogether. Even if the study of human behavior is said to originate in ‘‘the mind,’’ it still has its locus in physical systems. For example, although an educational psychologist might not even refer to physical mechanisms in research studying goal theory, self-regulation, or help-seeking, it is at least implicitly understood that one level of psychology will always be the physical, biological, or neurological. In many cases (e.g., areas of social or educational psychology), such an analysis may not be theoretically important or interesting. Rather, reference to cognitive, social, or organizational constructs are more parsimonious. Furthermore, the statement that psychology always has a physical component is not necessarily an endorsement of reductionistic accounts of behavior, but simply recognition that traditional scientific psychology is continuous with other scientific investigations that also describe events in physical terms. Wacome (2003) would contend that to have a dualistic account of human nature would move psychology closer to philosophical or theological areas of inquiry and away from a scientific area of inquiry. The issue of whether one subscribes to a monistic or a dualistic view of human nature may go largely unnoticed by most people interested in the relationship between psychology and religion. However, it is perhaps no accident that religious people with strong beliefs seem averse to psychological science (VanderStoep & Joldersma, 2003), or that psychologists are among some of the most irreligious people in the academy. For example, although a dated study at this point, a 1969 Carnegie Commission survey of over 60,000 academics found that psychologists had the second-lowest percentage (behind anthropologists) describing themselves as religious or religious conservatives, and the second-highest percentage (again behind anthropologists) describing themselves as having no religion. Such a fundamental question about human nature may bias research psychologists in favor of a monistic perspective, which may be perceived by religious people as religiously hostile (i.e., ‘‘If monism is true, then what part of human beings is eternal?’’). Dualistic beliefs of religious people, particularly in the Christian tradition, have a long history, including Augustine, Aquinas, and others. More recent Christian thinkers, however, have moved toward a more monistic approach (e.g., Jeeves, 1996; Joldersma, 2003). According to Jeeves and Berry (1998), a movement away from dualism can be attributed to scientific advances. Knowledge of anatomy and physiology made it difficult to postulate how a
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non-material soul or mind could interact with a material body. Furthermore, many modern-day religious academics have found the unity of human nature (monism) to be completely consistent with both their religious worldview and their scientific worldview. For example, Jeeves and Berry (1998) note that the Judeo-Christian tradition is anchored in the idea of monism as evidenced by multiple references in the Hebrew Bible (Old Testament) to entities with souls being those that are living beings (humans and animals). Miller and Delaney (2005b) note that ‘‘In Jewish thought, the soul is not a separable component, like a detachable sticker placed temporarily on a material body. Such dualism is foreign to historic Judaism’’ (pp. 292–293). Similar to Jeeves and Berry (1998), Sampson (2000) identifies an important implication of how our view of persons impacts motivation theory and research. Sampson makes a finer-grained distinction between rabbinic Judaism and Christianity, specifically post-Reformation Christianity. Sampson argues that Christianity has abandoned the rabbinic view of an embodied person (monism) for a dualistic view of human nature. In the Christian tradition, the body has been given a lesser role than the mind or spirit, and is seen as an entity to be held in check by the ‘‘superior forces of the mind’’ (p. 1428). For Sampson, this distinction between monism in Judaism and dualism in Christianity is more than an academic exercise. He sees important implications for psychological constructs, most notably individualism–collectivism. Sampson argues that this emphasis, particularly in Protestant Christianity, on individual autonomy and an individual’s relationship with God (the ‘‘priesthood of all believers’’ is a popular Protestant notion recognizing this individuality over against a spiritual aristocracy), served as a foundation for the development of individualist thinking in the West. Having a dualistic versus a monistic view of human nature, Sampson says, also has implications for concepts such as just world and perceptions of unsuccessful people. In paraphrasing Merton’s (1957) treatise on social theory, Sampson contends that ‘‘if people are self-made, then they can also be self-unmade. Therefore, those who have not fared well in life must be defective in some way: Their character or motivation is not up to the tasks of succeeding’’ (p. 1427). A second implication of the dualism–monism distinction is our understanding of social problems. Continuing with the just-world theme of people who get what they deserve and deserve what they get, the focus on solving social problems will tend, Sampson argues, to gravitate more toward an emphasis on individualist solutions to social problems rather than on structural or societal solutions.
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Taking this idea a step further, one can see how other motivation behavior such as help-seeking may be influenced by one’s beliefs about the self. If one’s view of human nature is that we deserve what we get and we get what we deserve, how will this impact one’s help-seeking behavior (Karabenick, 2003)? Speaking only anecdotally, the first author has 12 years of experience teaching at religious colleges, and he continually is faced with students who are resistant to asking for help. Perhaps this is true at most colleges, but many religious students fall quietly to the back of the class, perhaps thinking that receiving assistance is unwarranted, inappropriate, or unethical. Research has shown that there are multiple reasons why people seek and do not seek help in school, but perhaps an overlooked reason might be students’ religious beliefs. Examining the relationship between religious beliefs and motivational constructs such as just-world beliefs, helpseeking, and fixed versus changeable ability are all empirical topics worthy of future study. So, stemming from the Christian tradition, psychology has inherited an understanding of human nature that sets apart the body from the mind. And one could argue that this has become a general cultural belief in America. Indeed, in a survey of 185 undergraduates with five or more courses in psychology, Cox (1997) found that psychology undergraduates’ philosophical belief about the discipline is ‘‘fundamentally dualist’’ (p. 39). We have shown how this bias has implications for psychological research. It also can be argued that an emphasis on dualism sets psychology in contrast with other sciences. Wacome (2003) would argue, in fact, that not only is monism consistent with a religious worldview, it is required to maintain fidelity to the scientific enterprise. In one way this debate seems far removed from the understanding of the relationship of psychology and religion. After all, the philosophical underpinnings of psychological science are often not discussed even among those most familiar with psychological science, let alone more casual observers. Still, in another way the monism–dualism debate is important because it might partially explain why the conversation between research psychologists and religious people is difficult to have. Nature and Culture A second issue impacting the relationship between psychology and religion regarding human nature is the dynamic tension psychologists explore between the role of nature and the role of culture in predicting behavior. Joldersma (2003) views the monism–dualism dilemma as a structural issue and the nature–culture debate as an origins issue. In other words, the question becomes one of where a particular behavior, disposition, or attitude
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came from, with natural explanations being rooted in the life sciences and cultural explanations being rooted in cultural and historical studies. Most psychologists likely recognize the dynamic flavor of the nature–culture debate, and although our theoretical and methodological orientations might give us a proclivity for an emphasis on either a naturalistic (e.g., neuroscience, evolutionary psychology) or a cultural explanation (e.g., social development, feminist psychology), it is largely understood these two ways of understanding human behavior coexist. For religious people, the dilemma is slightly different than simply a way of knowing. For religious psychologists the question of nature versus culture strikes at a tension that can exist between the religious and psychological perspectives of human nature. One compelling real-life implication, Joldersma (2003) notes, is that one’s answer to the nature–culture question predicts how one would view the changeability of sexual orientation. On one hand, most modern-day psychologists believe that sexual orientation is neither ‘‘willfully chosen nor willfully changed’’ (Myers, 2004), thus emphasizing the role of nature in explaining sexual orientation. On the other, religious people, particularly conservative Christians who see heterosexual behavior as morally normative, might emphasize the role of cultural influences in sexual behavior. This example is perhaps the most politically controversial of the motivation issues related to the nature–culture debate. Other differences may exist as well in the area of attribution theory or other complex social behaviors for which both natural and cultural explanations may have empirical support. For example, consider beliefs about the causes of mental illness. Attributions about the causes of specific behaviors have been shown to be influenced by religious orientation. In one study, Pfeifer (2000) found that among a sample of religious people (Protestant Christians), over onethird attributed mental illness to demonic explanations. Just under one-third indicated that they sought deliverance from such conditions through prayer. However, it is not the case that religious people have a one-dimensional view of the causes of mental illness. For example, Stanfield (2003), using data from the General Social Survey found that, in fact, strongly religious people (defined by agreement with indicators such agreeing that the Bible was the ‘‘word of God’’) were more likely than non-religious people to believe that a person’s mental illness was caused by their ‘‘bad character’’ (a nature explanation). On the other hand, strongly religious people did not differ from irreligious people in the extent to which they believed mental illness was caused by a chemical brain imbalance, and they were just as likely to support that the patient should go to a psychiatrist and take prescription medication. Such empirical research supports the idea that a
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meta-theoretical question such as how religious beliefs impact the role of the nature–culture debate has implications for motivation theory and research. Freedom and Determinism A final and related philosophical issue on the nature of persons is the position one takes on the question of whether human behavior is freely chosen or determined by outside forces. Some psychologists argue that identifying the causes of human behavior, (determinism), is at the heart of developing a science of behavior. A person might be free to choose those causes, but the fact that there are causes that determine our behavior receives greater emphasis than the fact that those causes might be freely chosen (Wacome, 2003). One of the strongest versions of this claim was from one of the forefathers of scientific psychology who argued that ‘‘freedom is a matter of contingencies of reinforcement’’ (Skinner, 1971, p. 35). Others (emphasizing free will) argue that ‘‘human behavior has its origin in personal agency’’ (Joldersma, 2003, p. 14). Unlike the goal of trying to locate human behavior in a web of complex physical laws, humans have the ability to set their own trajectories in ways that other creatures cannot. Similarly, Weaver (2003) believes that a theological worldview (from his Protestant Christian perspective) ‘‘requires a libertarian view of freedom in understanding at least some of our human experiences of free choice. This implies that there must be an open future with regard to some of our choices such that the exact nature of that future is not determined until we exercise our real limited freedom regarding the direction, endurance, and vigor of our actions’’ (p. 223). The first approach (emphasizing determinism) sees human behavior as the object of study. The person is seen as a link in a complex, scientifically observable causal web. The second approach (emphasizing freedom) sees human behavior as the subject of study; the person is a controlling agent and not like other phenomena under scientific study. It should be noted that religious traditions vary in how they address the freedom-determinism question. For example, in the Christian religion, a hyper-Calvinistic theology would lean toward an emphasis on determinism, whereas an Anabaptist theology would lean toward an emphasis on free will. Despite any of these possible sub-group differences, the general question regarding the extent to which human agency can or should be availed within a religious framework is one that religious psychologists must be mindful of as they ply their trade as researchers or practitioners. One implication for motivation theory and research of the freedom– determinism debate centers on a holistic versus specialized view of human
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behavior. As Miller and Delaney (2005b) note, it is the nature of science to move toward greater and greater specialization. With greater specialization comes greater specificity of behavioral causes. Miller and Delaney also note that since the root of psyche is the soul, and that such fine-grained analyses may move us away from such a holistic approach, and in turn the study of the soul is lost. Thus, they argue, one important contribution of religious thought, particularly Judeo-Christian thought, is a reminder of the complexity of human behavior. In their words, ‘‘Focusing on one link may miss the bigger picture of the chains constraining the person’s life’’ (p. 293). On this point, Miller and Delaney clearly fall on the free-will side of this debate. They note that psychology should not be modeled on the other sciences, with their emphasis on the ever-increasing micro-level analyses. ‘‘The study of particular particles, compounds, cells, or organs is the stuff of science without necessarily worrying about how it all fits together y To understand the psyche, however, involves not only the integration of part processes but also consideration of higher order agentive and meaning processes that distinguish human nature y To miss this central focus and fascination with human nature is to sell our birthright as the science of psyche and to lose the unique heritage of our discipline’’ (p. 294). A second implication for motivation theory and research of the freedom– determinism debate is with respect to the study of intrinsic motivation, for example, research stemming from self-worth theory (e.g., Covington, 1992). Describing motivation, according to Covington (1992), can take several forms. For example, some researchers contend that motivation is part of human emotion, and responses such as pride and exhilaration on one hand and anger and despair on the other are synonymous with positive and negative motivation, respectively. Others contend that motivation is represented in mental states (cognitions). Still others see physiological arousal as the ‘‘telltale footprints of motivation’’ (Covington, 1992, p. 1). The first two positions come down on the freedom side of freedom–determinism debate. Theorists espousing a physiological representation of emotion may take a more middle ground with respect to freedom–determinism. A fourth position, according to Covington, would be the behaviorist position that internal subjective states of emotion and cognition are epiphenomenal to explaining human motivation. Rather than revisit a very old debate, we make this point to demonstrate the implications of religious beliefs on motivation theory. Religious beliefs may inform one’s beliefs about human freedom, which in turn impact theorizing about what motivation is and how best to motivate people.
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A third implication of the freedom–determinism debate is the framing of the view of the self in religion and psychology. For example, consider the research on choice and volitional behavior (e.g., Baumeister, 2005). Baumeister, Bratslavsky, Muraven, and Tice (1998) proposed three possible models for self-control. First, self-regulation could be a skill that people gradually develop with time and practice. At the micro-level of trial-to-trial, this model predicts the level of self-regulation will stay roughly the same. Second, self-regulation could be a mental representation. Like other schema theories, if the environment activates the self-regulation schema, then selfregulation should increase with repeated trials, as memory does when primed. Third, self-regulation could be a resource. Under this model, self-regulation is predicted to decrease with increased use. In one experiment designed to test these competing models, participants were given a bowl of radishes and a plate of sweets (Baumeister et al., 1998). Participants were either told to eat the radishes (with the sweets still present) or told to eat the sweets, or were not presented with any food. The food was then removed and participants were asked to attempt to solve some unsolvable drawing puzzles. Baumeister and his colleagues found that those who ate radishes (and had to resist eating the sweets) gave up faster on and made fewer attempts to solve the puzzles than those who were allowed to eat the sweets. The data from Baumeister et al. (1998) suggest the resource model of selfregulation is the best explanation, perhaps suggesting a kind of limiting freedom proposed by certain religious psychologists in which choice is available at some level but clearly limited by environmental inputs (e.g., Weaver, 2003). This research brings to light interesting connections between religion and behavior in at least two ways. First, it weighs in on the argument about freedom and determinism on the free-will side of the debate. Although it’s possible for one to argue the free will to eat the sweets or give up on the puzzle could be predicted from prior causes such as genetics or prior learning history, it seems more convincing to view this research as evidence for human agency, even in the face of external pressures. Those external pressures exert some control over our behavior, and some circumstances make free will less likely, but it still clearly is present in these study participants. Second, this research shows the similarity between the psychological and religious views of self and volition. The psychological view of the self portrays self-regulation, control, and willpower as limited resources. Energy spent in one area of life (resisting temptation for sweets) takes a toll on the emotional energy one has to spend in another area of life (diligence in completing puzzles).
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The model of the self from a religious viewpoint is similar in that most religious models of the self see virtue in resisting temptation. Religious traditions also set up support systems, accountability groups, and other mechanisms to assist the fellow believer in living a life consistent with the teachings of that community. Furthermore, religious stories of self-control become important narratives of faithfulness, as they often take place in the context of exhaustion or overwhelming trial. The Book of Job tells the story of a privileged and wealthy man. While God is speaking to the Adversary about the faithfulness of Job, the Adversary makes the point that it must be easy to be a good servant of God in the face of such an easy life. [‘‘Have you not put a hedge around him and his household and everything he has? You have blessed the work of his hands, so that his flocks and herds are spread throughout the land. But stretch out your hand and strike everything he has, and he will surely curse you to your face’’ (Job 1:10–11).] So God allows the Adversary to control all of Job’s possessions. Despite suffering great afflictions – losing all possessions and family members – Job remains resolute in his faithfulness. [‘‘Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will depart. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised. In all this, Job did not sin by charging God with wrongdoing.’’ (Job 1:21–22)]. This story and Baumeister’s work are consistent with the intuitive belief that when people are faced with depleted resources of the self, they will be subject to lower impulse control, less self-regulation, and less will-power. This is what Baumeister et al. (1998) found, and why the story of Job is so remarkable, for he overcame great deficits in self-resources to make the morally correct choice in the eyes of his religious community. Just as participants in Baumeister’s study faced depleted resources by having to fight off temptation, Job analogously faced depleted resources by having his possessions stripped from him. The temptation to curse his God would, according to social psychology, become greater in this context.2 In the Christian tradition, this scenario is played out in the story of Jesus’ victory over temptation when Satan tempts him to prove that he is the Son of Man by, among other things, tempting Jesus to turn stones to bread (Matthew 4). The fact that this series of temptations occurred after Jesus’ 40 days of fasting sets the stage for yielding to temptation (i.e., the Baumeister paradigm), and provides a model for Christians of faithfulness in the face of difficult external circumstances. Such work has clear implications for practitioners confronted with increasing the self-control and motivation of their clients. Addiction counselors, corporate consultants, and athletic coaches can use this understanding of the self to improve the performance and
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functioning of the groups they serve. For example, addictions counselors would be wise to make it clear to those who suffer from addiction that each person has a limited amount of self-resources, and that when those selfresources are diminished it becomes more difficult to function in other life domains. Thus, resisting temptation to an addicted substance will be more difficult when self-resources are less (e.g., under conditions of fatigue, stress, or loneliness). A fourth implication for motivation theory and research of the freedom– determinism question is with respect to human sexuality. The critical element of sexual behavior among religious people is that of the morality of sexual behavior, as opposed to the physiology, sociology, or some other aspect of sexuality. In general, religious teachings instruct about sexual behavior. For the last 20 years the discussion in the American Christian community has focused on sexual orientation. Even within this religious tradition, opinions differ. Conservative and evangelical components of the American church see same-sex behavior as contrary to church teachings (e.g., Jones & Yarhouse, 2001). Other members of the Christian community see covenantal union between same-sex partners as acceptable and blessed by God (e.g., Myers & Scanzoni, 2005). Although this issue may not be ethically complex for people who use an ethical framework other than religious teachings to guide their decision making, it presents a unique problem for many religious psychologists. It is complicated because their religious and psychological worldview conflict. Their training as a psychologist emphasizes valuing empirical research (which on this issue points heavily toward a biological explanation for sexual orientation), personal liberties, and human freedom. However, for religious psychologists from a tradition for which marriage, monogamy, and heterosexuality are morally prescriptive, such beliefs collide with their psychological training. This dilemma is further complicated by the fact that religious positions on moral debates change over time. For example, ethicist Lewis Smedes (1999) tells the story of attending the national governing meeting of his church’s denomination in the late 1940s. The ethical discussion of the time was whether or not divorced and remarried people would be recognized as full members of the church, which in this denomination meant participation in the sacrament of communion. The exclusion at this time was based on Jesus’ own words: ‘‘Anyone who divorces his wife and marries another woman commits adultery against her. And if she divorces her husband and marries another man, she commits adultery’’ (Mark 10:10–11). The words were so clear and unambiguous, that church leaders at that time banned divorced
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and remarried people from communion. Currently, virtually no Protestant denominations (including the one described by Smedes) exclude divorced and remarried people from communion. Smedes identifies three reasons why the practice has changed. First, more children of the church were getting divorced and remarried in post-1940s America, and so the church could no longer insulate itself from this issue. Second, communion switched from being a sign of spiritual health to a sign of spiritual healing. Third, the church began to come to grips with how its teaching could be enacted; it seemed both cruel and impractical to ask church-going people to renounce their current marriage, and church members began to believe that this was not what Jesus was suggesting as a remedy. These reasons are illustrative to how religious people’s views of human freedom sometimes collide with popular culture and sometimes accommodate to it. It could be argued that current discussions about church-blessed same-sex unions and homosexuals are reminiscent of the debate 50 years ago about divorce, and that 50 years from now church-going people may look at the current debate on sexual orientation much like we look at the debate of the 1940s and 1950s. The point of this discussion is not to debate sexual ethics but rather to point out that religious and psychological portraits of the human freedom sometimes coincide (as in the first example with Baumeister’s research) and sometimes collide (as in the second example on sexual behavior). Such examples remind us that religious psychologists serve two masters, and occasionally they give different orders. These portraits have ethical implications, a topic to which we turn directly in the next section. Although this section discussed the view of the self as it relates to motivation and religion, it is equally important to understand the self in relation to the larger social world. This is at least as true in a religious context as in a secular context. As Maehr (2005) notes, both Jewish and Christian traditions emphasized the importance of an individual’s faith beliefs growing out of connections to faith communities. Much of the psychological study of religion has focused on individual religious behavior (e.g., Allport, 1950; Batson, Eidelman, Higley, & Russel, 2001), however, Maehr reminds us that religious beliefs develop and are sustained in a social context. An emphasis on how views of the self and religious beliefs impact motivation theory and research are important, but such an emphasis is clearly only part of the picture. As Maehr notes, ‘‘Although the study of the ‘individual and his or her religion’ certainly has its place, the study of the individual as a member of a congregation or religious group dare not be ignored’’ (p. 141). One way in which religious groups impact religious people is through ethical
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teachings, so the final sub-section explores how religion impacts one’s ethical decision making about psychological research and practice.
Ethical Implications of Psychological Research and Practice Ethical beliefs stem from various sources, but for religious people ethics often come from religious teachings. The impact of ethical beliefs on the science and practice of psychology varies in form and degree. Below, we highlight several connections to ethical concerns with which psychologists must concern themselves. This analysis is a summary of the work by Tjeltveit (2003a). For purposes of this discussion, ethics is understood as what is ‘‘good, right, and/or virtuous’’ (Tjeltveit, 2003a, p. 76). First, the degree of ethical concern in psychology varies mostly as a function of area of study. In general, one could argue that basic research tends to be less laden with ethical implications than applied research and that biopsychology or cognitive psychology tends to be less laden with ethical implications than social or clinical areas of psychology. There are fewer ethical implications, for example, in studying the neuroscience of memory than in the study of bullying in schools. Ethical issues also appear as a function of the motivation of the researchers. Some psychological researchers are motivated by an intrinsic love of the subject matter, but worry less about what implications, if any, might stem from the findings. Other researchers feel called to explore issues because of a personal commitment to what they see as virtuous. A social psychologist interested in racial justice may be committed to experiments on stereotype threat or ways to establish more beneficial and less deleterious intergroup relations. Such a commitment may affect the research at various stages, such as the selection of the topic, the variables included in the study and method of measurement, and of course the interpretation of the findings. Some researchers may argue that such research decisions should not be informed by concerns as personal as ethics. Or some researchers might argue that if that does indeed happen, such motivations are inappropriate in research. We actually believe that research motivated by such ethical concerns is in fact a positive feature. Although some would call it bias, we believe that researchers who feel called to pursue investigations because of personal ethics may animate and motivate their research program in ways that other researchers would not. That is not to say an ethical concern is the only valid rationale for conducting research, but it is certainly a valid one.
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Ethical issues also appear in the interpretation of psychological research. For example, Division 48 of the American Psychological Association – Society for the Study of Peace, Conflict, and Violence: Peace Psychology Division – states on their website that their goal is ‘‘to promote peace in the world at large and within nations, communities, and families.’’ On the other hand, Division 19 – Military Psychology – seeks to promote ‘‘research and the application of psychological research to military problems.’’ It seems very likely that researchers within these two areas of psychology will have different motivation for research, different perceived value of various research findings, and different interpretations and implications of various research findings. Finally, psychological research varies in the extent to which it gives rise to ethical debate. Some research is not ethically disputed, such as racial prejudice is bad and attempts to lower racial prejudice are good. Greater ethical ambiguity arises in the specific ways in which racial prejudice could be alleviated. For example, people differ on their views of affirmative action in employment and education. Although affirmative action is defined in what would appear to be an ethically non-controversial way at the U.S. Department of Labor website (‘‘creating economic opportunity and security for all Americans’’), ethical debate regarding this practice clearly exists among researchers, practitioners, and the general public. A similar type of ethical disagreement might result because of the language that researchers use. Homophobia is a common term used by the general public. The term homonegativism (e.g., VanderStoep & Green, 1988) implies the attitudinal component of people’s beliefs about homosexuality, whereas homophobia might have a more clinical tone. Returning to the previous example of remedies to racial prejudice, whether the terms affirmative action, quotas, or aggressive recruitment are used might make implicit ethical statements about the researchers’ views and the public’s interpretation. Tjeltveit (2003a) reviews a very controversial example based on an article in the Psychological Bulletin (Rind, Traumovitch, & Bauserman, 1998). The prohibition against adults having sex with children could be based on the negative consequences to the children. Or it could be based on a universal ethical norm against such behavior (e.g., because of a violation of power relations). When the Rind et al. (1998) study was published claiming that in some cases adults having sex with children does not result in negative consequences for the child, one of the reasons against the prohibition was gone (if one assumes the veracity of their analysis). Specifically, the authors argued that when the relationship was consensual and the reactions to the encounter were positive, that psychologists should use the
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term ‘‘adult–child sex’’ instead of ‘‘child sexual abuse.’’ The argument for this name change is that it describes the behavior in more value-neutral terms. But Tjeltveit points out that people who are proponents of adult– child sex might see this as far from value neutral. For example, the website of the North American Man–Boy Love Association (http://www.nambla. org) states as one of its goals ‘‘to end the extreme oppression of men and boys in mutually consensual relationships.’’ In the end, these types of disagreements will vary in degree by subject matter, but these examples make clear that value-neutral language is difficult to achieve in psychological research. We have attempted in this section to demonstrate how religious beliefs impact psychology, with particular emphasis on motivation theory and behavior, at the ‘‘inner-workings’’ level. That is, we attempted to show that meta-theoretical assumptions about the nature of persons and the nature of research are affected by religion, and these beliefs in turn affect our interpretations of psychological research. We now turn to a more direct analysis of how religion impacts human behavior; the role that religious attitudes and behaviors have on other psychological phenomena.
PSYCHOLOGY OF RELIGION In this section we turn our attention to how religion can be empirically studied by psychologists. We describe two studies examining the relationship between religious beliefs and one area of the psychology of motivation: epistemic beliefs. The study of epistemic beliefs is interesting to educational psychologists because of the implication these beliefs have for learning and achievement. To religious psychologists, the study of epistemic beliefs is also interesting because it addresses directly questions about the nature of knowledge, the relationship between knowledge and religious authority, and the relationship between intellectual and religious development. The study of epistemic beliefs, then, seems one that naturally rises up from interest in the interaction between religion and motivation.
The Relationship between Epistemic Beliefs and Religious Beliefs From a psychological perspective, epistemic beliefs involve the study of how individuals come to know, the theories and beliefs they hold about knowing, and the manner in which these beliefs are incorporated into the thinking and
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reasoning processes (Hofer & Pintrich, 2002). Several developmental models for college students’ development of epistemic beliefs have been proposed (e.g., King & Kitchener, 1994; Perry, 1998; Baxter Magolda, 1992). Although these theories differ in several ways, they have the following as their general core propositions. First, students begin college as dualistic thinkers. They believe that knowledge is simple, unchanging, and certain, that facts are neutral and housed outside of the knower, and that the source of knowledge is the authority of experts. Second, college students next progress to a period of ambiguity about knowledge. In this stage, students observe differences of opinion between ‘‘experts,’’ begin to believe that all truth claims are relative, and that it is difficult or impossible to verify competing truth claims. Finally, students near the end of their college years (it is hoped) have moved to a claim about knowledge in which they recognize that knowledge is contextualized, situation-specific, and constructed in the mind of the knower. Students at this stage recognize the complexity of knowledge, are equipped to evaluate competing truth claims, and will make a commitment to one truth claim. Such commitments, like knowledge itself, are relative and subject to change based on future incoming evidence. This line of inquiry is relatively new, but we have some clues about the relationship between religion and learning from the work of Westman and Alexander (2004). They gathered self-report data on students’ religious beliefs and learning strategies. Specifically, with respect to religious beliefs, they measured students’ self-reported beliefs and behaviors (e.g., ‘‘I am an atheist’’; ‘‘I pray once a day’’) as well as students’ responses to the Concrete Divine Concept scale. This measured the extent to which students believed that a divine being: intervenes in world affairs, is influenced by prayers, and rewards/punishes people. With respect to learning behaviors, Westman and Alexander measured students’ deep and elaborative processing strategies and critical thinking using Whimbey’s Analytical Skills Inventory. Several of their findings are relevant to our investigation. First, students scoring higher on analytical skills were less likely to believe in a concrete divine concept. Second, higher self-reported analytical skills were related to lower religiosity scores. Third, there was a negative correlation between deepprocessing strategies and belief in a concrete divine concept. These findings suggest that a deeper religious commitment may be correlated with lowerlevel cognitive strategies. Our studies sought to pursue this relationship between learning and religion in the areas of epistemic beliefs and illstructured problem solving. Specifically, we examined two issues in our studies. First, we sought to explore the relationship between students’ epistemic beliefs and their
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religious beliefs, an area of inquiry not yet explored. Second, we sought to explore the relationship between epistemic beliefs, religious beliefs, and students’ answers on an ill-structured problem-solving task. There is reason to suggest that religious beliefs and epistemic beliefs may be related. For example, Richter and Kruglanski (2004) speak of motivated closed mindedness. An extension of cognitive dissonance theory, people high on motivated closed mindedness have a high need for closure and a desire to make their behaviors and attitudes align. Richter and Kruglanski argue that such closed mindedness serves several purposes, including ingroup homogeneity and terror management. With respect to religion, one could argue that those scoring high on religious beliefs would be also high on motivated closed mindedness. Richter and Kruglanski note that ‘‘Increasing the need for cognitive closure appears to increase reliance upon chronically accessible ideological attitudes’’ (p. 113). Various cultural groups may feel threatened by change and may resist non-traditional or liberal worldviews. If a religious community is one such group, then such resistance may manifest itself in more dualistic beliefs about learning such that group members see knowledge as simple and certain. Similarly, Duriez (2003) sees a relationship between religion and motivated social cognition. According to Duriez, we arrive at our attitudes and beliefs about knowledge by means of a motivated search for knowledge upon which we can stand firm. Thus, central to this theory is a need for general cognitive closure; it represents a dimension of stable individual difference although it may vary as a function of the situation. Therefore, people with a high need for cognitive closure would: ‘‘1) desire order and structure in their lives, 2) prefer predictable situations, 3) experience a desire to reach closure, which is reflected in the decisiveness of judgments and choices, 4) experience ambiguous situations devoid of closure as aversive, and 5) be unwilling to have one’s knowledge and beliefs confronted and hence rendered insecure by inconsistent evidence or alternative opinions’’ (pp. 79–80). If these characteristics were more likely found in religious people, a link between epistemic and religious beliefs would occur. Johnson, Court, Roersma, and Kinnaman (1995) suggest that college students’ tendency to take a dualistic approach to knowledge may be more pronounced among Christians. They argue that in the Christian tradition salvation is through faith alone (not intellectual or worldly accomplishments or good deeds). Absolute thinking governs all areas of life, for to allow room for doubt is detrimental to the faith. From this religious perspective, then, reflective thinking would be seen as inappropriate; thinking should be directed to be in concurrence with religious teachings.
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Moreover, research conducted and reviewed by Bendixen, Schraw, and Dunkle (1998) showed that moral reasoning is related to epistemic beliefs. For example, people who believe in simple solutions to complex moral problems may be less inclined to explore broader, more dialectical explanations. Also, individuals believing in quick learning may believe that complex problems are unsolvable, but in the case that they can, they will be achieved quickly or not at all. Since moral reasoning for religious people is derived from religious teaching (as discussed above), this line of research suggests that a link between epistemology and religion might exist. Study 1 The purpose of the first study was to determine if students’ epistemic beliefs were related to their religious beliefs. In this study, we used a 35-item questionnaire developed previously (Hofer, VanderStoep, & Pintrich, 1996; Pintrich & Schunk, 2001). The two dimensions that have proved most reliable on this questionnaire are complexity of knowledge and certainty of knowledge. Complexity of knowledge is the extent to which students believe that knowledge consists of straightforward facts. Those scoring high on complexity believe that knowledge is interrelated and can be understood from multiple perspectives. Certainty of knowledge is the extent to which students believe that knowledge is stable versus subject to change. Participants completed the epistemic beliefs questionnaire twice, first as a domaingeneral instrument with no reference a specific discipline and second in reference to beliefs about a specific content area: biology. (We only report the findings from the general-beliefs questionnaire in this chapter.) The 209 undergraduate participants also completed a 20-item self-report religiosity questionnaire, assessing their belief in the exclusivity of religious truth. This religiosity score served as our predictor variable (Altemeyer & Hunsberger, 1992) and measured a fundamentalist form of religious ideology. The items measured the extent to which students believed in the exclusivity of religious truth, the existence of conflict between good and evil, the authority of religious texts, and a religion-morality link. Based on the mean scores on this instrument, we divided the sample into three groups that we labeled religious conservatives, religious moderates, and religious liberals. We also asked students to self-report their political beliefs as either conservative, moderate, or liberal. Our outcome measures were (1) six items from the epistemic-beliefs questionnaire designed to measure certainty of knowledge and (2) six items designed to measure complexity of knowledge. We first analyzed the relationship between religiosity scores and scores on the general-beliefs
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Fig. 1.
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Scores on Religiosity Scale and General Epistemic Beliefs Scales from Study 1.
questionnaire. We found students’ scores on the religiosity scale were related to both their beliefs about the certainty of knowledge and their beliefs about the complexity of knowledge (Fig. 1). Specifically, religious conservatives believed knowledge to be more certain than either religious moderates or religious liberals, who did not differ from each other. We also found that religious liberals believed knowledge to be significantly more complex than either religious moderates or religious conservatives, who did not differ from each other. We also examined whether there was a relationship between certainty/ complexity of knowledge and students’ self-reported political ideology (Fig. 2). For certainty of knowledge, there was a marginally significant effect for self-reported political beliefs such that political conservatives saw knowledge as much more certain than political liberals. For complexity of knowledge, there was a significant effect showing that political liberals saw knowledge as more complex than either political moderates or political conservatives. This study provides evidence of a relationship between religious beliefs and general epistemic beliefs. Specifically, those who are more traditional or conservative in their religious beliefs tend to see knowledge as more certain than those who are moderate or liberal in their religious beliefs. Also, those
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Self-Reported Political Beliefs and Beliefs about Knowledge from Study 1.
who are religiously liberal tend to see knowledge as more complex than those who are religiously moderate or conservative. Study 2 There were two purposes to Study 2. First, we attempted to replicate the findings of Study 1 that showed a relationship between epistemic and religious beliefs. The second purpose of this study was to examine whether students’ problem-solving behavior is related either to epistemic or religious beliefs. Specifically, we sought to explore whether people’s response to an illstructured problem was related to either their religious or epistemic beliefs. Since little is known about the relationship between religious beliefs and problem solving, we saw this as the next step in this research. Schraw, Dunkle, and Bendixen (1995) found that performance on ill-defined tasks were related to self-reported epistemic beliefs, but performance on welldefined tasks was not related to epistemic beliefs. Since we found epistemic beliefs related to religious beliefs in Study 1, it seems plausible to hypothesize
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that religious beliefs would also be related to performance on ill-structured problems. This was the rationale for the current study. In this study, we sampled 105 college students who completed the 20-item religiosity questionnaire and the 35-item general epistemic-beliefs questionnaire used in Study 1. In addition, we also asked students to respond to an ill-structured problem-solving task. Specifically, we gave half of the students a brief report arguing in favor of affirmative action and half of the students a brief report arguing against affirmative action. After the students read one of the two affirmative-action articles, they were asked a series of questions regarding their beliefs about these articles. These probe questions were adopted from King and Kitchener (1994). Specifically, students were asked to write their responses to the following questions: What do you think about this article? (1) How did you come to hold your point of view? (2) On what do you base your point of view? (3) How likely do you think it is that you might someday change your point of view? (a) very likely (b) somewhat likely (c) very unlikely. (4) Can you ever know for sure that your position on this issue is correct? (5) When two people differ about matters such as this, is it the case that one opinion is right and one is wrong? (a) only one can be right (b) both can be right (c) not sure. We used scores on the religiosity scores as the predictor variable as in the first study. As in Study 1, participants were divided into religious conservatives, moderates, and liberals based on their mean religiosity scores. For the criterion variables, we used the same six items that were used to create the certainty of knowledge and complexity of knowledge scales that we used in Study 1. We found the same pattern of results for both complexity of knowledge and certainty of knowledge. Specifically, religious conservatives had higher certainty scores and religious liberals had higher complexity scores (Fig. 3). However, none of the findings reached statistical significance in this study for either of the criterion variables (perhaps due to the smaller sample size in Study 2). We next analyzed the relationship between religious beliefs, epistemic beliefs, and students’ responses to the problem-solving task that we adapted from King and Kitchener (1994). We first examined students’ responses to the question: ‘‘When two people differ about matters such as this, is it the case that one opinion is right and one is wrong?’’ [The response alternatives
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Scores on Religiosity Scale and General Epistemic Beliefs Scales from Study 2.
were ‘‘both can be right,’’ ‘‘only one can be right’’ and ‘‘not sure.’’ For the purposes of this analysis, we selected only those who said ‘‘both can be right’’ and ‘‘only one can be right’’ and did not include those who said ‘‘not sure’’ in the analysis.] With respect to certainty of knowledge, there was no significant difference between the ‘‘both can be right’’ and ‘‘only one can be right’’ groups. However, those who indicated that ‘‘both can be right’’ had higher mean complexity scores than those who indicated that ‘‘only one can be right’’ (Fig. 4). The results also showed a marginally significant relationship between students’ religious beliefs and their responses to the probe questions. Those who responded ‘‘only one can be right’’ had a marginally higher mean religiosity score ðM ¼ 6:05Þ than those who responded ‘‘both can be right’’ ðM ¼ 5:18Þ: [As a statistical caution, it should be noted that there was an imbalance in the number of people who answered ‘‘both can be right’’ ðn ¼ 75Þ versus those who answered ‘‘only one can be right’’ ðn ¼ 10Þ:] We next analyzed the data by comparing those who answered yes versus no to the question ‘‘Can you ever know for sure if your position is correct?’’ With respect to certainty of knowledge, there was one significant difference between the ‘‘yes, can know for sure’’ and the ‘‘no, cannot know for sure’’
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Differences in Epistemic Beliefs as a Function of a Multiplicity Question in Problem-Solving Task from Study 2.
groups; those who believed they knew for sure had higher certainty scores than those who reported that they did not know for sure (Fig. 5). However, there was no difference between these two groups on either complexity of knowledge or religiosity. Finally, we examined the relationship between epistemic beliefs, religious beliefs, and students’ responses to the following question: ‘‘How likely do you think it is that you might someday change your point of view?’’ For this analysis, we combined the ‘‘very likely to change my point of view’’ respondents ðn ¼ 2Þ and the ‘‘somewhat likely to change my point of view’’ ðn ¼ 47Þ and compared them to the ‘‘very unlikely to change my point of view’’ group ðn ¼ 56Þ: On all three variables – certainty of knowledge, complexity of knowledge, and religiosity, we found no significant differences between the ‘‘very unlikely to change my point of view’’ and ‘‘very/somewhat likely to change my point of view’’ groups.
Summary of Findings Study 1 showed that there is a relationship between self-reported epistemic beliefs and self-reported religious beliefs, as measured by this particular religiosity scale. In general, students whose beliefs about knowledge were more complex and less certain had more liberal beliefs. The relationship between epistemic beliefs, religious beliefs, and responses to an ill-structured
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Differences in Epistemic Beliefs as a Function of a Certitude Question in Problem-Solving Task from Study 2.
problem-solving task was less clear. There was a difference in students’ beliefs about the complexity of knowledge between those who believed that only one view could be right on the problem-solving task and those who believed that both views could be right; specifically, those who reported that ‘‘both can be right’’ had higher mean complexity scores. However, there was no difference between these two groups on certainty of knowledge. There was a marginally significant difference between these two groups on their religiosity scores, with those saying that ‘‘only one can be right’’ scoring slightly higher on the religiosity measure. On the two other King and Kitchener (1994) questions we examined (‘‘Can you ever know for sure your position is correct?’’ and ‘‘How likely do you think it is that you might someday change your point of view?’’) as a function of certainty of knowledge, complexity of knowledge, and religiosity scores, we found only one significant effect: those who reported that they could know for sure about an issue had higher certainty scores than those who reported they did not think they could know for sure. These findings present a unique challenge for educators charged with both the intellectual and religious development of students. Educational psychologists see as normative intellectual development a move away from dualism and certainty and toward a view of knowledge that is contextualized and that recognizes complexity. To produce religious intellectuals, then, educators must begin a developmental process in which students
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understand that a call to high intellectual standards and a sophisticated set of epistemic beliefs can occur in the context of religious faithfulness. Such a description of a religiously faithful and intellectually honest person is similar to Batson’s empirical description of religion as ‘‘quest.’’ Batson’s (e.g., Batson & Raynor-Prince, 1983; Batson et al., 2001) understanding of quest expands on Allport’s (1950) seminal work on intrinsic versus extrinsic religiosity; intrinsically religious people have worldviews and belief systems that are derived from their religious beliefs and extrinsically religious people use their religion as a means to an end (Swatos, 1998). Batson has argued that individuals with a quest component to their religiosity approach religion with a ‘‘readiness to face existential questions without reducing their complexity’’ and ‘‘a perception of religious doubt as positive’’ (Swatos, 1998, p. 43). Whereas we are interested in exploring the educational, cognitive, and motivational correlates of religious beliefs, most of Batson’s work has sought to determine relationships between religious orientation and prosocial behavior. For example, in one study Batson et al. (2001), examined the relation between religious orientation and helping behaviors. Female participants were informed that they could help a female peer win a monetary prize by completing a digit-circling task. All participants received two notes. The first note indicated that their peer was either intolerant of homosexuals or did not mention her view of homosexuals. The second note revealed how their peer planned on using the money if they won – either to visit grandparents or to attend an anti-gay rally. Peers would receive this money depending on the research participant’s performance on the task. Findings indicated that those high in quest religion helped the intolerant peer the least (lower performance) when the money would assist intolerance (i.e., going to the rally). Moreover, those high in quest religion did not help the intolerant peer as much even when the assistance was for a benign activity (i.e., visiting grandparents). In other words, high-quest participants were withholding of assistance for high-discriminatory peers and those who engaged in high-discriminatory behavior. The direction of the correlation between discriminatory behavior and religion runs contrary to the widely held intuition that religion and discrimination are positively correlated. The key to understanding this nuance is to understand how quest changes the nature of religious belief. Batson believes that opposing intolerance is a major component of the beliefs of a high-quest person. The opposition to intolerance may serve as the source of pro-social behavior found in this study. The work by Batson and colleagues illustrates another dimension of the motivational implications of religious
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beliefs. In the final section, we outline our ideas for future exploration of the relationship between psychology and religion.
Suggestions for Future Research We see two areas of exploration worthy of future research. First, we feel it is important to focus on measurement issues. Although the reliabilities of the epistemic beliefs scales were reasonable, in these studies and in several previous studies we have had difficulty getting measures of internal consistency greater than 0.70. The fact that there is likely a developmental shift that moves from dualism to multiplicity/relativism to contextualized relativism may make it difficult to capture such responses on a unidimensional response scale. A related measurement concern is the measure of religiosity. As a onefactor scale this measure produces high internal consistency. However, it may not encompass the broad range of religious experience that is part of the religious lives of many people. Instead, its focus on religious exclusivity and the authority of religious truth may only speak to a narrow set of religious people, quite likely American Protestants in the fundamentalist tradition. Although more mainstream Protestants and some Catholics may recognize the vocabulary in this instrument, it is not as likely to be a part of their religious lexicon. Moreover, this instrument probably does not resonate even within large parts of American Christianity, let alone Christians in other countries or other religious faith traditions. Because of the diversity of religious experience, developing a robust measure of religiosity that will cut across all these experiences may not be possible. Still, in our future work we hope to include a different measure of religiosity that encompasses religious beliefs (as the current instrument does) as well as religious knowledge, religious practice, and ethical decision making. These different subcomponents of religion may provide insights into how different aspects of religious experience relate to different aspects of learning and beliefs about learning. The second area of future research we would like to explore is to expand our understanding of students’ responses to ill-structured problems. This can be done in two ways. We would like to expand the range of illstructured problems used in our studies. We asked students to respond to questions about affirmative action. Other questions regarding contemporary and debatable issues of our time such as marriage and civil unions of gays and lesbians, stem-cell research, and the origins of earth’s species may
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provide a rich data set. We are currently collecting data on how people high versus low on religious beliefs differ on a variety of well- and illstructured problems. Our ultimate goal is to develop a cognitive and motivational profile that separates those who are religious from those who are not. This ultimate goal depends first on developing a thorough understanding the empirical nature of religious beliefs. Much work by Batson and others has come before us, so we have a strong foundation. And it also depends on identifying the cognitive and motivational tasks (such as self-regulation, critical thinking, and problem solving) on which religious and non-religious people might differ. If we can identify the cognitive and motivation variables that are related to religious beliefs, then we can begin to build a cognitive psychology of religion and a motivational psychology of religion. This theoretical development can then lead to practical implications such as informing educators about the cognitive and motivational make-up of their students who call themselves religious. In conclusion, we find the relationship between religion and psychology to be a very rich and interesting one. In the first half of this chapter, we attempted to highlight some of the meta-theoretical issues facing religious psychologists. In general, we argue that one’s religious world and life view impact one’s view of psychological science and practice. We argue that facts are not neutral, and that the religious and philosophical orientation of the researcher-practitioner affects how research is produced, is interpreted, and is applied. We provided several specific examples of how we believe this worldview-science relationship is played out specifically in motivation theory and research. In the second half of this chapter, we explored how one particular issue (epistemic beliefs) is impacted by religious beliefs. In these studies we found, in general, that students with more conservative religious beliefs viewed knowledge as more certain and less complex than religiously liberal students. Such findings we believe build a foundation for future work that will explore more deeply the learning–motivation–religion relationship. For many people, the activities of learning, motivation, and religion are at the heart of who they are. Our religious lives define us as people. This could be true even among non-religious people; by its absence religion is still a defining characteristic. Likewise, our beliefs, goals, and motivation, as well our view of knowledge, all make statements about who we are. Thus, our religious life, our goals and motivation, and our mental life, all weigh heavily in determining our personhood. Thus, we find it essential to explore how these very important aspects of our lives interact.
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NOTES 1. As non-philosophers, our descriptions of these questions may lack clarity and precision to experts in the field. We do not claim to have new ideas on age-old philosophical dilemmas, but rather our goal is to describe how we think psychologists interested in religion might grapple with these questions. 2. Scholars of the Hebrew Bible point out that the Job story is a moral tale that paints a complicated picture of the relationship between God’s sovereignty, theology of retribution, and human suffering (Bandstra, 2003). Thus, it is far more complicated than simply a story of resisting temptation in the face of depleted resources. In fact, Job does his fair share of complaining in other parts of the story, suggesting his self-restraint is not always strong. However, self-control in light of difficult circumstances is clearly part of the narrative.
REFERENCES Allport, G. W. (1950). The individual and his religion. New York: MacMillan. Altemeyer, B., & Hunsberger, B. (1992). Authoritarianism, religious fundamentalism, quest, and prejudice. International Journal for the Psychology of Religion, 2, 113–133. Bandstra, B. L. (2003). Reading the Old Testament: Introduction to the Hebrew Bible (3rd ed.). New York: Wadsworth. Batson, C. D., Eidelman, S. H., Higley, S. L., & Russel, S. A. (2001). And who is my neighbor? II: Quest religion as a source of universal compassion. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 40, 39–50. Batson, C. D., & Raynor-Prince, L. (1983). Religious orientation and complexity of thought about existential concern. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 22, 38–50. Baumeister, R. F. (2005). Self and volition. In: W. R. Miller & H. D. Delaney (Eds), JudeoChristian perspectives on psychology (pp. 57–72). Washington, DC: APA Press. Baumeister, R. F., Bratslavsky, E., Muraven, M., & Tice, D. M. (1998). Ego depletion: Is the active self a limited resource? Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 74, 1252–1265. Baxter Magolda, M. B. (1992). Knowing and reasoning in college: Gender-related patterns in students’ intellectual development. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Bendixen, L. D., Schraw, G., & Dunkle, M. E. (1998). Epistemic beliefs and moral reasoning. Journal of Psychology, 132(2), 187–200. Brown, S., & Miller, W. R. (2005). Transformational change. In: W. R. Miller & H. D. Delaney (Eds), Judeo-Christian perspectives on psychology (pp. 167–183). Washington, DC: APA Press. Cohen, A. B., Siegel, J. I., & Rozin, P. (2003). Faith versus practice: Different bases for religiosity judgments by Jews and Protestants. European Journal of Social Psychology, 33, 287–295. Covington, M. V. (1992). Making the grade: A self-worth perspective on motivation and school reform. New York: Cambridge University Press. Cox, B. (1997). Students’ basic philosophical assumptions in history of psychology: A measure and teaching tool. Teaching of Psychology, 24, 39–41.
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Miller, W. R. (2005b). What is human nature? Reflections from Judeo-Christian perspectives. In: W. R. Miller & H. D. Delaney (Eds), Judeo-Christian perspectives on psychology (pp. 11–29). Washington, DC: APA Press. Miller, W. R., & Delaney, H. D. (Eds) (2005a). Judeo-Christian perspectives on psychology (pp. 291–308). Washington, DC: APA Press. Miller, W. R., & Delaney, H. D. (2005b). Psychology as the science of human nature: Reflections and research directions. In: W. R. Miller & H. D. Delaney (Eds), Judeo-Christian perspectives on psychology (pp. 291–308). Washington, DC: APA Press. Myers, D. G. (2004). Psychology (7th ed.). New York: Worth. Myers, D. G., & Scanzoni, L. D. (2005). What God has joined together? A Christian case for gay marriage. San Francisco: Harper. Perry, W. G., Jr. (1998). Forms of intellectual and ethical development in the college years: A scheme. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass (Originally published in 1970. New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston.). Pfeifer, S. (2000). Religious interpretations of mental distress: Empirical findings and clinical implications. Psyche en Geloof, 11, 86–97 Abstract obtained from PsycINFO. Pintrich, P. R., & Schunk, D. (2001). Motivation in education: Theory, research, and applications (2nd ed.). Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice-Hall. Richter, L., & Kruglanski, L. W. (2004). Motivated closed mindedness and the emergence of culture. In: M. Schaller & C. S. Crandall (Eds), The psychological foundations of culture (pp. 101–121). Mahwah, NJ: LEA. Rind, B., Traumovitch, P., & Bauserman, R. (1998). A meta-analytic examination of assumed properties of child sexual abuse using college samples. Psychological Bulletin, 124, 22–53. Sampson, E. E. (2000). Reinterpreting individualism and collectivism: Their religious roots and monologic versus dialogic person-other relationship. American Psychologist, 55, 1425–1432. Schraw, G., Dunkle, M. E., & Bendixen, L. D. (1995). Cognitive processes in ill-defined and well-defined problem solving. Applied Cognitive Psychology, 9, 523–538. Skinner, B. F. (1971). Beyond freedom and dignity. New York: Bantam Books. Smedes, L. B. (1999). Like the wideness of the sea. Perspectives, 14(5), 8–12. Stanfield, T. S. (2003). Causes, cures, and compliance: Bible believers’ causal attributions and preferred treatments for mental disorders. Dissertation Abstracts International Section A. Humanities and Social Sciences, 63(12-A), 4476. Swatos, W. H., Jr. (Ed.) (1998). Encyclopedia of religion and society. Walnut Creek, CA: Altamira Press. Thoreson, C. E., Oman, D., & Harris, A. H. S. (2005). The effects of religious practices: A focus on health. In: W. R. Miller & H. D. Delaney (Eds), Judeo-Christian perspectives on psychology (pp. 205–226). Washington, DC: APA Press. Tjeltveit, A. (2003a). Christian ethics and psychological research. In: S. W. VanderStoep (Ed.), Science and the soul: Christian perspectives and psychological research (pp. 73–92). Lanham, MD: University Press of America. Tjeltveit, A. (2003b). Faith, psychotherapy, and Christian counseling. In: S. W. VanderStoep (Ed.), Science and the soul: Christian perspectives and psychological research (pp. 247–263). Lanham, MD: University Press of America. VanderStoep, S. W. (Ed.) (2003a). Science and the soul: Christian perspective and psychological research. Lanham, MD: University Press of America.
