Religion and Psychology: Research Progress

RELIGION AND PSYCHOLOGY RESEARCH PROGRESS

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RELIGION AND PSYCHOLOGY RESEARCH PROGRESS

JOAN C. UPTON EDITOR

Nova Science Publishers, Inc. New York

Copyright © 2008 by Nova Science Publishers, Inc.

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Published by Nova Science Publishers, Inc.

New York

CONTENTS Preface Chapter 1

Chapter 2

vii Pain, Distress, and Social Support in Relation to Spiritual Beliefs and Experiences among Persons Living with HIV/AIDS John E. Perez, Tatiana Forero-Puerta, Oxana Palesh, Sami Lubega, Carl Thoresen, Elizabeth Bowman, Cheryl