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MORALITY’S CONUNDRUM: A QUESTION OF MOTIVATION Lawrence I. Rosenkoetter What is the foundation of morality? While societies face many BIG questions, this question is pivotal. The success of civilization hinges on each society’s ability to rear new generations, such that its members are motivated to do what is right and avoid what is wrong. To be sure, there is room for limited failure; albeit, there are limits on what percent of a society can be incarcerated. Of this we are certain: our collective well-being is dependent upon achieving an acceptable level of moral character in the rank and file of citizens. Given the importance of morality, where then does morality come from? Western thought offers a variety of competing and contradictory answers. Socrates claimed that the key to morality was to know virtue. Moral reflection and understanding leads directly to moral behavior. To know justice is to do justice. The Apostle Paul saw it differently and said that ‘‘The good that I would, that I do not y ’’ This debate has come to be known as the ‘‘thought/action problem’’ (Locke, 1983) or as the ‘‘judgment/action issue’’ (Straughan, 1989). The dominant voice in this debate within psychology has been the cognitive perspective. At times this cognitive tilt has been so strong as to even deny that a thought/action problem exists (L. Kohlberg, summer workshop, July, 1972). Such assertions, however, have not been widely accepted. It seems most appropriate that when moral actions are not in accord with
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moral thoughts, the question of motivation must be broached. This chapter, while heavily influenced by the cognitive perspective, will explore the thought/action conundrum from a motivational perspective. Following a synopsis of pivotal contributions to this debate, the role of religion will be discussed. While religion has periodically surfaced in these discussions, it has most often been to compare the religious with the nonreligious on the frequency with which their moral actions fail to reflect their moral judgments. We will depart from this tradition and suggest that a more profitable strategy would be to consider the underlying psychological processes that potentially bridge the thought/action divide. Finally, it will be argued that religion, at its best, embraces these processes and provides a motivational answer to this important conundrum.
THE CHARACTER EDUCATION INQUIRY The empirical investigation of this issue began in earnest in the 1920s under the sponsorship of the Religious Education Association. How best to inculcate moral values in our nation’s youth was their primary question. With the guidance of the day’s leading psychologist, E. L. Thorndike, a panel of experts from prestigious colleges and universities resolved to conduct the most ambitious psychological study theretofore undertaken. Over the course of several years, more than 11,000 children were repeatedly given the opportunity to cheat, lie, and steal in and out of the classroom. Similarly, under controlled conditions these children had the opportunity to help, share, and act cooperatively. In addition, careful note was made of their participation in a broad sweep of character-building organizations (e.g., church, scouts, etc.). Much to the surprise of the investigators, it was difficult to document the existence of a moral character trait. They had anticipated that there would be considerable consistency in the behavior of participating children. A central hypothesis of this investigation was that there would be many children that would help, share, and cooperate repeatedly and would seldom cheat, lie, and steal. These children would be readily differentiated from their counterparts that were lacking in the trait of moral character. However, the Character Education Inquiry results produced far less consistency than anticipated. In the end it was concluded that character (i.e., doing the right thing) varied dramatically from situation to situation. Children that yielded to the temptation to cheat in one situation may or may not cheat on a subsequent temptation. Character, they concluded, was situation specific.
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Equally unanticipated was the finding that the leading character-building experiences like the church and the scouts failed to produce children that behaved in an markedly different fashion on the researchers’ battery of contrived temptations. The results of this classic investigation were detailed in a three-volume compendium (Hartshorne & May, 1928; Hartshorne, May, & Maller, 1929; Hartshorne, May, & Shuttleworth, 1930).
THE RENAISSANCE OF MORAL DEVELOPMENT INQUIRY For several decades, moral development inquiry within psychology languished. Character development was not a focus of sustained research interest. But then in the 1960/1970s there was a renaissance led by Larry Kohlberg (1969) and his associates. This awakening adopted the Piagetian perspective that articulated development as a structural process in which individuals actively create modes of understanding. Hence, moral development growth was understood to be a succession of more adequate ways of understanding why some acts are right and others are wrong. Kohlbergian research used a series of hypothetical moral dilemmas, so constructed that a morally correct action was not readily apparent. For example, in the most famous dilemma the subject was asked whether a husband should steal an exorbitantly priced drug in an attempt to save his dying wife. More important than the ‘‘yes’’ or ‘‘no’’ response was the subject’s rationale for the response. The subject’s reasoning was then systematically probed in order to determine the underlying moral reasoning structures. Extensive longitudinal work led Kohlberg to postulate an invariant sequence of six stages. Each stage represented an ethical system that allowed one to differentiate right from wrong. Each of the early stages had internal contradictions and inconsistencies. The next most advanced stage typically resolved these problems and produced a more robust and generalizable ethical theory. In brief, stage one is a morality founded on the avoidance of punishment. There is no concept of moral obligation, only deference to those able to punish. Stage two centers on the notion that just acts are those that satisfy needs. Conformity to rules is for the purpose of gaining rewards. At stage three, morality is conformity to the expectations of other. The right action is that which pleases others. Respect for authority is the morality of stage four.
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Moral obligation is equated with duty and obedience to the laws of the land. At stage five moral behavior is defined by personal values, whereas stage six lifts ethical decisions to the level of logical, universal, and consistent principles. These principles are abstract ethical imperatives like the Golden Rule, not concrete moral rules such as the Ten Commandments. To be sure, while Kohlberg’s main interest was the delineation of the structures of moral reasoning, there was a secondary interest in moral behavior. From the beginning, Kohlberg (1969) argued that cognitive moral structures were pivotal to the understanding of moral actions despite the fact that moral behavior is impacted by many factors. Of particular importance to moral behavior, he noted, was the distinction between preconventional structure (Stages 1 and 2), conventional structures (Stages 3 and 4), and post-conventional structures (Stages 5 and 6). In laboratory deceptions designed to test morality, post-conventional subjects scored markedly higher. For example, in the famous Milgram obedience experiments, 75% of the Stage 6 subjects refused to continue administering shock as compared with a 13% refusal rate among participants at the other stages.
MORAL REASONING AND MORAL BEHAVIOR A particularly perplexing question for Kohlberg and his colleagues was ‘‘Why be moral in an immoral world?’’ Extensive discussion led to the introduction of a seventh stage (Kohlberg & Power, 1981; Power & Kohlberg, 1980). Stage 7 was not intended to be an extension of Kohlberg’s six stages but rather as a metaphorical stage that embodies a religious orientation. By religion, Kohlberg meant human reflection that imparts meaning and purpose to life. Thus religious meaning and purpose provides the motivation to act on one’s moral judgments. At earlier stage levels, the structure of moral reasoning provides a plausible but inadequate motive for acting moral. At Stage 1, one’s motive is to avoid punishment. The Stage 2 answer is that one should act morally when it is in one’s best interest to do so. The approval of others provides the motive for Stage 3 and Stage 4’s dynamic is that society will collapse without our respective moral acts. Even at the post-conventional levels, universal principles of justice provide no compelling reason to act on one’s moral principles. Kohlberg’s critics charged him with naivete´. In their view, Kohlberg had failed to differentiate between moral reasoning and moral behavior. Our experiences teach us what actions are right/wrong and how to reason about
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these actions. Our experiences also teach us how to behave in order to receive societal rewards and avoid punishments. Moral reasoning and moral behavior are two different domains (Brown & Hernstein, 1975; Liebert, 1984). Under the press of this growing criticism, Kohlberg and his collaborators redoubled their efforts to provide a stronger linkage between their stages of moral reasoning and moral behavior (Kohlberg & Candee, 1984). Kohlberg now argued that moral reasoning influenced behavior in two distinct ways. Each moral judgment contains a ‘‘deontic’’ element. A deontic judgment is one that decides a just course of action. The structure of each Kohlberg stage contains a deontic element. With each successive stage this element entails a more powerful articulation of justice. The more advanced the deontic element, the more likely the reasoner will perform in a moral manner. In addition, each structure of moral reasoning includes a judgment of responsibility. This latter judgment pertains to one’s commitment to follow through on one’s moral decision. Each higher stage of moral reasoning includes a stronger judgment of responsibility. Hence, individuals at higher stages are more likely to behave in a manner consistent with their judgment as to what the just action would be. Finally, Kohlberg introduced the theoretical refinement of the ‘‘substage.’’ An important aspect of post-conventional reasoning is that moral judgments must be universalizable and prescriptive. In other words, the morality of a particular act in a particular situation applies to everyone and that it would be morally wrong to act otherwise. However, even among individuals functioning at the conventional level (Stages 3 or 4), there are individuals that have an intuitive, albeit partial grasp of this universalistic/ prescriptive dimension. Such individuals were now to be referred to as functioning at Stage 3B or Stage 4B. Individuals at substage B are more likely to act in accord with their moral reasoning. Data from earlier studies were then reanalyzed and presented to demonstrate heightened linkage between moral reasoning and moral behavior (Kohlberg & Candee, 1984). However, even with the substage refinement, the correlations between moral reasoning and moral behavior seldom exceeded 0.5. It also became customary to emphasize that certain non-moral skills such as attention and perseverance were required to increase the predictability of moral actions. Others voiced concern that too much was being expected of Kohlberg’s stage scores, especially in view of the fact that the judgments were based on hypothetical dilemmas (Rothman, 1980). Furthermore, behavioral measures frequently focus on ambiguous situations. For example, cheating is repeatedly
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assessed in the context of a competitive game or academic test that poses a conflict over parent-imposed achievement standards (Turiel, 1983). But even more important, there are other non-moral factors that interact with moral judgment to produce behavior. For example, children’s distractability on everyday tasks has been found to correlate with cheating on experimental tests of honesty (Kohlberg, 1964). Such ego strength might lead to the control of impulses and hence mediate the impact of moral reasoning on moral behavior. Inconsistencies will emerge between judgment and action because of non-moral variables (Rothman, 1980). Turiel and his associates (Turiel & Smetana, 1984) contributed an additional caveat. In their programmatic research they demonstrated the importance of differentiating between the moral reasoning domain and the social conventions domain. By social convention they meant behavioral uniformities like eating with utensils rather than fingers. Conventions in the final analysis are arbitrary and do not entail an intrinsic prescriptiveness. Hypothetical dilemmas and real-life dilemmas often include elements from both domains. Such domain mixture, they theorized, results in an underestimation of the correspondence between moral reasoning and moral actions. Careful use of moral dilemmas void of domain mixture, they predict, will produce a stronger correspondence between moral reasoning and moral action. There is research to support Turiel’s contention. Smetana (1981) interviewed at length women with unwanted pregnancies. In addition to assessing their moral reasoning with the Kohlbergian procedure, she assessed whether or not they viewed abortion as a moral issue or simply a personal matter. The results indicated the importance of whether the subject reasoned about abortion in the moral domain or a personal domain. Only one person who saw abortion as belonging to the personal domain did not have an abortion. Likewise, only one subject that saw it as a moral issue failed to continue her pregnancy. No difference was found between the two groups on their moral reasoning stage scores. Correspondence between judgment and action was substantially enhanced by attending to the judgment domain. Nisan (2004) has recently published a persuasive analysis in which he has argued that it is naı¨ ve to expect a one to one correspondence between moral behavior and moral judgment. Rather, moral judgment entails two decisions. The first Nisan names a judgment of evaluation that focuses on whether the behavior in question is morally right or morally wrong. The second is a judgment of choice and is necessitated by the fact that in real life, moral standards do not always override other considerations. The
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judgment of choice is the individual’s subjective decision as it relates to a particular occasion. Nisan has queried subjects about their moral choices in several hypothetical situations. For example, would it be moral to leave aged and dependent parents in order to accept a once in a lifetime career opportunity on the other side of the world. Even among the large percentage of individuals that would judge this action as immoral, there were many that indicated they would not decline this special opportunity. In other words, special circumstances can on occasion trump moral uprightness.
HOFFMAN’S THEORY Martin Hoffman’s interest in moral development has spanned many decades. In his frequent critiques of Kohlberg’s theory, a reoccurring refrain has been that the Kohlberg model has erred in its overemphasis of the cognitive dimension as well as its failure to deal with other pivotal dynamics, namely empathy. Hoffman’s theory has been particularly attentive to the issue of moral motivation, or moral internalization as he prefers to call it. He begins with the assumption that humans are constitutionally predisposed to be discomforted by the distress of others. Hoffman and his colleagues have demonstrated rudiments of empathic distress in the very young (Sagi & Hoffman, 1976). The basic motive to reduce this empathic distress is transformed by the child’s growing awareness of the distinction between self and others. With experience the child learns how to take the perspective of the other and how to interpret the complex cues emanating from the other person. Likewise, he or she learns to appreciate how the other person is impacted by their life circumstances and how need and pain can be ongoing states. The empathic distress is also transformed by parental socialization pressures. Without such socialization, the child could readily reduce the empathic distress by going far away from the person in need. Parental use of inductive discipline that emphasizes how one’s misbehavior results in real harm for another encourages the growth of sympathy in lieu of empathic distress. The focus of parental socialization is on the child’s inner cognitive and emotional states rather than simply being one of dispensing rewards and punishments. The end result is that the child comes to experience his or her empathy/sympathy as an internal motivational state, not as a foreign morality imposed by coercive societal pressures.
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REST’S FOUR COMPONENT MODEL Jim Rest labored long and hard to develop a less arduous measure of moral reasoning than that used by Kohlberg. In the end, Rest’s Defining Issues Test (DIT) was an inventory that assessed a subject’s recognition rather than production of moral reasoning. Correlations of 0.7 indicated considerable overlap with Kohlberg’s Moral Judgment Interview. However, it was a common finding that subjects typically scored one stage higher on the DIT. Among Rest’s many contributions was a provocative analysis prompted in part by the limited success of the Kohlberg’s stage score to predict moral behavior. Rest concluded that too much was being asked of moral reasoning. Morality, rather than simply being reasoning about justice, has four distinct components. Component I focuses on interpreting a situation and deciding whether or not it entails a moral issue. Is someone actually in trouble? Might my actions impact the person in need? How might the recipient of my assistance feel about my help? Such situations are often complex and individuals vary in their perceptiveness. If the individual concludes that there is a problem and that his or her actions might impact the situation, the morality process has been engaged. The next step (Component II) is to reflect on what the best moral response would be in this situation. Kohlberg’s work has focused on Component II, and his six stages represent various ways in which one can delineate a just response. Other researchers such as Gilligan (1982) and Damon (1977) have offered alternative systems (Morality of Caring and Distributive Justice respectively). Component III requires a decision as to how one will respond or not respond in a given situation. If one only had moral values, this facet would be straightforward. However, moral values must compete with other values in a complex and often conflictual manner. For instance, one may confront a situation in which a moral value conflicts with the value of career advancement. In a well-known example, John Dean in his book, Blind Ambition, describes how his moral values were circumnavigated by his ambition to succeed as a member of the white house staff. Rest (1983) has offered an extended listing of alternative understandings of Component III’s motivational question. Among possible motives are the following: (1) people behave morally because they are naturally altruistic and moral; (2) guilt, shame, or anxiety coerce people to behave in an altruistic and moral manner; (3) morality is an illusion; people simply behave in response to reinforcement contingencies; (4) moral reasoning and understanding is
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self-motivating; (5) identification with a greater cause begets moral behavior; and (6) moral motivation results from living with caring individuals. Rest concluded with the comment that while moral motivation plays a pivotal role, progress on this front will require an enormous amount of work. Component IV leads to the actual behavior. At this juncture it is often necessary to work around impediments. Of importance are ‘‘character’’ or ‘‘ego-strength’’ that provide the necessary perseverance to see things through so that the goal is reached. This component is essential for all manner of goal-directed behavior. Individuals that fail at this point are colloquially referred to as ‘‘wimps.’’ In the event that one perceives a person to be in genuine need, resolves that fairness requires one’s assistance, decides to help, and then actually follows through on this resolve, describes Rest’s prototype of morality. Moral action is then a multi-faceted complex of processes. It is of importance that one process not be emphasized to the neglect of the others (Narvaez & Rest, 1995).
BLASI’S SYNTHESIS By the 1980s, Kohlberg’s work simply could not be ignored. Some researchers labored enthusiastically to validate and extend it. Other researchers stood in line to rebut his controversial theory. While there were numerous points of controversy, no point was more contentious than Kohlberg’s claim that moral behavior could best be understood through a careful analysis of individual differences in moral reasoning (Kutnick, 1986). Blasi (1980), in a classic review of the empirical literature, concluded that there was evidence that higher levels of moral reasoning were associated with better behavior across a wide array of behavioral domains. Subsequent metaanalyses reached similar conclusions (Arnold, 1989; Buchanan, 1992). However, the relationship between moral reasoning and moral behavior was modest and accounted for approximately 10% of the variance. Clearly, there was more to moral behavior than moral reasoning. A more comprehensive theoretical framework would be needed to account for moral actions. In an important critique, Blasi (1990) argued that first and foremost, a theory was needed to explain when moral understanding leads to moral behavior and an explication of the underlying processes. In part, he continued, this is a developmental issue. When children and adolescents are presented with hypothetical conflicts between their own wishes and a morally appropriate response, adolescents perceive a sense of personal
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responsibility that is absent in the reflections of the younger children (Blasi, 1989). In older adolescents, a sense of obligation to do the moral thing is often bonded to a sense of self-integrity. Younger children do not seem to experience a comparable emotional intensity as they ponder a moral question. Only later does moral understanding seem to acquire motivational power. Blasi (1993, 1995, 2004) theorized that the key to understanding the gap between moral behavior and moral reasoning was to focus on personality, specifically the self. Individuals vary markedly in the extent to which they relate their personhood to the moral dimension. For some, pivotal to their selfhood is the notion that I am the kind of person that does the right thing. For others, the morality of contemplated acts is at best an afterthought. A strong moral self is characterized by a high salience of moral values in day to day activities and the integration of one’s moral reasoning into one’s sense of identity. To test this conjecture, Blasi (1989) interviewed children with mean ages of 6, 12, and 17. While even the youngest children understood that certain actions are wrong, the younger children seemed not to ‘‘experience emotions in connection with what they understand to be wrong.’’ However, the adolescent subjects’ moral insights were more often linked to motivational emotions. Blasi concluded that the thought/action divide required the integration of moral judgment with one’s personality. The second component of Blasi’s model is the extent to which the individual senses a personal responsibility. To know that something is morally right does not necessarily mean that the individual feels a personal obligation to act on the basis of this judgment. The unstated question is, ‘‘How important is it to do what is morally correct?’’ The absence of responsibility is a major disconnect between judgment and action. Personal responsibility, on the other hand, establishes a direct link. Personal responsibility implicates the self in action. The final process in Blasi’s analysis is one of self-consistency. Congruence between one’s moral judgments and one’s moral actions leads to integrity. Such self-consistency does not come easily. Individuals are adept in justifying their failures to act in accord with their moral reasoning. For example, it is relatively simple to place the blame elsewhere and to minimize one’s responsibility for immoral acts. In brief, Blasi’s analysis maintains that the motivation to act on one’s moral judgments is to be found in the workings of the self. Advanced moral behavior or advanced moral development comes from an individual motivated to act consistently on salient moral principles in a context of
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perceived responsibility. This is a clear departure from Kohlberg’s theory where moral motivation comes from fidelity to one’s moral principles. For Blasi, not to act is a betrayal of one’s moral identity or one’s self. Not to betray the self is intuitively a more powerful dynamic than not to betray a principle. Supporting evidence has been reported by Colby and Damon (1992). Following consultations with philosophers, ethicists, theologians, historians, and social scientists, Colby and Damon identified the crucial characteristics of ‘‘moral exemplars.’’ The same consultants were then asked to nominate individuals that met these criteria. Twenty-three of the nominees were interviewed. For these men and women there was an extraordinary integration of self and morality. They defined themselves in a moral centric manner. Their individual and their moral goals were one and the same. Time and again they indicated that they acted on their moral judgments spontaneously because they had no choice in the matter. They simply had to respond. For moral exemplars, the gap between moral reasoning and moral action was bridged. While Blasi’s theory is a compelling one, it has been muted by limited empirical work. Walker and his colleagues (Walker, Pitts, Henning, & Matsuba, 1995) have undertaken a series of preliminary investigations designed to explore the self as a bridge between moral reasoning and moral actions. These investigations have relied on open-ended interviews with adults of varied ages designed to tap moral issues in everyday life. Among their supportive findings are that while some individuals see moral questions on an everyday basis, others must reminisce into their distant past to come up with a moral issue. Walker interprets this as supporting Blasi’s contention of the varied salience of the moral dimension in people’s lives. Furthermore, individuals repeatedly indicated that their intuitions were highly important in their moral decision making. With respect to personal responsibility and consistency, the responses of participants regularly mentioned practical considerations as contributing heavily to whether or not they would follow through on their moral judgments. Other unpublished investigations concur that individuals vary widely in the extent to which they use moral terms to describe themselves (Arnold, 1993; Power, Khmelkov, & Power, 1997).
THE ROLE OF RELIGION In the minds of many, if not most, morality depends upon religion. Religion is the ‘‘moral cop walking the beat to blow the whistle when things get out of control’’ (Kluger, 2004, p. 64). Religion protects the body as well as the
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mind. Parents, educators, clergy, and politicians regularly advocate religious instruction as an important foundation for the development of morality (Wallwork, 1980). This belief has been the catalyst for many empirical investigations with the same central hypothesis – religious individuals will exhibit more advanced moral development than non-religious persons. However, in a review of this research, Wright (1971) concluded that religious individuals could not be readily differentiated from non-religious persons on experimental tests of honesty. In investigations that relied on self-reported acts of dishonesty, there was only a small tendency for religious individuals to report fewer dishonest acts, particularly immoral sexual acts. Religion was most often operationalized as current participation in a religious group. Wright (1971) reached a similar conclusion with respect to altruism. Researchers seldom found differences in sharing and helping between religious and non-religious individuals. And when they did find differences, the differences were small with religious individuals exhibiting slightly more altruism. With respect to moral reasoning, early studies failed to establish a consistent pattern of advanced moral reasoning among religious youth (Wright, 1971). In view of the failure to find the anticipated heightened level of moral behavior among the religious, several investigators reconceptualized the religion variable in an attempt to clarify religion’s impact on moral behavior. In this regard, Allport’s (1966) distinction between an extrinsic and an intrinsic religious orientation is most well known. According to this theory, the goal of the extrinsic orientation is to provide the believer with security, comfort, status, or other valuable benefits. In contrast, intrinsic religion is something that one lives rather than something one adopts in order to realize instrumental incentives. Intrinsic religion, Allport theorized, provides the believer with a flood of meaning and motivation and consequently might be expected to bridge the gap between moral reasoning and moral behavior. Attempts to test the impact of religion when conceptualized as intrinsic religion have been mixed. In a questionnaire investigation with college undergraduates, Bernt (1989) reported that high scores on intrinsic religion were associated with higher levels of volunteer work. However, Sappington and Baker (1995) were unable to predict willingness to help the needy on the basis of participants’ scores on Allport’s intrinsic/extrinsic scale. In a critique of Allport’s internality/externality scale, Batson and Ventis (1982) concluded that Allport and his collaborators failed to capture a number of important dimensions of the internality orientation. Specifically, the tentative nature of religious belief, the presence of doubts, and the complexity of religious thought were important in Allport’s conceptualization of
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intrinsic religion but absent from his measurement scale. To rectify this, Batson introduced a multidimensional measurement procedure that included a ‘‘quest’’ scale to assess the above omissions. In brief, Batson’s procedure resulted in three scores, an internality, externality, and quest score for each individual (Batson & Schoenrade, 1991). Batson’s refinement of the religion variable has resulted in a number of investigations that have attempted to predict altruistic behavior on the basis of his multidimensional approach to religion. Scores on the quest scale were of particular relevance with the anticipation that they would be predictive of helping and other altruistic acts. These studies have typically yielded stronger associations than earlier efforts, but the relationships remain modest (Batson, Oleson, Weeks, & Healy, 1989; Bernt, 1989; Sappington & Baker, 1995). During the last decade there has been a dearth of studies comparing religious and non-religious persons on measures of moral reasoning and behaviors relevant to morality. One might infer that researchers have largely concluded that there are either no differences or very minor differences between these two groups on measures of honesty, altruism, and moral reasoning. Hence, most research has been in accord with Kohlberg’s contention that religion is not a major factor in the development of morality. However, most of this research has dichotomized subjects into two groups, religious and non-religious based on participation in a religious group. While such researchers as Allport and Batson have recognized that the religious group includes many individuals for whom egoistic sentiments overwhelm religious sentiments, their respective reconceptualization of the religion variable has only been partially successful. We propose an alternative that draws heavily on Blasi’s analysis of the key processes that mediate the relationship between moral reasoning and moral behavior. We hypothesize that religion’s contribution to moral motivation is dependent upon energizing the saliency of morality, personal responsibility, and self-consistency. A careful analysis of these processes, we predict, will provide greater insight into religion’s potential for bridging the gap between moral judgment and moral action.
Saliency of Morality A common notion among personality theorists is that there must be a central agent or agency that serves to integrate the person. This core system evolves over time as the individual processes and organizes his or her experiences and
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leads to the development of a sense of self. Interactions with the social world are pivotal in the construction of this self-schema. Kelly (1955) has described this process as the unfolding of ‘‘core personal constructs.’’ What dimensions of our experience and understandings are crucial to our existence and our identity? For some, moral reflection is an everyday occurrence because morality is pivotal to their being. From Kelly’s perspective, morality for these individuals would be a core personal construct. For them, the question of the morality or immorality of human behavior would be essential to their pursuit of meaning making (Van Hesteren, 1992). While the pervasiveness of an evaluative dimension in human meaning is well established (Rosnow, 2000), good/bad does not necessarily incorporate a moral dimension. Good/bad often refers to a simple matter of personal preference. A major focus of religious thought is the inadequacy of a morality founded on simple personal preference. The institution of religion has been determined in its insistence on the universal nature of moral imperatives. Rather, for individuals with morality as a core construct we would anticipate that ethical considerations would be easily activated and readily available for processing experiences. There is empirical work that attests to the plausibility that accessible moral constructs influence how one processes information in the social environment. Narvaez and her collaborators have demonstrated that children’s prior moral knowledge influences their understanding of new moral information (Narvaez, Bentley, Gleason, & Samuels, 1998). It is also most plausible that for individuals with morality as a core construct that there would be a tendency for the gulf between moral judgment and moral action to be reduced relative to other individuals whose core personal constructs do not include morality. Suggestive theory supporting the importance of the saliency of moral constructs is available in the construct accessibility literature (Higgins, 1996). Reasonably well-established are the findings that individuals do differ in their personal constructs and that these differences are relatively stable. However, to date there is only suggestive evidence that construct accessibility change leads to behavioral change (Higgins, 1999).
Personal Responsibility To be sure, religion is a personal matter. Religion, however, is often practiced in a social context – a religious community. Powers (2004) has commented that a belated insight of the Kohlbergians, prompted by Gilligan’s (1982)
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critique, was that the experience of responsibility or obligation can often develop best in the context of a relatedness to others. Furthermore, such a sense of responsibility is then often charged with the motivation necessary to bridge the gap between moral reasoning and moral behavior. In order to explore the contribution of the group to the development of morality, Kohlberg and his collaborators established ‘‘just communities’’ in a number of Boston area schools. Participatory democracy was the cornerstone of this venture as students and teachers set about to establish an educational community in which each member shared an explicit responsibility for the welfare of the group. At times the going was tumultuous as when thefts occurred within the just community. How to deal with such fractures was often tense, but students and faculty came to value one another’s perspectives and worked collectively for the betterment of the community (Power, 2004). While the just community approach was clearly exploratory and yielded few experimental measures, participating researchers concluded that students developed a heightened personal responsibility via their development of a collective responsibility. As the influence of community progressed, its impact on the behavior of individual members also increased. The evolving commitment to the norms of the community served to narrow the gap between moral judgment and moral actions (Power & Reimer, 1978). The just community endeavor suggests the hypothesis that religion can strengthen the relationship between moral reasoning and moral action. The boundary conditions for such a religious effect are that it must be practiced within a community with a high standard of moral actions that match its moral judgments. As in the just communities, an evolving commitment to the norms of the group will impact personal behavior. A test of this hypothesis will require that only a subset of religious individuals, those participating in a group that meets the above criteria, be compared to nonreligious controls. No such research currently exists.
Self-Consistency With the establishment of morality as a core construct of the self, comes ready access to moral considerations. Such construct accessibility increases the likelihood that the moral dimension of one’s behaviors will receive conscious reflection. Religion, especially organized religion, with its pervading moral discourse makes it likely that religious persons will reflect on the moral adequacy of their behaviors. For example, I believe in aiding the
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poor. The number of impoverished people, including children, is dreadfully high. Am I really doing what I can to fight poverty? According to self-awareness theory (Duval & Wicklund, 1972), focus on the self activates several powerful motivational dynamics. Of particular interest is self-awareness theory’s assertion that self-focus energizes the individual to reduce disparities between attitudes and behavior. In other words, if a person feels that it is important to assist the poor, events that lead the person to think about one’s self, will make it more likely that the individual will behave in an altruistic manner (Gibbons, 1990). Wojciszke (1987) has tested a variant of the above hypothesis. High school aged subjects were asked a series of questions either about learning or about their own self. They were then asked to solve a series of geometric puzzles, many of which could only be solved by cheating. As predicted, cheating was significantly lower following the self-focus manipulation. Furthermore, the reduction only occurred for those individuals that had previously indicated that honesty was a high personal value. Self-focus increased the consistency between the moral judgment that cheating is wrong and withstanding the temptation to cheat on the puzzles. Again, the role of religion can be clarified if it is dealt with in a more delimited manner. Religion, when it is practiced in communities that are successful in focusing on the adherent’s selfhood, should serve to enhance the correspondence between moral reasoning and moral behavior. The comparison group for this hypothesis would remain the non-religious. A strong test of this notion would require that there be a way in which the success of the community’s self focus with individual subjects could be independently assessed. A further refinement in this research agenda would be to assess each individual’s moral reasoning with respect to the behavioral test that is in place. If the religious individual does not see helping the poor as a moral issue that demands beneficence, then we would not predict a higher level of aid even when the mediating variables outlined above are present. Previous research has typically compared religious subjects to non-religious subjects. It is predicted that a more fine-grained analysis will lead to a more accurate appraisal of the contribution of religion.
CONCLUSION Kohlberg (1969) was steadfast in his assertion that morality is independent of religion. With respect to stage growth in moral reasoning, the evidence
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supports Kohlberg’s contention that religion is neither a necessary nor sufficient precursor. Children progress through the same sequence of moral stages regardless of their religious orientation. Similarly, membership in a particular religious denomination has little impact on moral behavior. Furthermore, American children only infrequently make reference to religion in responding to Kohlberg’s hypothetical dilemmas (Kohlberg, 1967). However, there is some evidence that Kohlberg’s reliance upon hypothetical moral dilemmas may have caused him to underestimate the impact of religion upon moral reflection. Walker and his colleagues conducted extensive interviews with individuals of widely varied ages, beginning with high school seniors. Interviewees were asked to describe actual moral dilemmas that they have confronted and then to explain how they resolved their dilemmas. The researchers were surprised at how often the subjects indicated a pivotal role for their religious beliefs in coming to terms with their problem. This was especially unanticipated since the study was conducted in Vancouver, British Columbia, where only five percent indicate that they regularly attend church (Walker et al., 1995). Perhaps the divide between morality and religion is more permeable than Kohlberg theorized. Nevertheless, it could be concluded that the comparison of religious subjects with the non-religious subjects has not clarified the contribution of religion. We doubt that future efforts along these same lines will prove more helpful. Rather, the contribution of religion to morality would best be reframed to explore specific processes that offer the possibility of bridging the gap between moral judgment and moral action. Religion is an extraordinarily broad concept. Only certain dimensions of religion speak directly to morality’s conundrum. The following three issues are of particular importance. How might religion be conceptualized and measured with respect to its resolve and success in promoting moral concepts? We predict that to the extent that religion engenders the saliency of moral judgments, moral judgments will be more likely to translate to moral actions. In order to test this hypothesis, researchers will need to develop a measure of moral construct accessibility. Similarly, not all expressions of religion are comparable in their emphasis on personal responsibility. We predict that religion that fosters belief in personal responsibility will reduce the gap between moral reasoning and moral behavior. Early work by Berkowitz (1972) and his colleagues on the norm of social responsibility and Schwartz’s (1973) personalization of these norms would be an ideal foundation upon which to build. Perhaps a measure of personal responsibility could have two dimensions: (a) perception of
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the extent to which the subject’s religion endorses personal responsibility for acting on relevant moral judgments and (b) the extent to which the subject has adopted his or her religion’s endorsement. Finally, religion that emphasizes the importance of self-consistency will tend to bridge the judgment – action gap. While self-consistency is a fundamental motive of personality, there are numerous ways in which it can be thwarted. Bandura (2002) has provided a detailed analysis of how such selfconsistency can be undercut with sanitizing language, etc. Religion that guards against such selective disengagements and steadfastly maintains the importance of self-consistency (i.e., integrity) has the potential to deliver a substantial effect. Admittedly, our analysis is conjectural. We are not able to provide supportive research from our laboratory. However, the history of religion suggests that religious phenomena have been pervasive across time. Such resiliency is best explained by an adaptive contribution to human welfare. To be sure, not all religion makes such a positive contribution. However, religion might well hold considerable potential for when it stresses the saliency of moral concepts, personal responsibility and self-consistency. This is an agenda for research well worth pursuing.
REFERENCES Allport, G. W. (1966). Religious context of prejudice. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 5, 447–457. Arnold, M. L. (1989, April). Moral cognition and conduct: A quantitative review of the literature. Paper presented at the meeting of the Society for Research in Child Development, Kansas City, MO. Arnold, M. L. (1993). The place of morality in the adolescent self. Unpublished doctoral dissertation. Harvard University. Bandura, A. (2002). Selective disengagement in the exercise of moral agency. Journal of Moral Education, 31, 101–119. Batson, C. D., Oleson, K. C., Weeks, J. L., Healy, S. P., Reeves, P. J., Jennings, P., & Brown, T. (1989). Religious prosocial motivation: Is it altruistic or egoistic? Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 57, 873–884. Batson, C. D., & Schoenrade, P. A. (1991). Measuring religion as quest: 1) Validity concerns. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 30, 41–429. Batson, C. D., & Ventis, W. L. (1982). The religious experience: A social–psychological perspective. New York: Oxford University Press. Berkowitz, L. (1972). Social norms, feelings, and other factors affecting helping and altruism. In: L. Berkowitz (Ed.), Advances in experimental social psychology (Vol. 6, pp. 63–108). New York: Academic Press.
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Rothman, G. R. (1980). The relationship between moral judgment and moral behavior. In: M. Windmiller, N. Lambert & E. Turiel (Eds), Moral development and socialization (pp. 107–127). Boston: Allyn and Bacon. Sagi, A., & Hoffman, M. L. (1976). Empathic distress in the newborn. Developmental Psychology, 12, 175–176. Sappington, A. A., & Baker, J. (1995). Refining religious belief/behavior relations. International Journal for the Psychology of Religion, 5, 38–48. Schwartz, S. H. (1973). Normative explanations of helping behavior: A critique, proposal, and empirical test. Journal of Experimental Social Psychology, 9, 349–364. Smetana, J. (1981). Reasoning in the personal and moral domains: Adolescent and young adult women’s decision-making regarding abortion. Journal of Applied Developmental Psychology, 3, 211–226. Straughan, R. (1989). Beliefs, behaviour and education. London: Cassell Educational Limited. Turiel, E. (1983). The development of social knowledge: Morality and convention. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Turiel, E., & Smetana, J. G. (1984). Social knowledge and action: The coordination of domains. In: W. M. Kurtines & J. L. Gewirtz (Eds), Morality, moral behavior, and moral development (pp. 261–282). New York: Wiley. Van Hesteren, F. (1992). The self in moral agency: Toward a theoretical model of the ideal altruistic personality. In: P. M. Oliner, S. P. Oliner, L. Baron, L. A. Blum, D. L. Krebs & M. Z. Smolenska (Eds), Embracing the other: Philosophical, psychological, and historical perspectives on altruism (pp. 170–193). New York: New York University Press. Walker, L. J., Pitts, R. C., Henning, K. H., & Matsuba, M. K. (1995). Reasoning about morality and real-life moral problems. In: M. Killen & D. Hart (Eds), Morality in everyday life: Developmental perspectives (pp. 371–407). Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press. Wallwork, E. (1980). Morality, religion, and Kohlberg’s theory. In: B. Munsey (Ed.), Moral development, moral education, and Kohlberg: Basic issues in philosophy, psychology, religion, and education (pp. 269–297). Birmingham, AL: Religious Education Press. Wojciszke, B. (1987). Ideal-self, self-focus, and value-behaviour consistency. European Journal of Social Psychology, 17, 187–198. Wright, D. (1971). The psychology of moral behavior. Harmondsworth, Middlesex, England: Penguin Books.
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PERSONAL INVESTMENT THEORY: UNDERSTANDING RELIGIOUS, SPIRITUAL AND FAITH DEVELOPMENT OF STUDENTS Larry A. Braskamp and Mark J. Hager INTRODUCTION Developing a sense of one’s purpose in life, including religious commitment and spirituality, plays a large role in the holistic development of college students (Parks, 2000). Three major forces have led colleges to reexamine their mission, character, and identity in relation to holistic student growth and development. First, students have a renewed interest in spirituality, volunteerism, and social issues. Various scholars have begun to document this shift in students’ attitudes, and the importance of spirituality and social concern in their lives at all types of colleges, secular, and religiously affiliated (Astin, 2004; NSSE, 2004; Parks, 2000; Hartley, 2004; Denton-Borhaug, 2004; Denton, 2004; Hulett, 2004; Bryant, 2005). ‘‘Significantly, it was not achieved by fiat, but from the bottom up. Students arrived on campus spiritually hungry’’ (Mahoney, Schmalzbauer, & Youniss, 2001, p. 36). Students appear to be searching for meaning and community, but they are being portrayed as leaving organized religion and religious congregations and seeking out their own form of spirituality (Miller & Ryan, 2001). They are less tradition bound in their practice of connecting to a greater source, a Motivation and Religion Advances in Motivation and Achievement, Volume 14, 241–269 Copyright r 2005 by Elsevier Ltd. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0749-7423/doi:10.1016/S0749-7423(05)14009-6
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supernatural Power, a personal God, or a connectedness with others. They experiment with a variety of avenues and approaches, and they tend to be more consumer-oriented, selecting from existing forms of worship and spirituality and adapting it to meet their unique needs and life style. Second, several leaders in higher education have recently given compelling arguments to include character, moral and ethical responsibility, religious, faith and spiritual development in the mission of colleges. Miller and Ryan (2001), editors of Transforming Campus Life, argue that students will develop into better persons – citizens, leaders, and well adjusted persons – if they have some understanding of the liberal arts, which includes an understanding of spirituality and religious faith. Sharon Parks (2000) also argues that human development in the fullest sense requires attention to faith, which she defines as making meaning. It is fundamentally a human activity, and college is the place to foster the holistic development of young people. ‘‘At its best, higher education is distinctive in its capacity to serve as a mentoring environment in the formation of critical adult faith y .Yet, if we recognize faith as meaning-making in its most comprehensive dimensions, higher education inevitably functions, at least to some degree, as a mentoring community’’ (Parks, 2000, p. 159). The key issue is that students are searching and asking the big questions like, ‘‘Who am I?’’ and ‘‘What do I want to do with my life?’’ Third, more and more public intellectuals are voicing their concern over the growth of individualism and disengagement of our citizens from civic responsibility (e.g., Putnam, 2000). Robert Bellah (2000) argues that colleges have abandoned the pursuit of moral virtues and have become too responsive to external forces, primarily economic and financial ones, ‘‘in so far as we are dominated by one of the classic vices rather than the intellectual and moral virtues, we have ceased to be a true university’’ (p. 22). In sum, societal pressure to address moral integrity and character has become more prominent in recent years. This convergence of factors suggests that colleges of all types are interested in addressing the issue of how to revivify the life of the mind by considering the importance of faith, spirituality, and religious commitment.
PERSONAL INVESTMENT THEORY AS A CONCEPTUAL FRAMEWORK In this chapter, we use Personal Investment (PI) Theory (Maehr & Braskamp, 1986) to understand the religious, spiritual, and faith development of
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college students. We begin by outlining the major elements of PI Theory, and illustrating how this theory can be used to describe and understand the holistic development of college students. PI Theory, as a conceptual framework, is used to incorporate related concepts such as commitment, faith, spirituality, and vocation that are now being widely used in higher education to describe student development. We will use this theory to organize three major elements that need to be considered in understanding the development of students – a person’s sense of self and purpose; sociocultural environment; and the patterns of behavior and engagement. In using this perspective, we argue for the continuous interplay among these three elements; that is, stressing connections between being and doing within a social environment. We then summarize research that has been conducted using four categories of environmental influences on college campuses. Finally, we suggest ways researchers and campus leaders can use PI Theory to more fully understand holistic student development during college and create environments that foster the personal investment of students. PI Theory is built on the centrality of meaning and relies on a choice and decision theory oriented framework, as a way to view motivation. Wilbert McKeachie (1986) refers to this theory as having a metaphorical character, which can serve as a heuristic device for many audiences to understand human functioning (Maehr & Braskamp, 1986, p. xv). Since it stresses a decision-oriented perspective of motivation, it is ‘‘a view highly compatible with Judeo-Christian perspectives of human nature’’ (Miller & Delaney, 2005, p. 298). The major components of this theory are presented in Fig. 1. This theory is based on several propositions. The first is that ‘‘the study of motivation begins and ends with the study of behavior. The behavioral Theory of Personal Investment: Basic Elements
Patterns of Behavior
Sense of Self
Sociocultural Environment
Fig. 1.
Major components of PI theory.
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patterns associated with motivation are collectively referred to as personal investment’’ (Maehr & Braskamp, 1986, p. 45). ‘‘One can not see motivation; rather, motivation is inferred from behavior that is observed’’(p. 46). PI refers to what one does, and includes such elements as performance, intensity of the behaviors, persistence of patterns of behavior, and choices to become engaged in specific activities. PI is to be viewed as a dynamic process, with persons continuously making decisions, enacting on them, interacting with others, and thus receiving feedback about their performance and actions. Another major proposition is that persons act within the context of their giving meaning to the situation. Thus, this theory does not remain at the behavioral level, but instead incorporates cognition and affect into the motivational process. ‘‘We have asserted that meaning and motivation are inextricably linked – that the meaning of the situation to the individual determines personal investment, and knowing the meanings individuals hold allows us to predict how and when they will invest their time and energy – in their jobs or in other activities’’ (Maehr & Braskamp, 1986, p. 125). ‘‘Thus the theoryyis essentially a cognitive theory of motivation. It assumes that the primary antecedents of choice – as well as persistence, variation in activity level, or performance – reside in the thoughts, perceptions, and beliefs of the persons. We use the term meaning to indicate that a certain collection of thoughts is of primary importance’’ (p. 46). This theory gives high saliency to meaning, which recognizes the thought processes of the person. The thought processes are not only purely rational and logical ones, but include as well the non-rational elements of ‘‘thinking,’’ such as emotions, feelings, and religious commitment. Thus, thoughts do take into account previous experiences, personality factors, and assessments of the situation in which one lives, but perceptions play an important role in decisions and actions. The core of this proposition is this: ‘‘People invest themselves in certain activities depending on the meaning these activities have for them’’ (Maehr & Braskamp, 1986, p. 62). Sense of Self Sense of self refers to a person’s self-identity. It can be viewed in terms of who she is – the inner life of a person. Sense of self is given a ‘‘central role’’ in the theory. It consists of three major facets: personal goals sense of purpose perceived opportunities
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Personal Goals People have personal goals that can be defined in terms of ‘‘what the person perceives to be attractive or unattractive’’ (Maehr & Braskamp, 1986, p. 50) at that moment of their life. Persons have perceptions of what are important factors in finding meaning in their life and work. In general they represent major ‘‘personal reasons’’ that persons hold, with varying degrees of importance as they journey through life. The goals are important to what persons find rewarding and of interest to them. In short, they serve as personal incentives to become engaged in activities and work that give them opportunities to express and fulfill their goals. In one sense, they can be interpreted in terms of one’s priorities in life – this is what one really enjoys doing and finds meaningful. For example, saying ‘‘I need to be with people all the time’’ or ‘‘I am a people person’’ reflects one’s personal goal about what is important as she lives out her life. The four major categories of personal goals are presented in Table 1. Being intrinsically and/or extrinsically motivated reflects different ways of thinking about one’s relationships with others and with the situation at hand. Each of the motivators is a good reason for one to become engaged, but one interprets this engagement to meet different ends and with different results. If one is predominantly externally motivated, one is more apt to invest his time and talents with the expectation of being recognized and rewarded by others and with tangible results. For example, one finds social acceptance and approval important. If one is predominantly intrinsically motivated, one invests his energy in situations to meet his internal set of desires, expectations, and standards. For example, if one is highly motivated by accomplishing challenging tasks, one may ‘‘lose oneself’’ in mastering skills or completing the task. If one views power as an important motivator one interacts with people, but perhaps with an intention of persuading them to achieve ends one considers important. In sum, one invests in activities based on the meaning they find in the activities.
Table 1.
Four Primary Goals that Influence Motivation. Intrinsic
Task focused Understanding something Experiencing adventure/ novelty
Extrinsic
Ego focused Doing better than others
Social solidarity Pleasing others
Extrinsic rewards Earning a prize
Winning
Making others happy
Making money
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Sense of Purpose Sense of Purpose is one of the major elements of the Sense of Self. One seeks and derives meaning from their investment from their purpose in life. Maehr (2005) argues that ‘‘purpose in life’’ may be one, if not the most important, factor in influencing one’s investment of their time and efforts. That is, a person largely invests to fulfill a perceived purpose in life. This sense of purpose is frequently related to a vocation or calling. According to Gardner, Csikszentmihalyi, and Damon (2001), vocation (good work to use their term) is what people do in a responsible and personally satisfying way to help meet the needs of society, and thus make this a better world to live in. Persons will have more meaningful work if they lead ‘‘rich lives [that] include continuing internal conversations about who we are, what we want to achieve, where we are successful, and where we are falling short’’ (p. 41). Sense of purpose has also been described in terms of a dream. ‘‘The Dream, with a capital Dyhas a quality of a vision. It is an imagined possibility that orients meaning, purpose, and aspiration’’ (Parks, 2000, p. 146). Vocation as a Way to Think about Purpose in Life In this chapter, we incorporate the concept of vocation as a way to define purpose in life. Vocation is defined in many different ways (Haughey, 2004), but any person can experience a sense of a calling or vocation in life. One does not need to be religious or have a distinct faith tradition to have a vocation. Vocation is not an activity or event but rather a life long encounter of becoming who one is and expressing oneself in life. Neafsey (2004) relying on the perspective of Jung, points out that vocation includes both selfdiscovery and self-expression. One tries to understand oneself in the midst of one’s current situations and realities of life and then acts within the situation of the moment. This perspective is closely aligned with the major conceptual framework of PI Theory. Self-discovery leads one to a sense of self; selfexpression is demonstrated in one’s patterns of behavior; and each person’s life situations include multiple social and cultural, or sociocultural, environments. Vocation can be thought of as consisting of major facets: listening, reflection, and taking action. Listening Vocation is related to calling. The meaning of the word vocation is derived from the Latin word, ‘‘vocare,’’ to call. Thus, vocation involves the
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experience of one hearing and following a call or voice. Neafsey (2004) details the meaning of a vocation both from a psychological and a spiritual perspective. ‘‘Whether this voice is conceived in psychological or spiritual terms, it can be understood as a source of inner wisdom and guidance that can be consulted and relied upon in discerning important matters of the heart and finding our way in life’’ (p. 165). From a non-religious – secular – perspective, a call does not have to represent or illuminate some external source, but rather a call can refer to an inner voice or an interior. In this perspective then, a person is looking inward, deep inside one’s self. Neafsey (2004) writes, ‘‘every human person has a vocation and all of us – whether we are aware of it or not and whether we respond to it or not – have the potential to hear and follow the inner voice’’ (p. 166).
Reflecting and Deciding In this process of reflecting and deciding, two major questions that reflect the notion of vocation need to be in the forefront of one’s thinking, feeling, and deciding. They are: Who am I? How can I best serve others? The first question is one of self-identity and self-identification – developing a sense of self. This dimension represents the source of the calling, ranging from an external source, for example, God, to one’s deepest feeling and inner self. This focuses on self-knowledge, ‘‘To Know Thyself.’’ The second question refers to how we respond to the voice. It has a more social and interpersonal dimension. It refers to the focus of the response to the calling – how I think of my contributions in terms of my relationships with others and society in general. The range is from an egocentric to ecocentric perspective. To what extent is service to others a central focus of one’s discernment and action? From both a religious and secular perspective, the preferred focus is the same. That is, a communal and social responsibility perspective is considered to be more virtuous than a self-centered perspective. This perspective of vocation is perhaps best stated using the words of Buechner (1993), ‘‘The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.’’ It is this intersection of who we are and how we can be of service in this world that is the key to understanding vocation.
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‘‘True vocation joins self and service’’ (Palmer, 2000, p. 16). In sum, vocation includes an understanding of oneself in relationships with others. Taking Action The third major element of vocation is acting – doing something, being involved, expending one’s energy. Vocation can be viewed in terms of investing one’s time, talents, treasures, and energy in one’s daily life, whether it is at school, work, recreation, family, community, or by ourselves. The connection between who we are and what we do thus becomes critical. Being and doing are inseparable in our thinking about vocation and sense of purpose. ‘‘In most cases, behind the word vocation is a concern for human meaning particularly as it is found in the interaction of one’s identity and one’s activityy. In contemporary religious discussion, Martin Luther’s thought on this matter is usually brought in rather earlyyLuther’s profound insight in these matters is simply put: being generates doing (Lagerquist, 2004, p. 1). Not all religious worldviews though have this strong relationship between doing and action. For example, the Islamic faith tradition does not stress the centrality of vocation as a call to action (Hermansen, 2004). Vocation can also be interpreted from a secular perspective. The connection between voice and action, and the centrality of service to others in one’s life are both salient characteristics of vocation as they are in the religious worldviews. The secular argument of course does not include a divine voice as the motivating factor, but rather one’s inner self. Many who want to view vocation from a secular rather than a religious perspective have addressed looking beyond oneself for meaning and living the good life. ‘‘Your life’s work is the work you are born to doymost appropriate vehicle through which to express your unique talents and abilities. More than a job or career, it is your special gift to humanity. Traditionally, life’s work was called a vocation, a word which literally means ‘‘calling.’’ The work you loveyyour calling, or life’s workyis your unique and living answer to the question, What am I here to do on this earth?’’ (Boldt, 1996, p. 3). Perceived Opportunities In PI Theory, individuals invest in activities by examining the possibility of doing so. One cannot be engaged in activities if the opportunity to do so is
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not present. For example, one cannot play tennis if no courts are available or the cost to play is considered prohibitive. Maehr (2005) describes this element in terms of three ‘‘causes’’ of a person investing her time, talent, and treasures in activities – a person’s awareness of acceptable options, consideration of the possibility of successfully pursuing the available options, and the perceived purpose of an option (Maehr, 2005). Sociocultural Context PI Theory also emphasizes the importance of the social and contextual environment of the person. One’s personal investment does not exist and change in a vacuum. ‘‘It is obvious that people who are members of different cultures often view life and work quite differently. They also define success, failure, achievement, and happiness in different ways – they live by different rules and are guided by different expectations’’ (Maehr & Braskamp, 1986, p. 183). Maehr (2005) further argues, ‘‘The roles we play, the norms to which we conform, the options that we perceive as possible, allowable, and worthy are established by and set within a community, or multiple communities. These communities are often created around belief systems, and while individuals play special and important roles, these roles are enacted within the community’’ (p. 140). In short, the environment provides a set of expectations and opportunities for the members. The sociocultural environment plays an important role in influencing one’s perceived opportunities. The mores and norms of a person’s sociocultural environment help a person decide which alternatives are acceptable to pursue. People in one’s social networks and those in society at large can play roles in identifying acceptable and unacceptable options. A concert pianist may be aware of climbing rock walls and feel he has the dexterity and strength to succeed, but receives no reinforcement for his interest from other pianists who see little value in it. The risk of injuring their hands is too great to make that an acceptable investment of their time and energy – people like them do not do that. The pianist’s option would place him outside his social group, and thus acceptance, encouragement, and rewards would be most unlikely. Patterns of Behavior Patterns of behavior refer to the observable actions of a person – what a person does that is visible to others. It can include levels of performance and
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persistence of behavior under changing conditions. From a motivational perspective it is what we make inferences of motivation from. To be fully engaged is to be fully involved, and within PI Theory it signifies that the person has made choices in what he wishes to be engaged in depending on the meaning the engagement has for him. An authentic and purposeful life requires one to select activities that reflect one’s sense of self and purpose. PI Theory stresses the linkage between commitment and behavior. Thus, introspection, reflection, and knowing oneself are important antecedents to investing one’s talents, time, and energy into activities. In sum, PI Theory stresses a continuous dynamic motivational process, in which persons are continuously investing themselves in activities depending on the meaning they find in the involvement and engagement. The primary antecedents to one’s PI are related to how one perceives that situation, which includes one’s sense of self, personal goals, or values about the attractiveness of the investment, and the possibilities in the form of opportunities that are reasonably available to the person at the time. The context – communities with their social norms and expectations – plays an important part in what and how a person is expected to act.
APPLICATION OF PI THEORY TO THE STUDY OF COLLEGE STUDENT DEVELOPMENT PI Theory provides a framework that is similar to that of many others who study student development. PI is closely related to such concepts as talent development and value added college education. Astin (1985) argues we should use the term talent development since it encompasses a broad range of abilities, skills, and interests and values that should be considered in understanding and assessing student growth and development. He writes, ‘‘involvement refers to the investment of physical and psychological energy in various objects’’ (1984, p. 298). ‘‘Value added’’ refers to the extent to which enrollment in college results in changed behaviors, attitudes, and values of students. That is, to what extent do students grow and develop their talents more fully, because they have enrolled in a specific college? More recently Astin wrote ‘‘Putting more emphasis on students’ interior development has enormous implications how we approach student learning and development. In most institutions today the primary focus is on what students do: how well they perform on classroom exercises and examinations, whether they follow the rules and regulations, how many credits they
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Personal Investment Theory Application of PI Theory to College Student Development Sense of Self Patterns of Behavior Sense of Purpose Engagement Personal Goals Involvement Perceived Opportunities Productivity Outcomes College Campus Culture Curriculum Cocurriculum Communities
Fig. 2.
Adaptation of PI Theory.
receive and so on’’ (2004, pp. 1–2). The values that students develop in their early years have a long-term impact. The perspective of Baxter Magolda and King (2004) on students’ development toward self-authorship is similar to PI Theory in that they argue that students incorporate three dimensions of development – epistemological, intrapersonal, and interpersonal – in their journey to self-hood. In short, a student’s sense of purpose, self-knowledge, identity, and values as well as skills and competencies acquired during college are important conceptual elements in theories of student development. We now summarize the adaptations of the three major elements of PI Theory portrayed in Fig. 2.
Sense of Self The sense of self refers to a student’s self-identity, a term common among college student affairs administrators and campus leaders. Students in college begin to achieve self-authorship, which Baxter Magolda defines as ‘‘the capacity to define their own beliefs, identity, and relationships internally’’ (2002, p. 3). Astin’s discussion of sense of purpose includes ‘‘values that one holds most dear, our sense of who we are and where we come from, our beliefs about why we are here – the meaning and purpose that we see in our work and our life – and our sense of connectedness to each other and to the world around us’’ (2004, p. 1). Different worldviews interpret the essence of the self differently. Some refer to the self in terms of a spiritual dimension whereas others refer to it
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from a psychological or social perspective. The reference point may be a powerful God or supreme power or an ideal self.1 ‘‘A Christian perspective on the self, as illustrated by Kierkegaard, is that the identity of the self is always grounded in relation to something outside the self’’ (Miller & Delaney, 2005, p. 296).
Sociocultural Environment One of the major themes of PI Theory is the saliency of the sociocultural context in which a person lives. For college students it involves the community, or many different types of communities, such as colleagues in one’s major field of study, residence halls or apartments, social clubs, church, and political and social organizations (Lee, 2002; Pascarella & Terenzini, 1991). All may not be consistently reinforcing similar values, morals, or preferred actions and behaviors, but they do influence the options and opportunities that students have while in college. Dykstra (1999) argues that a strong and shared set of values in a college community can result in a ‘‘community of conviction.’’ The influence of the community can be expressed in terms of the saliency of expectations of community members. The more close-knit the community, that is, the stronger the shared values and expectations of faculty, staff, and students, the more likely the options that are considered worthy of pursing will be limited and of greater presence. At the extreme is a climate of indoctrination, in which the options available to students are essentially predetermined and rigidly followed – students have relatively little room for deviancy. The environment serves to keep the ‘‘boundaries’’ as explicit and tight as possible and to not encourage students to explore and determine for themselves what to value or believe. In this environment what to believe and value is addressed and stressed as much as how to believe. The values are often based on the identity, character, and traditions of the college. Historically church-affiliated colleges vary widely in their commitment to following their religious legacy (Braskamp, 2003). In one study, the majority of Chief Academic Officers of church related colleges expressed concern about their college environments becoming too homogeneous (Braskamp & Remich, 2004). In this section, we organize the potential influence of the sociocultural environment on student development by a framework, called ‘‘4 Cs’’ – culture, curriculum, co-curriculum, and communities. It portrays the major features of a college or university.
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Culture The mission of a college provides a sense of direction and vision and reinforces its distinct identity and character (Association of Governing Boards, 2003). The denominational affiliation of a college has been related to student development in fostering spiritual and religious development. As expected, most research supports a greater impact of church-related colleges on religious development of students than do secular institutions (e.g., Cherry, DeBerg, & Porterfield, 2001; Pascarella & Terenzini, 1991, 2005; Kuh, 2003). Overall, about one-third of the first year students and seniors indicated that their collegiate experiences contributed ‘‘quite a bit’’ or ‘‘very much’’ to ‘‘their deepened sense of spirituality’’ with students at denominational colleges expressing a more pronounced impact of their collegiate experiences on their spiritual development (NSSE, 2004, p. 16). In a study that contrasted Lutheran colleges with other secular colleges, a greater proportion of students enrolled in Lutheran colleges reported having developed a sense of purpose and integrated their faith with other aspirations in life than did students at public universities (Hardwick, 2000). However, Lee (2002a, b) did not find differences on developing a vocation of students at colleges classified by church affiliation. Curriculum The curriculum is the academic enactment of a college’s culture and mission. Faculty and students are engaged in practices of teaching and learning. The curriculum is intended to help students synthesize and apply classroom, field-based, and community and service learning to their personal development. The curriculum provides the context for intellectual reflection on both ‘‘book learning’’ and learning that comes from participating in co-curricular activities. Some colleges have incorporated courses on diverse world views to help students better understand their faith perspectives. Based on the limited research on the impact of the curriculum on student religious development, student enrollment in academic courses about religion has assisted students to have a more complete but complex understanding of themselves (Lee, 2002a). Co-Curriculum Students do not develop holistically in a vacuum devoid of ethical, social, or spiritual concerns (Colby, Ehrlich, Beaumont, & Stephens, 2003). In many colleges today co-curricular experiences are largely the province of student affairs and campus ministry professionals. Over the past century they have increasingly assumed the responsibility for those aspects of student
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development not directly academic – social, moral, ethical, civic, spiritual, and religious. Participating in campus activities with faculty and peers who have strong religious commitments helps to maintain and strengthen students’ entering religious beliefs (Lee, 2002; Bryant et. al., 2005). Students’ place of residence has had an influence on their faith development, with students living at home more likely to retain their traditional religious perspectives than students living in residence halls (Moos, 1979; Pascarella et al., 1996). College students with curiosity about exploring and developing their spirituality found social approval for regular church attendance in their dorm-mates’ involvement in church activities (Lee, 2002; Pascarella & Terenzini, 1991), and peers who regularly attended church services strengthened other students’ religious beliefs (Lee, 2002). Communities – the Campus and Beyond Community includes faculty, student affairs professionals, ministry, administrators, and students at the local college as well as organizations and participants beyond the campus walls. In an extensive review, Pascarella and Terrenzini (1991, 2005) concluded that student–faculty relationships are very important to foster student development. In a recent study of chief Academic Officers (CAO) at over 250 church-related colleges, approximately two-thirds had expectations that their faculty assist students ‘‘foster their personal, ethical, and moral development,’’ but less than one in three had expectations that their faculty ‘‘assist students to develop their spirituality, faith, and religious perspectives.’’ In short, faculty are considered to play a larger role in the development of the head rather than the heart of students (Braskamp & Remich, 2004). This may reflect the secularization of the academy (Marsden, 1994; Wuthrow, September 2004) where faculty do not introduce matters of faith in the classroom. A student’s faith is regarded largely as a private matter, and thus its development and practice is fostered by and large in non-academic settings. However, faculty have played an important role in the faith development of students (Lee, 2002a). Students at church related colleges, especially those with a strong evangelical mission, often developed strong personal relationships with faculty and discussed their personal lives with the faculty and other professionals. Faculty also saw themselves as mentors and role models, and accepted this responsibility (Braskamp, Trautvetter, & Ward, in press). In sum, generalizations about the role of colleagues in the college community seem to be institution dependent with faculty at colleges with a strong religious mission more apt to engage in relationships with students, in which religious and spiritual issues are more manifest.
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While the campus is a powerful community for college students, it is not their sole community. Students have prior academic and faith lives, arriving at college from family homes, high schools, and faith practices. As students engage in more academic and co-curricular activities, they also engage with communities outside the direct sphere of the college, such as social service agencies, community ministries, volunteer organizations, businesses, and communities at other colleges. Participation in service learning, for example, enhances community responsibility, civic engagement, and political activity (Colby et al., 2003). Interactions among adults and students beyond the campus walls may be related to learning and development opportunities, with service learning having a rich tradition in both secular and churchrelated colleges (Zlotkowski, 1998). Student Engagement as Patterns of Behavior In our adaptation of PI Theory, we refer to the patterns of behavior in terms of student engagement, student involvement, and performance. The term student engagement is now widely used to denote how students spend their time in college (Kuh, 2001, Kuh, Kinze, Schuh, Whitt, & Associates, 2005). Student engagement is considered very important to student success. ‘‘What students do during college counts more in terms of what they learn and whether they persist in college than who they are or even where they go to collegeythe time and energy students devote to educationally purposeful activities is the single best predictor of their learning and personal development’’ (Kuh et al., 2005, pp. 17–18). Students need to be involved in effective educational programs and practices to develop and learn in desired ways. They need to integrate their behavior with their sense of self. Engagement occurs for a reason – to grow intellectually, to appreciate art, to develop civic responsibility, to establish moral principles, and to develop spiritually and perhaps religiously. A connection is implied between engagement and growth. For example, if helping the less fortunate is an activity of engagement, students will more likely be involved if the college provides these opportunities to the students, rewards them for this engagement, and helps them better understand themselves as citizens in this world, in terms of a vocation or calling. Major Themes in the Use of PI Theory in Studying Student Development We are proposing that PI Theory provides an appropriate perspective from which to analyze and understand a holistic view of student development,
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that is, a view that includes spiritual development and religious commitment as well as intellectual and social development. The application of PI Theory to understand student development is multidimensional. First, it reinforces the argument that students reveal their motivation by what they invest in and their effort of involvement. Motivation is inferred from the person’s patterns of behavior. PI as used in this adaptation refers to commitment and engagement in the practices of faith as well as the secular practices and activities students engage in while in college. Second, PI Theory emphasizes that students develop holistically. Students develop with their heads and hearts. It includes both student learning and development, and the antecedents of student ‘‘outcomes’’ such as commitment whether it be religiously grounded or not. We argue that dimensions of choice, self-reflection, purpose, and knowing oneself are important in discussing the development of students. Third, it recognizes that spiritual and religious development of students is not a first or last stage of development; it is part of an iterative cycle of learning and developing (Shulman, 2002). Some students arrive at college with strong commitments. Others develop their commitment through activities with faith communities (Lee, 2002a). Both experience evolution of their faith. One’s belief propels and motivates her into action – to become engaged in activities that reflect and express her commitments. Commitment can increase one’s PI – talents, time, and energy – in living out one’s choices that are personally satisfying and meaningful. In turn, one’s investment reinforces one’s commitment. Faith and the practice of faith are mutually reinforcing (Hartley, 2004), resulting in continuous growth and development, although not always in a linear fashion. Fourth, in this application of PI Theory, we stress a recurring theme in discussions of the college student – the notion of student engagement (Kuh et. al., 2005). In this theory, we place what students do into a larger context incorporating the important dimension of being as well as doing. We focus on understanding why students become engaged in certain activities, taking into account not just the social and intellectual environmental, but also their own sense of identity as they go through college. Students invest their time, talents, and treasures – their energy – in many ways. We regard student actions, involvement, learning, and achievements as one part of the total developmental pattern, connected with their sense of identity and influenced by their sociocultural environment. Fifth, with PI Theory we interpret student engagement as both a desired end and as a means to an end. The mere experience of witnessing events, visiting different cultures, meeting and knowing people from different
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cultural and ethnic backgrounds has beneficial cognitive and psychosocial outcomes. With students now more apt to encounter diverse worldviews both in college and in later life, they will need to develop cognitive complexity and critical thinking skills to understand and accept ambiguity and hold a perspective in the midst of relativism in a society increasingly becoming pluralistic (Parks, 2002). Regarding religion, the benefits of attending chapel may go beyond the sacred, such as building social relationships, leadership development, and community building. Students go because it provides them comfort, but also opportunities for socializing. For example, Hispanic students, whose off-campus religious activities were supported on-campus, experienced greater social integration into their campuses (Hurtado & Carter, 1997). Sixth, we stress that engagement is more effective and lasting if accompanied by reflection and analysis. ‘‘Activity without reflection is unlikely to produce learning’’ (Shulman, 2002, p. 41). Reflection and analysis help students develop a greater sense of self and understanding of their motivations and purposes for engagement. Colleges that provide students opportunities to better understand and internalize their commitment and convictions may be fostering mature development. Seventh, in this adaptation of PI Theory, as shown in Fig. 2 the concepts of vocation and personal values are important elements in interpreting how students become engaged in certain activities in college. These concepts are similar to the concept of faith as defined in terms of making meaning or meaning-making, and seeking wholeness and authenticity (Parks, 2000). Faith, like purpose in life, is a concept that involves the ‘‘most comprehensive human experience’’ (Love, 2002, p. 358). Being and doing are connected; they reinforce each other. Vocation may lead to engagement and membership in certain communities. A student may discern a vocation through engaging in activities with particular groups. For example, students may participate in workshops, immersion programs such as spending a week during spring break volunteering in an inner city social agency, and worship for a variety of reasons and develop in different ways because of this participation. Based on a national survey of freshman and seniors at over 500 institutions, about one-third of all students frequently participated in events and programs to enhance their spirituality. Nearly one half (44% of first year students and 41% of the seniors) frequently participated in activities intended to foster spirituality (NSSE, 2004). For some students, these experiences may reinforce and build on their commitment, but for other students the experiences may be opportunities that can lead to commitment. Thus, including such concepts as sense of purpose in the framework to
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understand college student development, identity, faith, spirituality, and religion can become potential elements in this framework. As such, student development is not a linear, rational, or strictly a cognitive process. Instead college experiences are considered a critical part of a developmental process by which students develop meaning, become holistic and authentic in their choices and actions, and cultivate spirituality and further develop their talents. In sum, in using PI Theory we attempt to better understand how and why students change and develop while in college, stressing the importance of the meaning students give to their goals and their activities. Norms and expectations of the social environment of students are important. Types and levels of commitment and personal values of students and the types of environments – social and intellectual – are also factors to consider in understanding how best to encourage, motivate, and reinforce the types of engagement, achievements, and patterns of behavior of students (Braskamp & Braskamp, 1989).
Some Illustrations of Student Personal Investment This theory can be graphically portrayed by three intersecting circles in a Venn diagram. In portraying the development of college students, the circles represent the student’s sense of self, college community, and pattern of behaviors. Each student can be characterized holistically by the integration of these elements. The circles represent permeable spheres rather than bounded territories fenced off from each other. In this section, we illustrate the interplay of the three major elements of PI Theory as a way to interpret a student’s personal investment. It is important to emphasize that the symbiotic relationship among the three elements is constantly changing and evolving, representing a dynamic flow rather than a static description. The interpretation depends on the potency of each of the elements as represented by the relative size of each circle and the nature of the relationship among the elements as represented by the placement and overlap of the three circles. The degree and nature of overlap of the three circles is a barometer of the person’s integration of the three elements. For example, does a student do what he says or believes? Does a student confirm or rebel against the norms and shared values of the community in which she is currently living? Too much overlap may not be a healthy state for growth and development. For example, Mezirow (1990) argues that growth, especially for adults, occurs when there is disharmony and discontinuity between persons and the demands placed upon them. In other words, ultimate
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conformity to social pressure does not lead to personal growth. Thus, ideally these three dimensions of a student’s life should be in some form of ‘‘dynamic tension.’’ These relationships are depicted in graphic form in Fig. 3. Student A is behaving very independently of any external influences, but attempts
Person A
Person B
Sense of Self
Sociocultural Environment
Sense of Self
Sociocultural Environment
Patterns of Behavior
Patterns of Behavior
Person C
Person D
Sociocultural Environment
Patterns of Behavior
Sense of Self
Sense of Self,
Sociocultural Environment Patterns of Behavior
Fig. 3.
Three dimensions of a student’s life.
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to integrate his sense of self with his investment of his talents. In a college setting this could describe a student who is investing his energies in activities that are for him alone, not connected to the activities of his larger social circle. Perhaps this student does not see himself as being part of his school or ‘‘one of them.’’ This student is disengaged from his college. Student B is fragmented in all parts of his life. He is acting out in ways that do not take into account values and culture norms of his community nor his own sense of self and worth. In a college setting this could describe a number of freshmen who come to college and never assimilate into the college community and perform in ways that are not consistent with their values or their sense of self. By inference he is at the time finding meaning in activities that are not healthy or productive in the long run. Student C lives in an environment where the press, norms, and restrictions completely take away any freedom for her to think and act independently. This may be an example of a college practicing indoctrination rather than liberal education. However, it could equally be an example of a student choosing to so immerse herself into the school’s mores and activities that she loses sight of herself. Student D is behaving in an integrative manner. She invests her time and talents in some activities within her college, but reserves additional time and energies for other activities. She has not lost sight of herself in the sociocultural environment of her college. Her sense of self is not shaped solely by her identity within her college communities, nor is she isolated from her college.
Implications of Using PI Theory to Understand Holistic Student Development PI Theory has been proposed as a conceptual framework for examining the development of students during college. Its purpose is to serve as a conceptual guide for asking important questions about fostering holistic student development, and not to provide exact generalizations. Its utility is based on its inclusiveness, i.e., it incorporates complex relationships among sense of self, social environment of the college community, and patterns of behavior of students. This framework is intended to have practical utility as well as theoretical usefulness. Faculty and administrators can use PI Theory to understand the significance of educating students holistically, emphasizing both the head and heart as well as the observable behaviors. Moreover, we propose that colleges can use our adaptation of PI Theory to design and
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create appropriate environments for holistic student learning and development, particularly recognizing the need to include faith, religious, and spiritual development. In the application of PI Theory that incorporates a faith and religious dimension, three major issues are important to address. Please refer to Note 1 at the end of this chapter for a discussion of three terms – faith, spirituality, and religion.
Helping Students Define Their Sense of Identity and Sense of Purpose Based on PI Theory, a decision-oriented theory of motivation, students choose to become engaged, mediated by their perceptions of the meaning of their investment. Their decisions arise out of their sense of identity, a common theoretical position of many who study college student development (e.g., Chickering, 1969; Chickering & Reisser, 1993; Baxter Magolda, 2002; Tisdell, 2003). Two questions need to be addressed regarding the search for student identity. First, do students desire to develop their sense of identity and sense of purpose, two of the major concepts in our PI Theory? Peter Gomes (2002), the minister in The Memorial Church at Harvard University for more than the past 30 years, concludes that our current generation of students has not been reared in a culture with a strong moral tradition. Despite this, he observes, ‘‘what has impressed me is their moral curiosity, their desire to know, to be, and to do goodyThey sense their own drift’’ (2002, p. 4). Most of the research on student development has focused on students during college finding themselves – asking the question of ‘‘Who am I?’’ They have a desire to know themselves, and many use their religious traditions to help them in their search for meaning (Nash, 2001). Vocation, the intersection of ‘‘Who am I’’ and ‘‘How can I best serve others’’ is becoming a common way for students to express their meaning in life as students. Second, how do college students develop identity and sense of purpose? Is a student finding her own vocation and meaning in life more than following her passion blindly, or simply following a path that is considered successful by family, friends, and society? Many argue that students become adults by leaving the dualist and dogmatic thinking of their younger years, which will often mean breaking away from the values and faith perspectives of their childhood (Parks, 2000; Tisdell, 2003). Because PI Theory emphasizes meaning – a fundamental concept to purpose in life – it provides a conceptual framework for integrating who people are and what they do in the campus community. A student’s perceived options are important parts of
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their finding meaning in their engagements; however, the college community can strongly influence which options are attractive or even available. How is the environment of college students in and outside the classroom fostering a student’s sense of self in the area of exploring or being exposed to various options for their life? To date, little empirical research has been conducted on students’ search for vocation, especially on finding purpose in life. To what extent does a religious tradition and faith assist or hinder students to develop a service-oriented life style while in college and beyond?
Creating and Fostering Community Theorists in college student development have always recognized the importance of the college environment (Sanford, 1962; Parks, 2000). Theorists, especially those who favor a psychosocial perspective, have stressed the importance of the interaction between the college environment and students’ development of a sense of self, often couched in terms of identity formation (Lee, 2002b). They have also stressed the value of an environment that should be both challenging and supportive and encourage students to be involved in campus life (Astin, 1984; Light, 2001). Today one of the key elements in this community is the recognition and support for multiculturalism and diversity, especially religions traditions. ‘‘Allow, and even encourage, a plurality of voices: the Catholic, the Protestant, the Jewish, the Muslim, the humanist, the naturalist, all of them and moreyIt must be an engaged pluralism’’ (Wolterstorff, 2002, pp. 250–251). There is evidence that Chief Academic Officers at church related colleges did not desire faculty to restrict conversation and be intolerant, but to be open and encouraging of all perspectives (Braskamp, 2003). However, not all students, especially those from a minority background, whether it be cultural or religious, feel welcome on campus (Hulett, 2004; Bryant, 2005). This marginality can lead to self-consciousness and depression and to doubts of their academic ability (Schlossberg, 1989). A highly diverse student population also helps students to face the challenges of dealing with others with greatly divergent faith, social, religions, and ethnic and racial backgrounds. Since students will live out the rest of their lives in environments that surely will be pluralistic, they will benefit by having such diversity while in college. The same holds true for the college as a community. As reviewed earlier, a diverse mentoring community can influence student development, but more work is needed to determine what environmental factors – which of the four C’s of the sociocultural environment – have what
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impact on students from all racial and cultural backgrounds? Which combination of the 4 Cs is most influential to the faith and moral development of students? A number of authors have argued for closer relationships between student affairs, ministry, and faculty to create programs (e.g., service learning in urban areas and third world countries, volunteer programs, and chapel) and a community that supports holistic-student development (Baxter Magolda & King, 2004; Chickering, 2003; Parks, 2000; Zlotkowski, 1998). If students’ sense of self is an important antecedent to practice of faith and engagement, faculty may be important in mentoring students to develop more complex ways of knowing and understanding themselves. Faculty, student affairs, ministry, and other students can assist students to live effectively in an increasingly complex world consisting of many different cultural and faith traditions. Researchers and practitioners may use PI Theory to study how communal aspects of small faith groups – available at secular and religiously affiliated campuses – influence how students choose to spend their time and energy. We need to examine whether such groups afford students guides in the forms of mentors and role models in mentoring communities (Parks, 2000).
Educating for Engagement In general, students learn more when they are engaged and active rather than passive (e.g., Colby, et al, 2003; Pascarella & Terenzini, 1991). What students do in college is considered one, if not the most, important factor in student growth and development (Kuh et al., 2005). More specifically, faith development and the practice of faith are deeply intertwined among college students. That is, student involvement in religious and spiritual activities is important in faith and religious development (Cherry et al., 2001; Lee, 2002a, b; NSSE, 2004). Today students are engaged in a wide range of practices that go beyond the traditional worship services – immersion trips, volunteerism, study abroad, meditation, and service learning that includes trips to foreign countries and underdeveloped regions of the United States. Students are more individualistic in their search for spiritual experiences, just as is the larger society (Eck, 2001). They also seem to be breaking away from their religious practices of the past and that of their parents, a journey that may be necessary to grow spiritually (Tisdell, 2003). Using PI Theory researchers and campus leaders can learn the impact involvement in a variety of spiritual and service activities has on students’ developing sense of purpose and of self.
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Scholars of holistic student development thus need to incorporate this expanded view of faith and religious development in their study of the meaning religion offers to students as a motivating factor. Similarly administrators need to capture the pluralism and the wide variety of possible programs and activities that students can become engaged to advance their faith development. They will need to learn what students find meaningful in their engagement rather what only planners of the activities consider important to fostering holistic student development. Being responsive to students is to be a part of planning and implementing an environment that promotes desired student development. The challenge to those who desire to use PI Theory as a conceptual framework rests on their ability to undertake studies and design programs and practices that address complex interactions among student engagement, sense of self and specific elements of the campus environment. Research on the impact of college on students reinforces particularity rather than broad generalizations (Pascarella & Terenzini, 1991, 2005). In sum, we have proposed that PI Theory provides a useful theoretical and conceptual framework for researchers and practitioners to study and interpret these complex interactions between students and their environment.
NOTES 1. One of the challenges that educators are now facing in higher education is, what language to use to describe the phenomena that has been labeled as religion or being religious. The language and the use of terms are very important. Three common terms are emerging in the writing and discussions on campus about religious issues. They reflect the spiritual, religious, and faith development of students. Faith – Faith is best understood by first accepting a transcendent horizon, a condition of being that extends beyond one’s physical self and human experience. In general terms faith is an intentional effort to make meaning of one’s life. James Fowler (1981), one of the pioneers in the study of faith development, states that faith is ‘‘the ways we go about making and maintaining meaning in life’’ (1981, p. xii). He saw faith as ‘‘a universal feature of human living, recognizably similar everywhere despite the remarkable variety of forms and contents of religious practice and belief.’’ (p. 14). Faith is ‘not always religious in its content or contextyit is our way of finding coherence in and giving meaning to the multiple forces and relations that make up our lives. Faith is a person’s way of seeing him- or herself in relation to others against a background of shared meaning and purpose’’ (p. 4). Faith implies a hope and trust in someone or something larger than oneself – transcendence beyond one’s own being. Faith does not deny doubt, anger, emotions, or affect, but it is not limited by any of them either. According to Parks (2000), faith ‘‘has both affective and cognitive dimensions. As in all knowing and being, affect has an ordering power’’ (p. 32). It influences whom we trust and our perspective on ultimate truth. ‘‘Faith
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is the ground of ethics and the moral life. Faith is intimately linked with a sense of vocation – awareness of living one’s life aligned with a larger frame of purpose and significance’’ (Parks, p. 26). It also propels us to act – faith without action is not sustainable. Thus, faith is not a safety valve to escape from the world, but a place to stand and anchor one’s life for engagement in this world, and for some external life beyond our existence here on earth. Dykstra (1999) however points out that faith and meaning are not identical terms. He writes, ‘‘meaning, value, direction in life can never be the main points in the life of faithy. Faith involves transformation in life in which we hunger for a life in God or higher power, and meaning and value are likely benefits of our faith, but not the source of our seeking and hunger in our lives’’ (p. 30). Spirituality – Spirituality is ‘‘an attribute of the individual. It is a latent construct with multiple dimensions (e.g., behavior, belief, motivation, and subjective experience) pertaining to humanity’s search for the sacred, for that which transcends material existence’’ (Miller, 2005, p. 13). Spirituality is turning inward to oneself but in such a way to experience ‘‘an encounter with otherness’’ (Palmer, 1990, p. 5). It is full of affect but is not merely an emotional quest. It touches the core of our being and existence. It helps one to know oneself (Astin, 2004), and to claim an authentic identity, cohesiveness, integration, and wholeness (Tisdell, 2003). Spirituality in it broadest definition is finding one’s purpose in life through inner reflection and introspection, and taking action. It includes prayer and meditation, commitment, performance and connections with others. To be spiritual in the fullest sense is to feel and act as a person who desires to be a part of the larger society. While spirituality is often viewed as individualistic – there are not church creeds and rituals to adopt to be spiritual – being spiritual is to be socially and morally responsible (Tisdell, 2003). It is part of being human. Arthur Schwartz (2001) concludes his discussion of spirituality this way: ‘‘Perhaps at the core of ‘spirituality’ is a mysterious relationship that opens our hearts to questions of intimate meaning and ultimate truth’’ (p. 35). In short, it reflects a sacredness of life, and an acceptance and celebration of the mystery of life. As reported by Gallop and Lindsey (1999) the American adult population has become much more interested in being spiritual over the last half of the previous century, with more than 8 in 10 at the end of the last century expressing a desire to develop spiritually. Religion – ‘‘Religion describes a social entityyreligions are defined by their boundaries. There are group members and non-members, prescribed and proscribed behaviors, and characteristic beliefs. Spirituality is a central concern of religions, but not the only concern. A religion can also involve important social, political, and economic goals’’ (Miller, 2005, p. 13). Religion is often associated with a set of beliefs about supernatural power(s) (e.g., God, Supreme Force), and one’s relationship to that source. Religion often has a set of doctrinal standards or dogma, involves public expression, worship, and sacraments. It includes a community with shared beliefs, commitments, and convictions. Martin Marty (2000) includes attention to ultimate concerns about the meaning and purpose of life and a shared community for celebrating and mourning the lives of others. More and more, spirituality and religion are being viewed and defined as separate processes. Many college students and faculty are willing to be known as spiritual but not religious or belonging to some established religious community, church,
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domination or order (Dalton, 2001). Spirituality is often distinguished from having an adherence to a religious belief or doctrine. One can be spiritual and not be religious, but most who claim to be religious would also consider themselves spiritual. However, those who grew up as a child in a religious family and participated in the activities of a church, do discover that as adults they find the early religious experiences as highly spiritual and meaningful even though they do not accept the religious doctrine and theology that once was associated with the experience (Tisdell, 2003). We end this note with a perspective of an authority on religion, because it summarizes the current state of affairs on college campuses today, ‘‘I have never encountered students who did not think that they had a spiritual side to theirs nature, but organized, institutionalized spirituality (which is what religion comes down to) is not well regarded on campus’’ (Smith, 2001, p. 96).
REFERENCES Association of Governing Boards, Association of Catholic Colleges and Universities, & Association of Jesuit Colleges and Universities. (2003). Mission and Identity. Washington DC: Association of Governing Boards. Astin, A. W. (1984). Student involvement: A developmental theory for higher education. Journal of College Student Personnel, 25, 297–308. Astin, A. W. (1985). Achieving educational excellence. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Astin, A. W. (2004). Why spirituality deserves a central place in higher education. Spirituality in Higher Education Newsletter. Vol. 1, No. 1, www.spirituality.ucla.edu/newsletter Baxter Magolda, M. B. (2002). Helping students make their way to adulthood. About Campus, 6(6), 2–9. Baxter Magolda, M. B., & King, P. M. (Eds) (2004). Learning partnerships: Theory and models of practice to educate for self-authorship. Sterling, VA: Stylus. Bellah, R. N. (2000). The true scholar. Academe, 86(1), 18–23. Boldt, L. G. (1996). How to find the work you love. New York, N.Y.: Penguin/Compass. Braskamp, L. A. (2003). Fostering student development through faculty development. Retrieved from: http://www.luc.edu/faculty/lbraska Braskamp, D.C., & Braskamp, L.A. (1989). The use of personal incentives in understanding student development. Paper presented at annual meeting of American Educational Research Association, San Francisco. Braskamp, L. A., & Remich, R. G. (2004). The centrality of student development in the life of faculty at church related colleges and universities. Journal of College and Character, 2(2). Braskamp, L. A., Trautvetter, L. C., & Ward, K. (in press). Investing in students.Book Bolton, MA: Anker Publishing. Bryant, A. N. (2005). Evangelicals on Campus: An Exploration of Culture, Faith, and College Life. Paper presented at annual meeting of Institute on College Student Values. Florida State University. Tallassee, FL. Buechner, F. (1993). Wishful thinking: A seeker’s ABC. San Francisco: Harper San Francisco. Cherry, C., DeBerg, B. A., & Porterfield, A. (2001). Religion on campus. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. Chickering, A. W. (1969). Education and identity. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass.
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Chickering, A. W. (2003). Reclaiming our soul: Democracy and higher education. Change, 35(1), 39–44. Chickering, A. W., & Reisser, L. (1993). Education and identity (2nd ed.). San Francisco: JosseyBass. Colby, A., Ehrlich, T., Beaumont, E., & Stephens, J. (2003). Educating citizens: Preparing America’s undergraduates for lives of moral and civic responsibility. San Francisco: Jossey Bass. Dalton, J. C. (2001). Career and calling: Finding a place for the spirit in work and community. In: M. A. Jablonski (Ed.), The implications of student spirituality for student affairs practice, 95 (pp. 17–25). San Francisco: Jossey-Bass New directions for student services. Denton, D. (2004). Fostering spiritual depth in a trans-traditional context: Communicating across differences. Religion & Education, 31(1), 20–45. Denton-Borhaug, K. (2004). The complex and rich landscape of student spirituality: Findings from the Goucher college spirituality survey. Religion & Education, 31(2), 21–40. Dykstra, C. (1999). Growing in the life of faith. Louisville, KY: Geneva Press. Eck, D. L. (2001). A new religious America. San Francisco: Harper. Fowler, J. W. (1981). Stages of faith: The psychology of human development and the quest for meaning. San Francisco: Harper & Row. Gallop, G. J., & Lindsay, G. M. (1999). Surveying the religious landscape: Trends in US beliefs. Harrisburg, PA: Morehouse. Gardner, H. M., Csikszentmihalyi, M., & Damon, W. (2001). Good work: When ethics and excellence meet. New York: Basic Books. Gomes, P. J. (2002). The good life: Truths that last in times of need. San Francisco: Harper. Hardwick, D. (2000). Comparative Alumni research: What matters in college after college. Chicago, IL: Lutheran Education Conference of North America. Hartley, H. V. (2004). How colleges affects students religious faith and practice: A review of research. Faith, spirituality and religion on campus, 23(2), 111–129. Haughey, J. (Ed.) (2004). Revisiting the idea of vocation: Theological explorations. Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press. Hermansen, M. (2004). Islamic concepts of vocation. In: J. Haughey (Ed.), Revisiting the idea of vocation: Theological explorations. Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press. Hulett, L. S. (2004). Being religious at Knox College: Attitudes toward religion, Christian expression, and conservative values on campus. Religion & Education, 31(2), 41–61. Hurtado, S., & Carter, D. F. (1997). Effects of college transition and perceptions of campus racial climate on Latino college students’ sends of belonging. Sociology of Education, 70, 324–345. Kuh, G. D. (2001). Assessing what really matters to student learning: Inside the National Survey of Student Engagement. Change, 33(3), 10–17, 66. Kuh, G. D. (2003). What we’re learning about student engagement from NSSE. Change, 35(2), 24–32. Kuh, G. D. (2003). Do environments matter? A comparative analysis of the impress of different types of colleges and universities on character. Journal of College and Character, Vol. 2. http://collegevalues.org Kuh, G. D., Kinze, J., Schuh, J. H., Whitt, E. J., & Associates. (2005). Student success in college: Creating conditions that matter. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass and American Association for Higher Education.
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Lagerquist, L. D. (November 2004). Vocation as daily bread. St. Olaf’s College, unpublished manuscript. Lee, J. J. (2002). Religion and college attendance: Change among students. The Review of Higher Education, 25(4), 369–384. Lee, J. J. (2002a). Changing worlds, changing selves: The experience of the religious self among Catholic collegians. Journal of College Student Development, 43, 341–356. Lee, J. J. (2002b). Religion and college attendance: Change among students. Review of Higher Education, 25, 369–384. Light, R. J. (2001). Making the most of college. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Love, P. G. (2002). Comparing spiritual development and cognitive development. Journal of College Student Development, 43(2), 357–373. McKeachie, W. (1986). Forward. In: M. L. Maehr & L. A. Braskamp (Eds), The motivation factor: A theory of personal investment. Lexington, Ma: Lexington Books. Mahoney, K. A., Schmalzbauer, J., & Youniss, J. (2001). Religion: A comeback on campus. Liberal Education, 87(4), 36–41. Marsden, G. M. (1994). The soul of the American university: From Protestant establishment to established nonbelief. New York: Oxford University Press. Marty, M. M. (2000). Education, religion, and the common good. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Maehr, M. L. (2005). The meaning that religion offers and the motivation that may result. In: W. R. Miller & H. D. Delaney (Eds), Judeo-Christian perspective on psychology. Washington, DC: American Psychological Association. Maehr, M. L., & Braskamp, L. A. (1986). The motivation factor: A theory of persona investment. Lexington, MA: Heath & Co. Mezirow, J. (1990). How critical reflection triggers Transformative learning. In: J. Mezirow, & Associates. (Eds), Fostering critical reflection in adulthood: A guide to Transformative and emancipatory learning. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Miller, W. R. (2005). What is human nature? Reflections from Judeo-Christian perspectives. In: W. R. Miller & H. D. Delaney (Eds), Judeo-Christian perspective on psychology. Washington, DC: American Psychological Association. Miller, W. R., & Delaney, H. D. (2005). Psychology as the science of human nature: Reflections and research directions. In: W. R. Miller & H. D. Delaney (Eds), Judeo-Christian perspective on psychology. Washington, DC: American Psychological Association. Miller, V. M., & Ryan, M. M. (Eds) (2001). Transforming campus life. New York: Peter Lange. Moos, R. H., & Lee, E. (1979). Comparing residence hall and independent living settings. Research in Higher Education, 11, 207–221. Nash, R. J. (2001). Religious pluralism in the academy: Opening the dialogue. New York: Peter Lang. National Survey of Student Engagement (NSSE). (2004). Student engagement: Pathways to collegiate success. Bloomington, IN: Indiana Center for Postsecondary Research. Neafsey, J. P. (2004). Psychological dimensions of the discernment of vocation. In: J. Haughey, (Ed.), Revisiting the idea of vocation: Theological explorations. Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press. Palmer, P. J. (1990). The active life: A spirituality of work, creativity, and caring. New York: Harper and Row. Palmer, P. P. (2000). Let your life speak. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Parks, S. D. (2000). Big questions, worthy dreams: Mentoring young adults in their search for meaning, purpose, and faith. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, Inc.
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Parks, S. D. (2002). Helping students find their place and purpose. About Campus, 7(5), 20–24. Pascarella, E. T., & Terenzini, P. T. (1991). How colleges affects students. San Francisco: JosseyBass. Parscarella, E. T., & Terenzini, P. T. (2005). How college affects students, 2. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Pascarella, E. T., Whitt, E. J., Nora, A., Edison, M., Hagedorn, L. S., & Terenzini, P. T. (1996). What have we learned from the first year of the national study of student learning? Journal of College Student Development, 37, 182–192. Putnam, R. D. (2000). Bowling alone: The collapse and revival of American community. New York: Simon & Schuster. Sanford, N. (1962). Developmental status of the entering freshman. In: N. Sanford (Ed.), The American college: A psychological and social interpretation of the higher learning. New York: Wiley. Schlossberg, N. K. (1989). Marginality and mattering: Key issues in building community. In: D. C. Roberts (Ed.), Designing campus activities to foster a sense of community, 48. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass New Directions for Student Services. Schwartz, A. (2001). Growing spiritually during the college years. Liberal Education, 87(4), 30–35. Shulman, L. S. (2002). Making differences: A table of learning. Change, 34(6), 36–45. Smith, H. (2001). Why religion matters: The fate of the human spirit in an age of disbelief. San Francisco: Harper. Tisdell, E. J. (2003). Exploring spirituality and culture in higher education. San Francisco: JosseyBass. Wolterstorff, N. (2002). Epilogue. In: A. Sterk (Ed.), Religion, scholarship and higher education (pp. 247–254). Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press. Wuthrow, R. (September 2004). Can faith be more than a side show in the contemporary academy? Presentation at Faith in the Academy at Messiah College Zlotkowski, E. (Ed.) (1998). Successful service-learning programs: New models of excellence in higher education. Bolton, MA: Anker Publishing.
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RELIGION, MOTIVATION, AND SCHOOLING IN EAST ASIA AND THE UNITED STATES Akane Zusho ABSTRACT The study of religion and motivation dates back to some of the earliest work in the field of achievement motivation. The aim of this chapter is to explore generally how religion is believed to facilitate academic and motivational outcomes. To this end, three bodies of literature are reviewed. First, research on Asian and Asian-American students’ academic achievement and its potential relation to Confucianism will be considered. This is followed by an examination of the sociological research on the Catholic School effect. Finally, a discussion of the relation between religion, resiliency, and schooling is offered.
Dating back to some of the earliest works in the field of achievement motivation is an assumption that culture, or more specifically religion, can have important implications for advancing our understanding of motivation. McClelland (1961), for example, argued that certain religions (e.g., Protestantism, Judaism) should be more facilitative of a need for achievement (nAch) and could be used to explain variation in nAch across societies. McClelland’s
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ideas were clearly influential; work examining how cultures vary as a function of religious values continues to this day (e.g., Inglehart & Baker, 2000). Nevertheless, the field of motivation has evolved considerably since the publication of McClelland’s opus almost a half-century ago and even since cultural studies on learning and motivation first started to appear in mainstream psychological journals. The psychological study of religion, too, has witnessed rapid growth; indeed, psychology of religion has emerged as an important and burgeoning area within the field of psychology (Emmons & Paloutzian, 2003). In light of these advances, it seems an opportune time to revisit the topic of religion and motivation. In this chapter, I review three distinct bodies of literature related to the topics of religion, motivation, and schooling. In doing so, my aim is to explore how ‘‘religion’’ can facilitate achievement motivation and engagement in school. I first explore the thesis that Confucian principles can help to explain why East Asian and Asian American students do so well academically. Second, I examine what has been called the Catholic School effect and its implications for our understanding of how religious values can facilitate academic achievement. Third, I discuss research on the impact of religion on the resiliency and engagement of at-risk youth. I conclude with a general discussion of what these literatures offer in terms of advancing our understanding of key issues in the study of religion, culture, and motivation. At the outset, two issues deserve comment. First, following McClelland’s lead, I focus my efforts primarily on examining the impact of religion on students’ achievement motivation. It is important to note, however, that I use the term achievement motivation here quite broadly. In line with most current theories, motivation in this chapter is conceptualized more as a process, rather than as a product. Drawing on recent research from socialcognitive and situated perspectives, I stress the multi-dimensional nature of motivation and examine how motivational processes are influenced by broader cultural and contextual factors, such as religion. Thus, unlike McClelland, motivation is not considered a dispositional trait, but rather as situated and changeable as a function of cultural norms and corresponding practices. Naturally, my discussion of motivation focuses less on motives such as nAch and more on the role of goals, values, and expectancies, particularly as it informs our understanding of students’ experiences in school. Second, while examining distinct religious traditions (e.g., Confucianism, Catholicism) in this chapter, my focus is less on comparison and more on identifying similarities across religions that are believed to affect learning and motivation. In other words, the aim of this chapter is not to explore how differing religious beliefs influence contrasting conceptions of learning
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and motivation, nor is it to portray culture and religion as monolithic or static. Thus, while my analysis considers both East Asian and Western religious traditions, it explores the heterogeneity of religious beliefs that exist in these two distinct areas of the world. In keeping with a more processoriented, systemic view of religion (Zusho & Pintrich, 2003), I also explore the ways in which religious beliefs have changed over time.
CONFUCIANISM AND EAST ASIAN ACADEMIC SUCCESS In 1976, the International Association for the Evaluation of Educational Achievement (IEA) launched its Second International Mathematics Study; among its key findings, the mathematics superiority of secondary students from Japan and Hong Kong (Garden, 1987). Follow-up studies conducted by IEA and others largely confirmed this finding (e.g., Peak, 1996; Stevenson & Lee, 1990). Starting in the 1980s, the academic accomplishments of Asian American students also became the focus of intense scrutiny. Numerous reports were published documenting this group’s success; from standardized test scores to college enrollment rates, Asian American students were consistently found to outperform their ethnic minority counterparts (Hsia & Peng, 1998; Sue & Abe, 1995). Headlines proclaiming Asian Americans to be ‘‘America’s Super Minority’’ soon became commonplace, although much to the chagrin of the Asian American community (Ramirez, 1986). The question, of course, was then and remains now, ‘why’? What enables East Asian students to achieve such great academic success? What prompts Asian American students (especially those of East Asian descent) to persevere and achieve, despite their minority status? Over the years, scholars have offered numerous and varied explanations in response to such questions. Across these explanations, however, one stands out more than others and is, more to the point, relevant to the current discussion. Specifically, it has been suggested that Asian students’ value of education, the emphasis Asian students, parents and teachers place on effort and perseverance stems in large part from Asian religiocultural traditions such as Confucianism. Confucian Conceptions of Learning The Chinese name for Confucianism is ru xue, roughly translated as the learning of scholars (Yao, 2000). As evidenced by its proper name,
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principles of learning take center stage in Confucianism. Specifically, emphasis is placed on examining the goals, as well as the nature of learning (Ho, 1994; Lee, 1996; Tweed & Lehman, 2003). To Confucius, there were two primary goals of learning. First, was personal growth and development; learning was viewed as a means toward spiritual cultivation or ren (Li, 2003; Yao, 2000). In this way, a goal of learning is personal transcendence, to transform the self and retain what is good and virtuous, or what others have called self-perfection. The second goal of learning was somewhat more ‘‘pragmatic’’ in nature; learning as a means for societal development. Without educated officials, Confucius argued, a society cannot thrive, and thus encouragement was often given to followers of Confucianism to seek governmental offices (Lee, 1996; Tweed & Lehman, 2002). It is worth mentioning that the first goal is often overlooked by Western scholars, both past and present (Li, 2003). For example, Weber maintained that Confucianism, given its emphasis on social harmony and the collective, could not possibly engender the ascetic drive necessary for economic growth and prosperity. Similarly, there is still a tendency in the West to equate Confucianism with a focus on the collective, indifference to truth-seeking, lack of innovation, and subordination to authority (Lee, 1996; Tweed & Lehman, 2002). However, as Li (2003) and others (Lee, 1996) suggest, such characterizations may misrepresent the essence of Confucianism. A critical analysis of the nuances of Confucian thought is certainly beyond the scope of this chapter. Nevertheless, it is important to acknowledge the emphasis Confucius and his disciples placed on personal or self-cultivation. Thus, to characterize Confucianism as devoid of individualism may be somewhat ill considered. As Lee (1996) states, a clear goal of Confucian learning was ‘‘to cultivate oneself as an intelligent, creative, independent, autonomous, and what is more authentic human being, who is becoming more fully human in the process of learning’’ (p. 34). As mentioned previously, Confucius also wrote extensively on the nature of learning. Optimal learning according to Confucius was effortful, guided by an eagerness and love of learning, and focused on reflection and inquiry (Lee, 1996; Li, 2003; Yao, 2000). Underlying such ideas was an empiricistlike assumption that all individuals can be educated, although with varying degrees of success. Given the above admittedly cursory summary of Confucian learning principles, it is possible to see how such beliefs could translate to the promotion of behaviors and attitudes conducive to learning. First, whether for personal or societal growth, the Confucian tradition clearly stresses the
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general value of education. Empirical research also suggests that this value of education is shared among East Asian and Asian American parents and their children (Chen & Stevenson, 1995; Sue & Okazaki, 1990). The Confucian emphasis on effort and general malleability of human behavior has also been tested empirically. Again, researchers have found Asian and Asian American students to place more emphasis on effort as a cause of academic success (Chen & Stevenson, 1995). Confucianism also makes an assumption that a thirst for knowledge and an eagerness to learn is critical to effective learning. Such an idea is clearly represented in current views on motivation. For example, achievement goal theory suggests that students who adopt a goal of understanding and learning (what has been called a mastery, learning, or task-focused goal) are more likely to be interested in learning and display behaviors that promote learning (Dweck & Leggett, 1988; Harackiewicz, Barron, Tauer, Carter, & Elliot, 2000). Indeed, there is evidence to suggest that Asian heritage students are more likely to display greater interest in academic tasks (Asakawa & Csikszentmihalyi, 1998). Some, too, have theorized that East Asian students, in particular the Japanese, may also be more likely to adopt mastery goals, although empirical evidence to support this claim is still somewhat scant (Holloway, 1988; Whang & Hancock, 1994). This is true for Asian American students as well (Zusho, 2004; Zusho, Pintrich, & Cortina, 2005). The notion that Asian individuals might be more inclined toward selfperfection has also recently received theoretical attention and empirical support. This line of work was initiated by Heine and his coworkers who questioned the universality of self-esteem, and argued that the motivational standard for most Asians is not self-enhancement, as it is for most Westerners, but self-improvement (Heine, Lehman, Markus, & Kitayama, 1999; Heine, Kitayama, & Lehman, 2001; Heine et al., 2001; Heine & Lehman, 1997; Heine, Takata, & Lehman, 2000). For example, one of their studies demonstrated that Americans and the Japanese react quite differently to feedback indicating poor performance. As expected, failure feedback did more to discourage the majority of the American participants from working on a follow-up task; the same feedback, however, was found to be more motivating for the Japanese participants (Heine et al., 2001). The Confucian focus on reflection and inquiry is also reminiscent of contemporary notions of self-regulated learning. The literature on selfregulated learning is vast and overwhelmingly suggests that individuals who regulate their learning are more likely to benefit academically than those who do not (e.g., Zimmerman, 1990). It is interesting to note, however, that research findings on Asian and/or Asian American students’ self-regulation
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have been largely inconclusive (Pintrich & Zusho, 2002). The limited crosscultural findings seem to suggest that Japanese students are not necessarily more metacognitive; in fact, they are more likely to report the use of shallow-processing strategies (e.g., rehearsal, memorization) than Australian students (Purdie & Hattie, 1996; Purdie, Hattie, & Douglas, 1996). Of course, such findings do not necessarily explain why Japanese students do so well academically, unless we assume that rehearsal strategies are generally predictive of grades and academic performance in Japan. There is an alternative argument, too. In contrast to the theoretical presupposition that rehearsal or memorization strategies represent less ‘‘effective’’ strategies (Craik & Lockhart, 1972), some scholars differentiate between rote memorization and memorization for understanding, arguing that Asian students are more likely to focus on the latter (Biggs, 1996; Marton, Dall’Alba, & Kun, 1996). In short, my intention thus far has been to make clear two important points. First, that Confucian doctrine supports learning and second, that both East Asian and Asian American students display behaviors and attitudes in accordance with Confucian learning principles. Let us now turn to a closer examination of these issues. In this next section, I examine Confucianism’s sphere of influence in East Asia and in Asian American communities today.
Confucian Influence on Modern Asia and Asian America It is difficult to deny the indelible mark Confucianism has left on East Asian cultures. Why else would scholars still refer to the cultures of China, Taiwan, Korea, and Japan collectively as Confucian Heritage Cultures (Ho, 1994)? Arguably, the impact of Confucianism is still most apparent in Korea, which witnessed a revival of interest in Confucian ethics as recently as the 1970–1980s (Duechler, 1992; Duncan, 1997). Nevertheless, scholars note that not all Confucian virtues have withstood the test of time; only those that have been implicated as important to modernization have survived (Duncan, 1997). There continues to be respect for education; however, some concepts (e.g., anti-commercialism, social virtues emphasizing humility, frugality, self-discipline) have effectively vanished from modern Korean society. There nevertheless remains a strong emphasis on filial piety and other Confucian virtues such as obedience to the state. Duncan (1997) suggests that these virtues endured largely for political reasons – above all, they appealed to politicians eager to establish or maintain dictatorial regimes.
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For example, efforts to promote Confucianism flourished during the period of Japanese rule (1905–1945). Similarly, the Park and Chun regimes of the 1970–1980s also sought to revitalize interest in Confucian values (Duncan, 1997). What, then, of Confucianism in modern Japan? In general, Confucianism (and later Neo-Confucianism) is credited for its role in popularizing notions of social harmony and filial piety among the Japanese. Similar to the case in Korea, Confucian values were used by Japanese rulers for political advantage; especially appealing to the Japanese was the Confucian emphasis on obedience and loyalty to the ruler, in this case, the Emperor. Nevertheless, Confucianism never cast as influential a hold on Japan as it did in Korea. Unlike Korea, where Confucian values effectively transformed its society, ‘‘Japan borrowed Confucian ideology to lend moral support to a divinely ordained, hereditary Japanese institution: Confucianism added to but did not fundamentally alter the nature of the imperial line’’ (Earnhart, 2004, p. 54). At the same time, it is clear that Confucianism made a lasting contribution in encouraging scholarship among the Japanese people (Earnhart, 2004). Confucianism originated in mainland China, but its influence is less evident there today than it is in Taiwan (Overmeyer, 2003). This is, in part, attributable to the rise of Communism in the People’s Republic of China (PRC), and its promotion of a strict anti-religious philosophy during the Cultural Revolution (Adler, 2003). Since Mao Zedong’s death, China has relaxed its anti-religious stance and now officially recognizes five of the world’s major religions: Buddhism, Daoism, Islam, Protestant Christianity, and Catholicism (Adler, 2003). It is interesting to note that Confucianism is not among these religions. This is most likely because scholars view Confucianism now more as an ‘‘ethical philosophy’’ than a religion (Overmeyer, 2003). There exists, too, among some Chinese scholars, a sense of bemusement over the overwhelming Western interest in Confucianism. ‘‘It was ‘outside observers’ who began attributing the success of East Asia to Confucianism (MacFarquhar, Hofheinz, and Caler, Vogel, among others),’’ states Bell and Chaibong (2003, p. 3). ‘‘The irony was that few living in the Confucian world thought that their political and economic success was due to Confucianism. What success they enjoyed, they typically attributed to their success in having overcome Confucianism.’’ Such views notwithstanding, the intellectual study of Confucianism has been partially revived in China, especially among those interested in recapturing traditional values (Adler, 2003; Overmeyer, 2003). Confucian temples, for example, can be found scattered throughout China, especially in its
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Southeastern provinces. Confucian social values (e.g., filial piety, reverence of elders), too, have not entirely disappeared. On the other hand, there is evidence to suggest that China’s recent economic prosperity has left some Chinese youth questioning the value of education. As Lee (1996) observed, the correlation, or lack thereof, between level of education and income in present day China has resulted in the emergence of an ‘‘education is useless’’ attitude. As mentioned earlier, Confucianism is considered to be more prevalent in Taiwan than in mainland China. Three distinct groups are by and large credited with keeping alive the Confucian tradition in Taiwan: governmental officials; academic scholars; and other social leaders unaffiliated with the government or academe (Jochim, 2003). It is clear that the motives for doing so varied widely across these three groups. Taiwanese governmental officials, like those in Japan and Korea, were much more interested in the utilitarian aspects of Confucianism, emphasizing how Confucian values can be used for nationalistic purposes. Jochim (2003), however, notes a distinct shift away from such interpretations; both intellectuals and social leaders, now relatively free of governmental pressures, are beginning to emphasize those aspects of Confucianism focused more on humanitarianism and personal cultivation.1 Finally, determining the exact role of Confucianism in present-day Asian American communities is a somewhat complex endeavor given the cultural plurality that exists. Nevertheless, there is recognition that certain Asian American groups (e.g., Japanese, Chinese, and Korean Americans) share similar cultural beliefs assumed to have their roots in Confucian thought (Min & Kim, 2002; Yang, 1999). At the same time, when examining Asian American religions among Korean and Chinese Americans especially, Christianity, not Confucianism, seems to be the religion of choice (Yang, 1999). Thus, it is more common to find accounts crediting Christianity as a driving force behind educational and occupational success. For example, Yang (1999) notes overhearing comments such as the following: ‘‘As Christians, the glory of our successes in the world belongs to the Lord. Without God’s blessing we cannot succeed. God has His purpose on us in our everyday life, including our career’’ (p. 109).
Is Confucianism the Driving Force behind Asian Success? What then, can we conclude about the effect of Confucianism on East Asian and Asian American academic success? Dweck and Elliott (1983) offer in
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their handbook chapter on achievement motivation, the following quote by Holt (1964), which I have always had an affinity for: The true test of intelligence is not how much we know how to do, but how we behave when we don’t know what to doyThe intelligent person, young or old, meeting a new situation or problem, opens himself up to it:yhe thinks about it, instead of about himself or what it might cause to happen to him; he grapples with it boldly, imaginatively, resourcefully, and if not confidently at least hopefully; if he fails to master it, he looks without shame or fear at his mistakes and learns what he can from them. This is intelligence (1964, p. 205).
Although not intended as such, one can nevertheless argue that this view of ‘‘intelligence’’ has much in common with certain Confucian principles of learning. First, an assumption is made that learning should be thoughtful and reflective. Learning from one’s mistakes is also emphasized, which illustrates in some form the Confucian notion of self-improvement. Thus, there are clearly elements of Confucianism that should theoretically promote a love of learning, which of course, can be used to help explain their academic successes. On the other hand, to attribute all of East Asian success, academic or otherwise, to Confucian ideals may be a bit simplistic. Perhaps most important, learning to Confucius was more than a purely academic endeavor; it was to promote spiritual transcendence, to ultimately attain sagehood. Second, it is interesting to note that despite assumptions made about the role of Confucianism, studies explicitly investigating the relation between Asian and/or Asian American participants’ knowledge of and practice of Confucian ethics and academic success remain scarce. Third, as duly noted by some (e.g., Tweed & Lehman, 2002), Confucianism can also be interpreted to emphasize a utilitarian, even extrinsic aspect of learning. Traditionally, motivational theorists largely argued against extrinsic sources of motivation, often suggesting that such a focus would lead to less than optimal outcomes (Dweck & Leggett, 1988; Midgley, Kaplan, & Middleton, 2001; Ryan & Deci, 2000). Recent evidence, however, suggests that the pursuit of extrinsic motivation is not always detrimental. For example, some have argued that the adoption of goals focused on outperforming others (i.e., performance-approach goals) can lead to achievement gains (Harackiewicz, Barron, Pintrich, Elliot, & Thrash, 2002; Sansone & Harackiewicz, 2000). Lee (1996), for example, notes that ‘‘paradoxically, the aspiration for extrinsic rewards coexists with the ideal of external manifestation of a person’s internal establishment in the Confucian tradition. However, whether it is for extrinsic reward or external manifestation, they have
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provided for another form of achievement motivation for the Asian learners’’ (pp. 37–38). There is, too, a need to consider how ‘‘Confucianism’’ varies across the countries of East Asia. As mentioned previously, most East Asian scholars believe Confucian influence remains greatest in Korea, where a significant majority of the population still ascribe to practicing Confucian ethics (Yoon, 1997). It is perhaps least apparent in Japan, considered to be the most secular of the East Asian nations (Earnhart, 2004; Inglehart & Baker, 2000). Similarly, within the Asian American communities, there seems to be less emphasis on Confucian values than Christian values. Thus, it seems important to consider the extent of participation (i.e., level of spirituality) both within and between certain East Asian populations when discussing the impact of Confucianism (or any other religion, for that matter). Similarly, there is also a need to consider differences across East Asia in terms of which Confucian values have survived over time. It seems that only those values consonant with the goals of modernization and globalization have endured, making Confucianism now somewhat different than Confucianism then. Thus, when discussing the effect of Confucianism on Asian academic success, it seems critical that we clarify what aspects of Confucianism we are focusing on. Likewise, the above analysis would suggest that Confucian ideals being emphasized in Korea might differ from those currently being emphasized by Taiwanese intellectuals. The material point is this. Whether we consider the case of Confucianism in particular or religion in general, it is important to recognize that East Asian cultures are not always monolithic. Despite some commonalities, these cultures nevertheless differ in important ways. Finally, let me conclude with some general observations about the role of religion in East Asia today. The focus here was clearly on Confucianism for the reasons discussed previously. However, it is also important to consider the argument that Confucianism is less a religion and more a moral worldview that bridges other Asian religious traditions (e.g., Buddhism, Daoism). To this end, it may be equally important to consider the impact these other religions have had on current East Asian and Asian American conceptions of learning. Lest the reader think that these classic religions are still the most dominant, it is important to note that religious pluralism abounds in East Asia. In addition to these classic Asian religions, almost all of the East Asian countries recognize Christianity and other Western traditions, and most also have indigenous belief systems in place (e.g., Shamanism). Again, the popularity of these non-Asian religions varies widely across East Asia: in Korea,
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Christianity, Confucianism, and Buddhism remain the most popular; in Japan, Shintoism and Buddhism are the most popular religions (Earnhart, 2004; Yoon, 1997). There also exists a trend to accept more than one religious system. Unlike in the West, where affiliation with more than one religion is almost unheard of, it is quite common for Asians to subscribe to more than one religion. Yoon (1997) suggests that this is perhaps due to the fact that many of the classic Asian religions do not have clearly defined initiation rites (e.g., baptism) as there are in Western religious traditions. Whatever the reason, these differences (both East–West and across East Asian countries) present special challenges to those interested in the study of religion in East Asia.
THE CATHOLIC SCHOOL EFFECT How and why do Catholic schools foster academic achievement? And, for whom are these schools the most beneficial? These are the central questions addressed by researchers to date. It should be noted that most of the work on this topic comes from the field of sociology and rely on statistical analyses of national datasets such as High School and Beyond, or the NELS; psychological research on Catholic schools remains somewhat scarce. Interest in this topic seems to have peaked in the early to mid-1990s, with the publication of Catholic Schools and the Common Good (Bryk, Lee, & Holland, 1993). What is presented here can be considered a brief synopsis of this comprehensive volume, with some updates as warranted. Readers interested in a more detailed analysis of this topic are thus encouraged to consult this foundational work. In general, there is evidence to suggest that students who attend Catholic schools may be academically advantaged in comparison to their public school counterparts (Hoffer, Greeley, & Coleman, 1985; Jeynes, 2002, 2003). For example, Catholic high school students’ scores on test of reading, vocabulary, writing, and mathematics have been found, on average, to exceed the scores of students attending public schools (Hoffer et al., 1985). It is nevertheless important to note that this finding is not without controversy. Critics of this research, perhaps out of fear of promoting voucher plans or private schools in general, often hail that such results do little to show the effectiveness of Catholic schools (Page & Keith, 1981). Rather, they argue that any disparities found in the achievement scores between Catholic and public school students can be attributed to a number of confounding factors such as the following: (a) selection bias – students attending Catholic
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schools have higher achievement scores to begin with; (b) students who attend Catholic schools have parents who care more about and support academics; (c) Catholic schools have the authority to expel ‘‘problem’’ students; (d) the Catholic school effect is present only for those students who have attended Catholic schools for a prolonged period of time; (e) the positive effect of Catholic schools will disappear if comparisons are made between students in the academic track and; (f) observed differences cannot be tied to specific institutional practices or norms (Hoffer et al., 1985). These are indeed valid arguments, and to a certain extent, some of the rhetoric in favor of Catholic schools have tempered over time (e.g., Keith & Page, 1985). Nevertheless, as Hoffer et al. (1985) suggest, and as the Bryk et al.’s (1993) analysis confirms, the empirical support for such arguments is generally lacking (cf. Wolfe, 1987). For example, contrary to popular perception, the characteristics of students attending public and Catholic schools have been shown to be quite similar. The expulsion rate of Catholic schools is also quite low; on average, these schools expel two to three students per year (Bryk et al., 1993). Finally, there is mounting evidence to suggest that Catholic schools seem to especially benefit the achievement of students from culturally diverse backgrounds (Bryk et al., 1993; Jeynes, 2002, 2003). In what follows, I explore further, some of the proposed explanations for this intriguing finding.
Catholicism and Schooling Two mutually reinforcing factors are believed to underlie the Catholic School effect. The first has to do with Catholicism in general; the second, the institutional structure and nature of Catholic schools. Scholars suggest that neither of these factors alone can wholly account for the favorable effects observed among students attending Catholic schools (Bryk et al., 1993). Rather, it is the dynamic interaction between the two factors that is key. In other words, merely studying the organizational features of Catholic schools will not provide a complete picture as to why these schools foster academic achievement. One must also consider the distinctive culture and traditions of Catholic doctrine that facilitate and maintain these institutional practices. Catholicism and Vatican II As Bryk et al. (1993) suggest, the state of Catholic schools today owes much to its philosophical roots. Influenced by Neo-Scholasticism and by philosophers of education such as Jacques Maritain, present Catholic doctrine
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emphasizes the cultivation of autonomous, self-reliant learners who rely on the power of human reason to seek ‘‘ethical truth’’ and who also strive to do something greater for the ‘‘common good.’’ It is interesting to note that this idea of an intellectual- and spiritual-minded person working for the collective is a feature not uncommon to other religions, including Confucianism. Vatican II is also suggested to be a watershed moment in the history of Catholicism (Bryk et al., 1993). Convened in 1962 by Pope John XXIII, the second Vatican council was charged with the awesome task of modernizing the Catholic Church ‘‘to meet the needs of the times.’’ Over the course of 3 years, Vatican II issued a series of constitutions, declarations, and decrees, and from this emerged a new vision of the Church; a Church that not only recognized modern scientific achievements, but one, fully committed to religious freedom and issues of social justice. Thus, Vatican II effectively defined an important new function for Catholic schools – as instruments of social justice set on developing ‘‘persons in communities’’ (Bryk et al., 1993). The Bryk et al.’s analysis clearly demonstrates that Vatican II had a profound effect on Catholic schools at almost all levels of schooling. Prior to Vatican II, very little cultural diversity was to be found in these schools. Students were almost exclusively Catholic and White. Today, the student body at most Catholic schools is much more diverse, both in terms of ethnicity and religious affiliation. Researchers suggest that this diversity is in large part a legacy of Vatican II. When Catholic schools started to experience declines in enrollment and severe financial setbacks in the 1970s, it was the Church who exhorted schools to stay in urban settings to serve disadvantaged youth.
Organizational Features of Catholic Schools Of course, changing demographic patterns do little to explain why there is an achievement difference between students attending Catholic and public schools. For this, we must turn to a discussion of the defining features of Catholic schools. Some readers may feel inclined to conclude that the organizational features discussed here are not unique to Catholic schools. Rather, they merely point to ‘‘good practice’’ and is shared by most effective schools whether public or private (e.g., Meier, 1995). Thus, there is nothing ‘‘special’’ about Catholic schools, per se. However, as others have pointed out (Bryk et al., 1993), it is important to keep in mind that the actions taken by both faculty and students in Catholic schools are often intricately tied to Catholic ideology and its firm commitment to provide a proper humanistic education for all students, no matter what their background.
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Bryk et al. (1993) identify three central characteristics of Catholic schools. First, in comparison to their counterparts in the public sector, Catholic schools are more likely to have a focused academic program. A strong emphasis is placed on standard academic courses (e.g., math, science, English, social studies, Western European languages); electives are few in number, and ability tracking is limited. Thus, it has been suggested that Catholic schools generally provide more opportunities to learn than public schools (Lee, Chow-Hoy, Burkham, Geverdt, & Smerdon, 1998). A closer look at pedagogical practices in Catholic schools also indicates that teachers generally hold students to high standards. While their methods of instruction may be traditional, teachers often press their students to explain their thinking. Emphasis is also placed on the process of learning over the product. For example, Bryk et al. (1993) describe the practices of one mathematics teacher in the following way: Brother Antonio questions his students constantly, challenging them to think about problems in different ways, even when their answers are correct. He encourages them to work together and to help one another. He enjoys asking difficult questions and takes pride in helping students clarify their understanding. He stresses alternative methods for solving each problem (p. 88).
It is interesting to note that this kind of instruction can also be observed in religion classes. In the past (i.e., prior to Vatican II), the teaching of religion in Catholic schools was purported to be quite dogmatic and akin to indoctrination (Bryk et al., 1993). Religion classes today, however, focus less on rote memorization of Church canon and focus more on analysis, interpretation, and application of basic principles to social and moral issues (Bryk et al., 1993). Second, united by a shared vision and commitment to fostering both academic and personal development, a sense of caring and mutual respect is present in most Catholic schools. Moreover, the Catholic schools are by design organized to engender a sense of community. They are typically smaller in size than most public schools, thus allowing for more informal modes of communication. Teachers are also encouraged (if not required) to take on multiple roles. For example, many teachers participate alongside students and other faculty in extracurricular activities (Bryk et al., 1993). Finally, the Catholic school system is largely decentralized. Much of the decision-making authority rests not in a central office, as is often the case with public schools, but with the principal. Thus, principals (along with an administrative board) are afforded the autonomy to make most major decisions concerning the day-to-day operation of the school. The Catholic
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school faculty, too, typically have more power to influence school-related matters than their public school counterparts. It follows then that principals and teachers at Catholic schools are generally more apt to feel empowered. Nevertheless, empowerment alone cannot explain why they do not abuse this power. Why, for example, are principals in Catholic schools more likely to allocate resources in an egalitarian fashion? And, why do Catholic schools continue to resist the urge to join the ‘‘white flight’’ to more affluent neighborhoods, despite mounting financial woes? Here again, we must consider the inspirational message of Vatican II and Catholic ideology. It seems that principals of Catholic schools become principals, not to serve their own interests, but to actually help the school. Similarly, there is evidence to show that teachers too, are less extrinsically motivated. They often work longer hours than teachers at public school, despite earning significantly lower salaries (Bryk et al., 1993).
Attitudes and Beliefs of Catholic School Students Thus far, I have reviewed the major arguments in favor of Catholic schools. The extant research suggests a constrained academically focused curriculum together with a school culture committed to issues of social justice have particularly beneficial effects on minority students’ academic achievement. The arguments presented by scholars to date are certainly convincing. Nevertheless, from a motivational perspective, the picture remains somewhat incomplete. Do students attending Catholic schools report higher levels of interest in academic tasks? Are they more likely to adopt mastery or learning goals? Do minority students attending Catholic schools report higher levels of belonging? In short, is the cognitive, behavioral, and emotional engagement of the Catholic school students somehow of higher quality? Indeed, from the research presented so far, inferences can be made that Catholic schools generally focus both on academic press and social support, factors that have been suggested to independently increase engagement and achievement in the psychological literature (Goodenow & Grady, 1993; Middleton & Midgley, 2002; Wentzel, 1997). Bryk et al. (1993) also suggest that Catholic schools consider themselves to be communities. Again, assumptions can be made that Catholic school students would score higher on psychological inventories of belonging (Battistich, Solomon, Watson, & Schaps, 1997). As mentioned earlier, much of the work on Catholic schools originates not from psychology, but sociology. As a result, there are a dearth of studies
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examining Catholic school students’ attitudes and beliefs about learning and motivation. The limited findings suggest that Catholic school students seem more invested in their learning, and disciplinary problems both inside and outside the classroom are rare (Bryk et al., 1993). It is also interesting to note the dedication of Catholic schoolteachers. Lower wages and longer hours notwithstanding, Catholic schoolteachers, on the whole, seem firmly committed to their vocation. Given these findings, more work examining the values and motivational beliefs of Catholic school students and teachers certainly seem warranted. There is also, a need to examine variation in practices and beliefs across Catholic schools. The Bryk et al.’s (1993) analysis is illuminating, to be sure, but it also focused primarily on what they considered to be ‘‘good’’ Catholic high schools. Thus, it is important to keep in mind that the description of Catholic schools presented here may not apply to all Catholic schools.
RELIGION AND RESILIENCY In the previous section, I reviewed research suggesting a positive effect of Catholic schools on minority students’ academic achievement. Specifically, this literature indicates that attending Catholic schools can act as a buffer for students perceived to be at-risk for developing academic-related problems. Separate from the work on Catholic schools, there is now a growing body of research examining how religion can act as a resource, particularly for at-risk youth (Haight, 2002; King & Furrow, 2004; Regnerus & Elder, 2003). The following is intended to briefly highlight some of the major findings of this important line of inquiry.
The Role of Religion in Minority Communities Research on minority communities generally proposes religion to play a key role in the lives of its members (Cervantes & Parham, 2005; Taylor, Ellison, Chatters, Levin, & Lincoln, 2000). Empirical findings suggest religion, specifically churches, to be particularly influential for African Americans. For example, studies of religious beliefs and commitment have found African Americans to be among ‘‘the most religious people in the world’’ (PatilloMcCoy, 1998). According to a recent Gallup poll, approximately eight in ten African Americans still report belonging to a church and consider religion to be ‘‘very important’’ (Crabtree, 2002).
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Historically, churches have often served the African American community as centers of social and political influence. However, the changing social milieu has led to a reconsideration of the church’s role. Now, churches place less emphasis on promoting social justice and report spending more time on spiritual matters (Crabtree, 2002). This is not to imply that the church’s sphere of influence in minority communities is in any way diminishing. According to Patillo-McCoy (1998), the church often fulfills multiple roles in these communities: ‘‘The church acts simultaneously as a school, a bank, a benevolent society, a political organization, a party hall, and a spiritual base’’ (p. 769). Others too, note its role in providing mental health services to its constituents (Taylor et al., 2000). When considering religion, more attention is still being paid to adults than children and to its positive effects on measures of health and/or subjective well-being than on educational outcomes (Loury, 2004; Regnerus & Elder, 2003). Nevertheless, there is now growing interest in the effects of religion on positive youth development and its implications for schooling (Regnerus, 2000). Let us now turn to this body of work.
Putting on the ‘‘Armor of God’’ Generally speaking, a positive correlation has been observed between church attendance and measures of schooling. Students who regularly attend church often display greater interest in academics (Bryk et al., 1993; Jeynes, 2003), have higher educational aspirations (Regnerus, 2000), and are less likely to drop out of school (Loury, 2004). Furthermore, this link between religiosity and schooling has been suggested to hold true especially in urban and/or disadvantaged communities (Jeynes, 2002; Regnerus, 2000). Although more research is clearly needed on the mechanisms underlying this phenomenon, these findings nevertheless suggest religious participation to be a potential protective factor when it comes to academic outcomes. For example, Regnerus and Elder (2003) observed religious involvement to correlate positively with academic achievement, and negatively with measures of vulnerability. Similarly, Jeynes (2002, 2003) observed that level of religious commitment moderated the Catholic school effect; students who reported a higher level of religious commitment were more likely to obtain higher levels of achievement. There is also research on the Black Church and its role in arming African American youth with a system of cultural beliefs that they can turn to in times of need (Haight, 2002). She points to three specific cultural beliefs: (a)
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belief in the significance and worth of each individual, (b) the value and utility of spiritual beliefs in daily life, and (c) the import of community and children’s roles as vital members of that community.
Research on Resilience Despite its relatively short history, research on resilience has advanced in a number of important ways, our understanding of the development of at-risk children. First, it has guided scholarly research on this population away from a deficit-focused model to one directed at identifying positive processes and outcomes. Second, it has illuminated the ‘‘ordinariness’’ of this phenomenon (Masten, 2001). Early research in this area largely implied that resilience was a rare occurrence, that ‘‘resilient’’ children were bestowed with special qualities that enabled them to thrive despite adverse circumstances. The consensus now is that resilience is indeed quite common, even ‘‘ordinary’’ (Bonnano, 2004; Masten, 2001). As Masten (2001) argues, development can be quite robust, provided that certain basic needs are met and protected. By and large, research on resilience has sought to identify those factors believed to protect individuals from adversity. As is the case with most psychological phenomena, research points to both personal and contextual factors. Masten and Coatsworth (1998), for example, list a number of factors at the level of the individual, family, and beyond that have been associated with resilient children. At the level of the individual, research suggests resilient children typically to be bright, good-natured, outgoing, talented, and have higher levels of self-efficacy and/or self-esteem. There is also evidence to suggest that faith may play an important role for these children. At the level of the family and beyond, resilient children often have solid and warm relationships with parents and other adult role models, as well as connections to prosocial organizations and effective schools. In considering this broader research on resilience, it becomes clear how religion can serve to protect at-risk youth. Indeed, it may be as Haight (2002) describes, attending church allows African American youth to ‘‘put on the armor of God’’. It connects these children with a vast social support network and positive role models. Haight (2002) also describes the emphasis the Baptist Church places on teaching children simultaneously about racism and their inherent worth as an individual, independent of material wealth or social status. Haight states: ‘‘While recognizing the detrimental effects of racism, adults also discussed the responsibility of African-Americans to
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intervene proactively to protect their children by instilling in them a strong sense of self-worth, that they are as ‘good’ and as capable as anyone else’’ (p. 73). In short, the Church plays a special role in developing and maintaining children’s levels of self-efficacy and self-esteem and provides them with effective strategies to cope with racism.
CONCLUSIONS AND FUTURE DIRECTIONS The purpose of this chapter was to explore generally how religion could facilitate academic and motivational outcomes. To this end, three disparate bodies of literature were reviewed. First, research on Asian and AsianAmerican students’ academic achievement and its potential relation to Confucianism was considered. Second, the sociological research on the positive effects of attending Catholic schools on minority students’ academic achievement was examined. Finally, a brief discussion of the relation between religion, resiliency, and schooling was offered. It must be made clear that my intention in this chapter was never to promote religious schooling. All the same, converging evidence would seem to suggest a link between religion and academic achievement. To summarize some of the major assertions of this body of work, let us consider Fig. 1 that depicts the main themes of the extant research on religion and schooling. Modernization/ Globalization
Practices (e.g., school organizational features)
Achievement & Learning
Religion
Extent of participation/ Level of commitment
Fig. 1.
Values & Beliefs (e.g., motivation)
Theoretical Relations between Religion, Schooling, and Motivation.
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What can we conclude about the effects of religion on academic learning outcomes? In general, more questions arise than answers. Nevertheless, the limited research would seem to suggest that any effect of religion on achievement is largely indirect. In other words, it is not ‘‘religion’’ per se that facilitates learning but rather the associated beliefs and practices that it promotes. For example, to wholly attribute East Asian and Asian-American academic success simply to Confucianism seems a bit too simplistic. It is necessarily to take into account other factors, such as how Confucian ideals promote a value of education and/or other practices conducive to learning. Similarly, one must also consider the level of commitment or participation in religious activities. The extent to which religion exerts its influence is most likely dependent upon how committed that individual is to that religion. For example, researchers have suggested that religion to play a particularly important role for minority students, who for the most part are fairly religious. Finally, there is a need to consider macro-level forces such as modernization and/or globalization, especially when considering how religious beliefs change over time. Taken together, it is clear that research on religion can serve an important purpose. To begin with, for those interested in examining the link between ‘‘culture’’ and psychological constructs, religion provides another way to operationalize or unpack ‘‘culture.’’ It also provides further insight into how cultural factors should be treated more as a process. As reviewed elsewhere (e.g., Zusho & Pintrich, 2003), a process-oriented approach to culture (also called a cultural psychological approach) typically eschews what Kitayama (2002) calls an ‘‘entity view,’’ which assumes that culture is an unchanging causal antecedent of behavior or a specific psychological characteristic. Correspondingly, an assumption is made that culture (or in this case religion) is not a simple omnibus independent variable that distinguishes between different cultures at a global level. In other words, individuals who belong to a specific culture (or religion) do not always behave in a similar manner nor do they always espouse the same beliefs. Thus, there can be individual variation by members within a culture. Part of my aim in reviewing the research on Asian and Western religious traditions was, in part, to demonstrate these assumptions about culture as process. To begin with, I explored the various ways in which these religious traditions have changed over the course of time. For example, I suggested that Confucianism is not as prevalent in some Asian societies as before. I also discussed how even within East Asia, there is variation in religious beliefs and that religious pluralism is indeed a reality. Similarly, I also
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discussed the paradigmatic shift that occurred in Catholic ideology as a result of Vatican II. Again, while my analysis included a discussion of both East Asian and Western religions, my focus was less on comparison as it was on generally understanding how religion can facilitate learning. As a result, I would like to believe that this allowed for the observation of similarities between seemingly distinct religious traditions, more so than differences. For example, many of the reasons given by scholars investigating the Catholic school effect seemingly parallel those given by scholars investigating Asian and/or Asian American academic success. It is certainly uncanny how alike the descriptions of Catholic schools are to ethnographies of Japanese elementary schools (e.g., Lewis, 1995). Of course, questions arise as to whether these similarities have its basis in religion, especially given how secular Japan is today. With regard to this issue, perhaps McClelland said it best: ‘‘Dealing in terms of the religious labels of Protestant, Catholic, and Jew has not gotten us very far in our search for the basic values associated with the development of n Achievement. It is obviously necessary to go behind the label to elements within each of the religions which may be more closely associated with achievement training’’ (p. 367).
Remaining Questions It is hopefully clear by now that that psychological studies examining the general relation between religion and academics is still in its infancy. The growing interest in issues of spirituality within psychology notwithstanding (Emmons & Paloutzian, 2003; Miller & Thoresen, 2003), much of the research on the effects of religion is still concentrated in other fields (i.e., sociology, social work), or focused on non-education related outcomes. Thus, while the work to date may indeed suggest religion to play a unique role in fostering academic outcomes, we have yet to fully determine why and how. To this end, psychological studies of religion and schooling should prove particularly effective in extending our understanding of the effects of ‘‘religion’’ on academic outcomes. Motivational research in particular can serve to extend our understanding of the Catholic School effect, and more generally the academic achievement of minority students. The work of Bryk et al. (1993) and others effectively demonstrate that the structural features of Catholic schools play an important role in promoting academic achievement, particularly among those students normally considered to be at-risk for developing attitudes and behaviors inimical to
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learning and achievement. Although assumptions are made that such organizational features should impact the values and beliefs of Catholic students and teachers, studies specifically examining Catholic students’ learning and motivation-related attitudes and perceptions have yet to be conducted. Correspondingly, focused work in Catholic schools could also help to illuminate key issues in the study of motivation. Bryk et al.’s (1993) description of Catholic schools suggests that these schools equally emphasize academic press and social support. A study of students’ motivation in this unique environment, then, should prove to be enlightening. Focused research is also needed on the effects of religion on resiliency, particularly for ethnic minority youth. For one, we need to extend our understanding of the processes that underlie such effects. Interesting questions also surround those African American youth who attend Catholic schools. Do these children regularly attend other religious services? If so, can we be confident that it is Catholic schools that promote achievement? In short, much remains to be done, but for those interested in issues of the achievement gap, resiliency and more generally achievement motivation, understanding and investigating the effects of religion should prove to be a worthy endeavor.
NOTES 1. Perhaps such trends can help to explain some of the differences in opinion between Western and Chinese scholars (see Li, 2003; Tweed & Lehman, 2002).
ACKNOWLEDGMENT I thank Simon Urrutia for his assistance with the background research for this chapter and the editors for helpful feedback on an earlier draft.
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AN INTRODUCTION TO HINDU INDIA’S CONTEMPLATIVE PSYCHOLOGICAL PERSPECTIVE ON MOTIVATION, SELF, AND DEVELOPMENT Robert W. Roeser Increasingly, psychologists are finding the contemplative spiritual traditions of Asia to be sources of interesting scientific hypotheses and potentially useful clinical and educational practices (e.g., Coward, 2002; Davidson, Ricard, & Lutz, 2004; Gaskins, 1999; Goleman, 2003; Nisbett, Peng, Choi, & Norenzayan, 2001; Roeser, Peck, & Nasir, 2005). Consistent with this developing area of psychological inquiry, the purpose of this chapter is to present ideas concerning human motivation, self, and development that are found amidst India’s vast spiritual–philosophical traditions collectively referred to as Hinduism. The chapter has three aims: (a) to expose readers to a non-Western, contemplative spiritual view of motivation, self, and development; (b) to discuss correspondences between such a view and certain related concepts in psychology; and (c) to highlight implications of Hindu ideas on motivation, self, and development for the psychological study of human happiness and the practice of education. No effort is made, nor in many cases could be made, to anchor the ideas presented here in scientifically
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validated facts. Rather, I highlight conceptual correspondences between the ideas of Ancient Hindu India and modern psychology with the aim of stimulating scientific inquiry in the future
BACKGROUND Defining Hinduism and Yoga The term Hinduism is applied to a diverse array of spiritual–philosophical systems developed over at least the last three to four thousand years (Raju, 1995). There is no single system of thought or set of religious practices denoted by the term Hinduism however, and truly speaking, no single religious tradition with that name (Feuerstein, 2000). Some attribute the origins of the term Hinduism to the Ancient Persians who mispronounced the word Sindhu, the Sanskrit name of the River Indus, as Hindu (Raju, 1995). The Persians were therefore said to attribute the name Hinduism to the religion of those living across the Indus River from them in what is modern day Pakistan. Several thousand years ago, this area was the cradle of the Indus-–Saraswati civilization from which the traditions now collectively called Hinduism are thought to have originated (Feuerstein, 2000). Similarly, Yoga is sometimes used as a comprehensive term to denote the diversity of spiritual–philosophic ideas and practices that India has evolved over the millennia to assist human beings in their spiritual development (Feuerstein, 2003). Similarly, there is no single system in Indian tradition called yoga. Rather, yoga is a generic term meaning spiritual path or literally ‘‘yoke’’ or ‘‘to yoke together’’(Feuerstein, 2003). As such, it refers to any number of spiritual methods and wisdom teachings that assist individuals in yoking their individual consciousness with the transcendental Reality, or what is variously called Brahman, Tao, Godhead, Dharmakaya, Allah, and so on across the religious traditions of the world (Feuerstein, 2003; Smith, 1992). In sum, despite the fact that Indian spirituality and philosophy are commonly referred to as Hinduism or Yoga, these terms mask a diversity of traditions, evolved over the past several thousand years, that defy any single condensation that entirely explicates their meaning (Hamilton, 2001). The Contemplative Spiritual Psychology of India Although diversity of thought characterizes the spiritual–philosophic traditions of India, there nonetheless exists throughout these various traditions
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an implicit but commonly understood contemplative psychological theory that consists of certain basic motifs (Chaudhuri, 1992; Coward, 2002; Feuerstein, 2000; Kuppuswamy, 2001; Radhakrishnan, 1988; Raju, 1995; Smith, 1994). These motifs include descriptions of a multilevel personality characterized by different psychological faculties, the hypothesis of karma (mental impressions associated with previous thoughts, words, deeds), and a developmental cycle called samsara (a continuous cycle of birth and death), a perspective on life goals and stages, and the conjecture that human beings have the potential to realize profound wisdom, inner bliss, and peace of mind. It is aspects of this common contemplative psychological theory that I describe in this chapter.
CHARACTERIZING RELIGION AND PHILOSOPHY IN INDIA All knowledge begins and ends with wonder; but the first wonder is the child of ignorance; the second wonder is the parent of adoration. Coleridge
Religion as Philosophy in Practice Religion and philosophy have traditionally been defined and practiced in India in ways that differ from their commonplace definitions and practice in the Western world since the Enlightenment (Hamilton, 2001). In contrast to the West where religion and philosophy are separate domains, religion and its concern for salvation and philosophy with its twin concerns for epistemology (e.g., the nature of knowing) and metaphysics (e.g., the nature of reality), commingle in India in ways that prescribe a way of life (dharma). One can conceive of Hinduism as consisting of a diversity of practical spiritual–philosophical systems. These systems are all designed to assist individuals in attaining the means of their own salvation by prescribing particular physical, emotional-devotional, intellectual, social-moral, and contemplative (meditational) spiritual practices. These practices gradually lead individuals to (a) attain insight into the essential nature of self and reality (darshana)1 and thereby (b) realize an unending happiness that is their essential nature (anubhava; Radhakrishnan, 1988). Whether or not such systems constitute philosophy proper as understood in the West has been an ongoing debate among Western scholars (e.g., Hamilton, 2001; Zimmer, 1951).
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Religion as Education Education is the manifestation of the perfection already in human beings. Swami Vivekananda
Historically, religion in India was seen not only as a way of life but also as a process of formal and informal spiritual education (Mookerji, 2003; Raju, 1995; Scharfe´, 2002). According to Mookerji (2003), ancient Brahmanical and Buddhist educational institutions took as a point of departure the fact that ‘‘Life includes Death and the two form the whole truth,’’ thus, the ‘‘one aim in life is to solve the problem of death by achieving a knowledge of the whole truth of which Life and Death are parts and phases’’ (p. xxii). The resultant aims of these formal institutions were to educate young people about this whole truth by teaching them philosophy and practices that enabled them to transcend suffering, attain peace, and serve others selflessly. The first aim involved chitta-vritti-nirodha – ‘‘the inhibition of those activities of the mind by which it gets connected with the world of matter and objects’’ (Mookerji, 2003, p. xxii). The second aim involved developing ways of knowing other than reason and use of the senses, specifically the development of concentration and intuition (Bhajanananda, 2004). The third aim resulted from the first two. Religion as an informal form of spiritual education in which one comes to see or realize new insights into the nature of self and reality through various spiritual practices also represents a widespread cultural view of religion in India (Vivekananda, n.d.). This view of religion is reflected in the fact that Indian spiritual–philosophic systems are often referred to as darshanas (‘‘to view or see’’) that were originally developed by spiritual adepts called rishis (‘‘seers’’). What is to be ‘‘seen’’ by individuals in the process of their own spiritual development, through the eye of intuition (Wilbur, 1998), is the transcendental reality of self and universe (Huxley, 1970). Through the development of concentration, the faculty of intuition is said to be disclosed (i.e., opened) and access to transcendental truths is said to be possible (Ranganathananda, 1988). The notion of religion as a process of education has supported the longstanding view in India (if not always its realization in educational practice – Scharfe´, 2002) that the pursuit of spiritual knowledge through the eye of spirit (i.e., intuition) and the pursuit of scientific knowledge through the eyes of reason (i.e., intellect) and the body (i.e., the senses) are complementary (Goleman, 2003; Ranganathananda, 1988; Wilbur, 1998). Both pursuits are seen as having their roots in the human capacity for awe and wonder.
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Furthermore, both are seen, in the best case scenario, as involving a critical and sincere pursuit of truth and the application of the knowledge and power so gained to the alleviation of human suffering (Ranganathananda, 1988).
The Primary Aim of India’s Diverse Spiritual–Philosophical Traditions Religion is the manifestation of the divinity already in human beings. Swami Vivekananda
Whether conceived of as a way of life or a process of education, the primary aim of almost all Hindu traditions is to show the way to salvation or what is referred to in India as spiritual liberation (moksha; Raju, 1995). The word salvation has a particular connotation in India – one linked to a particular view of the essential nature of the human being, reality, and their interrelationship. Etymologically, the word salvation is related to the Greek verb sozein and the Latin verb salvare (‘‘to save’’). Both of these words are derived from the Indo-European root word Osol (‘‘whole’’). Indian spiritual–philosophic traditions are fundamentally concerned with assisting human beings to become whole (Fields, 2001). According to Hindu philosophy, salvation involves the release from suffering (dukhha) and a corresponding attainment of wholeness through the realization of one’s true nature – what is called the Atman or Self (with a capital ‘S’). The teachings of Advaita Vedanta, a spiritual–philosophical system of thought that has had one of the most enduring impacts on Hindu culture and religion, posit that the essential nature of the human and the entire universe are the same, and both are Spirit (Feuerstein, 2000). According to the monks of the Ramakrishna Order, a modern monastic community responsible for the spread of Vedanta to the West in the 20th century: y the essence of all beings and all things – from a blade of grass to the Personal God – is Spirit, infinite and eternal, unchanging and indivisible. Vedanta emphasizes that human beings in their true nature are divine Spirit, identical with the inmost being and reality of the universe. There is, in short, but one reality, one being, and, in the words of the Upanishads, ‘‘Thou are That’’ (Vedanta Society, 2002).
Advaita Vedanta constitutes a version of what Huxley (1970) referred to as the Perennial Philosophy. The Perennial Philosophy is defined by four essential ideas that Huxley believes form the foundation of every metaphysical tradition. These ideas are: (a) that the phenomenal world of matter and human individualized consciousness are but manifestations of a Divine Ground (e.g., Brahman, Spirit, Godhead, Tao, Allah) from which they gain
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their very existence; (b) that human beings can go beyond inferring the existence of this Divine Ground to experiencing it directly through the faculty of intuition, a faculty that is superior to reasoning in that it immediately unites the knower and the known; (c) that human beings are of a doublenature, with a phenomenal ego and a spark of Divinity at their core; and (d) that the realization of one’s core (divine) nature through spiritual practice is the highest purpose of life. These four ideas form the foundation of the non-dualistic2 philosophy called Advaita Vedanta that is at the heart of much Hindu thought. They also form the basic outline of the contemplative spiritual psychology that runs through most Hindu traditions. The idea that Atman is Brahman (essential nature of the human is the transcendental reality) and that the realization of this inner Divinity and its use for the good of the world are the highest goals of human life may seem to many psychologists a throw-back to pre-Enlightenment times when the values spheres of science, religion, and art were not clearly differentiated (Wilbur, 1998). That is, such ideas may be anathema to psychologists who see the emancipation of their science from theology as extremely positive. However, when one looks at what India does psychologically with this notion of Atman is Brahman, one finds a rich and sophisticated set of ideas bearing on important psychological questions, including: What constitutes the personality? What kinds of motives do human beings pursue and why? What are the stages of human development? What is the nature of happiness and suffering and, more importantly, how can human beings attain a lasting happiness and freedom from suffering? Thus, almost 35 centuries before the science of psychology turned from a focus on the pathological to the positive dimensions of human experience (Seligman & Csikszentmihalyi, 2000), India had already developed sophisticated ideas about human personality, purpose, and happiness. After a brief description of the different historical periods in which these ideas were developed, I present aspects of Hinduism’s contemplative spiritual psychology. In sum, salvation, as the primary aim of Hindu traditions, can be conceived of as a way of life and a process of spiritual education that leads a seeker to become whole by merging their individual consciousness (Atman) with the transcendental reality (Brahman) thereby realizing the essential unity between Self, others, universe, and Spirit (Muktananda, 1980; Smith, 1994).3 Although the vast majority of individuals will not concern themselves with attaining salvation in any given lifetime, the goal of spiritual liberation (moksha) constitutes what can be considered the highest religious ideal in Hinduism (Raju, 1995). This view of human salvation first appears in the philosophic texts called the Upanishads (1500–500 BCE) and constitutes
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an enduring theme that is carried forward in almost all succeeding ages of Hinduism (Eliade, 1978; Smith, 1994).
A Brief History of India’s Spiritual–Philosophical Traditions Indian spiritual–philosophic traditions can be described in terms of eight different ages, dating back to the Indus-Saraswati or Harappan civilization (Eliade, 1978; Feuerstein, 2000; Raju, 1995). In the first period, the Vedic Age (4000–2000 BCE), the Samhitas (hymns) were developed. These hymns were primarily concerned with the worship of nature in order to maintain the cosmic order and were four in number: Rig, Atharva, Yajur, and Sama Vedas. The second period, the Brahmanical Age (1500–500 BCE) is associated with ritual texts called the Brahmanas. These texts interpreted the Samhitas and addressed how Brahman priests should carry out sacrificial rituals in order to maintain the cosmic order. The psychological concepts that I discuss from these periods involve a conception of the personality and the goals and stages of life. The third period, the Upanishadic Age (1500–500 BCE) was a major period in the development of India’s inward-looking contemplative psychological ideas and practices. During this age, the Aranyakas (‘‘forest treatises’’) and Upanishads (‘‘to sit close to one’s teacher’’) were composed. Collectively known as Vedanta (‘‘Vedas end’’), these texts represent a psychological interpretation of the Samhitas and were overtly critical of the ritualistic religion of Brahmanism, particularly the notion that the performance of rituals could lead to spiritual liberation (Hundersmarck, 1995). According to Raju (1995), the teachings of Vedanta arose because after a time ‘‘the people seem to have realized the meaninglessness of the ritual and became reflective’’ (p. 211). Jnana and Raja yoga were developed in this period – spiritual disciplines that utilize reason and the development of intuition to attain salvation, respectively. The ideas of Vedanta, systematized during a later period (see below), constitute the most well-known school of Indian philosophy. Thus, Vedantic ideas on personality and motivation permeate this chapter. During the fourth period, the Epic Age (500–200 BCE), the Hindu scriptures called the Mahabharata (Great Story of the Bharats) and its sub-epic the Bhagavad Gita (Song of the Lord) were composed. This was a time when karma yoga was popularized – a path to spiritual liberation through dharmic (morally upright) living and the conscious consecration of everyday actions to God as an inner sacrifice/offering (Feuerstein, 2000).
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The fifth period, the Age of Classical Yoga (200 BCE–800 CE), was marked by two key events. The first was the composition of Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras, an influential but controversial work positing a fundamental dualism between Spirit and Matter. This work addressed itself to the problem of how to awaken the slumbering transcendental Self (Purusha) that was seen as trapped within the unconscious world of matter (Prakriti) (Feuerstein, 2000). The second major event was the systematization of Advaita Vedanta, described above, by the philosopher Shankara (Gupta, 1995). The sixth age is called the Tantric Period (800–1200 CE). Tantra means to extend or expand. Tantric teachings focus primarily on (a) the feminine energy that is said to create the human being and the whole universe (called Kundalini Shakti) and (b) the relationship of this energy to the body, motivation and personality, and salvation (Feuerstein, 2003; Goleman, 1988; Muktananda, 1979, 1980; Saraswati, 1996). Kundalini yoga describes the body/personality as being constituted by seven centers of consciousness (chakras) and prescribes how human beings can expand their consciousness and attain salvation by (a) awakening the kundalini shakti energy that lies in a contracted state at the base of the spine and (b) raising (extending) it upward through the seven centers of consciousness. This perspective is described in detail below. Hatha yoga also developed during the Tantric Age. Hatha yoga is a system of physical postures (asanas) designed to lead a seeker to spiritual enlightenment by means of perfecting the body. Hatha yoga is very popular in the West today and is often mistaken for what yoga is in its entirety. This is an incorrect understanding, however, as hatha yoga is only one discipline among many leading to the true aim of all yogas – the realization of the transcendental reality (Atman; Feuerstein, 2003). The postures of hatha yoga are said to accomplish this aim by: (a) purifying the body and strengthening it for sitting in meditation for longer and longer periods; (b) regulating the breath in various ways and thereby stilling the mind; and (c) training the awareness to attend to a single object for extended periods of time (e.g., the physical poses) thereby disclosing the faculty of intuition by which one sees the transcendental reality within. The seventh period, the Sectarian Age (1300–1700 CE), was a period of reform within Hinduism that swept across all of India and involved the worship of Lord Shiva (i.e., the Shaivite community) and Lord Vishnu (i.e., the Vaishnavite community). Reforms at this time were associated with Bhakti yoga – a spiritual discipline in which intense love of God and ritual devotional practices such as chanting God’s name, constant remembrance of the Lord, and service to others as an offering to God and Guru WERE
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DEVELOPED AS MEANS OF SALVATION. Bhakti yoga was popularized during this age through the rendering of spiritual teachings, traditionally accessible only to Sanskrit-literate Brahmins, into vernacular languages – often in the form of songs and poems (Feldhaus, 1983). The eighth period, the Modern Age, begins with British rule in India (ca. 1700 CE) and continues to the present. During the late 19th and early 20th centuries, Hinduism underwent a renaissance that was heralded by important spiritual figures such as Ramakrishna and Vivekananda, Aurobindo, Gandhi, and others. These figures helped to export Hindu teachings to the West, eventuating in a broad range of global consequences (Melton, 1991; Weightman, 1991). These consequences included the advancement of the study of comparative religion and mythology (Smith, 1958, 1994; Zimmer, 1951), the development of transpersonal psychology (Tart, 1986), the spread of the practices of meditation and hatha yoga to tens of millions of people worldwide (Feuerstein, 2003; Weightman, 1991), and the translation and proliferation of Indian spiritual texts that make possible a chapter such as this. In the next section, I describe aspects of the contemplative spiritual psychology that has been a rather constant undercurrent in Hinduism throughout most of these eight ages.
Contemplative Psychology Contemplative psychology is a domain of theory and knowledge derived from the collective psychological insights, ways of knowing, and methods of personal experimentation and inquiry that are embedded within the world’s great contemplative spiritual traditions (de Wit, 1991). Such traditions include Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism, Sufism, and mystical branches of Judaism, Christianity and Sikhism. The goal of all contemplative psychologies is to assist practitioners of such traditions in attaining spiritual insight into self and reality, and in using such insights for the benefit of all. Conceptually, contemplative psychologies are concerned with first-person representations of self, phenomenological states, and stages of development characteristic of individuals who practice a particular spiritual path. These psychologies take as a point of departure an explicitly spiritual view of the human being and reality and are intimately concerned with issues of human suffering and salvation (de Wit, 1991). Methodologically, contemplative psychologies are derived from the insights of the practitioners of contemplative spiritual traditions themselves (e.g., Brooks et al., 1997). They rely upon what can be called first-person methods of experimentation and inquiry
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(e.g., meditation) that disclose forms of subjective experiential evidence (e.g., stilling of the mind). Such evidence or insights can be personally verified by a community of individuals who practice the same methods of experimentation (Wilbur, 1998). The methods of inquiry and evidentiary warrants of contemplative psychology are different from, but complementary with, the methods and warrants of third-person empirical branches of psychology (Wilbur, 1998). This can be seen, for example, in the contemporary the study of the effects of meditation on health and well-being (Benson, 1983; Davidson et al., 2004; Goleman, 2003; Murphy & Donovan, 1999). Contemplative psychology not only describes psychological insights into the nature of human experience and development, but it also prescribes the kinds of purposes, views of self and modes of being that are hypothesized to enrich, enliven, and satisfy the deepest longings of the human being (de Wit, 1991). Thus, contemplative psychology is similar to humanistic, existential, and transpersonal psychologies that developed in the middle to latter half of the 20th century. In its outlook and areas of interest, it is also complementary with the tradition of positive psychology that emerged from these traditions at the beginning of the 21st century (Seligman & Csikszentmihalyi, 2000). In the next section, I describe the spiritual view of a human being that forms the core of all contemplative psychologies.
DEFINING HUMAN BEING The Great Nest of Being What is a human being? Throughout much of human history, the human being was conceived of as part of a ‘‘great chain’’ or a ‘‘great nest’’ of interpenetrating layers of being – material, mental, and spiritual in nature (Smith, 1992). Traditionally, the core or ground of being was seen as Spirit. Wilbur (1998) characterized this view as: a rich tapestry of interwoven levels, reaching from matter to body to mind to soul to spirit. Each senior level ‘‘envelops’’ or ‘‘enfolds’’ its junior dimensions y and all are ultimately enveloped and enfolded by Spirit, by God, by Goddess, by Tao, by Brahman, by the Absolute itself (pp. 6–7).
In this conception, the human being is viewed as the nexus or crossing point between the world of matter and the world of Spirit, being comprised of both (Smith, 1978). In Hindu Indian thought, one version of the Great Nest of Being is found in the Taittiriya Upanishad (Purohit & Yeats, 1937/1988). In
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this text, human beings are described as consisting of five coverings or sheaths (koshas) that represent different dimensions of consciousness or being (Kuppuswamy, 2001). These layered koshas are often likened to an onion (Wilbur, 1993). They include the gross, outer material layer of consciousness in the form of the physical body (annamayakosha); the subtle, inner psychological levels of consciousness in the form of the vital-emotional (pranamayakosha), mental-rational (manomayakosha) and intuitive-awareness (vijnanamayakosha) bodies; and the causal, spiritual ground of Being that is described to be of the formless nature of pure consciousness and bliss (anandamayakosha). Similar conceptions of the human being are found in Judeo–Christian– Muslim and Buddhist traditions (Wilbur, 1993). For instance, Christian tradition sometimes describes human beings in terms of a physical body (e.g., animal nature), a heart (e.g., emotional nature), a mind (e.g., uniquely human nature characterized by reason, language, and imagination), and a soul (e.g., spark of Divinity, often associated with will; Issler & Habermas, 1994). Contemplative Christian perspectives such as Meister Eckhart’s add another dimension that transcends and includes all of these – that of the Godhead as the ultimate ground of being (Fox, 1983). The view of the human as enfolded within a Great Nest of Being was abandoned as the science of psychology developed in the West during the post-Enlightenment period (Smith, 1992; Wilbur, 1998). This resulted in what de Wit (1991) calls a profane view of the human being in psychology, one in which the material level of the body-brain, and the mental level associated with sensation-perception, emotion and cognition became definitional of a human being. Nonetheless, research on what Weiner (1992) metaphorically called ‘‘animal-like’’ (e.g., physiological drives, emotions) and ‘‘God-like’’ motivational processes (e.g., cognitive attributions, beliefs, and goals); as well as research on self-regulation or conation – those aspects of the human being historically associated with the spiritual level of soul (see below) and studied today in relation to notions of the I-self, agency, awareness, attention, and meta-cognition (Boekaerts, Pintrich, & Zeidner, 2000; Derryberry, 2002; Harter, 1999; Peck, 2004; Roeser et al., 2005; Ryan & Deci, 2000; Snow, Corno, & Jackson, 1996) – still echo this now-abandoned notion of the Great Nest of Being.
The Notion of Hierarchy in the Great Nest of Being The Great Nest of Being describes a hierarchy in which each level of being is said to be transcended by and included within its senior levels. Wilbur (1998)
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describes this notion of ‘‘transcend and include’’ in a more elaborated version of the Great Nest: y the vital animal body includes matter in its makeup, but it also adds sensations, feelings, and emotion, which are not found in rocks. While the human mind includes bodily emotions in its makeup, it also adds higher cognitive faculties, such as reason and logic, which are not found in plants or other animals. And while the soul includes mind in its makeup, it also adds even higher cognitions and affects, such as archetypal illumination and vision, not found in the rational mind (pp. 8–9).
A basic premise of contemplative psychological traditions is that most human beings do not develop faculties higher than reason and logic (Pearce, 2002) and tend to misidentify themselves with their physical body, vitalbody (e.g., sense desires and emotions), and mind (e.g., thoughts, goals, and roles; de Wit, 1991). By (mis)identifying Self with these levels of being, suffering is said to result because the realization of Spirit as one’s (and everyone’s) true nature and as the true source of happiness is not attained. Spiritual development, from this perspective, involves a struggle to extricate one’s awareness from identification with levels of being that constitute the profane view of self (body, sensation-perceptions, emotions, thoughts), and to gradually (re)identify oneself with the spiritual level of being variously described as Spirit, Tao, Brahman, Buddha nature, etc. This developmental process is said to release one from suffering, heralds salvation, and eventuates in a life totally devoted to serving others selflessly. In the following sections, I describe various Hindu views of self, motivation, and development that are predicated upon this spiritual or sacred view of the human being.
PERSONALITY AND MOTIVATION IN HINDU INDIA’S CONTEMPLATIVE PSYCHOLOGY Personality in the Rig Veda A simple contemplative psychological view of personality in Hindu Indian thought is given in the Rig Veda and again in the Mundaka Upanishad (Kuppuswamy, 2001). It is presented as a story of two birds, each symbolizing a different aspect of the personality. One bird reflects individual consciousness associated with ego or the personal self, and the other symbolizes pure consciousness associated with Spirit or the impersonal Self.
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Two birds knit with bonds of friendship perch on the self-same tree. One stares about, one pecks at the sweet fruit. The personal self, weary of pecking here and there, sinks into dejection; but when he [sic] understands through meditation that the other – the impersonal Self – is indeed Spirit, dejection disappears (Purohit & Yeats, 1937/1988, pp. 54–55).
Psychologically, one can understand this story as describing the personal self or ego as involved in, and attached to, the field of action. It chases after the sweet fruits of bodily, emotional, and social-cognitive, desires. The Upanishads teach that when, due to spiritual ignorance, individuals identify themselves completely with this aspect of self and its attachments, desires, and actions, they forget that there is anything more to their personalities. They rise with the transient fulfillment of ego desires, and fall with transient worries about, and actual frustrations of, such desires (Kuppuswamy, 2001). It is one’s psychological attachment to the pleasurable and aversion to the painful as the ultimate source of happiness that is said to cause suffering. This is so because all manner of sense pleasures, worldly statuses and material prosperity, and even contributions to community are said to be ephemeral and limited: pleasures quickly fade; statuses are often unstable due to their scarcity, exclusivity, or competitive nature; material prosperity cannot be taken to the grave; and despite all our best efforts, communities change ever so slowly in history (Smith, 1958). Individuals attached to (identified with) their ego-selves and related desires and fears are said to experience no lasting peace of mind or freedom from anxiety. As the Chandogya Upanishad puts it: ‘‘Humans get happiness from the unlimited, from the limited, none. Find the Unlimited’’ (Purohit & Yeats, 1937/ 1988, p. 105). It is the impersonal aspect of Self-called Atman that is described as unlimited and unchanging and therefore the source of true happiness. This impersonal Self is described as the witness in human consciousness that is aware of, but not attached to, (ego-) desires, worries, and outcomes of action. This aspect of consciousness is said to exist in all of the four states of consciousness described in the Upanishads, including the waking, dream, deep sleep, and unlimited bliss (turiya) states. It is said to be non-reducible (badha), stable, and ever awake (even as we sleep this ‘‘witness’’ is awake such that it may report on our dreams in the morning; Gupta, 1995). Identification of one’s awareness with this aspect of personality leads to what is called ‘‘witness consciousness.’’ This is a state in which individuals experience themselves as in the world, functioning to pursue goals and perform necessary actions, but not of the world in that their inner state is not dependent upon outer contingencies and outcomes. This state is associated
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with great equanimity, effortless compassionate action, and bliss (Dass, 1999; Muktananda, 1980).
Personality in the Upanishads A more elaborated version of personality that reflects the Great Nest of Being is given in the Katha Upanishad (Kuppuswamy, 2001; Zimmer, 1951). In this treatise, personality is described as a chariot that is being pulled by five horses over particular grounds and roads. The chariot holds a divine being and is driven by a charioteer who holds the reins of the five horses. The chariot represents the physical body (sthula sarira), the Lord of the chariot is the supreme Self or indwelling Spirit (Atman), the charioteer is the discriminating awareness (buddhi), the reins represent the ego-mind (ahamkara or manas), the five horses represent the organs of sense-perception and action (indriyas), and the roads and fields (gocara) represent the objects of sense-perception (visaya). A summary of this view is given in Table 1.
Table 1.
Levels of Personality and Associated Self Dimensions and Functions in Upanishadic Thought.
Levels of Personality
Spirit Pure awareness Veils of ignorance Individual awareness Psyche Ego
Sanskrit Terms
Purusha/Brahman Atman
Psychological Functions
Impersonal self
Maya/Kanchukas Buddhi
Subjective self (I)
Conation
Ahamkara
Objective self (me)
Cognition Language Memory Habit Emotion Sensationperception
Physical form
Behavior
Mind Sub-conscious mind
Manas Samskaras
Organs of senses
Jnanendriyas
Organs of action Matter Body
Dimensions of Selfhood
Karmendriyas Prakriti Sthula sarira
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The view of personality in the Katha Upanishad both describes the normative condition of the personality and prescribes how personality should be developed to attain salvation. First, it describes how the organs of sense perception and action (the horses), when unrestrained by ego-mind (the reins) due to a lack of discriminating awareness (the charioteer), tend to race after the external objects of sense desire (fields and roads) pulling the body along (the chariot) in an instinctive, non-conscious and potentially destructive manner. Psychologically, this is a description of the state of mental restlessness and ceaseless activity, arising from an uncontrolled and unsteady mind and its extension through the senses, which afflicts most individuals on a daily basis. It suggests that without volitional control over the mind, ego desires and worries will tend to motivate an unending stream of behaviors aimed at the attainment of desired (pleasurable) objects and experiences and the avoidance of aversive (painful) ones. Although necessary for daily living, such pursuits, when unregulated and when completely identified with as the source of one’s happiness, result in suffering. According to Hindu thinking, thoughts, words, and deeds to which we are attached in a psychological (ego) sense and that are aimed at limited fulfillments (e.g., sense pleasure, power, wealth, etc.) create moral consequences called karma that leave impressions in the mind (samskaras). These impressions are described as binding the individual to desired/feared aspects of the external world and are likened to the creation of mental habits. Such habits produce similar egodesires in the future in an unending cycle. In this way, ego-attached and egocentric goals and behaviors produce habits (karmic samskaras) that necessitate birth after birth (the wheel of samsara or reincarnation) insofar as the individual must be reborn to experience the meritorious and retributive fruits of their previous actions aimed at securing happiness from without (Nirvedananda, 2000). The result is that the ‘‘impure, selfwilled, unsteady person misses the goal and is born again and again’’ (Purohit & Yeats, 1937/1988, p. 32). The goal referred to here is realization of Atman as Brahman or salvation (moksha). On the other hand, the view of personality presented in the Katha Upanishad also prescribes how individuals can develop personality and attain salvation. Specifically, the model suggests that the body (chariot) and organs of sensation and action (the horses) can be brought under the control of ego-mind (the reins) when a discriminating awareness (the charioteer) is applied to one’s thoughts, words, and deeds. Psychologically, this is a prescription for how personality should be volitionally self-regulated if
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salvation is to be attained (Kuppuswamy, 2001). The means of regulating the personality toward this end includes the individual’s volitional use of the law of karma to create positive, selfless mental habits, and gradually, the expansion of awareness to witness consciousness in which non-attachment to goals and their outcomes is realized (Nirvedananda, 2000). As the sage Shankara explained, actions in this relatively (but not absolutely) real world have real consequences up until the moment of enlightenment. Morally good thoughts, words, and deeds are said to reveal (lead one to dis-cover) the divine inner nature of universe, others, and Self (Atman or Lord of the Chariot); whereas morally bad actions tend to obscure or cover up this implicit, ever-present divinity (Gupta, 1995). Thus, the exercise of moral restraint in the pursuit of material desires and the gradual choice of selfless rather than selfish aims and actions are the first prescriptions in the development of personality toward the goal of salvation (Ajaya, 1976). In these ways, individuals are said to be able to gradually transform the iron chains of karma (associated with ego-attached, ego-centric and often non-reflective actions that engender mixed moral consequences and therefore tend to obscure Atman) into the golden chains of karma (that hasten the discovering of Atman). As the non-conscious pursuit of desires and selfishness are brought under control and the mind becomes still, individuals’ capacities to discern what is Atman (i.e., the Self) from what is Anatman (i.e., the non-Self) is said to increase, as is their ability to concentrate the mind inwardly on salvationrelated goals (see below). By practicing meditation, a process in which one’s awareness is choicefully focused on a single object for extended periods of time (rather than automatically extended outward through the mind and the senses towards desired/feared objects), the individual discloses his or her intuitive capacity. This is associated with a gradual expansion of awareness from identification with ego-as-actor to witness consciousness in which one is aware of one’s ego-self as actor (Muktananda, 1980). The onset of witness consciousness is said to gradually create non-attachment to ego-desires and the fruits of action, and to facilitate the ability of one’s awareness to penetrate deeper into one’s being toward the Atman (e.g., the Lord of the Chariot). The Katha Upanishad states that the one who restrains his or her mind and senses in these ways ‘‘goes to that goal from which he [sic] never returns y he reaches the end of the journey, and finds there all-pervading Spirit’’ (Purohit & Yeats, 1937/1988, p. 32). This re-identification of awareness with the Atman is the supreme goal of life according to the Upanishads. It is salvation and bliss, and releases one from the chains of karma and the wheel of samsara (Smith, 1958).
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Description of Levels, Dimensions, and Functions of Personality in the Upanishads The model of personality in the Katha Upanishad describes three basic levels of being: spirit, psyche, and matter. Table 1 presents an integrative summary of these levels and their associated personality dimensions and functions (Chaudhuri, 1992; Kuppuswamy, 2001; Feuerstein, 2000, 2003; Raju, 1995; Wilbur, 1993; Zimmer, 1951). The spiritual level of being is associated with the Atman (Spirit). The mental level of being is associated with buddhi (awareness), ahamkara (ego), manas (mind), and indriyas (organs of sensation and action). The physical level of being is associated with the sthula sarira (material body). This view of personality shares certain commonalities with contemporary psychological perspectives on self and motivation that are discussed below. Atman or Self The most encompassing and subtle dimension of personality is symbolized by the Lord of the Chariot (Atman). All ‘‘lower’’ dimensions of personality are said to be evolutes of Atman as pure consciousness or creative intelligence (kundalini shakti). The Atman is said to be the ultimate subject and cannot, therefore, be made an object of knowledge or described. Thus, the Brihadaranyaka Upanishad describes it negatively as ‘‘not this, not that (neti neti)’’ (Zimmer, 1951). The Kena Upanishad says ‘‘That which one cannot think with the mind, but that by which they say the mind is made to think, know that alone to be Brahman’’ (Purohit & Yeats, 1937/1988). Elsewhere in the Upanishads the Atman is likened to a self-luminous ‘‘inner light’’ akin to the light of ten million suns that does not burn (Eliade, 1978). The Atman is also said to be the source of motivational energy as well as the ultimate motivational aim that is implicitly behind all other aims individuals pursue in the external world. This true aim is sometimes described in Hinduism as the attainment of an infinite sense of wholeness, peace, and perfection (Muktananda, 1980) or being, knowledge, and joy (Smith, 1958). Why is the realization of Atman seen as the ultimate motivational aim? In Hindu philosophy, this world is called the land of action (karmabhumi) and our life on earth is seen as the burning ground of our karma. We are said to be born to experience and exhaust the meritorious and retributive moral fruits of our past actions, and find the way to salvation that liberates us from the chains of karma and the wheel of samsara (Nirvedananda, 2000). If the way to salvation is not found, our life on earth is said to be one in which we search for a lasting happiness outside of ourselves and thereby
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generate more karma in the form of attachments and the moral consequences of our actions. The resultant karma from this ‘‘unexamined life’’ is said to produce subsequent births. On the other hand, the realization of Atman is said to fulfill all of our goals and grant all of the happiness that we seek in our pursuits in the external world. Why? According to Indian philosophic tradition of Kashmir Shaivism (Kripananda, 1995), the process of our actual incarnation is one in which Spirit as the universal energy called kundalini shakti (or Atman/ Brahman in Vedantic philosophy) condescends into matter and creates our form as a human being so that we may exhaust our karma and attain salvation. From the perspective of the individual who has been incarnated, this condescension of Spirit into matter is said to involve a contraction of Spirits’ inherent and unlimited powers (Kripananda, 1995). This contraction is described in terms of five veils placed over Spirit that obscure its true nature (maya; Gupta, 1995). These veils (kanchukas) function to: (a) limit Spirit’s omnipotence, so there are things we can do and those we cannot do; (b) limit Spirit’s omniscience, so there are things we know and things we do not know; (c) limit Spirit’s perfection and completeness so that we are constantly making an effort to feel perfect and whole again; (d) limit Spirit’s eternal nature so that we experience ourselves within a limited field of time and fear aging and death, and (e) limit Spirit’s omnipresence so that we experience ourselves as located in a particular space (Kripananda, 1995). In sum, these veils contract the powers of kundalini. In so doing, they create a sense of limitation and lack of wholeness in the unenlightened individual. This sense of limitation and lack of wholeness is said to unconsciously motivate human beings, through their daily activities in the world, to reestablish the sense of expansiveness, wholeness, and perfection that was lost in the creative contraction of incarnation (Muktananda, 1980). The pursuit of various personal-material and social-moral goals all provide individuals with relatively genuine, but never absolutely genuine, experiences of wholeness and fulfillment insofar as these pursuits represent imperfect approximations of what human beings truly want (Ajaya, 1977). According to Hindu thinking, the kind of happiness that we truly want can only be attained by dis-covering the original expansiveness, wholeness, and perfection of our essential nature that has become contracted and concealed. When individuals awaken, unfold, and expand the kundalini shakti energy through various means and spiritual practices (see Muktananda, 1979, 1980) they gradually re-establish their identity in this energy’s fullness as Atman. The expansion of consciousness associated with the unfolded kundalini is said to lead to a cessation of attachments to ego-self as actor, ego-desires and
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outcomes of actions (Feuerstein, 2000). From the perspective of witness consciousness associated with the expanded kundalini energy, spontaneous and egoless compassionate action is said to arise (Dass, 1999); and a sense of wholeness, peace, and perfection is (re)attained (Muktananda, 1980). What is said to be given up in this process of pursuing salvation is not participation in or performance of goal-directed actions in the world per se, but rather one’s ego-attachment to goals, thoughts, feelings, behaviors, and the outcomes of actions. This is the true meaning of spiritual liberation (moksha) in Hinduism. It is an inner and psychological, not necessarily an outer and worldly, process of renunciation (Prabuddhananda, 2004). What is said to be realized in the process of salvation is the experience that is sought through all other forms of human activity. The sage Shankara says that the nature of Atman is Sat–Chit–Ananda (Dayananda, n.d.). Satchitananda means that the Atman is of the nature of: (a) infinite truth (sat) that exists in all places, in all things, at all times; (b) infinite awareness (chit) that illumines the existence of all places and all things at all times; and (c) infinite love and bliss (ananda). Thus, the realization of the Atman is sometimes likened to the direct apprehension of the ultimate values of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty (Bhajanananda, 2004), or the experience of infinite being/ existence (as all pervasive truth), infinite knowledge/consciousness (as all pervasive awareness), and infinite love/joy (as all pervasive bliss) (Smith, 1958; Vedanta Society, 2002). The notion of kundalini shakti (or Atman, Self) as the motivational energy of life whose true nature is that of infinite truth, existence, and bliss suggests an interesting correspondence to the three core needs of self (competence, autonomy, and relatedness) that are hypothesized to be the energy behind intrinsically motivated behavior in Self-Determination Theory (Ryan & Deci, 2000). Specifically, the intrinsic need for competence corresponds to the exploration and mastery of particular truths, the need for autonomy corresponds to developing awareness of and freedom with regard to one’s existence, and the need for relatedness corresponds to the experience of love and bliss. From a Vedantic perspective, the pursuit of external activities that fulfill these ego (self) needs are intrinsically motivating because such activities disclose psychological experiences and related forms of happiness that are imperfect but close approximations of the nature of our true Self (sat–chit–ananda). This may explain why the fulfillment of these three needs is more vitalizing and energizing than the pursuit of other needs that correspond less to the nature of Self (Atman), pursuits such as the accumulation of material wealth, status, or fame (Csikszentmihalyi, 1999; Kasser, 2002).
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In sum, according to Hindu teachings, our search for happiness through our daily activities in the external world is forever only relatively fulfilling. The wholeness and happiness we seek from such pursuits can only be attained absolutely through the rediscovering and unfolding of our inner divine nature. In the Katha Upanishad, the aspect of personality represented by the charioteer and described as the discriminating awareness (buddhi) is said to be the organ of wisdom that can lead us back to this source of true happiness that forever lies within. Buddhi or Awareness After the Atman, the next most encompassing and subtle dimension of personality is called the buddhi. Whereas the Atman is said to be self-luminous, buddhi and all of the other personality dimensions at lower levels of being are said to be evolutes of Atman that reflect and refract its supreme light. The most parsimonious definition of buddhi is the light of awareness (svayamjyoti) or the organ of wisdom (Feuerstein, 2003). Buddhi is also sometimes called soul (Abhedananda, 1946/1992) or intellect (Feuerstein, 2000). Functionally, it is associated with a receptive and intuitive intelligence that serves volitional self-regulatory (conative) functions. For instance, the buddhi is said to have the capacity to discern (viveka) the true (rational discernment), the good (moral discernment) and the beautiful (aesthetic discernment) from their opposites (Abhedananda, 1946/1992; Raju, 1995; Feuerstein, 2000). The buddhi is also characterized by the ability to willfully direct and sustain attention in ways that allow for the regulation of the mind, the senses, and the body (Goleman, 2003; Kuppuswamy, 2001). In Hindu thinking, these powers make buddhi the instrument of salvation because they afford individuals a capacity to discern what is real (sat) from what is unreal (asat) and ultimately, what is the transcendental Self (atman) from what is the non-Self (anatman). Such powers afford a means of stilling the mind so that it can be made a perfect surface that reflects the pure light of Atman (Eliade, 1978). Despite the fact that buddhi is closest to Spirit (Atman) in the Great Nest of Being, it is nonetheless conceived of as a contraction of Spirit and often likened to a knot that must be dissolved before it can transcend itself and merge back with Spirit (Wilbur, 1980). This knot of Spirit forms the subjective pole of individual consciousness – the ‘‘I am’’ (aham). It appears that William James (1890) described this dimension of consciousness in different places as Pure Ego, the pure principle of individual existence, Thought, the I-self, and the knower in consciousness (see Peck, 2004; Roeser et al., 2005). James (1890) wrote that ‘‘each of us is animated by a direct feeling of regard
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for [our] own pure principle of individual existence’’ (p. 318) and called this pure principle the I-self or the knower of me and world. This knower in James’ (1890) work seems to be synonymous with what is called buddhi in contemplative Indian psychology. Ahamkara or Ego James (1890) distinguished between the subject in consciousness that reflects pure existence (I-self) and the objects of consciousness. In relation to self, these objects reflect what is known about oneself – what James (1890) called the empirical me-selves or what others have called ego, identity or the representational self (see Peck, 2004; Roeser et al., 2005). From a contemplative psychological perspective, when awareness (volitionally or automatically) identifies itself with objects that exist at levels lower in the Great Nest of Being, those such as thoughts, feelings, sensation-perceptions, actions, or the form of the physical body, an objective pole of consciousness – an egoself – is produced. In Indian contemplative psychology, this ego-self is called ahamkara. The production of the ahamkara appears to be described by modern psychological accounts of self-development. Perhaps at or very near birth, infants begin to construct mental schemas and scripts based on their sensory, affective, and motor experience in the context of close relationships with others (Case, 1991; Stern, 2000). This involves a basic subjective awareness of experience (‘‘I’’), and an identification with or reification of subjective experience into enduring mental forms (i.e., ‘‘me’’; Damasio, 1999). The consequent objective pole of consciousness is first reflected in a perceptual, affect-laden model of self-with-others (Case, 1991; Damasio, 1999). Later, with the onset of language, the growing child develops a rich repertoire of symbolic beliefs about his or her (me-) self that are imbued with higherorder affects (Harter, 1999). Thus, the objective pole of consciousness now reflects a conceptual, affect-laden model of self (Case, 1991). In the language of modern psychology, the objective pole of consciousness consists of an enduring system of mental representations called the me-self that exists in long-term memory and serves both automatic and volitional motivational and regulatory functions (see Peck, 2004; Roeser et al., 2005). Manas or Mind Although ego (ahamkara) and mind (manas) are discussed separately in different Indian scriptures concerning the personality (see Feuerstein, 2000), it is psychologically and pragmatically useful to consider them collectively as ego-mind and to see this aspect of personality as symbolized by the
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horses’ reins (Kuppuswamy, 2001). Collectively, ego-mind is associated with the psychological functions of memory, habit, cognition, emotion, and sensation-perception. In the contemplative psychology of India (both Hindu and Buddhist), the ego-mind is conceptualized as having higher and lower levels. The higher ego-mind (called the alayavijnana in Buddhism) is most often associated with the assertive faculties of logical analysis and linguistic capacity (Feuerstein, 2003; Hanh, 1990). It serves to integrate information coming through the senses and functions to frame and orchestrate actions based on these inputs. Basic cognitive (e.g., goals and expectancies) and emotional processes that motivate behavior are associated with ego-mind (e.g., Ford, 1992). Although the higher ego-mind is associated with the power of reason, it is the integration of reason with the buddhi’s powers of discernment that leads to deeper forms of knowing involving the apprehension of the good, the beautiful, and the true (Ranganathananda, 1988). There is a correspondence here to the difference between intellectual intelligence that encompasses reason and worldly knowledge (e.g., cognition), and emotional intelligence that encompasses awareness, discernment, and self-knowledge (e.g., cognition+conation, Goleman, 1995). The lower ego-mind (called the manovijnana in Buddhism) operates largely non-consciously and is associated with sensation-perception, emotion, habit, and memory (Hanh, 1990). The lower ego-mind automatically directs and energizes behavior toward or away from particular sense-objects that are perceived (i.e., sounds, sights, smells, tastes, physical contacts). This automatic form of motivation and regulation is similar to the description of the basic emotions and their related action tendencies given in psychology in which particular environmental features can activate emotion-behavior or goal-behavior scripts that can automatically energize and direct the organism toward life-enhancing benefits or away from life-threatening harms (Lazarus, 1991). The lower ego-mind is also described as a storehouse of individuals’ habits (samskaras), accumulated from experiences in both previous lifetimes (karma) and the current one, in which individuals become identified with (attached to) certain ideas, feelings, and sense-objects. When activated, these impressions are said to unconsciously and automatically motivate behaviors in which the aim is either the confirmation/consumption of desired or valued things (ideas, feelings) or the rejection/avoidance of feared or disliked things (ideas, feelings) (Bargh & Chartrand, 1999; Hanh, 1990; Kuppuswamy, 2001). There is a conceptual correspondence between the upper and lower dimensions of ego-mind described in Indian thought and what can be considered the symbolic or rational representational self
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and the iconic or emotional representational self, respectively (see Case, 1991; Epstein, 1990; Harter, 1999; Roeser et al., 2005). Indriyas or Sensorimotor Organs The sense organs of knowing (jnanendriyanis) and organs of action (karmendriyanis) are ten in number and are said to be among the most powerful psychological functions in the life of an individual (Feuerstein, 2000). The five organs of sensation include hearing (effected through the ear); seeing (effected through the eye); smelling (effected through the nose); tasting (effected through the tongue); and touching (effected through the skin; Kuppuswamy, 2001; Zimmer, 1951). In certain individuals, it is said that the subtle, inward aspect of these sense organs function in ways that transcend their associated bodily organs, as for instance, in the phenomena called extra-sensory perception or psi (Bem & Honorton, 1994). Closely linked to these sense organs are the organs of action such as those of speech, grasping (e.g., hands), locomotion (e.g., feet), etc. (Zimmer, 1951). Together, the organs of sensation and action were symbolized by the five horses that run after what is pleasurable and away from what is painful. Sthula Sarira or Body The final level of the personality is the material level associated with the physical body. The body is symbolized by the chariot, and like a chariot, is ultimately controlled in its movement by various other forces ‘‘higher up’’ in the Great Nest of Being. According to Shankara in his treatise Tattva Bodha (Dayananda, n.d.), the gross physical body is a product of karma from past births and represents the karmic effects of past good deeds. The attainment of a physical human body is seen as particularly auspicious in the Indian traditions because it houses self-reflective awareness and discrimination (buddhi) and thereby, the means of salvation. In addition, similar to other spiritual traditions, the physical body is seen as holy insofar as it houses indwelling Spirit (Atman).
The Chariot in Freudian Thought Freud used a similar metaphor – that of a chariot, charioteer, and three horses to describe his (profane) view of the human personality as consisting of id, ego, and superego (Schultz & Schultz, 1996). Whereas the Upanishads posit that the dimensions of personality are evolutes of Spirit, Freud viewed the ego and super-ego ultimately as evolutes of the basic biological energy of
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the body. According to Freud (1915/1986), the infant’s ego arises from a discrepancy between two sets of experiential conditions. The first was said to involve the ability of the infant to produce actions that reduced uncomfortable stimuli impinging on it from without (e.g., turning away from a bright light). The second was said to involve the infant’s initial inability to produce actions that reduce discomforts arising from within itself (e.g., id drives). Freud hypothesized that this discrepancy between agency under the first condition, and a lack of agency under the second, gave rise to the infant’s ego-awareness as distinct from but derivative of its id drives. Subsequently, Freud described the development of the super-ego in relation to children’s anxiety over id drives (associated with the Oedipal and Elektra complexes) and their identification with the same-sex parent as a means of reducing this anxiety. In these ways, Freud viewed both the ego and superego as evolutes of the biological energy of the body. With respect to the chariot metaphor, the chariot also represented the body for Freud. Within it, the charioteer represented the ego with its reality orientation (e.g., Freud, 1953). Like a charioteer trying to control the horses that drive the chariot, Freud saw the ego as mediating between the demands of the irrationally selfish id (that operated via the pleasure principle), the irrationally moral super-ego (that operated via socialized anxiety), and the affordances and constraints of reality itself with respect to the satisfaction of id drives. The three horses represented these three inputs to behavior. They were conceived of as often pulling the body in conflicting directions down the fields and roads of instinct gratification. According to Freud, behavior was always a result of the ego’s compromises in meeting id demands, and therefore was always marked by an incomplete gratification of the initial demand. Individuals were never able to travel down the roads they truly wished. A restlessness of mind borne of an unending stream of only partially fulfilled id demands was ‘‘as good as it gets’’ according to Freud. All behavioral pursuits, in this perspective, were only imperfect approximations of one’s true biological urges and therefore produced no lasting sense of fulfillment.
UNCONSCIOUS MOTIVATION In both the Hindu and Freudian models of personality, the unconscious mind is seen as playing a powerful role in motivating approach and avoidance behavior (Freud, 1915/1986; Kuppuswamy, 2001). Both models describe how non-conscious urges drive cycles of behavior in rather automatic
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ways with the aim of either reducing cravings (Hinduism) or tension (Freud). A description of unconscious motivational processes in these two perspectives is presented in Fig. 1. In the Indian view, the lower ego-mind is the source of unconscious motivation in that it houses habits formed from pleasurable and aversive experiences and their moral consequences in this and past lifetimes (Hanh, 1990; Kuppuswamy, 2001). These habits (karma or samskaras) are described as ego-attachments (desires, likes) and aversions (fears, hates) to ideas, feelings, and sense-objects. Such habits are said to be activated by bodily needs or external perceptual stimuli and, once activated, give rise to mental cravings that automatically engage the conscious ego-mind and the organs of sensation and action to pursue something that is desired (attachments) or to avoid something that is disliked (aversions). Such habits are constantly being activated in daily life, producing restlessness of the mind in the form of cravings and related cycles of activity. Because these habits are implicitly aimed at the attainment of an unlimited satisfaction from objects of the external world that confer only limited satisfaction, the behaviors these tendencies motivate never fully satisfy the initial state of craving. This leads to a self-perpetuating cycle of craving – behavior – craving unless the cycle is cut by the application of a restrained mind (manas) and discriminating awareness (buddhi). This description is very similar to the one given by Freud (1915/1986) in relation to drive motivation. Freud posited that the unconscious id was a storehouse of two main biological drives, one for self-gratification (i.e., pleasure) and one for self-preservation (i.e., aggression). He believed that most behavior consisted of a mixture of these two basic drives. Id drives were conceptualized as having five main components: (a) a source of tension (usually a part of the body) that gave rise to (b) an impulse of a particular kind and intensity. The impulse, in turn, gave rise to (c) a mental wish that oriented the individual to (d) behaviorally approach or avoid a particular object in the environment that could satisfy the impulse and wish and thereby (e) achieve the aim of reducing the tension that began the entire motivational sequence. Because behavior was always a compromise between id demands and the constraints of super-ego and reality, it reduced tension but never in a total or lasting way in Freud’s view. Fig. 1 presents both the Karmic and Freudian models of non-conscious motivation in terms of negative feedback loops. An activated craving/wish motivates behaviors that are aimed at reducing the initial state of craving or tension that started the sequence. This is accomplished through the approach or avoidance of particular objects, experiences, or individuals.
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, Freud s theory of id impulses
Indian theory of karma tendencies
Reduction of Tension (Aim)
Mental Wish
Reduction of Craving (Aim)
Behavior (Wish objects)
Mental Craving
Behavior (Sense objects)
Conscious Mind Unconscious Mind Emotional Impulse
Bodily Needs
• Self-gratification (pleasure) • Self-preservation (aggression)
Storehouse of karmic tendencies • Attachments (raga) or desires (kama) • Aversions (dvesha) or wraths (krodha)
Fig. 1.
Freudian and Karmic Views of Non-Conscious Motivation.
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Bodily needs (source of tension)
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The depiction of these motivational cycles as circular is meant to convey the point that in both systems, an endless cycle of dissatisfactions associated with external behavioral pursuits is postulated. Furthermore, the ego-mind, despite its capacity for reason, is seen as co-opted into the automatic pursuit of non-conscious (karmic) habits on the one hand (Kuppuswamy, 2001) and id drives on the other (Freud, 1915/1986). This view of ego-functioning shares a conceptual correspondence with contemporary social-personality research on the ‘‘unbearable automaticity of being’’ in which evidence shows that non-conscious processes, albeit processes unlike Freud’s notion of the id, play an important role in the motivation and regulation of everyday behavior (Bargh & Chartrand, 1999). In summary, Freud saw dissatisfaction as arising from individuals’ inabilities to ever fully express their biological urges in the context of society. He saw the application of reason in producing ‘‘good-enough’’ drive satisfactions as ‘‘as good as it gets’’ (Schultz & Schultz, 1996). The Hindu model, by contrast, stresses that dissatisfaction arises from individuals’ lack of knowledge of their spiritual nature and their consequent ill-informed habitual pursuit of unlimited happiness from the limited world. The Indian model of personality (see Table 1) views the application of a discriminating awareness (buddhi) plus reason (manas) as the means of transcending this cycle of craving and dissatisfaction through control of desires, choiceful pursuit of higher life goals, and eventually and perhaps paradoxically, the practice of an inner renunciation of (i.e., a non-attachment to) ego-desires. Nevertheless, like Freud, Indian spiritual adepts viewed the volitional control of the unconsciously driven ego-mind and the senses as a struggle and likened it to walking ‘‘a hard path y like the sharp edge of a razor’’ (Katha Upanishad, I, 3).
HIERARCHIES OF HUMAN MOTIVES There is a kiss we want with our whole lives, the touch of Spirit on the body. Rumi
The contemplative psychology of Vedic and Upanishadic thought also includes a hierarchical conception of conscious human motives conceived of in terms of four basic classes of goals. This hierarchy begins by assuming that the most basic goal of all, physical survival, is secured (Raju, 1995; Smith, 1994). The subsequent four classes of goals correspond to the physical, mental, and spiritual levels of the personality, and the physical, psycho-social, and transpersonal dimensions of selfhood associated with these levels, respectively.
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The first major class of human goals in Hindu thinking is associated with the physical self and involves the pursuit of sensual pleasures of every kind (kama), with the most prominent being sexual love. The second major class of human goals is associated with the psychological self and involves the pursuit of worldly prosperity in various forms (artha), including material wealth, fame and social recognition, and power. The attainment of goals associated with worldly prosperity are viewed as the instrumental means of attaining goals associated with sensual pleasure. Collectively, these two classes of goals are said to address the material needs of the human being (Raju, 1995). Of course, material needs associated with pleasure and prosperity are in principle different from moral concerns associated with participation in community life, and the psychology of ancient India has always made this basic distinction in relation to human motivation whereas the science of psychology has not (Kagan, 1996). Thus, the third major class of human goals is Hindu thinking that is associated with the social self and involves ethical conduct and the fulfillment of various social duties (dharma) across the life course. These duties include fulfilling one’s role as a student (e.g. learning a profession), a householder (e.g., getting married, raising children, honoring ancestors, and performing rituals), and a community member (teaching and serving others beyond one’s family; Kakar, 2002). This class of goals addresses humans’ moral needs. The contemplative psychology of India goes on to suggest the existence of a plane of ultimate spiritual concerns lying beyond those associated with the material and the moral. This fourth class of human goals is associated with the transpersonal self and involves the pursuit of the spiritual wisdom, enlightenment, and release from the cycle of reincarnation (moksha or salvation). According to Hindu thinking, these represent the highest goals of human life. If attained, they are said to confer a lasting joy, happiness, and contentment on the individual. Although this class of goals is sometimes said to address humans’ spiritual needs, there is no true need behind these goals insofar as they involve the attainment or realization of what we already are but have ‘‘forgotten’’ (Prabuddhananda, 2004). That is, the goals associated with moksha involve a subtractive process that reveals what we already are, rather than an attainment of something that we do not already have. These goals are not about ‘‘filling holes’’ (i.e., lacks or wants), but rather are about rediscovering our inner wholeness (Leifer, 1977). Although moksha is often described as the ultimate purpose of human life in Hinduism (e.g., Raju, 1995; Smith, 1958), it is actually is the second
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highest purpose of life (Prabuddhananda, 2004). The highest goal is the application of one’s spiritual realization in compassionate service to all beings. In Buddhism, this ideal is enshrined in the concept of the enlightened one (arahat) who foregoes entry into paradise and turns back to serve all beings (bodhisattva). In Hinduism, this ideal is described by the jiva-mukti (‘‘liberated soul’’) who chooses to remain on earth to serve others as the jivabhakta (‘‘loving-kind servant of God and therefore, of all creation’’). The Hindu hierarchy of motives reflects the view that all of these goals are valid, including the pursuit of sense pleasure, insofar as they address the diverse needs of the human being. The hierarchy describes the relative amounts of life satisfaction and happiness that each goal grants. Therefore, it also prescribes which goals an individual should pursue if he or she wishes to attain the greatest sense of satisfaction and happiness that life has to offer (Smith, 1958). Specifically, one can and should pursue pleasure and worldly prosperity without guilt or remorse, but these pursuits should be anchored in moral concerns and ethical behavior. Furthermore, one can and should fulfill one’s moral duties and social responsibilities, but these duties and responsibilities should always be seen in light of an even greater plane of ultimate spiritual concerns. Looking at this hierarchy in reverse, it suggests that spiritual attainments confer an experience of peace, perfection, and wholeness that transcends and includes all of the satisfactions and joys attained through all other pursuits. Inner realization is said to be associated with the experience of inner delights far beyond those of the senses, the attainment of spiritual powers, and the capacity to fulfill the greatest duty – being a loving-kind servant to all (Muktananda, 1980). This viewpoint is expressed in Jesus’ saying Seek ye first the Kingdom of Heaven, and all things shall be added unto you (Prabhavananda, 1985). Furthermore, the hierarchy describes how the fulfillment of moral and social duties confer significantly greater degrees of life satisfaction and happiness than does the pursuit of wealth, fame, and power because they transcend and include such aims as true worldly prosperity is said to involve love and respect for and from others (Muktananda, 1972). Such moral concerns, however, do not quite afford the peace, perfection, and wholeness that come from spiritual liberation and its application toward the well-being of the entire creation. The attainment of worldly prosperity confers significantly greater degrees of life satisfaction and happiness than does running after sensual pleasures because it transcends and includes them – for worldly prosperity is but the means to access pleasure (Smith, 1994). Such pursuits, however, are not believed to confer as much satisfaction and happiness as the fulfillment of moral and social obligations. Finally, the running after
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sense pleasures is fine, but the satisfaction and happiness they provide is viewed as smaller in scope than that conferred by the other life goals.
LIFE GOALS AND STAGES OF LIFE The contemplative psychology of Vedic and Upanishadic literature also prescribes a view of the major stages of life in which each of these four goals should be pursued (Raju, 1995). The stages of life in Hinduism begin at around age 8. The early years of development were traditionally viewed as indicative of one’s past karma and, as such, were regulated by one’s karmadetermined caste membership (Kakar, 2002). Furthermore, chronological age is viewed as different from one’s spiritual age, and thus individuals are said to begin life with different levels of spiritual maturity (Smith, 1958). This level of maturity is said to be reflected in the kinds of life goals one pursues most wholeheartedly in life, as well as in one’s caste (Smith, 1958; Kakar, 2002). In late childhood the individual is ritually welcomed into the community (Mookerji, 2003) and the formal stages of life begin. These stages include that of: (a) the student – stretching from puberty through adolescence (brahmacharya); (b) the householder – stretching from young to late adulthood (garhasthya); (c) the retiree during late adulthood (vanaprastha); and (d) the elder-as-renunciant during the twilight of life (samnyasin). In the stage of brahmacharya, young people are prescribed the goal of learning the dharma. This includes the ethical standards of behavior and social obligations that they will abide by and fulfill as adults; the meanings and values associated with a good and spiritual life; as well as the meaning and functions of their caste identities (Kakar, 2002). From this perspective, adolescence is a time of committing oneself to caste, as well as a moral and spiritual life as a precursor to the pursuit of pleasure and prosperity in the next stage. It is during the stage of the householder during early adulthood when one marries and takes up an occupation that the goals of pleasure (kama), worldly prosperity (artha), and the practice of social responsibility (dharma) in relation to family and work become focal (Raju, 1995). In later adulthood, Indian tradition prescribes that one’s social responsibilities (dharma) expand to include the teaching of others beyond the family in the community. Finally, in old age, the core goal of the individual is seen as the wholehearted pursuit of salvation (moksha). Comparisons between this Hindu view of the human life-course and Erikson’s eight psychosocial stages of human development have been made previously (see Erikson, 1969, 1973, 2002; Kakar, 2002). In Table 2, I have
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Table 2.
Stages of Life and Life Goals/Virtues in Hinduism and Eriksonian Theory.
Eriksonian Theory of Life Stages Life stage 1. Infancy 2. Early childhood 3. Play age 4. School age
5. Adolescence
6. Young adulthood
7. Adulthood
8. Old age
Life task and virtue Trust vs. mistrust Autonomy vs. shame and doubt Initiative vs. guilt Competence vs. inferiority
Hope
Hindu Theory of Life Stages and Goals Life stage
Life goal
0. Karmic history and caste
Will power
Purposefulness Competence
1. Studentship/ apprenticeship (Brahmacharya)
Knowledge of Dharma: Spiritual knowledge Caste identity
Practice of Dharma: Love and care Pleasure (kama) Prosperity (artha) Teaching of Dharma: Extended care Salvation (moksha)
Identity vs. identity confusion Intimacy vs. isolation
Fidelity
Love
2. Householder (Garhasthya)
Generativity vs. stagnation Integrity vs. despain
Care
3. Retiree (Vanaprastha)
Wisdom
4. Renunciant (Samnyasa)
Source: Adapted from Kakar (2002).
re-rendered a chart from Kakar (2002) that describes these two views of the stages of life. I do not discuss this table here but refer readers to the sources just cited. I note, however, that the concepts of karma and varna (caste) have profound meta-theoretical implications for a theory of human development, contemplative or traditional, and make a cross-cultural comparison such as the one presented in Table 2 more complex than it may appear. Furthermore, the ancient notion that the goals of life should be pursued successively is not endorsed by most contemporary Indian spiritual teachers. Rather, these teachers prescribe the pursuit of moksha throughout the life course in conjunction with all of the others goals of life, and in the context of worldly life and responsibilities as householders (Ajaya, 1976; Muktananda, 1980; Vivekananda, n.d.).
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CENTERS OF CONSCIOUSNESS AND HIERARCHIES OF HUMAN MOTIVES Within this earthen vessel are bowers and groves, and within it is the Creator: Within this vessel are the seven oceans and the unnumbered stars y Kabir says: ‘Listen to me, my friend! My beloved Lord is within.’ Kabir4
Teachings developed during (and before) the Tantric Age provide a framework for drawing together Hindu Indian notions of personality, motives, and salvation. According to the teachings of kundalini yoga, there is a universal creative energy called kundalini shakti that exists within every human being (Muktananda, 1979). In its limited gross aspect, this energy is said to reside at the base of the spine in the middle of the body where it motivates and regulates everyday thoughts, words, and deeds. In this aspect, the kundalini is the motivational energy. When its subtle aspect is awakened and unfolded, kundalini is said to greatly expand individuals’ consciousness/ awareness and to lead to the realization of the Self (Atman) and salvation. The unfolding of kundalini after its awakening involves a process of gradually raising the energy from the base of the spine to the crown of the head where it is returned to its original power and qualities described earlier. This ‘‘ascent’’ is associated with transformations in individuals’ motivational pursuits and associated views of self. According to the adepts of kundalini yoga, the awakening and unfolding of kundalini can be accomplished in any number of ways (Kripananda, 1995), but the surest way to do this is to find a competent teacher who can assist and guide one in this process (see Muktananda, 1979; Saraswati, 1996). Universal knowledge of the kundalini energy as a force of spiritual upliftment and salvation is suggested by its presence and symbolic depiction in religious traditions and cultures separated by wide spaces of geography and history (Campbell, 1986). Kripananda (1995) notes: Almost all religious or spiritual traditions speak of Kundalini, the inner spiritual power, in one form or another. The Japanese call it ki, the Chinese chi, and in Christianity it is known as the Holy Spirit. In Mexico, Kundalini was once worshipped as the serpent-god Quetzalcoatl; the Kung people of the Kalahari desert call this same power n/um (p. 3). In the West, the knowledge of Kundalini has been transmitted by the esoteric or mystical branches of all of the great religious traditions. The knowledge of Kundalini is clearly present in the mystery religions of ancient Egypt, Greece, and Rome; in the teachings of both the Gnostic and Neoplatonic traditions; in the Kabbalistic tradition of Judaism; and in the testaments of the great Christian mystics. In addition, various secret societies
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or ‘‘brotherhoods’’ – such as the Rosicrucians, the medieval alchemists, and the Freemasons – emerged to pass on the knowledge of Kundalini (p. 4).
Tantric philosophy teaches that the kundalini energy is associated with seven major centers of consciousness (chakras) in the human body that fall along a subtle (non-physical) axis running from the crown of the head down along the length of the spinal column to its base. These chakras are sometimes described as being related to particular glands and nerve bundles in the body although the chakras themselves are said to be non-physical and invisible (Saraswati, 1996). The function of the chakras is described as akin to power transformers which ‘‘step down’’ a high level of energy into more usable forms (Dass, 1999). In this case, the chakras ‘‘step down’’ or contract the energy of kundalini shakti (Atman/Brahman) from its more universal and expansive form to more limited contracted forms ranging from subtle to gross. This stepping down, respectively, produces the various sheaths (koshas) that comprise the human being (causal-spiritual, subtle-psychological, grossphysical), the four states of consciousness associated with these sheaths (turiya, deep sleep and dream, waking) and the dimensions of personality that operate within these sheaths and states (awareness, ego-mind and organs of sensation/action, body), respectively. The contraction of kundalini energy into these sheaths, states, and personality dimensions is said to create our very existence and our ability to function in the three-dimensional physical world with the aims of burning up karma and attaining salvation (Dass, 1999; Kripananda, 1995; Muktananda, 1979; Saraswati, 1996). What is interesting from a motivational perspective is that each of the seven major centers of consciousness which ‘‘step down’’ the universal energy are said to be associated with particular kinds of regulatory functions and motivational aims reflective of the self as a spiritual, social and psychological, and physical being, respectively. This process of stepping down the kundalini energy was discussed earlier in terms of the veiling of kundalini and its powers and properties. The more the kundalini energy is stepped down by the chakras, the more gross (material) and contracted (ego-centered) the motivational aims it energizes become. Fig. 2 provides a visual–verbal depiction of these seven centers and their associated life goals. Beginning at the lowest level, the first center is named muladhara chakra (mula ¼ root, dhara ¼ support) and is located in the pelvic floor at the base of the spine. This center is said to be associated with the coccygeal plexus of nerves; the regulation of excretion and reproduction (Saraswati, 1996); and the motivational aims of physical safety and survival (Campbell, 1986; Goleman, 1988). Healthy motivation in relation to this center is often described in terms
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of appropriate concerns for physical health and safety, whereas unhealthy motivation is described in terms of excessive concerns with health, fears of death, aggressiveness, and possessiveness (Goleman, 1988). The second center, called svadhisthana chakra (‘‘own abode’’), is located at the lowest point of the spinal column and is said to be associated with the sacral plexus of nerves. This center is described in relation to the regulation of the non-conscious mind (Saraswati, 1996) and the motivational aims of sexual love and sense pleasure (Campbell, 1986; Goleman, 1988; Zimmer, 1951). These aims reflect the class of goals described earlier as kama (pleasure) that are discussed in the well-known text by Vatsyayana called the Kamasutra (Smith, 1994). Healthy motivation in relation to this center is often described in terms of the enjoyment of sex and sense pleasures in moderation, whereas unhealthy motivation is described in terms of excessive hedonism and addictions to sense pleasures of all kinds (e.g., lust, greed, substances). Together, these two lower centers are said to reflect the physical level of human personality insofar as they reflect basic concerns with safety, survival, and sexual reproduction that often operate non-consciously (e.g., Freud, 1915/1986). The third center, called manipura chakra (‘‘shining jewel’’), is located at the navel center and is said to be associated with the solar plexus. This center is described in relation to assimilation of the external world through digestion and accommodation to it through temperature regulation (Saraswati, 1996). The motivational aims of the navel center include wealth, fame and social recognition, power, and personal control (Campbell, 1986; Goleman, 1988). These aims reflect the classes of goals described earlier as artha (world prosperity and success). Healthy motivation in relation to this center is described in terms of social adjustment and success, whereas unhealthy motivation is associated with excessive strivings for power and social recognition, addictions to symbolic incentives like money and fame, excessive perfectionism or egotism, and manipulation or control of others for one’s own ends (Goleman, 1988). The material and mental aims of the first three centers collectively are referred to as the out-going path (pravritti marga), the Path of Desire (Smith, 1994), or the Path of Activity (Feuerstein, 2000). This is the path of ego-centered development and goals (Wilbur, 1980). In Hinduism, it is said that the aims of the Path of Desire occupy individuals for countless lifetimes before they are karmically ready to pursue the next set of goals associated with spiritual wisdom and salvation in a wholehearted manner (Smith, 1958). The fourth center, called anahata chakra (‘‘unstruck sound’’), is located at the level of the heart and represents the crossing point from concerns that
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are self-centered (i.e., concerned with me and mine) to those that are othercentered (i.e., concerned with thee and thine). This center is said to represent that place where the knot of ego (ahamkara) is beginning to be dissolved and transcended and the individual is moving into a plane of life concerns that are interpersonal and transpersonal in nature (Dave, 1977; see Fig. 2). In Indian symbolism, the heart center is depicted by two triangles that are juxtaposed in the form of a star (akin to the Jewish star or the Seal of Solomon). This star symbolizes the qualitative difference between ego-self and motives associated with the three lower centers of consciousness (symbolized by the down-turned triangle) and Self and motives associated with the three higher centers (symbolized by the up-turned triangle). Campbell (1986) likens the raising of conscious awareness to the heart center and thereby to the virtues, universal love, and service to others in one’s life as that which is described in religion and mythology as being ‘‘born again’’ insofar as individuals die to their lower (animal/selfish) nature and are reborn in their higher (spiritual/selfless) nature. The fourth center is said to be associated with the cardiac plexus and the regulation of respiration, circulation, and other vital life functions (Pearce, 2002; Saraswati, 1996) The motivational aims of the heart center are associated with social duty, ethical behavior, selfless love, and selfless service to others (Campbell, 1986; Goleman, 1988; Smith, 1994). These aims reflect the third class of goals described earlier as dharma (virtue). The level of the heart heralds the beginning of the in-going path (nivritti marga) referred to as the Path of Renunciation (Smith, 1994) or the Path of Cessation (Feuerstein, 2000). This is the path of ego transcendence that leads to salvation (Wilbur, 1980). The final three chakras are associated with interpersonal and transpersonal aims that redirect the outflowing of consciousness inward by raising the kundalini energy upward toward one’s true nature with the aim of spiritual liberation (moksha) and selfless service to others (seva). As such, these charkas are said to reflect a motivated inner renunciation of attachment to goals that many associate with the good life if not a good life today (Csikszentmihalyi, 1999). Thus, it is typically difficult to comprehend their value from the perspective of exoteric (outward looking) cultures that do not respect inner transcendental states and the realization of spiritual wisdom as rational or viable goals (Goleman, 1993; Leifer, 1977; Zimmer, 1951). In Hindu thought, however, these three centers reflect that class of goals described earlier as moksha (liberation), and these are seen as the highest purposes of life. Almost all of the texts and teachings associated with the terms Hinduism and Yoga from the Upanishadic period forward are
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The in-going path of renunciation Spiritual liberation
Sahasrara chakra
(7)
Spiritual wisdom
Ajna chakra
(6)
Clarity of perception Visuddha chakra Love and service
Anahata chakra
(5)
Anahata chakra (ahankara or ego) (3) Manipura chakra
Social duty and ethics
Worldly prosperity
(2) Svadhisthana chakra Pleasure (1) Muladhara chakra
Safety and survival
The out-going path of desire
Association between the Goals of Life and the Centers of Consciousness in the Body (Danielou, 1955).
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Fig. 2.
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designed to assist individuals in realizing the goals associated with moksha (Raju, 1995). The fifth center, called visuddha chakra (‘‘pure’’), is said to be associated with the cervical plexus of nerves and the regulation of articulation (Saraswati, 1996). The motivational aim of the throat center is the purification of the five senses (Campbell, 1986), which, collectively, are sometimes associated with speech insofar as humans express what they sense and perceive (Feuerstein, 2003, p. 244). The purification of the senses is accomplished by engaging the manifold practices collectively known as yoga (‘‘to yoke’’); and is a preparation for the realization of Atman. The practices of yoga that serve to purify the senses begin with the observance of various moral constraints (yama) that serve to harmonize individuals’ social relationships. This produces an atmosphere in the individual’s life (and consciousness) that is conducive to further spiritual practice and growth. These observances all revolve around the concept of non-violence and the non-harming (ahimsa) of others through deeds, words, or thoughts (Feuerstein, 2003). Specifically, goals involving abstention from violence, stealing, lying, gossiping, and even thinking ill of others in any way are associated with this center. A second stage of practices designed to purify the senses are aimed at deepening the individual’s orientation toward the ultimate reality. This involves the cultivation of moral purity (niyama) through body cleansing practices; the practice of nonattachment to outcomes; ascetic practices such as fasting, the maintaining of silence, contemplation of self through intense self-study, and the study of scriptures. Finally, the practice of the physical postures (asanas) that strengthen, purify, and prepare the body for meditation; the practice of breath control (pranayama) that stills and purifies the mind; and the withdrawal of identification with the objects of sense perception (pratyahara) through the practice of witness consciousness are all additional means for attaining the motivational end of the purification of the senses. The sixth center, called ajna chakra (‘‘authority’’), is located in the center of the forehead between the two eyes and is often called the third eye or the eye of Spirit (Wilbur, 1998). This center is associated with the endocrine gland, the pre-frontal lobes, and therefore physical and mental control of many aspects of our being (Pearce, 2002; Saraswati, 1996). The motivational aim associated with the ajna chakra can be described as the realization of divinity with form (saguna Brahman) through one-pointed concentration (Campbell, 1986). This realization of divinity is said to occur in the ideational form most conducive to the seeker’s own spiritual inclinations (savilkalpa samadhi) and is associated with intense ecstasy and bliss. The major practice necessary to realize this aim is meditation.
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All contemplative spiritual traditions, whether of the East or the West, converge on the unavoidable practice of meditation in the realization of higher states of awareness and ultimately enlightenment (Ajaya, 1976; Muktananda, 1980). What is meditation? Ram Dass (1999) describes the first stage of meditation as concentration practice and likens it to the willful and conscious focusing of awareness on a single object for sustained periods of time. As described earlier, the buddhi can be conceived of as the light of awareness. In its undisciplined state, the buddhi tends to focus on this and that, illuminating whatever it shines on (e.g., the objects of awareness). Meditation can be conceived of as a process of extricating the awareness from being caught in the ‘‘this and that’’ (e.g., thoughts, feelings, sensationperceptions, actions) of normal waking consciousness. This is accomplished by cultivating a conscious focus of awareness on a single thing (called the ‘‘primary object of meditation’’) rather than allowing the awareness to constantly identify with each passing thought, sensation, feeling, or action. The practice of training one’s awareness on a single object for extended periods of time is often accomplished in an introverted manner, as in the practicing of sitting silently with eyes closed and focusing on a particular object of meditation such as the breath. However, this training can also be done in an extroverted manner (e.g., focusing on a candle flame). Alternatively, the practice of japa refers to the silent repetition of a mantra on the tongue of the mind in appropriate situations of daily life. Such situations exist any time we are awake but are letting our minds wander or are ruminating on particular (often negative) thoughts. Japa is a simple meditation practice that takes the natural activity of the mind as its point of departure and focuses its activity on a single, uplifting ‘‘primary object of meditation’’ such as a sacred phrase or word. When engaged in the practices of meditation or japa, it is common for the awareness to wander away from its primary object of focus. As individuals notice that their awareness has wandered in this way, they are instructed to gently return their focus to the primary object without engaging in any self-judgments concerning lapses in concentration. Slowly, this training of awareness gives it a concentrated quality that begins to disclose deeper levels of being. According to Ram Dass (1999), the second stage of meditation practice is called mindfulness. Mindfulness relies on individuals’ capacities to sustain their concentration for at least some period of time. The practice of mindfulness involves focusing awareness not upon a single thing, but gradually upon more and more of everything, including the fact that we are aware. This leads individuals to participate with full consciousness/awareness in
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every aspect of their lives, including those aspects that were formally denied or suppressed (e.g., experiences of fear or pain in individuals who are ill). This practice of mindfulness is said to involve a simple perceptual shift in which one becomes aware of the fact that one is aware of what one is doing. Ram Dass (1999) likens this to adding another plane of consciousness to our everyday waking consciousness – one that is signified by a meta-awareness of what we are doing. He gives the example of mindful eating. When we are eating, we are enjoying and tasting the food and can be aware of this. The practice of mindfulness adds to this awareness of eating an awareness of being aware of enjoying and tasting the food as we eat. Adding this dimension to our everyday waking experience is called the practice of ‘‘witness consciousness’’ (Muktananda, 1980). By practicing concentration meditation and mindfulness, individuals are slowly able to extricate their awareness from automatically identifying with and becoming attached to the objects of awareness. These two practices eventually disclose a state of awareness unconditioned by any objects. This perfect state of awareness is none other than the Self (Atman), and is said to be characterized by emptiness, peace, clarity, joy, and truth. In this state, Ram Dass (1999) says that ‘‘a new life pattern emerges in which we don’t identify with this and that of experience. The virtues flower. We are no longer afraid. Peace unlimited comes.’’ The seventh, and final center, called sahasrara (‘‘thousand petaled lotus’’), is located in two different places: the bindu at the top and back of the head (associated with the optic system) and the crown of the skull (associated with the pituitary gland; Saraswati, 1996). When individuals are able to raise their awakened kundalini energy to and stabilize it within the sahasrara, an experience labeled enlightenment that is beyond verbal description is said to occur (Kripananda, 1995). Such an experience is said to be ineffable because it involves the dissolution of the subjective and objective poles of consciousness into a sea of brilliant light/sound. It is said to be an experience unity consciousness, of every-thing and no-thing at the same timeless moment (Muktananda, 1972). Conceptually, it is described in the Indian scriptures as undifferentiated absorption (nirvikalpa samadhi) in divinity without form (nirguna Brahman). This is said to be the ultimate goal of life in Hindu Indian traditions and is often symbolized by the depiction of the individual in a beatific state with a halo of light around their head and body. Quite literally, the individual who attains this state is said to become enlightened. Although this state does not lend itself to description, the poetic words of realized beings are nonetheless useful here to get a flavor of it. The Hindu
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poet-saint Tukaram described his realization of the primary aim of all Indian philosophy, the discovery of the nature of the ‘‘I’’ (Raju, 1995), when he wrote: As I meditated on the Lord, my mind and body were transformed. What can one say about that state? My sense of ‘‘I’’-ness has become the Lord. As my mind subsided, it became pure Consciousness, and I saw the entire creation as the Lord’s own form y What can I say? There is only one, only one (Muktananda, 1983, p. vi).
The Sufi poet-saint Rumi alluded to the alteration of his motivation after experiencing the ineffable primary manifestations of divinity (sound and light) in the sahasrara when he wrote: A fire has risen above my tombstone hat. I don’t want learning, or dignity, or respectability. I want this music and this dawn y5
TWO IMPLICATIONS In this final section, I briefly describe two implications of the contemplative psychological concepts of Hindu India presented in this chapter. The first concerns research on life satisfaction and happiness; the second concerns what we recently called I-self education, education that aims to cultivate aspects of individuals’ awareness (Roeser et al., 2005).
Implications for Research on Life Satisfaction and Happiness The field of positive psychology is actively pursuing research on some of the concepts concerning human motivation and happiness presented in this chapter. For instance, in an article entitled ‘‘If we are so rich, why aren’t we happy?’’, Csikszentmihalyi (1999) reviews hypotheses on why gains in economic development and wealth in a country do not seem to produce greater levels of subjective well-being among younger generations compared to their ancestors. The first hypothesis is that growing disparities in wealth between the well-to-do and the rest of the population in these societies make even the relatively affluent members of the middle classes feel ‘‘poor’’ relative to those at the top of the economic ladder. This represents a ‘‘keeping up with the Joneses’’ phenomenon in which individuals make upward rather than
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downward social comparisons in regard to their monetary wealth, with consequences for their egos. Such comparisons reinforce the ego’s habitual sense of lack and limitation. In this case, this sense of lack among relatively well-off individuals is reinforced by comparisons with wealthier individuals who, paradoxically, do not themselves report that their (considerably greater) wealth makes them any happier (Myers, 2000). A second hypothesis is that a paucity of lifestyles by which individuals can claim a ‘‘good life’’ and a ‘‘life of worth’’ independent of the accumulation of material wealth is a cause of why people growing up in nations that have increased their wealth are not happier than their ancestors. A third hypothesis is that individuals experience ‘‘escalating expectations’’ whereby they habituate quickly to a given level of pleasure, wealth, achievement or fame, and thereby desire ever more. Smith (1994), reflecting on the Hindu view of why materialistic pursuits fail to produce lasting happiness said, and I paraphrase, humans can never get enough of what they really do not want insofar as their wants serve to enslave them and rob them of true inner freedom. Theoretically, the hypotheses developed in positive psychology regarding why the materialist pursuit of happiness in external conditions does not confer a lasting happiness were presaged by the contemplative psychologies of Hindu India. Although the explanations for why such materialist pursuits do not ‘‘pay off’’ are different in Indian contemplative psychology, they rather complement the hypotheses offered in traditional psychology. The contemplative psychology of Hindu India suggests that wealth does not produce a lasting happiness because: (a) human beings misidentify themselves with their material needs due to spiritual ignorance and in doing so, project the locus of their freedom and happiness outward and away from its true inner source (Atman); (b) the Atman exists in a contracted state that produces a sense of limitation, lack of wholeness, and unworthiness that human beings attempt to dispel through worldly pursuits such as power, wealth, and fame; (c) material pursuits dissuade the pursuits of other goals up the motivational hierarchy that could bring more happiness (time is limited); and (d) such pursuits create self-perpetuating cycles of behavior in that the attainment of material objects only provides a partial and transient fulfillment that produces more craving ad infinitum. These explanations also provide a spiritual description of why so many individuals are prone to various forms of addictions (National Institute of Drug Abuse (NIDA), 2004). Such addictions are not just related to alcohol and drug abuse, but also rampant consumerism (and its destruction of the physical environment), obsessions with physical beauty and style, abuses of power, and the amassing of unneeded amounts of wealth (e.g., Kasser,
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2002). Similar to positive psychology, India’s contemplative psychology focuses attention upon factors like: (a) ignorance of the true nature of happiness as an inner attitude toward conditions and not conditions themselves; (b) impoverished views of self and concomitant feelings of unworthiness; and (c) impoverished cultural views of the ‘‘good life’’ and the goals that bring it about. In addition to providing an understanding of what fails to produce happiness, contemplative psychology also provides a complementary set of ideas on why other kinds of experiences researched in traditional psychology do seem to produce lasting satisfaction and happiness. For instance, evidence shows unequivocally that life experiences characterized by flow (Csikszentmihalyi, 1999) or intrinsic motivation (Ryan & Deci, 2000) produce states of relatively deep and lasting satisfaction. From the perspective of Hindu contemplative psychology, these effects are a result of the fact that such experiences provide close approximations of the experience of Self (Atman), as truth (sat), awareness (chit) , and love-bliss (ananda). Specifically, these life experiences involve the realizing or mastering of some kind of truth-in-activity, are associated with clarity of awareness and felt inner freedom, and often involve intense emotional and social-emotional experiences associated with joy/bliss. The complementary nature of contemplative and positive psychological insights into what cultivates lasting happiness can be useful in informing the training of educational, health, and mental health professionals. Many of those who become teachers, nurses, physical therapists, social workers, and counselors do so for spiritual (and not usually financial) reasons. These individuals often see their work as a spiritual calling or as a means of serving their conception of Divinity. Much of the work individuals in these fields do concerns the creation of social and physical environments that aim to promote learning, health, and healing in their clients. Thus, there may be times when a judicious and open-minded dialogue that explores the spiritual dimensions of this work is helpful in the cultivation of motivation and professional identity development among these individuals. Specifically, those who educate and train these professionals can initiate dialogues on how the creation of competence-enhancing/truth-revealing; autonomy-supportive/ awareness-expanding, and socially supportive/loving-kind environments (in non-sectarian ways) is good for both the psychological and spiritual health and development of students or clients. Drawing together insights from contemplative and traditional psychology may be useful for tapping into the very motivations that bring individuals into these fields and assisting them in seeing their work in a clear and non-sectarian spiritual light.
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In the end, it is the practices prescribed by Indian philosophic-spiritual traditions that have the most to offer individuals in their pursuit of happiness rather than the metaphysical ideas that characterize these traditions. As millions of human beings already know through their own experience, one does not have to believe in God or Spirit or anything at all to realize the health and psychological benefits of hatha yoga and meditation. These practices disclose their own truths and stress-reduction benefits to the practitioners who take them up. Thus, they need no spiritual embellishments at all to produce beneficial outcomes for practitioners. In the future, more attention needs to be given to the non-metaphysical dimensions and practices embedded in Hindu and Yoga traditions that can inform the scientific work in positive psychology in a manner similar to the ways that Buddhist traditions are doing now (Goleman, 2003).
Implications for I-Self Education Recently, we drew attention to the basic and applied scientific aims of discovering more about the regulatory functions of the I-self and applying such discoveries to the creation of new forms of (I-self) education aimed at developing aspects of students’ awareness (Roeser et al., 2005). For instance, over 100 years ago, William James (1890) noted that the educability of the regulatory capacities of the I-self would be significant when he wrote: the faculty of voluntarily bringing back a wandering attention, over and over again, is the very root of judgment, character, and will y. An education which should improve this faculty would be the education par excellence. But it is easier to define this ideal than to give practical directions for bringing it about (p. 424).
The traditions of India and their instantiation in classical Brahmanical and Buddhist modes of education have traditionally concerned themselves with the development of concentrated (sustained) attention as a central educational aim (Bhajanananda, 2004; Mookerji, 2003). Thus, one wonders if the contemplative traditions of India may have something to offer educators with respect to the development of students’ powers of concentration, mindfulness, and intuition (e.g., Gaskins, 2001). Modern medicine and neuroscience have begun to document how contemplative-educational practices that train attention-awareness such as meditation can have positive influences on individuals’ psychological well-being and self-regulatory capacity (Benson, 1983; Davidson et al., 2004; Goleman, 2003). Furthermore, studies are also beginning to examine how attentional-training can enhance
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concentration and cognitive performance among children with attentiondeficit disorder (see Posner & Rothbart, 2000). The ways in which ancient theory and modern research on the I-self can be applied in schools on a wider scale remains an open but interesting question. Can educators cultivate aspects of young people’s I-selves (buddhis) and thereby enhance their concentration, well-being, and intuitive capacity? Practices such as the martial arts, various forms of hatha yoga (e.g., body postures), enlightened use of memorization, and meditation are the traditional means of cultivating I-self potentials. Some schools in the United States are already beginning to experiment with these practices and research should address the efficacy and effectiveness of such efforts in the coming years. Over 15 centuries of educational practice in India suggest the possibility of cultivating concentration, well-being, and intuition in young people, but the use and effectiveness of practices aimed at these ends awaits both practical innovations and their scientific validation in modern public school settings.
CONCLUSION The purpose of this chapter was to describe several ideas concerning human motivation, self, and development that are found amidst India’s vast spiritual–philosophical traditions collectively referred to as Hinduism. A description of Hinduism, its eight ages of development, and its primary aim of assisting individuals to attain salvation was presented. This was followed by a description of contemplative psychology (de Wit, 1991) and its spiritual view of the human being that is captured by the historical concept of the Great Chain of Being. I discussed how contemplative psychologies both describe and prescribe aspects of human personality, purpose, and development. I then presented several aspects of the contemplative psychology that runs through the different ages of Hinduism. These aspects included models of personality, perspectives on non-conscious and conscious forms of motivation, and a view of the stages and associated goals of life. I ended the chapter with a very brief set of implications for the study of human happiness and the practice of education. The ideas presented here also have relevance for research on ego-attached vs. non-attached forms of motivation, mindful learning, intuition, and wisdom. As the contemplative traditions of Asia are increasingly seen by psychologists as sources of interesting scientific hypotheses and related-clinical and educational practices,
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motivational psychologists may wish to further explore what the contemplative psychology of Hindu India has to offer in these regards.
NOTES 1. Sanskrit terms that refer to the concepts being described in the text are placed in parentheses and italicized. These terms are presented in the standard scholarly transliteration style. 2. Non-dualistic simply means in essence that spirit and matter, human and divinity, are in reality, one even though from the psychological vantage point of everyday normal consciousness it appears that we have a phenomenal ego that is separate from conceptions of Divinity within or without. 3. This view is somewhat different from the way the term salvation is used in many contemporary Christian communities in which a fall/redemption theology is prominent (Fox, 1983). In such communities, salvation is seen as something that is granted by a specific savior, Jesus Christ, who redeems individuals from their fallen, sinful natures. Although there are interesting and important commonalities between Hindu and Christian thought on the nature of salvation, especially at a contemplative level of analysis, this accent on salvation from a sinful nature is not one of them (see Fox, 1983; Pagels, 1979; Prabhavananda, 1985). 4. Translation by Radindranath Tagore (1914/2003). 5. Translation by Barks and Moyne (1995).
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS This work was supported by a senior faculty research grant from the J. William Fulbright Program. The author wishes to thank the US Educational Foundation in India, the World Peace Center at the Maharashtra Institute of Technology in Pune, India, and especially Dr. Steve Peck, Mrinalini Rao, Mukti and Mita Shah for their support of this work. Comments can be directed to the author at
[email protected].
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Schultz, D. P., & Schultz, S. E. (1996). A history of modern psychology. Fort Worth, TX: Harcourt Brace College Publishers. Seligman, M. E. P., & Csikszentmihalyi, M. (2000). Positive psychology: An introduction. American psychologist, 55, 1–14. Smith, H. (1958). The religions of man. New York, NY: Harper & Row. Smith, H. (1992). Forgotten truth: The common vision of the World’s religions. San Francisco, CA: Harper. Smith, H. (1994). The illustrated World’s religions: A guide to our wisdom traditions. San Francisco, CA: Harper Collins. Snow, R. E., Corno, L., & Jackson, D. (1996). Individual differences in affective and conative functions. In: D. C. Berliner & R. C. Calfee (Eds), Handbook of educational psychology (pp. 243–310). New York, NY: Simon & Schuster Macmillan. Stern, D. N. (2000). The interpersonal world of the infant: A view from psychoanalysis and developmental psychology. New York, NY: Basic Books. Tagore, R. (Translator, 1914/2003). One hundred poems of Kabir. New Delhi, India: Chronicle Books. Tart, C. T. (1986). Waking up: Overcoming the obstacles to human potential. Boston, MA: New Science Library. Vedanta Society of Northern California (2002, May). What is Vedanta? San Francisco, CA: Vedanta Society. Vivekananda, S. (n.d.). Swami Vivekananda: Life, works and research. Kolkata, India: Advaita Ashrama. Weightman, S. (1991). Hinduism. In: J. R. Hinnells (Ed.), A handbook of living religions (pp. 191–236). England: Penguin. Weiner, B. (1992). Human motivation: Metaphors, theories, and research. Newbury Park, CA: Sage Publication. Wilbur, K. (1980). The Atman Project: A transpersonal view of human development. Wheaton, IL: Theosophical Publishing House. Wilbur, K. (1993). The Great Chain of Being. In: R. Walsh & F. Vaughan (Eds), Paths beyond ego: The transpersonal vision (pp. 214–222). Los Angeles, CA: Tarcher. Wilbur, K. (1998). The marriage of sense and soul: Integrating science and religion. New York, NY: Broadway Books. Zimmer, H. (1951). In: J. Campbell (Ed.), Philosophies of India. New York, NY: Princeton University Press.
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THE ASIAN INDIAN HINDU ADOLESCENT IN AMERICA: RELIGIOUS IDENTITY AND THE NEED TO BELONG Revathy Kumar The last four decades have seen an influx of immigrants from Asian countries into the United States. In contrast to earlier immigrants who came primarily from Judeo-Christian Europe, many of these new immigrants have brought Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, and other religions unfamiliar to Americans prior to the mid-1960s (Ebaugh, 2003). These immigrants face several challenges as they try to maintain their cultural integrity and at the same time ‘‘fit in’’ to American society. Though religion continues to be important for these immigrants, little scholarly attention is given to the role of religion in immigrants’ lives. Few studies have examined how immigrants reconstruct and experience their religion and religious identity as they adapt to the host country (Ebaugh, 2003). The ever-increasing diversity in America makes this a particularly important and relevant issue – one that needs to be examined in greater depth and detail (Warner, 1993). Immigrants from different nations bring with them many competing identities. They differ in the way they emphasize and integrate these various identities in the host country. While national origin is important to their ethnic identity, religion is also of key importance, often becoming the symbol of identity and of difference from American society. The hyphenated
Motivation and Religion Advances in Motivation and Achievement, Volume 14, 347–371 Copyright r 2005 by Elsevier Ltd. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0749-7423/doi:10.1016/S0749-7423(05)14012-6
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ethnic and religious labeling of minority groups such as Irish Catholics, Polish Jews, German Lutherans, and Asian Indian Hindus is an indication of the close intertwining of religion and ethnicity in people’s cultural identity. For some immigrants, their religious identity is more important than their ethnic membership, while for others, religious institutions are a means to recognize and establish their ethnic identity. Therefore, Greeley (1971, p. 72) suggests approaching the situation from the view ‘‘that religion and ethnicity are intertwined, that religion plays an ethnic function in American society and ethnicity has powerful religious overtones.’’ The act of uprooting from their home country and resettling in the United States produces an intensification of religious commitment among immigrants (Phalet & Schonpflug, 2001). The underlying motivation for this enhanced religious commitment arises mainly out of a need to establish social bonds to replace those severed due to immigration. In order to satisfy the need for close interpersonal relationships with others like them, immigrants’ community life often centers on the religious traditions they bring from their homeland. According to Williams (1988, p. 11), ‘‘Immigrants are religious – by all accounts more religious than they were before they left home – because religion is one of the identity markers that helps preserve individual self-awareness and cohesion in a group.’’ For example, religion was the defining feature distinguishing Irish Catholics from Irish Protestants and Polish Jews from Polish Catholics. Religion continues to be the defining feature and unifying factor for more recent immigrants such as the Asian Indian Hindus, differentiating them from Asian Indian Moslems and Christians. However, unlike the earlier immigrants, melding into the mainstream society is harder for these newer immigrants because of the obvious physical characteristics that distinguish them. Furthermore, Asian Indian Hindus, who were part of the majority religious community in their home country, upon immigration to the United States find themselves to be one of the many, often unrecognized, minority religions in the country. This chapter examines issues surrounding Asian Indian Hindu1 adolescents’ quest for belonging, self-affirmation, and self-integrity as they negotiate their identity in the face of motivational pressures prompted by exclusion and disaffirmation in the school and peer contexts.
THE NEED TO BELONG: THE UNIFYING FORCE AMONG IMMIGRANT MINORITY COMMUNITIES The need to belong, the need to form strong and stable relationships, is a fundamental, innate human motivation. People across cultures feel the need
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to maintain regular meaningful social relationships, without which they experience feelings of loneliness and alienation (Maslow, 1968; Baumeister & Leary, 1995). The forming of social bonds and the maintaining of long-term relationships is vital for individuals’ emotional well-being (Laurencelle, Abell, & Schwartz, 2002; George, Ellison, & Larson, 2002). People who do not have adequate supportive relationships suffer emotional distress, feel negative about themselves, and experience higher levels of mental and physical illness (Baumeister & Leary, 1995). Leary and his colleagues (Leary, Tambor, Terdal, & Downs, 1995) proposed that an individual’s self-esteem serves the function of a sociometer, an internal marker of one’s social connectedness, the degree to which the individual feels included versus excluded by other people. In order to feel good about themselves and maintain high self-esteem, people are motivated to seek inclusion and avoid exclusion. This is often jeopardized during the process of immigration with the breaking of social bonds and the weakening of long-held, stable relationships from friends and family in the home country. The resulting sense of alienation is exacerbated when immigrants feel excluded and often unwelcome in the host country. In an attempt to overcome this sense of social isolation and exclusion, fellow immigrants often are drawn to each other. Over the years, this sense of social isolation and exclusion is mitigated, at least to some degree, by establishing bonds and developing new relationships with fellow immigrants who share the same cultural and religious background. These bonds are forged and strengthened as the result of perceived shared experiences before migration and a sense of a shared destiny as a consequence of migration. Through the process of coming together with other individuals from the same background to create religious community organizations such as churches, temples, and mosques, immigrants create a safe haven – a space where they can interact with their own. This is self-affirming and satisfies, to some degree their need to belong. Children of immigrants, those who are born in America or those who immigrate along with their parents at a very early age, find themselves living at the interface of different cultures. In the process of establishing and sustaining their own social identity, including their religious and ethnic identities, they often have to face the difficult task of reconciling and negotiating differences between their natal culture and the mainstream culture. Attempting to maintain positive relationships with people, particularly in contexts where one is viewed as different and distinct from others, raises concerns regarding belongingness for adolescent immigrants. Social estrangement and feelings of alienation, particularly within the school context,
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can lead to negative psychological consequences, jeopardizing adolescent immigrants’ school adjustment and motivation to learn (Davidson, 1996). The need for community becomes urgent when we consider the repercussions lacking a sense of belonging can have both on their emotional and academic well-being. Membership in religious organizations where these adolescents experience the safety and intimacy of interacting with adults and adolescents from their own community is likely to act as a buffer, ameliorating to some degree the lack of belonging experienced in other social contexts like school. Therefore, the purpose of this chapter is to explore the role of adolescent Indian Hindu immigrants’ identification with, and participation in, religious organizations and their religious identity in meeting their need for belonging, self-affirmation, and acceptance in the different social and cultural contexts of home, school, and peers. To this end, the chapter draws upon a study of Indian adolescents who are members of a Hindu religious organization. This study examines the role of membership in the religious institution in meeting these adolescents’ need for social support and belonging within the community context and in helping them develop linkages between the community and mainstream contexts. The following section provides a brief description of the development and role of religious identity in adolescent immigrants’ lives before turning specifically to the role of religion and religious institutions in the lives of Indian Hindu adolescents.
RELIGIOUS IDENTITY AND THE ADOLESCENT IMMIGRANT Religious identity is not altogether a matter of choice for many children and adolescents. They are born into it. It is not surprising, therefore, that the most powerful predictor of adolescents’ religiosity and religious involvement is the religious involvement of their parents (Myers, 1996; Willits & Crider, 1989). It is through parents that children and adolescents are first exposed to the cultural values and traditions that embody their religious beliefs. It is through the process of socialization, by shaping children’s religious values and behaviors, that the seeds of religious identity take root (Acock & Bengston, 1978; Hunsberger, 1985). This process of preserving religious identity among the younger generation is particularly apparent among tightly knit immigrant families and communities as parents strenuously pursue the process of socialization and transmission of traditional religious values to
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their children (Alamdar-Niemann, Bergs-Winkels, & Merkens, 1991; Phalet & Schonpflug, 2001) – often within the context of their temples, mosques, and churches. Thus religious identity and the concomitant set of distinctive values and beliefs associated with it are an integral part of adolescent immigrants’ social identity, influencing their thoughts, feelings, and interactions both in the community context and in the larger mainstream context. While recognizing that immigrant parents and their children actively make and mold their own social identity, it is also important to ask to what extent they are free to define their own identity and to what extent their identity is defined for them by powerful others. To understand the role of religious identity in enhancing feelings of inclusion and avoiding feelings of exclusion among immigrant children and adolescents in the community and in mainstream contexts, we need to pay close attention to the role of institutional power and majority attitudes toward valued and devalued immigrants. Valued immigrants, that is, immigrants whose language, culture, and religion are similar to the host culture, are usually welcomed to integrate into the mainstream society (Berry, Kim, Minde, & Mok, 1987). On the other hand, members of the mainstream society are more likely to adopt segregationist and exclusionary attitudes toward devalued immigrant outgroups for which they already have negative stereotypes or whose culture and religion may be felt to differ considerably from their own (Bourhis, Moise, Perreault, & Senecal, 1997; Montreuil & Bourhis, 2001). Thus, in mainstream contexts such as the schools, these adolescent immigrants’ cultural and religious identity remains a salient and devalued aspect of their social identity. For example, in an earlier study, some Chaldean Christian adolescent immigrants from a village in northern Iraq reported feeling stereotyped and sometimes ostracized by their peers because of their Chaldean background (Kumar, 2003). As one Chaldean female adolescent remarked during the course of an interview: Most of my close friends are Chaldean. Other students who weren’t Chaldean didn’t want to get to know me because I am different from them. Most of my friends are Chaldean but that is not my fault, but it’s kind of how the society is.
The remark ‘‘that is not my fault’’ can be interpreted as an attempt to restore self-esteem by disassociating from her personal self the rejection this adolescent felt by her non-Chaldean classmates by attributing it to what she perceived as pervasive prejudice against her community. Consequently, religious identity can simultaneously be a strong source of social support and a source of alienation in adolescent immigrants’ lives. As Exline (2002, p. 183) points out, religious involvement can help to meet a
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person’s need to belong and may at the same time threaten that same need. Religion can be the reason for inclusion within one social context and the reason for exclusion in another; it can be the source of dissonance and disaffirmation or it can be the source of self-affirmation for religious minority adolescents.
RELIGIOUS IDENTITY AMONG ASIAN INDIAN HINDUS IN THE UNITED STATES According to the 1990 census, over 800,000 people of Indian origin live in the United States, of whom approximately 65% probably are of a Hindu background. The Asian Indian Hindu community is very heterogeneous; it comprises people from all parts of the Indian subcontinent who practice Hinduism in their own traditional way. Hinduism has often been described as more a culture, a way of life, rather than a religion (Vishwanathan, 1992). The Encyclopedia Britannica (1993) defines Hinduism as a congregation of religions that has neither a beginning, nor a founder, nor a central authority figure. Hinduism encompasses an extraordinary diversity of religious practices with not one, but several, sacred books. The nature and character of Hinduism practiced by people from different parts of India vary depending on region of the country, language, and caste. However, in the United States, Hinduism is being transformed into ‘‘American Hinduism’’ or ‘‘Ecumenical Hinduism’’ (Williams, 1988, p. 238–240). Williams (1988) suggests that while there is some sectarianism based on language and subcultural differences, a certain uniformity is developing in the Hinduism practiced by Asian Indians in the United States. Thus, Indian immigrants coming to the United States are socialized into a pan-Indian Hinduism that transcends language and other subcultural differences. Like most other immigrants, Indian Hindus also face the challenge of maintaining their cultural and personal integrity while at the same time fitting into the larger society. According to Kurien (1998), asserting their pride in their Hindu Indian heritage has become a way for Indian Hindus to claim a position for themselves in the multicultural discourse. Religion becomes a key symbol of their identity and their cultural heritage, as well as of their difference from mainstream American society, as they congregate in the temples they build and the religious organizations they form. The Hindu temples and religious organizations are not just narrowly ‘‘religious.’’ They are centers of cultural socialization ensuring that younger generations learn
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about their Indian heritage (Ramanathan, in press). The finding that religious identities and practices of the home country are not forgotten over time and that Indians in the United States have tended to become more community-oriented and more religious, as well as more ‘‘Indianized’’ over time (Kurien, 1998), attests to the increased need when living in a different and often alien cultural context to form strong social bonds, develop close interrelationships, and form allegiance with people from similar backgrounds.
TEMPLES AS ANCHORS OF IDENTITY AND A SOURCE OF SELF-AFFIRMATION AND SUPPORT In India, as Fenton (1988) points out, children ‘‘breathe the values of Hindu life.’’ In the United States, on the other hand, family and community members are required to make a conscious and deliberate effort to teach children about their religious heritage. Hindu temples and religious institutions play a very important role in this process, inculcating Hindu values and beliefs into children from a very early age, as well as expectations of what it means to be an Indian Hindu within an American society. Over the past two decades, Indians have built several Hindu temples in and around major cities and centers with sizable Indian communities. One such religious institution is the Chinmaya Avantika Mission Center located in Ann Arbor, Michigan. The sample for the study reported subsequently comprises adolescents attending the Sunday school Bala Vihar,2 as it is called, at this mission center. This Indian Hindu sample3 was selected with the specific purpose of exploring the nature of social support that membership and participation in a closely knit religious community provides adolescents and what, if any, impact it has on these adolescents’ functioning in the larger mainstream context of the school. The Chinmaya Mission Movement originated in India under the aegis of Swami Chinmayananda and now has several centers in different cities across North America. Bala Vihar and the center provide the physical space and the social networks that enable parents and their offspring to maintain their values, traditions, and customs in the midst of American society, which sometimes feels alien and strange. Bala Vihar is a forum through which children learn about different aspects of Hindu culture and philosophy. They are introduced to the Holy Scriptures, learn prayers and hymns, and read the works of Hindu spiritual
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leaders. Children and adolescents are taught to recite verses from the Bhagavad Gita, the most holy of Hindu scriptures, and discuss the epic stories of Ramayana and Mahabaratha, along with other religious parables. They are taught values fundamental to Hindu beliefs, and older students discuss the practical relevance and importance of these moral and ethical values in facing their day-to-day challenges and obstacles growing up as Indian Hindus in American society. Older adolescents are actively encouraged to develop leadership skills as they undergo training during the 11th grade to become Bala Vihar teachers. As 12th graders they take on the role of teaching assistants, helping adult teachers to teach younger children and at the same time strengthening their own understanding of Hinduism. In examining the ways by which religious rituals create social solidarity, Warner (1997) observes that music, posturing, rhythmic movement, and eating are human experiences that create a community and define boundaries and identities, and also sometimes allow for a bridging of those boundaries. These ritualistic actions that produce solidarity and consolidate the community through singing and reciting hymns and gesturing in unison can be observed during the weekly Sunday meetings and during the celebration of religious and cultural festivals at the Chinmaya Mission Center. This solidarity and the emotional power of doing things together help mission members feel more ‘‘at home’’ in a sometimes strange land. That the mission is more than a religious center is attested to by its sponsorship of several secular activities such as language classes, tutoring classes for college preparation and admission, fund-raisers, summer camps for the youth, and celebrations such as India’s Republic Day. Members of the congregation provide each other with concrete resources on how to achieve educational success. This includes high school summer programs, extracurricular activities, and test-preparing and test-taking strategies, which have proven most successful in applying for university admission, particularly admission to the more prestigious universities. Kurien’s (1998) ethnographic description of a smaller Bala Vihar center located on the West Coast reports similar activities and support that its community members share. Along with celebrating religious festivals like Deepavali (festival of lights) and Shankranti (harvest festival), parents and children at the Chinmaya Avantika Center expend considerable energy planning for, and participating in, India’s Republic Day celebration. During this event, children and adolescents present music, dances, and skits that run a gamut of themes, both religious and nonreligious, some addressing social issues such as the importance of tolerance and acceptance of diversity in today’s divided society.
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This whole-day event culminates with the singing of both the Indian and the American national anthem – an acknowledgment of the dual loyalties of the congregation to the home and host countries. Thus, participating in Bala Vihar and engaging in shared activities with other members enable these adolescents to forge close relationships with each other, thereby deepening their sense of belonging to the community. Further, informal network among the community members, adults and adolescents alike, constitutes a major pathway for gaining access to services and information for facing challenges, adjusting, and achieving academic success within the larger mainstream society.
A STUDY OF ADOLESCENTS’ PERCEPTIONS OF THEIR HINDU IDENTITY AND SOCIAL SUPPORT WITHIN THE INDIAN COMMUNITY The process of constructing and deconstructing social identity – of asking questions such as ‘‘Who am I?’’ and ‘‘Where do I belong?’’ – begins, according to Bauman (1996) and Ammerman (2003), when individuals are uprooted from traditional spaces and relationships into new and unfamiliar social worlds. This is true for immigrant parents and often for their children, particularly when they perceive incongruities between their home and mainstream culture or when they see themselves as distinctive and different from their mainstream peers. To examine whether participation in Bala Vihar and in the cultural activities of the Mission Center helped Indian Hindu children and adolescents deal with these issues by shaping and strengthening their religious identities, as well as by providing them opportunities to develop close social ties with members of their own community, surveys were administered to the students on a Sunday morning when Bala Vihar was in session. Survey and Sample The survey included measures of religious identity (pride and belonging to the religious community), feelings of dissonance between home and school cultures, religious in-group identification, mainstream identification, discomfort in interacting with peers who are from different backgrounds, and discomfort in being a numerical minority in social situations (see the appendix for sample items). All the items were on a 5-point scale ranging from
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1 ¼ ‘‘Not at all true’’ to 3 ¼ Somewhat true to 5 ¼ ‘‘Very true.’’ The survey also included several open-ended questions to provide adolescents an opportunity to explain their reasons for attending Bala Vihar and how it affected their life in school. Forty-six adolescents from grades six to twelve (14 sixth graders, 7 seventh graders, 5 eighth graders, 6 ninth graders, 6 tenth graders, 4 eleventh graders, and 4 twelfth graders) who attended Bala Vihar participated in this study. Two-thirds of the sample reported that they were born in this country. However, all the adolescents were children of immigrant parents, except for three adolescents who were offspring of mixed marriages. This sample of students as a whole was from highly educated family backgrounds. Based on adolescents’ reports, 52% of mothers and 78% of fathers held postgraduate degrees, and 36% of mothers and 15% of fathers had graduated from college. In general, one or both parents were employed in well-paying jobs, many as doctors, engineers, or researchers and professors in the nearby universities, pharmaceutical, and automobile industries. Thus, high levels of education, combined with well-paying jobs and fluency in English, enabled these parents to have connections and close relationships in the workplace with members of the mainstream culture. At the same time, these parents also had strong connections to their Indian Hindu roots, as demonstrated by their commitment to and participation in religious and community activities at the Chinmaya Avantika Center. The parents of the adolescents in this study were actively engaged in selective integration into the mainstream society, assimilating characteristics and behaviors required to succeed within the existing occupational structure. Simultaneously, they retained traditional religious values and behaviors and maintained a strong social network within their own ethnoreligious community. Thus, as immigrants, parents were constantly working toward maintaining their religious identity and cultural heritage and developing strong social bonds with other members of the community, while at the same time attempting to find their niche in the larger mainstream society. Growing up within this environment, these adolescents had the advantage of a strong cultural and economic capital. Further, these adolescents were being socialized to maintain their religious roots and at the same time retain the flexibility to adapt, integrate, and succeed within the paradigms set by the mainstream society. Thus, from their early years these adolescents are taught both to maintain involvement in the Indian Hindu culture and to develop competence within the mainstream culture. Race, religion, and affiliation to America combined in different ways in defining these adolescents’ identity. Fifty-five percent of the adolescents
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identified themselves as Asian Indian American Hindu, 20% identified themselves as Asian Indian American, and 17.8% and 6.6% identified themselves as Asian Indian Hindu and Asian Indian, respectively. Though all the adolescents did not identify themselves as ‘‘Hindu,’’ and about 20% of these adolescents indicated that it was hard to maintain their religious identity in this country, the group as a whole identified strongly with their religious background (M ¼ 4:13; SD ¼ 0:61). Perceived Social Support Almost all the adolescents felt that their religious community was a source of support, and every one of the adolescents reported that they were proud of their religious group membership and indicated that their religious background defined who they were. Their desire to be part of the Chinmaya Mission was further supported by the fact that 85% of the sample reported that they enjoyed attending Bala Vihar. Responding to open-ended questions regarding the role of Bala Vihar in their lives, several adolescents reported that they believed Bala Vihar to be an essential part of their education about their religion and heritage. Most importantly, as indicated in the quotes below, they viewed Bala Vihar as necessary for their interaction with other Indian friends. I have a lot of friends in Balavihar and I like to meet them. Balavihar is also lot[s] of fun. My parents also want me to come (11-year-old male). Because that is where my friends are (11-year-old female). To be truthful, at first my parents made me come but now I want to meet my friends (14-year-old male). Its [sic] fun and keeps you attached to your culture (14-year old female). When I was younger, my parent[s] made me come. Then I made a lot of friends in BV (Balavihar) and had fun in participating in things like Republic Day. Now I come for my friends, the things I learn about my religion, and for the functions like Republic Day (16year-old female). I think it is important to learn about my culture, origin, and religion, as well as interact with others who feel the same (16-year-old female). It allows me to participate in my religion as well as experience these events with my friends (18-year-old male).
Comments made by some of the older adolescents suggest that they valued the opportunity provided by their religious institution to share common religious and cultural experiences with friends, thereby strengthening their social ties within the community and enhancing their feelings of pride in their religious and cultural heritage. Though the sample size is small, it is important to note that for this sample of adolescents, a strong religious
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identity marked by pride in one’s religious group, participation in religious practices, and perception of the religious community as a source of support was significantly positively correlated (r ¼ 0:53; po0:001) with a strong orientation toward friends from the same religious background. They are drawn to other Indian Hindu adolescents to form bonds based on a shared identity. Their need for affirmation and social support is met through an accumulation of interactions, the sense of having a history of shared experiences, and internalization of beliefs and practices held in common with their peers and adults in the organization. Unlike some other immigrant congregations (e.g., Yang, 1999), the success of Avantika Mission Center in maintaining the continued interest of children, adolescents, and young adults is the result of emphasizing what is meaningful and attractive to them. Through Bala Vihar, which is geared specifically to teaching children and adolescents about their religious and cultural heritage, the Mission engages youth in social and group activities where they interact in a fairly informal way with their peers, parents who volunteer as teachers, and 12th-grade student teachers. Much of what the children read, including the mission’s pledge, which is recited at the beginning of the Bala Vihar session every Sunday, is in simple English that everyone can understand. Further, all the children and adolescents are involved in cultural and religious celebrations such as India’s Republic Day, Deepavali, and Thanksgiving, in which they are required to play an active participatory role, thereby helping them bond closer with each other and with the organization itself. Along with striving to inculcate into Indian Hindus an appreciation for and understanding of their own heritage, the Avantika Mission Center attempts to position itself as a Hindu religious center within the mainstream American culture. For example, in addition to celebrating Indian festivals, members of the congregation celebrate traditional American festivals like Thanksgiving together, with the community taking the place of family members left behind. Such celebrations serve the dual purpose of enabling parents and their children, including adolescents, to bond with other members of the community and at the same time declare their allegiance to and membership in the host country.
Negotiating an Indian Hindu Identity within the School Context Group affiliation and formation of allegiances to groups is particularly important during the adolescent years. Early adolescence is characterized by
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an intense preoccupation with group belonging and alienation (Newman & Newman, 2001). Adolescents have the cognitive complexity to realize that their social identity operates differently in different social contexts. While it can be the source of bonding and closeness in one context, it may be the source of alienation and rejection in another. Adolescents may find that, while belonging to a minority ethno-religious group can be a powerful source of support within the community, it also creates a distance between them and their mainstream peers in school. With their capacity for reflective thinking, adolescents are better able to understand social relationships, the implications of belonging to one group as opposed to another. As adolescents become aware of the status hierarchy of the groups in their school, they recognize how others view their group. According to self-affirmation and self-evaluation theorists, people avoid circumstances and contexts in which they feel devalued (Tesser & Martin, 1996; Steele, 1988). However, this is often not a viable option for immigrant religious- and ethnic-minority adolescents, who experience a sense of alienation and disaffirmation in their daily encounters with the mainstream culture in school and who are constantly confronted with situations and contexts in which their religious identification and the values and beliefs associated with this identification are sources of disaffirmation (Lemyre & Smith, 1985). Berry and his associates characterize this feeling of alienation and loss of identity as acculturative stress (Berry, 1984; Berry et al., 1987). These researchers found that acculturative stress varies as a function of the traditional culture and behaviors that characterize the community. Acculturative stress was also greater in communities where there was greater cultural and behavioral disparity between the two groups and where there was stronger pressure placed upon the traditional community to become acculturated. For example, in the study with Chaldean Christian adolescents described earlier, adolescents often felt that school was a dissonant environment (Kumar, 2003). They experienced acculturative stress despite the fact that they shared a common Christian faith with the mainstream culture. As one Chaldean adolescent remarked, ‘‘This is not really my world; I belong to a different country – a different religion.’’ Berry describes the negotiation process that takes place during crosscultural encounters in terms of acculturative strategies, with four possible results, namely, integration, assimilation, segregation, and marginalization (Berry, Kim, Power, Young, & Bujaki, 1989). These four strategies characterize individuals’ orientation regarding their own traditional cultural identity, on the one hand, and ways of keeping contact with members of the mainstream culture, on the other. Research based on Social Identity Theory
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(Tajfel, 1978; Tajfel & Turner, 1986) suggests that while most people demonstrate an in-group bias, holding more positive attitudes toward one’s own group than toward other groups, people from a lower status group may demonstrate an out-group bias, showing a preference for higher status outgroups. However, an in-group bias does not necessarily translate into negative attitudes toward other groups (Messick & Mackie, 1989; Tajfel & Turner, 1986). In fact, research suggests that individuals who hold a secure ethnic or racial identity (Cross, 1991; Helms, 1990; Phinney, 1989, 1997) and who have a secure sense of their own culture (Berry, 1984) are also more likely to be more open to other groups and to have positive intergroup attitudes. As mentioned earlier, it is important to note that these acculturation strategies are not always a matter of choice and are constrained by the willingness of members of mainstream society to allow cultural participation across religious and ethnic lines. Extending these research findings to Indian Hindu adolescents who are actively involved in their religious community, their strong religious identity not only orients them toward members of their own religious community but also should encourage them to feel positive about the mainstream context. Indeed, for this sample of adolescents, wanting to be with their Indian friends in Bala Vihar did not preclude them from having other friends. Most adolescents (72%) reported that they valued both their Bala Vihar and American friends. Further, adolescents with a strong religious identity were significantly less likely (r ¼ 0:44; po0:003) to be upset because of perceived cultural differences between their natal and host cultures. Results based on one-way analysis of variance indicated that adolescents who reported close friendships with both Bala Vihar and other American peers were least likely to experience stress due to perceived cultural conflict between home and mainstream culture; while adolescents who reported having close friendships exclusively with their mainstream American peers felt the discomfort associated with perceived cultural differences from their mainstream peers [F ð3; 39Þ ¼ 6:74; po0:004]. It is likely that having friends from their own immigrant religious minority community, some of whom also attended the same school, acted as a buffer against feeling that they did not fit into the school milieu. On the other hand, it is possible that adolescents who were actively seeking out friendships only with their mainstream peers experienced the differences between themselves and their mainstream friends more acutely. Adolescents’ religious identity, along with the significance and implications of this identity as perceived by peers and teachers, is likely to affect their acceptance or alienation in school. Their distinctive physical appearance, the stereotyped markers associated with Indian Hindu adolescents, or just the
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lack of knowledge and strangeness associated with individuals of unknown ethno-religious backgrounds can be hurdles in forming interpersonal ties that provide a feeling of acceptance and emotional support. When Indian Hindu adolescents attempt to bridge this barrier with their mainstream peers, it may not be entirely reciprocated. In an ethnographic study of a small set of Indian Hindu families, Kurien (1998) observed that Indian Hindus are a highly successful group of immigrants who have been able to ‘‘fit in’’ while remaining different, immigrants who have integrated into American society while maintaining their religious and cultural distinctiveness. The author’s criteria for fitting in seem to be equated with economic prosperity and admission into prestigious Ivy League universities – a notion consistent with the stereotype of ‘‘model minority’’ associated with all Asian immigrants. This notion of ‘‘fitting in’’ does not take into account adolescents’ need for belonging and inclusion not only within the community context but also within other mainstream contexts, most particularly the school context. Fitting in with school peers plays an extremely important role in the psychological well-being of adolescents, one that might prove to be difficult for Indian Hindu adolescents because of their minority status. It is interesting to note that despite the attendance of most adolescents in this study at very culturally diverse middle and high schools, with Asians constituting 21% of the student population, about 48% of them endorsed the statement that they participated in mainstream traditions to fit in with their classmates. Further, even though most of these adolescents did not believe that their religion set them apart from their classmates in school, several of them (21%) said, if given a choice, they would like to change their name to sound more American. This is not surprising given the overriding concern regarding fitting in with peers and avoiding rejection during the adolescent years. Problems associated with Asian Indian adolescents’ attempts to fit into the school peer context are further complicated by the sometimes discordant values and behavioral expectations of parents and peers. Forty percent of these adolescents indicated that their parents did not seem to understand how important it was for them to do things or behave in certain ways in order to fit in with their mainstream peers. Behaviors viewed as normal and adaptive by mainstream peers are often regarded as inappropriate by Asian Indian parents. These findings suggest that many adolescent Indian Hindus fear that they may find themselves playing marginal roles in mainstream peer group contexts. Forging positive friendships and peer relationships both within and outside the religious community – important elements for healthy development – is neither simple nor easy for ethno-religious
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minority adolescents such as Asian Indians. Difficulty in forming strong social relationships within the peer context increases their risk of various forms of mistreatment by peers (Graham & Juvonen, 2002), exclusion from peer activities (Ladd, 1988), and maladaptive academic motivations (Ryan, Hicks, & Midgley, 1996). Attributing their lack of popularity within the peer circle to their ethnic and religious background, causes that are both internal and stable, is also likely to increase their loneliness (Bukowski & Farber, 1987), along with the negative affect and other problems associated with such loneliness.
Negotiating the Female Indian Hindu Identity Research suggests that religious identification and connections within the religious community can sometimes prove to be problematic in cross-cultural settings, particularly for girls from conservative religious backgrounds (Alamdar-Niemann et al.,1991; Kumar, 2003; Talbani & Hasanali, 2000). Several girls in this study, primarily 7th, 8th, and 9th graders, voiced concerns about negotiating their female Indian Hindu identity between the traditional culture at home and the more unorthodox culture at school. They stated that their religious background and their affiliation to Bala Vihar required them to dress and to behave conservatively, thereby preventing them from fitting in well with their American peers. This is not surprising, because it is during this period in adolescence that there is increasingly more contact with opposite sex peers as puberty stimulates adolescents’ interest in opposite sex relationships (Brown, 1990; Larson & Richards, 1991). However, 39% of the whole sample and 71% of 7th- to 9th-grade adolescents indicated that their parents did not approve of dating, a practice that is approved of and expected by a large segment of the mainstream society. These findings are in line with earlier work indicating that renegotiating and redefining gender roles is likely to be particularly difficult for female adolescents from collectivistic and conservative Eastern cultures now living in the United States (Alamdar-Niemann et al., 1991). As the Chaldean Christian girls in a previous study stated (Kumar, 2003), their parents did not approve of their going to parties, talking to boys, dating, or staying after school for extracurricular activities. As one of the Chaldean girls explained, ‘‘You can never go out with a boy, or hang out with a boy, or talk with a boy.’’ There is no evidence to suggest that Indian Hindu parents engaged in such restrictive practices. However, many Indian Hindu parents feel
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ambivalent about the issue of dating and view it negatively because of their own conservative religious and cultural upbringing in which such practices are frowned upon. This rift between parents’ beliefs and behavioral expectations, based on their own religious and cultural upbringing, and the beliefs and behavioral expectations their children are exposed to in the mainstream context, may contribute to adolescents’ feelings of exclusion in their peer and school contexts and result in intergenerational conflict within the home and community context (Szapocznik & Kurtines, 1993). Thus, for adolescent girls, negotiating their gendered Indian Hindu identity across multiple contexts may prove to be problematic at times. The Role of Bala Vihar in Promoting Inclusion and Adjustment within the School Context Adolescents were asked to describe whether and in what way involvement in Bala Vihar contributed to their ‘‘fitting in’’ or ‘‘not fitting in’’ with their peers in school. They were fairly unanimous in stating that involvement in their religious community had little to do with their adjustment or sense of belonging in school. However, statements made by students in response to describing the role of Bala Vihar in their lives suggest that involvement in Bala Vihar may have a more indirect than direct effect on their school life. As one 11th-grade female student commented, May be [sic] reciting bajans (hymns) or prayers before a test does not help; however the concepts that we learned during the 10th and 11th grades definitely help. Concepts about concentration, goals, and determination are all engrained in the Self Unfoldment book and the Bhagavad-Gita. These help me in schoolwork and all other activities.
Another 12th-grade male student echoed the same sentiments when he stated, Even if I do not consciously apply what I learn at Balavihar every day, I am sure that I indirectly remember what I learn and it influences my decisions.
Younger adolescents’ descriptions of the role of Bala Vihar in their lives suggests that the stories and parables they read and the discussions they had in their religion class every Sunday taught them the importance of discipline, concentration, and effort to achieve success in life. As one 6th-grade student remarked, Balavihar helps me because it teaches me that to always try your best is important. They teach you important things that you should do to succeed in life.
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Remarks made by several students reflected the role of Bala Vihar more generally on how it shaped their beliefs, regardless of the context they were in. One 10th-grade student summed it up succinctly, stating: The values we learn and the meanings of the prayers, stories, and pledge are very clear and easy to understand. They teach you to respect everyone and not be selfish. They clear your mind of bad ideas and things. Learning these and reciting them every Sunday makes you a better person in school and everywhere else.
While several adolescents acknowledged that involvement in Bala Vihar contributed to their attitude and work ethic regarding their schoolwork and to greater tolerance of differences among their peers, most adolescents felt that involvement in their religious organization did not have any direct impact on their life in school. It is important to bear in mind that several of the adolescents in this sample lived in culturally diverse neighborhoods and that the schools they attended reflected this diversity, with approximately 40% of the students from several cultural groups other than mainstream Caucasian. Thus cultural diversity, being the norm rather than the exception in these schools, probably made adjustment to school somewhat easier for this sample of religious minority Indian Hindu adolescents. It is important to examine the role that a religious organization like the Chinmaya Avantika Mission Center may play in the lives of those religious minority adolescents who are not fortunate to live and learn in such a culturally diverse community. Religion as a Source of Alienation within a ‘‘Secular’’ School Context The issue of the role of religion in public schools is a controversial subject. Public schools are required to maintain neutrality regarding religion, acknowledging all religions and endorsing none. However, religion does not get left at the doors of our public schools; it enters our classroom through students, teachers, and even the curriculum. In his guidelines regarding religious expression and activity permitted in our public schools the US Secretary of Education under President Clinton, Richard Wiley (n.d.) stated that public schools could neither foster religion nor preclude it. The guidelines provided in this report indicate that schools must treat all religions with fairness and respect. These guidelines also make provision for the celebration of the secular aspects of religious holidays. In an effort to clarify these guidelines for public schools, the Anti-Defamation League (2003) states that temporary secular displays of the season and perhaps also holidays with a religious origin are permissible for schools wishing to recognize
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seasonal holidays . Further, based on the Supreme Court ruling regarding symbolic religious displays on public property, the Anti-Defamation League also suggests that if symbols that depict religious holidays are used, the display should visually represent holidays of several religions. However, while Christmas trees and Santa Claus images are regularly displayed in schools as celebrations of the holiday season because they are considered more secular than religious symbols and Hanukkah menorah, a symbol of the Jewish religion, is sometimes included in the display to demonstrate school officials’ recognition of religious diversity in schools, visual displays of other minority religions are conspicuously missing. In general, school officials and teachers make little effort to acknowledge religious holidays of other minority group students in school. Religious minority groups seldom have the luxury of celebrating important religious occasions on the day of the actual festival the way mainstream Christian groups celebrate Christmas on December 25. More often than not, these celebrations are postponed for the weekend. Even then, the time required for participation in these celebrations competes with time needed for test preparation, assignments, and other school-related activities. Thus, even though the law requires that schools avoid sending the message to students that a particular religion is preferred, and school officials and teachers may not intend to do so, religious minority adolescents in US schools often feel disenfranchised. Lack of recognition of their religion within the school context and difficulty in celebrating it within the community context, due to time constraints, send religious minority children and adolescents the message that their religion is not valued. In this study, Indian Hindu adolescents were asked how they felt at being denied the opportunity to celebrate their religion the way mainstream adolescents were able to celebrate theirs. More than 70% of the adolescents indicated that they felt ‘‘somewhat’’ to ‘‘very’’ bad that schools did not recognize or grant vacations for important days related to their religion (e.g., Deepavali) the way Christmas and Hanukkah were recognized and celebrated. If schools are to promote a sense of belonging among religious minority students, they need to do more than provide lip service in recognizing the religious diversity among their students. Ensuring that minority religious students are able to participate fully in their religion and religious celebrations is a first step. Schools need to move beyond a superficial recognition to deconstruct stereotypes about different religious groups. This is particularly important in the aftermath of September 11, which has aimed the spotlight on the role of religion in world events and has added fuel to the issue of religion in public schools.
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The Indian Hindu Adolescent: The Eternal Foreigner? Most Indian Hindu adolescents are either first- or second-generation immigrants. Many still have strong ties with their home country and the religious institutions there. Technological advances in communication and travel have contributed greatly to strengthening and sustaining these ties to India (Ebaugh, 2003). More recently, the production of several movies and videos depicting the life of Asian Indian immigrants, their trials and tribulations, their attempts at adaptation to American society, and intergenerational confrontations between parents and their children have become immensely popular with adults and adolescents alike, as they are able to identify with the characters and issues highlighted in these films. While all these factors may help Asian Indian immigrants stay connected to their roots, it seems to me, as an Asian Indian immigrant myself, that it also accentuates the disconnection more poignantly. However hard I try, I can never recapture the joy and excitement of religious celebrations I experienced in my adolescent years in India. For my children and others like them, religious celebrations will remain something that is relegated to the weekend, something that they seldom share with their peers in school. The lives of ethno-religious minority immigrants, adults and adolescents, straddle two distinct physical, social, and cultural worlds, yet they never wholly belong to either. While visiting relatives and friends back home, they are perceived as ‘‘Americanized Indians’’ who are attempting to relive, albeit for a very brief time, their earlier life. When in the United States, they are perceived as Indians who have immigrated to America to make a better life, regardless of whether they were born in the United States or have attained citizenship. As Stonequist (1961) stated in his book The Marginal Man, ‘‘It is as if he has been placed simultaneously between two looking glasses, each presenting a sharply different image of himself. The clash in the images gives rise to a mental conflict’’ (p. 145). Thus one may ask whether their distinctive physical features and their ethno-religious minority status will mark Asian Indian Americans as eternal foreigners. Will the image of the perpetual foreigner persist even for third-, fourth-, and fifth-generation Asian Indian Americans? Will they internalize the belief that they are not real Americans – not authentic like White Americans? In an effort to distance themselves from this stigmatized image, it remains to be seen whether Indian Hindu adolescents will reject their religious identity, give up their language, and change their names to sound less foreign; or if coming generations will succeed in maintaining their religious identity and at the same time feel completely included within American society.
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CONCLUSION Much of the material and empirical analyses presented here draw on the experiences of adolescents who are members of a single religious congregation. The sample of adolescents is self-selected because it focuses on only those adolescents whose parents chose to be part of this particular religious organization. Accordingly, it would be important to identify and study Indian Hindu adolescents who do not have the economic advantages enjoyed by this particular sample and to examine both the additive and moderating effects of low-socioeconomic status and ethno-religious minority status in adolescents’ lives. Considering the importance of the need to belong and its implications for adolescents’ social well-being and academic motivation, research is also needed on Indian Hindu adolescents and other adolescent immigrants who belong to different religious and nonreligious organizations, as well as on adolescents who are not part of any such organizations, to examine factors that facilitate and inhibit their adjustment and adaptation in their multiple worlds.
NOTES 1. Asian Indian Hindu will be referred to as only Indian Hindu in the rest of the chapter. 2. Bala vihar is a Sanskrit word and translates to ‘‘children’s (bala) home (vihar).’’ 3. Because the sample is small and includes only adolescents attending classes at one Chinmaya Mission Center, no attempt is made to generalize findings to all Indian Hindu adolescents living in the United States. However, this does not diminish the importance of this study, because there is little or no research conducted on the acculturative stress that Asian Indian Hindu adolescents encounter as immigrant religious minority adolescents and the effect of this stress on their psychological wellbeing. They are excluded from most large-scale studies because they represent a very small percentage of the total student population in schools. If they are included at all, they are either part of a very heterogeneous Asian/Asian–American sample or, as is customary in most studies, dumped into the ‘‘other’’ category.
ACKNOWLEDGMENT The author gratefully acknowledges the support provided by Mr. and Mrs. Kumar, Directors of Chinmaya Mission, Ann Arbor, and the many Bala Vihar adolescents who participated in this project.
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APPENDIX Scales and Sample Items Religious Identity (7 items) Alpha ¼ 0.84 1. My religious community is a source of support to me. 2. I am active in organizations or social groups that include mostly members of my own religious group. 3. My religious background is an important part of who I am. In-Group Orientation (4 items) Alpha ¼ 0.77
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1. I prefer having friends from my own religious background. 2. I feel more comfortable when I am with people who share my cultural background. 3. I am happier when I am with people who share my cultural background. Mainstream Orientation (5 items) Alpha ¼ 0.71 1. I often spend time with Americans and people from groups other than my own. 2. I like meeting and getting to know Americans and people from groups other than my own. 3. I am interested in having American friends. Home–School Dissonance (5 items) Alpha ¼ 0.74 1. I feel uncomfortable when my parents come to school, because they are different from the parents of many of my classmates. 2. I am not comfortable talking to my classmates because my family is very different from theirs. 3. I feel troubled because my home life and my school life are two different worlds. Alienation from Mainstream Culture (6 items) Alpha ¼ 0.69 1. I feel uncomfortable participating in activities if I were the only one from my culture. 2. I don’t try to become friends with Americans and people from groups other than my own. 3. Sometimes in my classes in school, I am aware that I am very different from my classmates (e.g., religion, culture) and I feel I don’t belong. Note: All the items are on a 5-point scale ranging from 1 ¼ ‘‘Not at all true’’ to 3 ¼ Somewhat true to 5 ¼ ‘‘Very true.’’
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A PSYCHOLOGICAL ANALYSIS OF RELIGIOUS MOTIVATION WITH A FOCUS ON ISLAM AND THE MIDDLE EAST Farideh Salili ABSTRACT This chapter examines some psychological perspectives on religion and religious motivation focusing on Islam and the Middle East. Freud’s psychoanalytic analysis of religion, and the views of cognitive psychology and attribution theories were considered. Different psychological theories use different approaches and focus on different aspects of religion. However, they all agree that among motives associated with religion, fear of retribution and the need for protection against the forces of nature are the most important driving forces behind religious beliefs. Religion has made great contributions to human civilization when it has been used for altruistic purposes, but as Freud believed, it can also be an antithesis of civilization when it is used egoistically for self-interest or as a means of gaining power and a tool of oppression, as we have witnessed in the Middle East and elsewhere in the world.
Motivation and Religion Advances in Motivation and Achievement, Volume 14, 373–401 Copyright r 2005 by Elsevier Ltd. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0749-7423/doi:10.1016/S0749-7423(05)14013-8
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INTRODUCTION Those ideas – ideas which are religious in the widest sense – are prized as the most precious possession of civilization, as the most precious thing it has to offer its participants. It is far more highly prized than all the devices for winning treasures from the earth or providing men with sustenance or preventing their illnesses, and so forth. People feel that life would not be tolerable if they did not attach to these ideas the value that is claimed for them. And now the question arises: What are these ideas in the light of psychology? Whence do they derive the esteem in which they are held? And to take a further timid step, what is their real worth? (Freud, [1927](1961), p. 20).
Few belief systems influence people’s lives as does religion. Religion arouses strong feelings in people and is a motivating force behind many aspects of human behavior. All religions are concerned with ethics and teach their followers moral values such as honesty, hard work, helpfulness and love. Despite promoting ethical and moral behaviors, no religion has ever succeeded in preventing the miseries of war. On the contrary, throughout history all religions at one time or another, have been linked to wars against people who were considered to be heretics, infidels or had religions that were different. Religious leaders or individuals do not necessarily practice the morality they preach. We have seen, for example, the headlines in papers about clergymen who have sexually abused children. Many act according to self-interest rather than for the benefit of their fellow human beings who have trusted them and have followed them blindly. As with racism and sexism, and other forms of discrimination, religionism has caused immense suffering for millions of people. At no other time in our lives have we witnessed as much crime against humanity in the name of religion as we are currently witnessing. The war between Christians and Moslems in Bosnia and Kosovo, between Catholics and Protestants in Ireland and between Israelis and Palestinians in the Middle East, the bombing of the World Trade Center on September 11 by al Qaeda terrorists, and the war on terror have all resulted in massacre and confinement of thousands of innocent people, and all have been linked to religion. What is the nature of religion and religious motivation that can lead some people toward altruistic goals and others to commit such atrocities? In this chapter, we will explore the origin and development of religious beliefs, examine motives associated with religion and their functions from psychological perspectives with a focus on Islam and the Middle East. We will argue that while religion has made great contributions to humanity and civilization, it has also been an effective tool of legitimizing oppression and is often used as a means of furthering self-interest. It is an effective but
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destructive force in dealing with political and social injustice when people are overwhelmed with a sense of helplessness, as currently is the case in the Middle East. In the following section, we will first examine Islam and its role in the Middle East, as a background to our discussion on religious motivation that follows.
ISLAM AND THE MIDDLE EAST Islam is the second largest religion in the world after Christianity, and has as many as 1.7 billion followers, one-fifth of the world’s population, comprising the majority of population in 56 countries worldwide (Esposito, 2002). Moslem people also constitute important minorities in many other countries including India, China, Russia, Central Asia as well as Europe and America. Islam is very similar in many ways to Christianity and Judaism, and like other religions, advocates kindness, peace, tolerance, brotherhood and social justice (Lunde, 2002). However, the image of Islam and the Islamic world that is projected in the Western press is very negative and linked to violence. Political events in the Moslem world have obscured the fact that the vast majority of Moslems live normally like people of other faiths. Similarly, the picture of the Western world (US and UK in particular) in the minds of people in the Islamic world is linked to the exploitation of their countries, as enemies of Islam, and as oppressors of the poor. There is a generalized feeling of resentment and hostility toward the West and particularly toward the US among Moslems in all parts of the world (Moughrabi, 1995). The extreme form of hostility shown is terrorism, condemned by Moslems and non-Moslems alike. However, Moslems’ understanding of the motivations behind these actions is different from the non-Muslims. Much of the recent resentment is directed at the perceived injustices suffered by Moslems in the Middle East as a result of direct or indirect actions of non-Moslems. These are seen by Moslems around the world as an attack on Islam. Many see a contradiction between the promotion of democracy in the Middle East and the support by the West for some despotic and corrupt rulers in that region (Moughrabi, 1995). Many Westerners believe that there is an inherent conflict between Islam and modernism. Some academics have even argued that ‘‘a state of war exists between Islam and the West’’ (Lewis, 1990, cited in Moughrabi, 1995, p. 75) and that there is ‘‘a clash between two great civilizations’’ (Huntington, 1993). However, in reality, like Christianity and Judaism, the socalled fundamentalist and modernist Moslems exist side by side in societies
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and in all the professions (Esposito, 2002). There are opposing views regarding Islam and modernism among Moslems. Many believe in the separation of politics and religion. Others advocate that governments and societies should follow Islamic principles. There are also debates with regard to the interpretation of the Qur’an. Many Moslem scholars are active in reform movements. Reformist thoughts are more prevalent in open, democratic and free societies (Moughrabi, 1995). Lunde (2002) argues that the hostility toward the West is related to the impact that modernization has on Islamic countries and ‘‘the crisis of authority from the actions of secularizing regimes based on Western models’’ (p. 12). The legitimacy of these regimes are often questioned by many Moslems and opposed by militant revivalists. These militant groups have used the feelings of helplessness and hostility that exist among Moslems toward the US and the West to advance their own agenda and to recruit disaffected youth to their ranks. They have used Islam as a unifying force against what they see as aggression against Islam. Since they are no match for America and Western powers, they have resorted to terrorist acts using Islam to promote their own cause. Many of these militants believe that their cause is sanctioned by Islam and that they are fighting a Jihad (considered holy war by many Moslems) (Moughrabi, 1995). There are sectarian differences among Moslems throughout the world. For example, there are differences between Sunnis and Shi’as. The most significant difference is between the new reformers and the official Islam, which has government support. Newspapers and the media spread the official version of Islam, and the Friday prayers led by religious authorities often endorse the official version (Moughrabi, 1995). Moughrabi claims that: There is a more popular kind of Islam practiced by masses of people who respond more enthusiastically to sermons of charismatic religious authorities who advocate an oppositional kind of Islam y .Throughout the Moslem world, a fierce contest is underway over the definition of society, the role of the individual, and the nature of the state. The contest pits secularists against Moslem reformers, embattled governments against increasingly militant oppositional groups which have adopted Islam as an instrument of discourse and struggle (pp. 73, 75).
Secular (i.e., westernized) Moslems fear that militant groups are trying to gain power and establish theocratic Islamic tyrannies. They accuse the reformists of not providing a convincing alternative to the current ‘‘oppressive system of power.’’ The reformists, however, believe that the only way to stop ‘‘the process of decay and disintegration in the Moslem world’’ is by
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returning to the origins of the faith. Only then Moslem countries can get the respect of the world community (Moughrabi, 1995, p. 75). The new generation of Moslem reformers is attempting to use some past lessons to help them reinterpret the present and guide them toward the future. Modern Moslem activists wish to restore the sovereignty of God in human affairs as opposed to the sovereignty of state, people or the individual. Central to this objective is the wish to restore the authority of the Qur’an as the word of God, and pattern of behavior that is based on basic Islamic principles, duties and obligations (Moughrabi, 1995). The duties of Moslems toward God is contained in the Pillars of Islam: daily prayer five times a day following cleaning of the body; fasting during the month of Ramadan; Zakat, which means giving away a portion of one’s wealth to the needy and the poor (this is considered a way to purify one’s soul); and finally for those people who have carried out all other duties and can afford it, Hajj or pilgrimage to Mecca at least once in one’s lifetime (Moughrabi, 1995). These rituals are meant to prepare people for a more important task of Jihad. Maududi (1980), cited in Moughrabi (1995) describes Jihad: It would be enough to state that the real objective of Islam is to remove the lordship of man over man and to establish the kingdom of God on Earth. To stake one’s life and everything else to achieve this purpose is called Jihad while prayer (Salah), fasting, Hajj and Zakat are all meant as a preparatory task (Maududi, 1980, p. 243).
For most Moslems, corrupt governments, which are the root of injustice are the cause of all evils in the world. ‘‘Jihad therefore becomes synonymous with the struggle for justice (Moughrabi, 1995, p. 78). With the concept of Jihad in mind, it is not difficult to see how extremist Islamic militants have used Islam as a motivating force to attract to their ranks the oppressed Moslems in the Middle East and elsewhere in the world. They have made use of this concept to unleash a wave of terror around the world against the US and her allies, considered by them to be the root of all evils in the Middle East. According to Moughrabi (1995), there is a sense of urgency in the Arab world that the weakness of the Arab regimes, their lack of legitimacy in the eyes of the majority of people and their dependence on the West (which is perceived as colonizers, exploiters and oppressors of Moslems) are giving rise to religious fundamentalism. This fundamentalism portrayed in Western media is equated with terrorism and fanaticism and the stereotypical image of Moslems engaged in Holy Jihad (struggle) against the West. A more
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reasonable definition of fundamentalism is given by the American Academy Project: Fundamentalists begin as traditionalists who perceive some challenge or threat to their core identity, both social and personal, and fight back with innovative power. They strive toward a worldview which they have inherited or adopted and which they constantly reinforce. Such movement reaches back to the real or presumed past, to actual or imagined ideal original conditions and concepts and selects what they regard as fundamental. They fight against generalized or specific enemies y from without or within the group under the banner of God (cited in Moughrabi, 1995, p. 78).
As is noted above, the origin of all these conflicts is political, but religion is used as a unifying and motivating force to struggle against injustice. The question is: what is the nature of religion and religious experience that can have such strong impact on people’s lives, and what is the process by which we develop religious beliefs? In the following section, we examine some psychological explanations of religion, motives associated with religion and how it can be used as an instrument for achieving both prosocial altruistic goals as well as goals associated with self-interest, oppression and antisocial behavior.
PSYCHOLOGICAL THEORIES OF RELIGION Religion has been defined in different ways by scholars with different theoretical orientations. From a philosophical perspective, James (1902) defined religion as an experience meaningful to the individual: ‘‘Religion y shall mean for us feelings, acts, and experiences of individual men in their solitude, so far as they apprehend themselves to stand in relation to whatever they may consider the divine’’ (p. 34). James also asserts that few people have interesting religious experiences worth studying and that ‘‘we must search for the original experiences which were the pattern setters for all this mass of suggested feeling and imitated conduct. These experiences we can only find in individuals for whom religion exists not as a dull habit, but an acute fever rather’’ (p. 15). Few people, however, have such personal and acute experiences, and it would be difficult to establish their credibility, as so often claims of religious experiences are motivated by self-interest. Smith (1963) traced different connotations of religion and nouns identifying religion described by social scientists. Based on Smith’s analysis Wulff (1991) summarized the term religion as ‘‘A relied Object.’’ ‘‘It refers to feelings or actions, a response that implies an awareness of the transcendent and which is necessary in the face of a power that is more than merely human’’ (cited in
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Hood, 1995, p. 2). This definition of religion is useful as it relates to all religions of the world and to all religious experiences.
Freud’s Views on Religion There are different psychological approaches to explaining religious motivation and experience, each appearing to explain different aspects. In this chapter, we will examine the three most influential and relevant theories that can explain religious behavior. We begin by examining Freud’s psychoanalytic approach to explaining the origin of religious motivation and its goals. Freud’s views about religion were influenced by the evolutionary biology of Darwin, anthropological research and his own work on psychoanalysis. While acknowledging the immense value that culture and civilization attached to religion, he believed that the only path to reality outside ourselves and development of civilization is through science (Freud, [1933,1929](1961), cited in Shafranske, 1995). He saw religion as ‘‘an antithesis to this spirit, as a cultural neurosis, impeding the progress of civilization in a fashion akin to that in individual neurosis’’ (Freud, [1907](1959), p. 126–127, cited in Shafranske, 1995). He suggested that the ‘‘neurotic ceremonials and the sacred acts of religious ritual’’ both share the same underlying origin. They are both the expressions of unconscious motives, which are derived from the most intimate and mainly sexual experiences. They have defensive functions and are representations of the original experience (Freud [1907](1959), p. 120–123, cited in Shafranske, 1995). Freud [1907](1959) concluded that over time, religious rituals like the obsessive actions, become more important than the underlying thoughts of instinctual pleasure. This occurs through displacements and other defensive operations of the mind. Freud suggested that in view of these similarities one might regard obsessive neurosis as a pathological counterpart of religion, and consider ‘‘neurosis as an individual religiosity and religion as a universal neurosis.’’ In this paper Freud states that: civilization places demands on the individual to renounce wishes. The renunciation of constitutional instincts is the foundation of human civilization. ‘‘Some part of this instinctual repression is affected by its religions, in that they require the individual to sacrifice his instinctual pleasure to the Deity’’ (Freud, [1907](1959), p. 127).
Freud’s idea of religious demand for renunciation holds true in all religions including Islam, and is reflected in many verses of the Qur’an. As an example,
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in Sura al Yuss, the Qur’an promises hell as a place for people who committed sins. In ‘‘Totem and Taboo, Moses and Monotheism, Civilization and its Discontents and the Future of Illusion,’’ Freud traced the origin of religious experience and attitude to a particular epoch in history, linking religion to the Oedipus complex, which according to Freud was rooted in an historical event at the crossroad of civilization (Shafranske, 1995). This event concerned the murder of a tyrannical father by the primal horde, which caused a disruption of the horde and eventually led to the establishment of a primitive social order based on two basic totemic laws concerning incest and killing the totem animal. The murdered father became symbolized in the totem animal that held the authority within the horde. Through the sacrifice of the totem animal, the sons ‘‘could attempt, in their relation to this surrogate father, to rid themselves of their burning sense of guilt, to have a kind of reconciliation with their father’’ (Freud [1913](1956), p. 144, cited in Shafranske, 1995). Freud’s claim has some support from monolithic religious books such as the Qur’an and the New and Old testaments (see in the story of Abraham a sacrifice a ram, Genesis, chapter 22, verse 12). Commemorating the same event, sheep are sacrificed during the Hajj pilgrimage in Mecca and by devout Moslems elsewhere in the Middle East. Freud, in the course of his clinical work, observed the child’s use of animals as displacements and also a tendency to regard the father ambivalently. Freud [1913](1956) concluded that totemic religion was rooted in Oedipus complex and its purpose was to ally the filial sense of guilt toward the father through deferred obedience to him. All different religions try to deal with the same problem and their approach differ according to the stage of civilization they were created and the method they adopted; ‘‘but all have the same end in view and reactions to the same great event with which civilization began and which, since it occurred, has not allowed a moment’s rest’’ (p. 145). The social order that followed the event of patricide resulted in civilization, religion and the Oedipus complex. Freud suggested that each person through inherited psychic disposition carries in the unconscious, a repressed ‘‘original oedipal sin’’ and the image of the murdered father that prompted the formation of religion. This has attracted generations removed from the historical event to commemorate ritual of the totem meal. However, religion is not only atonement, it is also a disguised memory of the triumph over the Father – ‘‘a covert filial revolt’’ and this filial revolt is concealed in other characteristics of religion, ‘‘principally in the son’s effort to put himself in the place of the father-god’’ (Ricoeur, 1970, p. 242). Freud’s latter claim has
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some support from Christianity, but not from Islam. Whereas Christians believe Jesus is the son of God, Moslems consider him a messenger of God. The concept of trinity is not accepted in Islamic faith. Belief in the unity of God is an important feature of Islam (Lunde, 2002). Freud’s formulation placed religion in the context of phylogeny. The move from the totemic meal of animal sacrifice to the Christ sacrifice in Catholicism did not represent a change in the rituals, but reflected the progression of civilization away from the archaic prehistoric to the more abstract and symbolic rituals. However, the ‘‘commemoration, appeasement and renunciation of instinct’’ remained an essential cultural compromise of ‘‘Oedipus complex’’ through religion (Shafranske, 1995, p. 210). Freud was able to suggest a historical context for the universality of the Oedipus complex through the evidence provided by religion. Judeo-Christian beliefs and ceremonies represented the history of the species and content of archaic inheritance. Freud ([1923](1961), cited in Shafranske, 1995) concluded, ‘‘Thus in id, which is capable of being inherited, are harbored residues of the experiences of countless egos; and when ego forms the superego out of id, it may perhaps only be reviving shapes of former egos and bringing them to resurrection’’(p. 38). Here Freud referred to the memory traces of events that, through repetition, become permanently part of the unconscious id, and which after it has reached a saturation point is transmitted to further generations. In other words, it is the id of the ancestors that is inherited by the subsequent generations (Rice, 1990). In ‘‘A Phylogentic Fantasy,’’ Freud ([1987](1915), cited in Shafranske, 1995) discussed the relationship between phylogeny and ontogeny and argued that with passing time new dispositions are added based on the earlier experiences inherited from our ancestors. Freud had studied the bible, and his religious education had influenced him greatly. However, he claimed that he was an ‘‘infidel Jew’’ and in order to explain religious experiences, he analyzed his friend Roland’s description of religious experience. This experience was characterized as a strange feeling, reported by other people as well, a feeling or sensation of ‘‘eternity’’, ‘‘a feeling of something limitless, unbounded, as it were ‘‘oceanic’’’’ (Shafranske, 1995, p. 215). Freud examined these feelings in the context of the ego’s relation to the world, and argued that such feelings which are the source of energy can only be the expression of a strong need, and that he saw no need in childhood stronger than the child’s need for father’s protection. Hence, according to Freud the ‘‘oceanic’’ feelings are indications of repressive wish-fulfilling childhood feelings on which religion is based. These feelings according to Freud are forever sustained by fear of the father’s
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superior power and are more intense than those of adults. Only religious ecstasy can bring back these intense feelings (Freud, [1930,1929](1961), cited in Shafranske, 1995). In line with his analysis of religious experience, according to Freud, wishfulfillment is the progenitor of religious feelings and beliefs as well. Within the context of ontogeny, as the child shifts attachment from mother to father, who is seen as stronger and in better position to protect the child from the forces of nature, the idea of the father-god is formed. The construction of the god-image is a product not only of ontogeny, but phylogeny as well (Shafranske, 1995). According to Freud: To begin with, we know that God is a father-substitute; or, more correctly, that he is an exalted father; or, yet again, he is a copy of a father as he is seen and experienced in childhood – –by individuals in their own childhood and by mankind in its prehistory as the father of the primitive and primal horde y. the ideational image belonging to his childhood is preserved and becomes emerged with inherited memory-traces of the primal father to form the individual’s idea of God (Freud, [1923](1961), p. 85).
Freud believed that the creation of father-god served an important function in resolving the Oedipus complex. In dealing with the father rivalry of the Oedipus complex there is an ambivalent feeling of bonding with the fatherprotector. This is projected through the child’s shifts of cathexis to a new and more powerful father-god with whom Oedipal drama is played out and the conflict is resolved in an acceptable way (Shafranske, 1995). Freud ([1914](1958)), states that of all the images of childhood which are usually not remembered, non is more important than that of the father. To a little boy the father is ‘‘the most powerful, the kindest and the wisest creature in the world y. (p. 13)’’. Religion for Freud finds its dynamic momentum in motives similar to the child’s investment in the father. The individual comes to realize that in many ways, like a child, he/she will remain helpless forever in the face of the forces of nature realizing that he could never survive without the protection against these superior forces, he creates for himself a god with features belonging to his father, a god that he fears, but ‘‘he nevertheless entrusts with his protection.’’ Religion, thus is formed as a reaction to helplessness (Freud ([1927](1961), p. 24). It is an illusion, which originated from the individual’s wish for protection and favor because of the fear of destruction and injury. That is, the essence of religion is derived from the strength of the wish rather than from the content of its beliefs (Shafranske, 1995). The problem with religion, for Freud, is that it establishes the renunciation of instinct based on an illusion tied to the Oedipus complex and residue from prehistory. It now becomes the act of gods to deal with the evils of civilization, and the
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sufferings that men inflict on each other ‘‘and to watch over the fulfillment of the percepts of civilization, which men copy so imperfectly (Freud [1927](1961), p. 22, cited in Shafranske, 1995)’’. Thus, according to Freud responsibility for one’s fate is entrusted to God. This means that personal intentionality was not based on the reasoning capacity of the individual, but rather on the Oedipal conflict of archaic prehistory. As long as these forces influenced the lives of individuals, civilization could not progress. In addition, the problem with religion was that it was potentially a Trojan horse and may eventually undermine the civilization and the social order, which it supports (see Roazen, 1968; DeLuca, 1977). Freud ([1927](1961), p. 44) acknowledged the positive influence of religion on culture. However, he argued that there was a greater risk in maintaining the ‘‘present attitude toward religion than in giving it up.’’ Anchoring culture to ‘‘the regressive forces of infantile wishes nurtured by religion’’ prevented rationality from influencing human activity. Faith and religion were opposite to rationality and ‘‘the enemy of progress of the society’’ (Gay, 1987, p. 533). There is no better example of Freud’s claim than the current events in the Middle East. Many innocent people are slaughtered on a daily basis in Iraq in the name of holy Jihad, under cover of Islam. The concept of Jihad has provided a false legitimacy for the irrational actions of criminal elements among Islamic militants to achieve their political goals. Freud called for an evaluation of instinctual expression in accordance to the reality principle. ‘‘Logos’’ (reason) and ‘‘Anake’’ (necessity) were to be guiding principles of the progress of civilization. However, Freud ([1933,1932](1964)), was aware that science was no match for religion when it comes to relieving the fear that men feel for the vicissitudes of life, and when religion provides comfort and promises a happy ending. Some aspects of Freud’s formulation of religion have been challenged by the more recent psychoanalytic schools of thought as well as other scholars. However, whether we agree with his views or not, Freud provides an explanation for the origin of two important motives associated with religion: the need for protection and fear of retribution. The appeal to higher powers for protection of what is considered dear or valuable and in the face of adversity is a human characteristic. We extend our gratitude to God who is believed to be all-powerful for protecting us and helping us to satisfy our basic needs. We control or renounce our constitutional instincts and obey God’s commandments, given to us in the Old and New Testaments and in the Qur’an, for fear of retribution from Him. This is exhibited, although perhaps in varying degrees, in all religions including Islam. But, as Freud
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pointed out, ‘‘religion can also prevent rationality from influencing human affairs’’. We have witnessed Freud’s claim, on a daily basis in the Middle East when discussions and negotiations are replaced by killing of innocent people in Palestine, in Iraq and in Israel.
Cognitive Psychology Contrary to Freud’s repression theory, from the perspective of cognitive psychology, religious rituals and acts are learned like any other skills. The ritual procedure is first described to the learner who also watches how others perform the task. This procedure, when described, becomes part of the declarative memory. Great attention is initially needed to ensure that the rituals are performed accurately. With repeated practice, the knowledge of how to perform the rituals is transferred from ‘‘the declarative memory system to procedural memory, which mediates the ‘‘automatic’’, performance or skill’’ (McCallister, 1995, p. 331). Once this knowledge is registered in procedural memory, the rituals become automatic, and it would be difficult to suppress the impulse to perform portions of them, particularly in the context that it was originally learned. Changing the ritual act requires that devotees become aware of it once again, which is taxing on whatever conscious mental activities that they are engaged in. The individual may thus resist the idea of change in ritual acts. However, if the ritual becomes too routine it may lose its significance. When the rituals become automatic, the devotee’s conscious awareness can attend to the religious environment and self-reflections. Research on environmental context effect shows that returning to a familiar religious setting (e.g., a church or a mosque) can bring back memories of past events and activate the individual’s religious schema (McCallister, 1995). Mood congruence may also activate self-schema and direct the individual’s conscious awareness toward religious material and self-reflection. Mood congruence effect occurs when the individual’s mood is biased in favor of retrieving memories that complement the mood. It has been demonstrated that religious music may create a mood that can prompt the recollection of events that occurred during other similar moods, thus leading to a mood-congruence effect (Brown & Taylor, 1986; Snyder & White, 1982). Whether these moods or feelings are sustained depend partly on how the rituals are sequenced. When the ritual is not continuous and there are segments in the activity, the activity is described more accurately (Newton &
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Enquist, 1976). The punctuation in the service may create such an effect, while context, mood and sounds might combine to activate a devotee’s preexisting religious schema. The punctuation in the service is common in all religions. Usually, charismatic speakers create such punctuations through pauses, chanting and changes in the tone and volume of voice. Islamic priests, also chant Qur’an very effectively. All Islamic clerics are trained in the art of reciting the Qur’an and speaking publicly.1 Research shows consistency in how the effect of an activated religious schema is described. Hood and Morris (1981) found that intrinsically oriented individuals reported seeing more religious imagery in an isolation tank when instructed to do so than did extrinsically oriented people. Similar findings were reported by van der Lans (1985). Self-engagement in religious acts is reported to improve memory performance when there is familiarity and consistency between subject and sermon (Morlan, 1950; Pargament & DeRosa, 1985). It has also been reported that when self-focus is enhanced, responsiveness to one’s affective state increases (Scheir & Carver, 1977) and makes one feel more engaged in the events (Duval & Wickland, 1973). Internal states relevant to the context become more salient when self-focus is enhanced. This helps participants remember material that has been related to them more effectively (see Roger, Kuiper, & Kirker, 1977). Perhaps an important characteristic of Islam, which distinguishes it from Christianity and Judaism, is the formal ritual of daily prayers (i.e., five times a day). Prayer provides opportunities for selfreflection. During and at the end of each prayer the faithful engages in selfreflection and asks God for forgiveness of his/her sins as well as appeals to Him for guidance, for protection particularly of loved ones and for blessing the souls of deceased relatives.1 People with high self-consciousness are also more aware of how they are being perceived by others (Fenigstein, 1979), and they may develop better articulated self-schema or in a religious context religious self-schema (Nasby, 1985). Self-focus makes the devotee more aware of how religious materials are seen by others, and during the rituals self-schema may be enhanced by identifying one’s self-schema with those of the wider religious self that can be seen in other participants (Markus & Nyrisus, 1986). According to Markus and Nyrisus (1986), other people function as possible selves, serving as incentives for what the individual might become. Hence, if others are part of one’s social self or possible self, then communal interaction with other devotees in rituals may expand one’s religious schema. The development of a religious self-schema and opening up of one’s self-schema may further sensitize the devotees to the impact of other experiences.
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Thus, Friday prayers in Moslem countries and Sunday services for the Christians provide strong motivation and opportunity for expanding religious self-schema. And when it is delivered by a charismatic speaker, who guides the faithful toward certain goals (e.g., fighting injustice), it could have a major impact on devotees and act as a strong motivating force toward achieving the goals preached. A cognitive theory of religion seems to provide a good explanation for how a person develops religious schemata and why some people become devotedly religious and resistant to change. It explains the process by which young children acquire religious beliefs, learn to perform religious rituals and often fanatically believe in what they are taught to believe. In the beginning, children learn from their parents to believe in a particular religion and use them as models in performing the rituals. Their religious schema is expanded through weekly attendance of church or other religious gatherings. The religious sermons, be it in the mosque, church or synagogue are always accompanied by music or religious songs contributing to mood congruence, directing the individual’s conscious awareness toward religious material, and self-reflection, while enhancing his/her religious schema. As stated in the previous section, self-reflection and conscious awareness are maintained when the religious context and experience are not continuous and contain segments and variations. The style of the Qur’an provides such an experience. As described by Lunde (2002): The concise, allusive, elliptical style of the Qur’an is very unlike the Old or New Testament. A single Sura will often contain many different rhythmic modes, sudden shifts from first to third person, equally sudden shifts of subject, verbal and rhythmic echoes of what has gone before or is to come. End rhyme often occurs in linked passages, but verses do not fit metrical schemes of Arabic poetry, and are not poetry. Nor are they prose. The depth and range of allusion, both in sound and sense cannot be produced in translation, but can be appreciated even by those unfamiliar with Arabic by listening to a recording of a Qur’an recitation (p. 28).
Hence listening to Qur’an recitation can maintain mood congruence and feelings associated with religious experience. The presence of members of the congregation or one’s social group during the rituals provides an opportunity for enhancing religious self-schema and a wider religious-self. These events become part of the person’s self-schema, and personal experiences of past religious events, which can be retrieved in familiar environments. Repeating these rituals makes it automatic so that the person is no longer aware of why she/he performs the ritual, except in situations when self-focus is enhanced, such as when the devotee is emotionally aroused by certain events that are highlighted by a charismatic preacher. Religious education,
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be it Sunday school or regular religious schools, such as religious Madressah (i.e., schools) in Moslem countries, or convent and missionary schools elsewhere, play an important role in expanding religious self-schema of their students. In Islamic schools, religious teaching takes precedence over any other learning tasks and constitutes the major daily learning activities. By observing and repeating religious rituals, students develop and expand their religious self-schema and are resistant to any change in their religious beliefs and attitudes. To summarize, cognitive approach to religion focuses on how religious schemas are formed. In the formation of religious schemas, cognitive structures interact not only with motives, emotions and behaviors, but also with social and environmental influences (McCallister, 1995). These influences define the content, the depth and breadth of religious schemas that people have as well as their expression. This is why the Moslems in the Middle East appear to be different from people of other religious faith or even from Moslems in other parts of the world.
Attribution Theory Religious experience and motivation have also been explained in cognitive terms by attribution theory. From an attribution theory perspective, ‘‘religious experience refers to a cognitive-emotional state in which the experiencer’s understanding involves attributions or references to religious figures, roles or powers’’ (Spilka & McIntosh (1995, p. 422). Attribution as applied to religion is influenced by factors related to the person, the event and the person’s context. Since religious experience arouses a lot of emotions, attribution processes may be involved. When people lack understanding of what is happening to them in a state of emotional arousal, their evaluative needs are elicited and environmental cues will direct them to label and interpret their emotional state in different ways depending on the available cues (Diestbier, 1979). That is, the individual’s interpretation of the arousal is controlled by environmental cues. Hence, the origin of the emotional arousal, which will be attributionally explained, may actually be unknown to the individual. However, in situations other than laboratory manipulations, it would be difficult for the individual to misattribute his/her feeling to a source other than the cause, because in normal circumstances the cause is known to the person (e.g., when a cigarette smoker is ill with lung cancer). The circumstances that would increase the chances of misattribution are ambiguous situations similar to those confronting a person undergoing a
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religious or mystical experience (Spilka & McIntosh, 1995). According to Proudfoot and Shaver (1975), a person with religious experience is usually emotionally aroused by some ambiguous situation, such as a large crowd (e.g., in religious gathering) or unusually great physical exertion. However, being in a religious context by itself is not enough to cause misattribution of the arousal feelings, there must also be a salient alternative and believable religious cause, such as a preacher telling the person he is about to unite with the spirit of God. Some of the events during the Iran–Iraq war can be explained by this phenomenon. Young adolescent children (14–18) were told in large groups that by going to war, they will be fighting a Jihad and by becoming a martyr they would automatically be admitted to paradise. They were then given a shroud to wear and a golden key (supposedly the key to the gate of heaven) to hang around their neck and sent to the frontline of defense. These young people actually believed that they had been summoned by God and given the privilege of entering paradise. Many of them died while clearing the battlefield of mines, so that the professional soldiers could then fight the enemy without the threat of being killed by exploding mines laid by Iraq’s military forces under Saddam Hussein. The salient alternative cause (preached to them) was the need to sacrifice oneself in fighting against an unjust war that had brought misery and hardship for people. The sermons, usually conducted by charismatic preachers combined with prayers and Qur’an recitations in large groups or in schools, aroused more intense emotions. Although the religious environment has an important influence on arousing religious experience and its interpretation, there is also the motivational– emotional framework that should be considered. Some situations such as medical problems are more likely to elicit religious attributions than situations such as economic or social problems, with a shift from naturalistic to religious explanations. This suggests that there are motivational reasons for making attributions that better meet personal needs and goals (Spilka & McIntosh, 1995). According to Reid (1788(1969)), the three fundamental human needs are: ‘‘knowledge, power and esteem’’. In the modern version, they are: ‘‘intrinsic needs for meaning, mastery or control and self-esteem’’ (Spilka, Shaver, & Kirkpatrick, 1985, cited in Spilka & McIntosh, 1995, p. 429). When these three basic needs are challenged, attribution activities help the individual make sense out of what has happened in order to maintain a sense of control and self-esteem. In some ambiguous situations, religious attributions may meet these goals more effectively than naturalistic explanations (Spilka & McIntosh, 1995). In the case of medical problems, most people have no specialized medical knowledge; hence medical problems have
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a high degree of ambiguity. With a tendency of medical professionals not to give adequate explanations, one’s sense of powerlessness increases. Ambiguity is often accompanied by a sense of danger of pain, illness, weakness, permanent disability or death. Studies have shown that 90% of breast cancer patients have religious explanations once they receive their diagnoses (Ladd & Spilka, 1992). This suggests that ambiguity with a threat to one’s life increases emotional arousal and makes naturalistic attributions less meaningful. However, there are many situations in which one can understand what is happening, yet there is no control, and lack of control becomes a central issue. In one study Spilka, Ladd, and David (1993) found that 74% of women with breast cancer saw much or total control in the hands of God. As religious commitments and activities (e.g., prayer) increased, powerlessness was reduced (Krause & Van Tranh, 1989). This shows the self-serving nature of attributions (Taylor, 1983). There is now a considerable literature showing that religion can make people feel good about themselves. This is confirmed by positive attributions to God and self that result from intense religious experiences (Spilka, Brown, & Cassidy, 1993; Starbuck, 1899). Personal problems or threat to life are not the only motivators of religious experience. Other more positive triggers, such as music, beauty or nature are cited by many people (Hardy, 1979, cited in Spilka & McIntosh, 1995). However, the precipitating factors for these experiences are immediate circumstances and ‘‘not preparatory conditions, which might activate religious schema and experiential attributions’’ (Hood, 1977, p. 430). Research shows that generally, attributions to God are more proper for good things than for bad things that happen to us (Bulman & Wortman, 1977; Lupfer, Brock, & DePaola, 1992). There are individual differences in how religious experiences are understood and interpreted, and in the strength of underlying motives. However, culture and social groups play an important role in translating the ethos and beliefs into individual terms and teaching us what is acceptable and what is not in many circumstances (Spilka & McIntosh, 1995). Thus, cultural attitudes and beliefs shape our religious attributions. Major differences exist, for example, in the content of Christian, Indian, Islamic and Jewish mysticisms, which reflect these cultural traditions (Stace, 1960). Furthermore, there are often differences among the sub-cultural groups who adhere to the same faith (Himmelfarb, 1973). Studies also found gender differences in religious experiences, but age effect has not been conclusively established (Fecher, 1982; Meadow & Rayburn, 1985 cited in Spilka & McIntosh, 1995).
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These sub-cultural differences can best be explained in terms of the concept of schema, discussed above. Religious schemas are reinforced at many levels, from sociocultural to family and individual experiences. Hence, a wide variety of forms and contents exist among the followers of religions. Some people have schemas for religion that cover a broad range of events and situations. Such individuals should be more prone to deduce religious causes for many events. Individual differences in attributions are more likely to appear in ambiguous circumstances. Individual differences in schemas are cognitive ways in which people can vary in their likelihood of understanding an experience as religious (McIntosh, 1991). Hence, individuals who attend religious schools or live in countries where religion governs every aspect of life, such as in Islamic countries of the Middle East, are more prone to make use of religious attributions to interpret events. Based on the above theories, most people in these countries have expanded self-schema for religion as a result of constant exposure to religious events. These religious events are often emotionally charged. For example, every year in the Islamic month of Moharam, Shi’a Islam commemorates the martyrdom of Profit Mohammed’s grandson (Imam Hossein) and relatives who were massacred in Qarbala (an important religious city in today’s Iraq). During this month, there are daily religious sermons re-inacting the events that led to the massacre. Mosques as well as people in their own homes hold memorial services. Devout Moslems wear black for the whole month of Moharam and demonstrate their grief by crying loud when they listen to the clerics telling the story of martyrdom of Hossein, his family, friends and followers. Processions of young boys and men in black carry banners in the streets and flagellate themselves with metal chains until they bleed. No other religion requires its followers to conduct rituals of prayer five times a day, fast one month every year and commemorate the death of the prophet and his descendants so frequently and for such long time. However, in no other parts of the world these religious rituals and events are observed so strictly.1 In relation to motives, studies show that personal crises or problems often trigger religious attributions, and many in these situations perceive that the problems can ‘‘only be resolved by God’’ (Bredsworth, 1977; Elwood, 1980; Spilka et al., 1993). Thus, Fichter’s (1981) statement that ‘‘religious reality is the only way to make sense out of pain and suffering (p. 20)’’ may be true. Background factors and socialization often influence individual variation in the breadth and strength as well as the utility of these schemas in everyday life. A home in which religious rituals, ideas and language are used extensively should increase the probability that religious thoughts are available for attributional use. The same would be expected of early religious
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schooling and attendance at church services and activities (Spilka & McIntosh, 1995). Attribution theory points to the function of religion as an important motive, energizing people to achieve their goals in situations when they feel helpless and have little control over their own lives, and when contradictory messages make their future unpredictable. Currently, the Iraqis and the Palestinians are examples of such people. Decades of living under conditions of occupation and oppression, has instilled in them a sense of helplessness. The inability to control their own lives has led them to believe that God is the only power that could help them and give them strength in their struggle against injustice. The environments in which they live also help to expand their religious schemas and arouse religious feelings. It is not surprising, then, that religion is a very salient aspect of culture and daily life in Moslem countries, especially in the Middle East where Islam was born and where the holiest cities, mosques and shrines in Islam are located.1 With expanded religious self-schema, attribution to religion is increased and covers a broad range of situations. Individuals’ attribution styles may also be influenced by their self-esteem, locus of control and the form of personal faith, and thus contribute to individual differences in religious attributions and their religious experiences. As an example, people with low self-esteem may experience God differently to those with high selfesteem (Benson & Spilka, 1973, cited in Spilka & McIntosh, 1995). People with high self-esteem are more likely to attribute their problems to external factors, while those with low self-esteem attribute the problems to themselves (Ickes & Layden, 1978). Some studies found that when people suffer from serious illnesses, they often make self-blame attribution (cf., Taylor & Levin, 1976). Other studies reported that cancer patients generally deny that God had played a role in causing the disease, and perceive the deity as performing a supportive and curative role (Johnson & Spilka, 1991). Spilka and McIntosh (1995) reported that ‘‘the tendency is not to see oneself as causing cancer. Attributions are largely made to unknown influences or genetic, and other medical possibilities over which the patient cannot exert control’’ (p. 434). Since these are external factors and selfblame is absent, the patients are assumed to have high self-esteem. Many of these cancer patients, who identify themselves with their God, attend church regularly and pray frequently. They report that their faith has been very helpful in their struggle with cancer, providing them strength to face the disease (Spilka et al., 1993). Benson and Spilka (1973) also reported that positive feelings toward religion and attributions to God help maintain self-esteem.
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In the Islamic world, appealing to God for help or protection in difficult times is very common. People usually appeal to God at the end of daily prayers, and often visit the shrines of significant Islamic Saints (i.e., the Prophet Mohammed’s descendants) to ask for help in mediating with God. Focusing on religion and relying on God is believed to provide them with strength and hope to overcome difficulties. The way people relate to God’s power has been the subject of studies. People generally attribute sin to the devil who makes the person commit sins, although one’s weakness is also recognized. In contrast, success is often attributed to God who often comes to help the person in distress and in resisting temptation (Hunsbeger & Watson, 1986). Although similar studies have not been reported among the Moslems, ‘‘diabolical attributions to devil’’ is as common among the Moslems as it is ‘‘among Protestant Fundamentalists, but is largely unknown among Jews (Spilka & McIntosh, 1995, p. 431). Similar characteristics as in the Christian faith have been attributed to the devil in Qur’an. It has been reported that control attributions people make to God involve relationship patterns: If divine power is accepted one may defer to it. God is active and the person takes a passive role. Hence, is the prayerful entreaty for help, the petition that places one’s hopes and desires totally in the ‘‘hands of God.’’ Weakness is self-attribution; strength and decision, the lot of the deity (Pargament, Kennell, Hathaway, Newman, & Jones 1988, cited in Spilka & McIntosh, 1995, p. 435).
On the other hand, some people make collaborative attributions, for example, ‘‘God helps those who help themselves.’’ The most consistent finding is that personal control and divine control seem to be negatively related (Kopplin, 1976; McIntosh, Kojetin, & Spilka, 1985). Spilka and McIntosh (1995) argued that these findings suggest that profound religious experience such as sudden conversion is often preceded by extreme personal stress, which may be viewed as ‘‘crisis of meaning and control.’’ That is, the person is being prepared for religious experience (Malony, 1973). Such preparation may often be great personal turmoil over a long period of time (Spilka et al., 1993). These people who need help to overcome their difficulties are inclined to attribute to God the power and willingness to relieve them of their burden. Attributions to one’s lack of personal power may be an indication of divine control that implies a mastery of one’s troubles. Identifying with God and being able to make attributions of divine intervention via religious experience could be quite effective in maintaining or enhancing one’s sense of mastery, probably through either the adoption
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of God-deferring or collaborative modes of problem-solving. This attribution pattern is not confined to individuals with problems, but can also apply to groups or nations who have lost power over their own lives as a result of wars or actions of brutal rulers. The concept of Jihad (struggle against injustice), which is often used by the militant Palestinians in their struggle for freedom is a good example of this collaborative mode of problem-solving. The feelings of powerlessness have driven them to appeal to divine power for help and used collaboratively for gaining mastery over their lives, since collaboration with God gives them greater sense of strength, personal control and hope. Religious Motivation and Altruism Personal faith has been investigated from the point of view of how people express their faith. Allport (1966) has made a distinction between extrinsic and intrinsic religious orientations. The two tendencies result in different ways of responding to others and the world, and interpreting religion (Donahue, 1985). They have both motivational and cognitive consequences and are linked to different attribution patterns. According to Allport (1966, cited in Spilka & McIntosh, 1995), intrinsic orientation involves a faith in which: the goals of determining the truth and locating oneself in the scheme of things dominates. In contrast, an extrinsic outlook stresses religion-as-means; it is a utilitarian orientation, a faith of convenience to be called upon when needed. In general, intrinsic perspective associates with attributions to forgiving and benevolent God that is much involved in human affairs, and is a causal agent in the world (p. 436).
According to Allport, intrinsic orientation increases altruistic motivation to be helpful and compassionate, whereas extrinsic orientation does not. Many studies have tried to examine Allport’s assumptions with regards to altruism and religious orientation. Inherent in the nature of religion is the assumption that religion motivates people to be altruistic, compassionate and helpful. It has been reported that belief in God was positively associated with self-reported charitable action and strong desire to show concerns and compassion (Langford & Langford, 1974). There is, however, a great difference between self-report and the actual behavior. Batson and Ventis (1982) found that the relationship between religious involvement and actual helping is weak. This weak relationship was initially attributed to different ways people express their religious behavior. For example, intrinsic orientation was associated with a tendency to endorse values of helpfulness more
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than did extrinsic orientation (Tale & Miller, 1971; Batson & Gray, 1981). However, when a behavioral measure of helping behavior was used, the relationship was not as evident. In two studies Batson et al. (1989) found three types of motives associated with helping behavior: extrinsic, intrinsic and the quest-religious orientations. Extrinsically orientated religious individuals were motivated to help for egoistic goal of avoiding social disapproval or self-punishment for not doing the right thing. Contrary to Allport’s claim, intrinsically orientated people were also motivated by a desire for social and self-reward for being a good person. However, this egoistic goal was different from that of extrinsically orientated religious people as it did not involve punishment avoidance, but it was still egoistic. Finally, people with quest-religious orientation were motivated by helping the needy rather than self-benefits (see the chapter by Batson in this volume for more detail). Religion is also used egoistically to gain power, and in extreme situations as a destructive tool. Throughout the history of Christianity, Judaism and Islam, crimes have been committed against humanity in the name of religion. Burning witches at the stake by priests in the Middle Ages and, more recently, killing of innocent people and oppression of women in Afghanistan by the Taliban are examples when religion is used as an instrument of terror to gain power. As Freud stated, religion is an ‘‘antithesis to civilization’’ when it is used to promote ignorance, to stop the progress of civilization, and to force modern men and women in the 21st century to live the way people lived or behaved in the 7th century, as is currently being practiced in some Muslim countries in the Middle East.
SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS In this chapter, we have examined the origin of religion and religious motivation from three different psychological perspectives, namely the psychoanalytic, the cognitive and the attribution theories, with a focus on Islam. The psychoanalytic and cognitive theories of religion and religious motivation are based on different world-views. They explain religion from different perspectives, and use very different explanations for religious experiences. However, they all point to similar motives associated with religion and similar functions that religion performs. Prominent among the motives associated with religion are fear of retribution (hell fire or punishment), and the need for protection against the forces of nature and unexplainable tragedies.
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While all religions teach altruism, compassion and moral behavior, research shows that with the exception of quest-oriented people, religion is used for egoistic purposes out of fear of punishment by God or to boost one’s own self-esteem. People of all denominations sometimes use religion for their own self-interest and for gaining power. When religious leaders take over governing power in a nation, they hold absolute power. The combination of political and moral power often has a corrupting influence, and religion becomes a destructive tool in the hands of ruling governments (Chambers, 2004). Religion has made enormous contributions to civilization by teaching moral and prosocial behaviors, when it has been used by people with intrinsic and quest orientations (Allport, 1966; Batson et al., 1989). However, when it is used by extrinsically oriented religious fanatics and extremists it can be a powerful tool of oppression and terror. When used fanatically, religion is regressive and an antithesis to civilization, as Freud claimed. We have witnessed this in Afghanistan where the theocratic government had taken this nation back from the 21st century to the Middle Ages. By linking the origin of religious behavior to the Oedipus complex, Freud placed the impetus of religious motivation on the need for protection and fear of retribution from the God-father. He claimed that religious acts and obsessive ceremonials were similar, in that they were both related to oedipal conflict and based on the renunciation of biological instincts for fear of retribution, and the need for protection. Although Freud’s claims may appear hard to believe, it is true that every religion requires its members to renounce instinctual needs so as to avoid punishment by God. The concept of sin and its punishment is a major part of Christianity and Islam, and ‘‘hell’’ is graphically described in the Qur’an, which is intended for sinners. Fear of God is used not only as a major deterrent against sin, but also as an impetus to follow and obey religious ethos and prescribed prosocial and altruistic behaviors, as Batson et al.’s (1989) studies showed. It is also true that believing in God as an omnipotent, omnipresent existence provides a sense of security when we are in need of protection. Hence, fear of punishment and the need for protection are two driving forces behind every religion, and many behaviors associated with religion are driven by fear of God and the need for protection. However, considering the many antisocial and destructive acts that are also committed in the name of religion one wonders if, on balance, Freud may be right that in the end religion may impede the progress of civilization. The cognitive approach to religion explains how religious behavior is learned and in what situations it can lead to extreme religious behaviors.
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Religious behaviors from this point of view are not an inherited tendency, but rather learned through socialization. Accordingly, religious schema – an organized pattern of experience and behavior – is developed and expanded through exposure to religious events and religious teaching. The degree to which people become religious depends on the extent to which they are exposed to religious teachings and activities. The social context and music in church or mosque provide the opportunity for mood congruence, and in turn activation and expansion of religious self-schema. Cognitive theory sheds light on why religion is the focus of everyday life in the Middle East. The Middle East is the cradle of all great monotheistic religions of the world. It is a focal point of worship for Christians, Moslems and Jewish people alike, and where religious activities are emphasized, creating an environment for the expansion of religious self-schema. Similarly, cognitive theory explains why religious behavior is more prevalent among Moslems, particularly in the Middle East. Not only do many Moslems live in the Middle East, but also Islam is a religion that governs every aspect of life and behavior. However, the content of religious experiences for Moslems in different parts of the world may be different depending on cultural and situational factors. Moslems in other parts of the world may not have such intense religious experiences as do Moslems living in the Middle East. Cultural experiences have a great impact on religious behavior and intensity of emotions demonstrated during the religious events. As an example, contrary to Middle Eastern people, not many Moslems in Hong Kong, China can read Qur’an or carry out rituals of prayer five times a day. In fact, not many know how to pray or read Qur’an. Religious events or rules are not followed as strictly as in the Middle East. Few people fast in the month of Ramadan or commemorate the death of Mohammed or his martyred grandsons by dressing in black, crying and flagellating with metal chains. Prayer meetings in Hong Kong, for example, are not as solemn an occasion as it is in Iran. Display of emotions such as crying is rare even in funerals. The prayer meetings are very informal with people chatting with each other rather than listening quietly to the recitation of Qur’an, and the dress code is not strictly observed. Even Qur’an recitation is different and not in the same style as in the Middle East.1 Attribution theory, also a cognitive approach, deals with intrinsic need for meaning, self-mastery and self-esteem – three of the most basic and important human motives. It provides us with an account of how people understand, interpret and express religious experiences, as well as the inferences they make about religious figures, roles or powers. Attribution theory of religion has stimulated a lot of research, particularly in relation to health.
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As we saw above, individual differences can influence the way people interpret events and consequently religious behavior. However, culture can influence the content of religious experiences and influence the individual’s expression and thoughts about religion. As discussed above, in the Middle East, religious values and beliefs are very salient aspects of life. People are constantly exposed to religious teaching and experiences and have enhanced religious self-schema, and hence a greater tendency to make religious attributions for many different events. This claim is, however, based on author’s personal experiences, empirical research is needed to confirm it. Studies also show that people relate to God in different ways depending on individual and contextual factors. They may relate to God in a passive way and attribute events to God, or they may relate to God collaboratively as is in the famous saying ‘‘God helps those who help themselves.’’ Moslem activists guided by the concept of Jihad in Islamic faith, have used a collaborative approach in their struggle against injustice that has affected their lives. That is, they have turned to Islam for guidance and support in their struggle to gain control over their lives. A related area of research concerns how religious people with extrinsic and intrinsic orientations behave toward others in need of help. According to Allport (1966) only intrinsically oriented religious people tend to help the needy for altruistic reasons and not for self-benefit. More recent studies, however, have inconsistent findings in relation to intrinsic orientation. Regardless of these findings, events in the world and more recently in the Middle East show that whether religion is used altruistically or as a tool of power and oppression depends on the believers’ and devotees’ intentions and their interpretation of religion. In this chapter, we also provided a brief account of the Islamic faith to illustrate that the Islamic faith, like Christianity, Judaism and other religions, teaches its followers moral behavior, empathy, compassion and altruism. Islam does not sanction suicide killing, kidnapping and murdering of innocent people for any reason. On the contrary, such crimes are considered cardinal sins, which according to the Qur’an and the Islamic laws must be punished severely in this world and beyond. However, as in other religions, Islam can also be used for egoistic reasons for a variety of purposes. As with other religions, Islam has recently been used by extremist militants to advance their own political goals. It has also been used as an effective tool to unite helpless and oppressed people to fight against what is perceived as injustice. Islam has been used by Islamic activists to motivate people in their struggle against injustice. Although religious rituals or religious experiences may be different for Moslems compared to people of other religious faith, the motives that are
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associated with Islam are essentially the same. Different religions, however, may elicit different motives to a greater or lesser extent. It would be interesting to explore this issue empirically.
NOTES 1. The author was born and raised in a Moslem family in Iran and has lived with a Moslem family and community in Hong Kong for many years, comments such as this are based on her personal experiences.
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Shafranske, E. P. (1995). Freudian theory and religious experience. In: R. W. Hood (Ed.), Handbook of religious experience. Birmingham, AL: Religious Education Press. Smith, W. C. (1963). The meaning and end of religion. New York: New American Library. Snyder, M., & White, P. (1982). Moods and memories: Elation, depression, and the remembering of the events of one’s life. Journal of Personality, 50, 460–467. Spilka, B., Brown, G. A., & Cassidy, S. E. (1993). The structure of mystical experience in relation to pre- and post-experience lifestyle correlates. International Journal for the Study of Religion, 2, 241–257. Spilka, B., Ladd, K., & David, J. (1993). Religious and coping with breast cancer: Possible roles for prayer and forms of personal faith. Unpublished paper. Spilka, B., & McIntosh, D. (1995). Attribution theory and religious experience. In: R. W. Hood (Ed.), Handbook of religious experience. Birmingham, AL: Religious Education Press. Spilka, B., Shaver, P., & Kirkpatrick, L. A. (1985). A general attribution theory for the psychology of religion. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 24, 1–20. Stace, W. T. (1960). Mysticism and philosophy. Philadelphia: Lippincott. Starbuck, E. D. (1899). The psychology of religion. New York: Scribner. Tale, E. D., & Miller, G. R. (1971). Differences in value systems of persons with varying religious orientations. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 10, 357–365. Taylor, S. E. (1983). Adjustment to threatening events: A theory of cognitive adaptation. American Psychologist, 38, 1161–1173. Taylor, S. E., & Levin, S. (1976). The psychological impact of breast cancer: Theory and practice. In: A. Enelow (Ed.), Psychological aspects of breast cancer. San Francisco: West Coast Cancer Foundation. van der Lans, J. (1985). Frame of references as a prerequisite for the induction of religious experience through mediation: An experimental study. In: L. B. Brown (Ed.), Advances in the psychology of religion. New York: Pergamon Press. Wulff, D. (1991). Psychology of religion: Classic and contemporary views. New York: Wiley.
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RELIGIOUS AFFILIATION AS A SOURCE OF CULTURAL DIFFERENCES IN ACHIEVEMENT MOTIVATION Chu Kim-Prieto and Ed Diener ABSTRACT Students from 48 nations self-reported on religious affiliation and achievement-related motivation. We tested the relation between religious affiliation and the extent to which one ascribes to values that are part of the Protestant work ethic: material wealth, self-sacrifice, success, industry, and competition. We also tested the relation between religious affiliation and the choice of an intrinsically versus extrinsically motivated activity. We found significant group level differences for valuing success and industry, endorsement of competition, and preference for an intrinsically motivating club. Christians valued success more so than did Buddhists. While Muslims and Hindus were high and similar in their endorsement of competition, Christians, Buddhists, and Jews were low in their lack of endorsement of competition. Protestant Christians valued self-sacrifice and endorsed competition more so than the non-Protestant Christians did.
Motivation and Religion Advances in Motivation and Achievement, Volume 14, 403–417 Copyright r 2005 by Elsevier Ltd. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0749-7423/doi:10.1016/S0749-7423(05)14014-X
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INTRODUCTION Since Weber’s (1958, original work 1904–1905) widely influential theory linking the Industrial Revolution with the Protestant Reformation, researchers have expounded on his theory and investigated the link between religion and achievement. In psychology, McClelland (1961) championed Weber’s theory, suggesting that Protestantism propagates ‘‘achieving societies’’ by fostering achievement motivation among its followers. We revisit this link between religious affiliation and achievement-related motivation and extend the body of research in three important ways. First, we expand the examination of achievement-related motivation to a range of values as well as sources of motivation. Second, we expand the examination of religion to all five major religions in the world: Buddhism, Hinduism, Judaism, Islam, and Christianity. Third, we not only expand our examination of religions, but also sample from all regions of the world to include, for example, Christians from Asia, Africa, and Eastern Europe. Religion and Society Weber’s theory linking Protestantism to the Industrial Revolution was much championed because it struck a chord within the society at large at the time about the role of religion in the creation and maintenance of society and its structures. Indeed, leading scholars in anthropology, sociology, and philosophy theorized religion to be integral to society and culture. Culture is a loose set of social beliefs, values, meaning systems, and customs that influence individuals to varying degrees (e.g., Geertz, 1972). It is not solely based upon nationality or ethnicity, though both of these aspects are part of what we mean by culture and are often used to operationalize culture in cross-cultural research (see Oyserman, Coon, & Kemmelmeier, 2002 for critique of this method). Religion is an aspect of culture because it is an integral part of society, and thus an important factor in shaping society. For example, Durkheim (1912/1995) posited that in order to know a society, one needed to know its gods. Others, such as Levy-Bruhl (1926), Malinowski (1948), and Geertz (1972) have also espoused similar theories. In the field of psychology, Allport (1950, p. 29) noted that religion and society were ‘‘lockstiched’’ together, such that the two were part and parcel of one another, with values and beliefs taught by religious tenets woven into the very fabric of society. Indeed, in his groundbreaking research, McClelland (1961) showed that Protestants scored higher on achievement motivation
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than did members of other religious groups, and that this greater achievement motivation was related to various outcomes, such as entrepreneurship, and the attainment of leadership positions and professional goals. Other researchers have shown that Protestants were more likely to be upwardly mobile than Catholics, even when other socio-economic factors, such as occupational origin, were controlled for (Jackson, Fox, & Crockett, 1970). Furthermore, using a comprehensive sample of over 12,000 Protestants and Catholics from 10 European states, Giorgi and Marsh (1990) found that Protestants did indeed score higher than Catholics on a scale of work values. Subsequent research, however, has veered from investigating religious affiliation as the source of variability in achievement-related motivation. Instead, researchers have focused on the endorsement of Protestant work values, as opposed to actual religious affiliation. That is, instead of considering the participants’ religious affiliation and its relation to various outcomes, the researchers considered the participants’ endorsement of what has been termed ‘‘Protestant Work Ethic’’ and its relation to various outcomes. For example, investigators have linked endorsement of the Protestant work ethic to other psychological outcomes, such as perception of criminal behavior (Christopher, Marek, & May, 2003), need for cognition (Christopher & Jones, 2002), academic performance and satisfaction (Edwards & Walters, 1980), job satisfaction and persistence (Greenberg, 1977; Mudrack, 1997), and even health (Gorgievski-Duijvesteijn, Steensma, & Te Brake, 1998). When both religious affiliation and endorsement of Protestant work values have been measured, the findings have not always been consistent (Furnham, 1984; Furnham & Reilly, 1991). For example, Chusmir and Koberg (1988) found that religious affiliation was unrelated to work-related attitudes, and Ray (1982) found no differences between Catholics and Protestants in achievement motivation, task orientation, or success orientation. Furthermore, in a 10-year longitudinal study, Featherman (1971) found that education fully accounted for the link between religious affiliation and achievement (see also Furnham, 1984; Furnham & Reilly, 1991). In sum, past findings offer mixed support for McClelland’s theory linking Protestantism to achievement motivation. Part of the confusion is due to the fact that much of the past research has compared endorsement of certain values, as opposed to religious affiliation. Establishing the link between religious affiliation and differences in achievement-related motivation is important because we are interested in investigating religion as a social structure that gives rise to cultural differences in psychological variables, including achievement-related motivations. Additional confusion may have arisen from the use of different dependent variables. That is, while some
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researchers assessed work-related attitudes (e.g., Chusmir & Koberg, 1988), others assessed achievement-related values (e.g., Giorgi & Marsh, 1990). In our investigation, we assess both the endorsement of achievement-related values, such as material wealth, self-sacrifice, success, and industry, as well as different sources of motivation. According to Deci and Ryan (1985), pursuit of external rewards, such as money and status, are externally motivated. The Protestant work ethic, as theorized by McClelland (1961) emphasizes competition and success, which would be considered external rewards. Expanding the Investigation of Religions Weber, writing in 1904, compared Protestants and Roman Catholics. For the most part, these two were the two dominant religious groups of early 20th century Germany. For us, revisiting this link 100 years later, the Western view of religions is not limited to Protestantism and Catholicism, but has widened to include Buddhism, Hinduism, Islam, and Judaism. We know of no other empirical research investigating differences in achievement-related motivation across the world’s five major religions. While much cross-cultural research has been conducted testing differences in achievement or achievement-related motivation, culture has been defined almost exclusively through nationality or ethnicity, not religious affiliation (e.g., Chao, 2001; Fuligni, 2001). While we do not disregard the importance of national culture or ethnic culture, we also recognize the necessity of considering other aspects of cultural influence: Religious institutions and their system of beliefs and values that permeate society. We empirically examined the previously untested belief that adherents of Judaism and Buddhism highly value industry and achievement (StoneRomero & Stone, 1998). We also investigated whether Protestants do indeed endorse those values and qualities that have been linked to the Protestant work ethic more so than non-Protestant Christians, as well as differences between Christians and followers of other religions.
METHOD Participants In our investigation, we utilized the International College Survey dataset, a large-scale, multinational sample of college students from 49 nations. A total of 10,575 college students participated in this survey, conducted during
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the 2001–2002 academic year. Students were dropped from the analysis if they did not self-identify as uniquely belonging to one of the following religious groups: Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, Islam, or Judaism. Confucianism was dropped from the analysis because fewer than 100 participants identified it as their sole religion. Participants who chose more than one religion, identified themselves as being atheist, deist, or a follower of an ‘‘other religion’’ were also dropped from the analysis. Participants from Egypt were dropped from the analysis as outliers.1 The remaining 7,146 participants consisted of 5,215 Christian, 1,006 Muslim, 466 Buddhist, 333 Hindu, and 126 Jewish students (see Table 1 for list of nations and participants). Most of the students (77.3%) were between the ages of 18 and 23. The participants included 4,401 females and 2,608 males, with 11 participants failing to report gender.
Procedure Participants responded to the questions as part of a larger survey on emotions, well-being, values, and beliefs, and were recruited by 68 researchers from around the world. The international collaborators were recruited by posting a message requesting data collection help on an electronic listserv for cross-cultural psychologists. Letters soliciting help were also sent to researchers personally known to the authors, and to those whose names appeared on directories of international psychology associations. Each of the international collaborators recruited participants and administered the questionnaire at his or her own university or college. The questionnaires were administered in large groups in classrooms. Questionnaire and electronic answer sheets were provided to the international collaborators. The questionnaire was developed in English by a team of researchers from Germany, Ghana, Japan, South Korea, and the United States. The English version was translated into three languages selected from three different language family groups (Spanish, Korean, and Japanese) by bilingual speakers of English and the target language. No major problems were found with the back-translations or the translations. The questionnaire was available to our team of international collaborators in English, Spanish, Korean, and Japanese. In addition, when the collaborator deemed it necessary, he or she supervised the translation of the English version into a different additional language. In all, the questionnaire was administered in 26 languages. English was most commonly used (16 nations), followed by Spanish (5 nations).
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Table 1.
List of Respondents by Nation and Region.
Region
Nation
N
Africa
Cameroon Ghana Nigeria South Africa Uganda Zimbabwe China Hong Kong Japan South Korea Bangladesh Indonesia Malaysia Nepal Philippines Singapore Thailand Cyprus India Iran Israel Kuwait Turkey Bulgaria Croatia Georgia Hungary Poland Russia Slovakia Slovenia Australia Austria Belgium Canada Germany Greece Italy Portugal Spain Switzerland The Netherlands USA Brazil
110 116 241 11 103 45 57 81 55 100 98 241 344 103 185 132 192 93 196 189 79 74 115 76 118 110 439 503 75 70 125 70 105 65 70 50 205 231 164 260 109 12 251 199
East Asia
Southeast Asia
West Asia
Eastern Europe
Western Europe
Latin America
409
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Table 1. (Continued ) Region
Nation Chile Columbia Mexico Venezuela
N 262 220 257 140
The United States, Australia, and Canada have been included with the Western European
region in spite of the lack of geographical proximity in light of cultural and historical ties to Western Europe.
As noted above, participants responded to the questions as part of a larger survey. We feared that the length of the overall survey might discourage our collaborators from administering the survey, and also tire students who were unfamiliar with answering lengthy self-report questionnaires. As a consequence, different forms were created, with some of the questions on one form, and the rest of the questions on an alternate form. The students were randomly assigned to complete questions on form A or form B.
Measures Religion Participants indicated their membership in the following religions: Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, Confucianism, Buddhism, Deism, atheism, or other. For Christianity, participants indicated whether they were Protestant or non-Protestant (e.g., Roman Catholic, Russian Orthodox). Denominational affiliation for other religions (e.g., Zen Buddhist versus Tibetan Buddhist) was not elicited. Motivation Achievement-related motivation and valuing of achievement were assessed in different ways: First, participants rated how much they value a range of qualities that have been theorized to be a feature of the Protestant work ethic: material wealth, self-sacrifice, success, and industry. Half the participants were asked to respond to the first three items, while the other half were asked to respond to the last item. Participants rated their endorsement on a Likert-like scale from 1 (do not value it al all) to 9 (value it extremely).
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Second, all participants rated their endorsement of competition on a twoitem scale, from 1 (strongly disagree) to 9 (strongly agree). The items were adapted from the competition-related items found in Triandis and Gelfand’s (1998) measure of collectivism and individualism. Third, participants completed a measure of intrinsic versus extrinsic motivation. Participants were asked to rate their preference for either a fun student club (intrinsic motivation), or an uninteresting student club that their parents’ approved of (extrinsic motivation).2 Participants marked their choice on a Likert-like scale from 1 (strongly choose intrinsically motivating club) to 6 (strongly choose extrinsically motivating club).
RESULTS Values First, we standardized the raw scores within nations, which is a recommended and accepted method of controlling unwanted effects in cross-control psychology (see Van de Vijver & Leung, 1996 for further discussion). Using the standardized scores, four one-way analyses of variance (ANOVAs) were computed.3 Significant group level differences were found for success, F ð4; 3475Þ ¼ 4:87; po0:001 and industry, F ð4; 3614Þ ¼ 6:60; po0:001: Value for material wealth and self-sacrifice showed nonsignificant differences between groups, F ð4; 3479Þ ¼ 0:523; p ¼ 0:72; F ð4; 3477Þ ¼ 1:75; p ¼ 0:14; respectively. In order to determine the source of the difference, we conducted Bonferroni post-hoc tests of differences, with significance levels set at po0:001 to control for family wise error. For valuing success, Christians differed significantly from Buddhists, tð2809Þ ¼ 3:47; po0:001 (Christian M ¼ 0:05; Buddhist M ¼ 0:17). Fig. 1 shows Christians valuing success the most, and Hindus and Buddhists valuing success the least. For industry, Christians value it the most, while Jews value it the least. For valuing industry, Christians differed significantly from Jews, tð2670Þ ¼ 3:76; po0:001 (Christian M ¼ 0:107; Jewish M ¼ 0:280). Competition The two competition items were summed to create a total competition score and standardized by nation as discussed above. An ANOVA was computed using the standardized scores, and a significant group difference was found, F ð4; 7107Þ ¼ 108:13; po0:001: In follow-up post-hoc tests, Christians
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Religious Affiliation and Achievement 0.5 Christian 0.4 Muslim 0.3
Buddhist
0.2
Hindu Jewish
0.1 0 −0.1 −0.2 −0.3 −0.4 −0.5
Value Success Fig. 1.
Value Industry
Means of Standardized Scores on Valuing Success and Valuing Industry by Five Religious Groups.
differed from Muslims and Hindus, tð6188Þ ¼ 18:23; po0:001; tð5514Þ ¼ 11:18; po0:001; respectively. Jews also differed from Muslims and Hindus, tð1126Þ ¼ 6:33; po0:001; tð452Þ ¼ 5:44; po0:001 (Christian M ¼ 0:12; Jewish M ¼ 0:01; Muslim M ¼ 0:49; Hindu M ¼ 0:51). Buddhists differed from Muslims and Hindus, tð1463Þ ¼ 11:17; po0:001; tð789Þ ¼ 8:51; po0:001 (Buddhist M ¼ 0:05). Muslims and Hindus were not significantly different from each other. Fig. 2 shows Muslims and Hindus similarly high in their endorsement of competition, and Christians, Buddhists, and Jews similarly low in their endorsement. The Christians, Buddhists, and Jews were not significantly different from each other in their endorsement of competition. Intrinsic Motivation Again, responses were standardized within nation, with the standardized responses used to compute the ANOVA. Significant group differences were
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0.5 Christian
0.4
Muslim 0.3 Buddhist 0.2
Hindu
0.1
Jewish
0 −0.1 −0.2 −0.3 −0.4 −0.5
Endorsement of Competition Fig. 2.
Means of Standardized Scores on Endorsement of Competition by Five Religious Groups.
found, F ð4; 7072Þ ¼ 2:97; po0:05: However, the subsequent post-hoc comparisons were not significant, using the stringent po0:001 criterion.
Within-Christian Analyses The three analyses described above were repeated for just the Christians, grouping them into Protestants and non-Protestants (Roman Catholic, Greek Orthodox, Russian Orthodox, or other orthodox Christian denominations). Protestants valued self-sacrifice and endorsed competition significantly more than did non-Protestant Christians, tð2592Þ ¼ 2:18; po0:05 (Protestant M ¼ 0:17; non-Protestant M ¼ 0:06), tð5186Þ ¼ 9:33; po0:001 (Protestant M ¼ 0:15; non-Protestant M ¼ 0:18). The 2 groups did not differ on other measures of motivation-related values: material wealth, tð2594Þ ¼ 0:349; p ¼ 0:73; success tð2590Þ ¼ 0:347; p ¼ 0:73; industry tð2582Þ ¼ 1:05; p ¼ 0:29; and intrinsic motivation tð5152Þ ¼ 0:54; p ¼ 0:59:
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DISCUSSION Our investigations found mixed support for the Weberian theory linking religious affiliation and indicators of achievement motivation. While the results are not completely consistent with the pattern proposed by McClelland, religion does appear to be related to achievement-related motivation and values about motivation. Christians valued success more than Buddhists, and industry more so than Jews. It is interesting to note that while Judaism and Buddhism were the two religions that were theorized to emphasize industry and achievement (Stone-Romero & Stone, 1998), the results tell a different story. While more research is needed to better understand the limits of our findings, our results highlight the need for empirical investigations of existing theories. In addition, Hindus and Muslims scored high in their endorsement of competition, while Buddhists, Christians, and Jews were similarly low in their endorsement of competition. On the other hand, when the comparison was exclusively between Protestants and non-Protestant Christians, the evidence was in support of the Weberian hypothesis: Protestants endorsed self-sacrifice and competition more so than did non-Protestants. This last set of findings is interesting because Weber’s theory was based on comparisons of Protestants and Roman Catholics. Thus, it appears that while Protestants do indeed appear to endorse achievement-related values more so than did non-Protestant Christians, as Weber theorized, they do not necessarily endorse them more so than members of some non-Christian religions, such as Hindus or Muslims. Our results also raise interesting questions about the future direction of cross-cultural research in psychology. Much cross-cultural research often essentializes culture for the convenience of investigation, operationalizing it simply as ethnicity or nationality. Although defining culture as nationality or ethnicity is a simple and oftentimes powerful method of investigating cultural differences, it can also result in over-generalizations. Our results show that religion provides an added nuance to our understanding of cultural differences, especially when it comes to our understanding of cultures along the individualism collectivism dimension. Islam, Hinduism, and Buddhism are all religions that are dominant in societies that are considered to be collectivistic (e.g., Thailand, India, Japan). However, Buddhists were significantly different from Muslims and Hindus in their endorsement of competition. While Buddhists, along with Christians and Jews, were similarly low in their endorsement of competition, Muslims and Hindus were similarly high in their endorsement of competition. Moreover, although it
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did not meet the stringent criteria of significance at po0:001; Buddhists also preferred the intrinsically motivating club more so than Hindus, tð791Þ ¼ 2:77; p ¼ 0:006: This last difference, though marginal, is important in light of recent research showing differences among collectivists and individualists in their motivational and achievement-related preferences (e.g., Chao, 1996; Iyengar & Lepper, 1999). For example, Iyengar and Lepper (1999) found that Asian American children showed more intrinsic motivation at tasks chosen for them by trusted authority figures, whereas Anglo American children were more intrinsically motivated by self-selected tasks. In light of our current data on differences in intrinsic motivation between Buddhists and Hindus, it is possible that religious affiliation may shed additional light in our understanding of cultural differences in motivation. In addition, more research is needed to help determine the mechanisms through which religion impacts achievement-related motivation. McClelland (1961) investigated parental beliefs as one of the mechanisms through which achievement motivation is passed on to children. Wiley (1997) also examined the role of parents, although the variables of interest in that study consisted of differences in parenting styles across religions. Explicit teachings by the religion are another possible conduit through which achievement-related motivation is learned. Sethi & Seligman (1993) showed a relation between the extent of religious fundamentalism and the extent to which emotional language was used in sermons. It is possible that there may also be differences across the religions regarding the extent to which achievement-related motivation is discussed and taught through direct church teachings. It is also possible that the various religious texts and holy books differ in the extent to which achievement is discussed. We also need to better understand individual difference variables, such as religiosity, that moderate the relation between religious affiliation and achievement-related motivations. Those who adhere more strictly to the religious teachings, or were educated by a religious educational institution, may differ from those who are not as religious or have little formal religious training in the strength of the relation between religious affiliation and achievement motivations. Within-religion differences can also be expected, such that more fundamental denominations may differ from the less fundamental denominations of the same religion. Different denominations may also differ in beliefs about achievement-related motivation. And of course, because religion and society are interwoven, religion itself may undergo a change along with society through scientific developments, immigration, or national events. Geertz (1972), for example, provides an in-depth ethnography of how religion is changed when it becomes transplanted to a new
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society. More recently, Kim (2002) noted that for many Korean immigrants to the United States, Christianity mediates the transition to American Christian values. In sum, much more research is needed to better understand the role of religion and achievement motivations.
NOTES 1. We suspected that participants were responding insincerely because inter-item correlations were unusually high, in the .9 range. This warranted the data we received from Egypt being treated as outliers, and elimination from the data. 2. According to theories of intrinsic motivation (Deci & Ryan, 1985; Deci, Koestner, & Ryan, 1999) personal enjoyment would be considered to be intrinsically motivated. On the other hand, external reward, such as parental approval, is not intrinsically motivated. Using parental approval as the external reward creates a more strict test of motivation, since parental approval is considered to be of importance in collectivistic cultures. See discussion for further elaboration of possible implications. 3. Multivariate Analysis of Variance was not computed since two different forms were used.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS We would like to thank the following researchers for their help in the data collection: Dr. John Brebner, Mr. Michael Davies, Dr. Hermann Brandstaetter, Prof. Hamida Akhtar Begum, Prof. Iven Van Mechelen, Profs. Marilia and Jose Augusto Dela Coleta, Dr. Krassimira Baytchinska, Dr. Didier Acier, Dr. Therese Tchombe, Prof. Ramon Florenzano, Prof. Juan Toro, Dr. Xue Zheng, Dr. Yan Li, Dr. Ruben Ardila, Ms Rebeca Puche, Dr. Vlado Sakic, Prof. Demetrios Natsopoulos, Mr. George Spanoudis, Dr. Azia Daoud, Dr. George Nizharade, Prof. Klaus Boehnke, Mr. Adote Anum, Prof. Loukas Ananikas, Mr. Diomedes Markoulis, Dr. J. P. Leung, Dr. Harry Hui, Dr. Istavan Czigler, Mr. George Hunyady, Dr. Baban Misra, Dr. Biranchi Puhan, Dr. Supra Winbarti, Dr. Ratna Wulan, Dr. Zahra Habibi, Dr. Mahmoud Mansour, Ms Elena Antonelli , Prof. Vanda Zammuner, Prof. Kuramoto, Prof. Hitomi Ozaki, Prof. Hoon Koo Lee, Prof. Ramadan A. Ahmed, Dr. Nor Ba’yah Abdul Kadir, Ms Marisol Barredes Corral, Dr. Susan Pick de Weiss, Prof. Murari Prasad Regmi, Prof. A. A. Olowu, Dr. Olabasi Olashinde, Mr. Dominik Guess, Mr. Dagmara Musial, Dr. Michal Grygielski, Ms Aleksandra Jasielska, Mr. Bogdan Wojciszke, Prof. Paulo Jorge Santos, Prof. Manuel Viegas Abreu, Dr.
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Madezhda Lebedeva, Mr. Kau Ah Keng, Mr. Gabriel Bianchi, Mr. Sesa Cecic Erpic, Dr. Maja Zupancic, Dr. Valerie Moller, Prof. Maria Ros, Mr. Jose Valencia, Dr. Alexander Grob, Dr. Saovakon Sudsawasd, Prof. Ruut Veenhoven, Prof. Sami Guven, Mr. Stephen Kiirya Kisembe, Dr. Maria Orantes, and Mr. Elias Mpofu.
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SUBJECT INDEX Achievement Awareness indirect effect of religion on academic buddhi or 310, 313, 316–317, 321, 323, 290 334 industry and 406 reason and 323 Achievement motivation Behavior cultural differences in 403, 404, 414 religious affiliation and differences in commitment and 32, 35, 250 403, 405 motives and 155 Addiction, spiritual explanation for Beliefs, impact on motivation of 337 religious 12, 30–31, 199 Advaita Vedanta (Perennial Philosophy) Belonging, community and 350, 355, 301–302 359, 361 Agency, religious belief and 194, 196 Body, Sthula Sarira or 310, 313, 319 Allport, intrinsic and extrinsic religious orientation and 3, 29, 76–77 Catholic schools Altruism academic advantage and 281 definition of 154–157 pedagogical practices in 284 religion and 230–231 philosophical roots of 282–283 religious motivation and 393–394 Centers of consciousness, Tantric Approach, religious motivation and 30 philosophy and 329 Atkinson, achievement motivation and Chakras, motivation and 304, 330 14 Choice, adolescents’ religious 129 Attribution Church-state relations, religiosity and 55 attitudes and beliefs shaping religious Closed-mindedness, religious belief and 389 motivated 58–59 mastery through religious Co-curriculum, college student collaborative 392–393 religiosity and 253–254 motivational reasons for religious Cognitive strategies, religious 388 commitment and 203 religion and 387–393 Community Authoritarianism college student religiosity and 254–255 religiosity and 57, 60, 61 need for belonging and 350, 355, 361 value priorities and 57, 59 Compassion, religious motivation for 152, 159, 177, 178–181 Autonomy, SDT and 107, 110 419
420 Confucianism academic success and modern 273–281 learning goals and 274 value of education and 273–274 Consequences, unintended 155–156 Contemplative psychology definition of 305 happiness and 325–326, 336–339 life satisfaction and 325–326, 336–339 Context, sociocultural 249, 252 Core personal constructs 232 Cost, religious actions and their 27 Cultural identity, acculturative strategies and 359 Culture definition of 406, 413 religion and college 253 religion as an aspect of 406 religious belief and 192–194 Curriculum, college student religiosity and 253 Decision, motivation as 5, 43, 65, 243, 261 Development Personal Investment Theory and holistic student 250, 255–258, 260–261 spiritual views of 297, 298, 300, 308 Difference, social identity and 349, 359 Doubt, exploration and adolescents’ religious 58, 122, 130–131, 136, 139 Dualism, psychology and 189–192, 211 Efficacy, religious 20, 25 Ego, ahamkara or 310, 317, 321, 331 Ego-attachment, Hinduism and 315 Ego-mind, higher and lower levels 318, 321 Egoism, altruism juxtaposed to 154 Egoistic goals, religion and 157, 394
SUBJECT INDEX Emotion religion and adolescents’ 114, 128–129, 140, 228 religious belief engendering 31 End, religion as 78, 91, 159, 160–161, 170–171 Engagement 255 Engagement, college student learning 263–264 Epistemic beliefs, relationship between religious beliefs and 4, 202–205, 210 Erikson’s psychosocial stages, Hindu views of life-course and 326–327 Ethics, choice of research topic and personal 200 Expectancy religion and 17, 20 value theory, history of 13 value, efficacy and 17, 20, 27, 29, 32, 42 values and 42–43 Expectations 42, 43, 65, 249, 250 Exploration desirable types of 143 radical 113, 114 revisionist 113, 114–115 Faith, definition of 242 Fishbein’s Theory of Reasoned Action 16–17 Flow, happiness and 338 Foreclosure, Self-Determination Theory (SDT) and 145 Freud, chariot metaphor and 320 Freudian analysis of religion 382 Goals instrumental 155–156 personal 245 religiosity and ego-defensive 81 religiosity and moral 82, 94 religiosity and motivational 79–80
Subject Index religiosity and personal 80 religiosity and social 81 SDT and religious 89–90, 96 ultimate 154, 155, 156–157, 174, 214 God as father-substitute 382 Happiness Atman and 309, 314 Hinduism and 297, 311, 314, 316 Health and happiness, religion’s influence on 2 Hedonism values, religiosity and 49, 50, 52, 53 Help motivation not to 170, 174 motivation to 165–174, 176, 177 Hinduism American society and 353, 354, 361, 366 definition of 298, 352 development and 297 motivation and 297, 308, 313–314 pan-Indian 352 philosophy and 298, 301, 313–314 salvation and 23, 44–46, 299, 301, 302, 311–312, 327, 328 self and 12, 297 Hoffman’s theory of moral development 225 Holistic psychology, religion and 194–195 Honesty, religion and 36, 230–231, 234 Human being, conceptions of 306–307, 323 Identity adolescents’ shared religious 6, 347, 355, 358 college student formation of 122, 251, 256, 262
421 college student sense of 251–252, 256, 261–262 development of an integrated religious 106, 115, 116, 139 exploration and its influence on adolescent religious 121–124 internalized religious orientation and achieved 45, 122–123, 142 marker, religion as an 348 moral self and sense of 228 motivations and processes in development of 144, 145 radical versus revisionist exploration of religious 128 religious 93, 106, 112 religious socialization and 106–107, 140–142, 350–352 sense of 111, 228, 256, 261 Individualism-collectivism dimension, achievement motivation and 409, 413 Internalization autonomy supportive socialization and identified 117–118, 141 identified 110, 125 integrated 111, 117–118, 123–124, 125–126 introjected 109–110, 115–116 of religion, critical and non-critical 142 of religion, parental practices and adolescents’ 124–125 of religion, radical exploration and integrated 116, 127–128 Intrinsic motivation, happiness and 315, 338 Intrinsic religion, altruistic motivation and 159, 161, 165, 175, 176 Intuition, Yoga and 303 Investment, commitment and 256 I-self, buddhi and 340, 316–317
422 I-self, implications for education of 339–340 Islam, Western press view of 375 Knowledge certainty of 205–206, 209, 211 complexity of 203, 205–206, 208, 211 Kohlberg stages of moral development 222–223 Kundalini energy 304, 314, 328, 329, 331, 335 Lewin, Field Theory and 13 Life stages, Hindu life goals and 326–327 Maslow’s hierarchy, functions of religion and 83 McClelland 2, 271–272, 291, 404, 405, 406, 413, 414 Meaning faith as making 242 personal goals and 245 religious 1, 3, 56, 80, 94, 96, 222 Means, religion as 83, 160–161, 212 Meditation, awareness and 334, 312, 335 Me-self ahamkara and 317 development of 317 Mindfulness 334–335 Misattribution, religious feelings and 387–388 Modernism, Islam and 375–376 Modernity adolescents’ coping with religion and 132 religious tradition and 106, 117, 138 Monism, psychology and 189–192 Mood congruence, religious experience and 384, 386 Moral action personal responsibility and 232 self-consistency and 228–233
SUBJECT INDEX Moral character 219, 220–222 Moral reasoning and moral behavior 222–225 Moslem beliefs, secular and reformist 376–377 Motivation assumptions, religion and 3 Atman and 313 commitment to religion and patterns of 35 conscious and nonconscious 320–323, 379 contemplative psychology and 305–306, 308 goals Hindu thought and 323–324 Hindu hierarchy for 325 Kundalini yoga energy and 328, 304, 315 religious 87–88, 107, 393–394 religious belief and theories of 12, 18, 30, 187, 192, 194–195 spiritual views of 297, 308, 329, 338 Nature, religious belief and 32, 192–194, 212, 214, 230 Needs, material 324, 337 Needs, moral 324 Neurosis, religion as 379 Non-conscious motivation, Karmic and Freudian models of 321–323 Opportunity, perceived 248–249 Outcomes, religious beliefs and valued 13, 15, 20, 22, 23 Parental practices, effect on adolescents’ religiosity of 118, 119 Parental relationships, influence on adolescent religiosity of 121 Peer group acceptance, religious behavior and 361 Perceptions, role in decisions of 244
Subject Index Perennial Philosophy, the four essential ideas of 301–302 Personal Investment Theory 241, 242 Personality contemplative psychology and 308 karma and self-regulation of 299 Rig Veda and 308–310 Upanishads and 310–312, 313, 319 Politics, religion motivating 375–376 Problem solving, religious beliefs and 203–204, 207–208, 210, 211 Process, motivation as 23, 85, 92, 109, 144, 244, 250, 272 Prosocial behavior measurement of 162–165 religion and 159–165 Prosocial motivation, implications for personal religion of 175–178 Protection, religion and need for 383, 395 Protestant work ethic 2, 3, 7 conservatism and 46–48 outcomes of 404–405 rating the 409–410 religious affiliation and the 405 Psychological inquiry, effect of religious orientation upon 188 Psychological well being, minority status and 361 Purpose, sense of 96, 246, 251, 261 Quest, religion as 160–161, 176–180, 212 Reflection, decision making and 115, 247–248 Regulation contemplative psychology and 316, 318, 330, 331, 333 religiosity and controlled 86, 87, 89, 90 religiosity and external 86, 109 religiosity and identified 86, 88, 125
423 religiosity and integrated 87 religiosity and introjected 86, 88, 109–110, 115–116, 124, 125, 135, 136, 145 Religion definitions of 265, 299, 378–379 expectancy-value theory and 3, 13, 15, 17, 35, 65 extrinsic and intrinsic 29, 159–160, 393, 397 historical roots of motivation theory and 2 spirituality as separate from 265 Religiosity Eastern and Western 62–63 issues of measurement of epistemic beliefs and 213–214 measurement of 55–57, 213, 231 motivational bases for 2, 3 need for measures of 67 Religious affiliation, links between achievement motivation and 404, 405, 413, 414 Religious beliefs, distal outcomes and 15–16 Religious beliefs expectancy-value model explaining 3, 13, 15, 17, 19–20, 24, 29, 31–32 historico-cultural motives for 18 motivation as outcome or cause of 18 prevalence of 1 social-relational motives for 18 unconscious motives for 18 Religious community need to belong and 87, 349, 360 support and 351, 353, 357, 358 Religious diversity, recognition by schools of 365 Religious identity acculturative stress and 359 eternal foreigner and 366
424 ethnicity and 347, 348 female Hindu adolescents and 362, 363 Religious orientation intrinsic and extrinsic 58, 82, 160, 393, 397 Scale (Religious Orientation Scale) 78, 79, 81 Scale (Religious Orientation Scale), criticisms of 79 Religious prosocial motivation, measurement of 159–160, 161 Resentment, adolescent religiosity and 129, 130, 133–136 Resilience, faith and educational 288–289 Rest’s model of moral development 5, 226–227 Retribution, religion and fear of 6, 383 Ritual, religion as psychological 26, 379, 384 Rokeach Value Survey (RVS) 36–37, 40, 44–47, 57, 61 Saliency of morality, effect of religion on 231– 232 of personal responsibility, effect of religion on 232–233 of self-consistency, effect of religion on 233–234 Salvation, Hindu traditions and 301, 302 Schema, religious 384–387, 389, 391, 396 School, church attendance and interest in 123, 287 Schwartz Value Survey (SVS) 37, 40, 47–53, 54, 56, 59 Science psychology and 187, 188, 190, 192, 200, 214, 302 religion and 379, 383
SUBJECT INDEX Self Atman as 301, 309, 310, 312, 313–316, 328, 335, 338 motivation and religious models of 197 sense of 244–249 spiritual views of 251–252, 263, 297, 300, 308, 309 Self-authorship, Personal Investment Theory and 251 Self-concept religious 112 values and 36–41 Self-consistency, religion and 231, 233–234, Self Determination Theory (SDT) 3, 76–77, 84, 106, 107, 111 Self-Determination Theory Atman and 315 intrinsic and extrinsic religious orientation and 76, 77 Self-integrity, moral action and 228 Self-sacrifice, different motives for 153 Self-schema, religious 384–387 Self views, Kundalini yoga and 328 Selfhood, religion and focus on 234 Sensorimotor organs, indriyas or 319 Situation, effect upon activation of values of 41 Social cognition, religious belief and motivated 204 Social identities, reconciling multiple 349 Social Identity Theory, racial identity and 359–360 Socialization adolescent religious identity through 350 autonomous 113, 117, 119 autonomy supportive practices of 110, 113 controlled 113 controlling practices of 109, 113
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Subject Index emerging adults and religious 118, 140–141 religious practices of 111, 113, 117 Sociocultural environment, college student religiosity and 252–255 Socio-economic development, effect on religious values of 50, 54, 55 Spiritual education, religion in India and 300 Spiritual Philosophical Traditions, Indian 297, 301, 303 Spirituality, definition of 265 Stereotypes, negative religious 351 Strictness, adolescent religiosity and parental 119–120 Subjective Expected Utility theory (SEU) 14 Success, subjective nature of 14 Temples, identity and American Hindu 352, 353 Terror management theory 2, 204 The Unconscious, motivation and 320– 323 Thought/action divide, religion and the 220, 228 Time, use of 248 Tolman 13 Tradition values, religiosity and 54, 56 Transcendental reality, Yoga and 298, 304 Value consensus, socio-economic development and 54 Value patterns, commitment to religion and 35
Value types 37, 38, 39, 47, 48–54, 66, 67 motivational goals and 38–39, 67 religiosity and 44, 47, 49, 50, 51, 61 Values abstract structures of 40–41 association of religiosity with single 38, 43, 50, 55, 67 factors affecting activation of 50 Feather’s definition of 40 feelings and 41 importance to self of 51 instrumental 36–37, 44, 45 motivational significance of 42 Protestant Ethic and 45, 46 relationship of religiosity to 49, 50, 56 religiosity and 54, 55–56 Rokeach’s de.nition of 35 sense of self and 41, 97, 251, 260 terminal 36, 44, 45 Vocation college student 261–262 purpose and 246 Voice, inner 247 Weber 45, 46, 274, 404, 406, 413 support for 404, 413 Western world, Islamic world perspective on 375 Wish fulfillment, religion as 382 Worldview, conflicting religious and psychological 198 Yoga, definition of 298
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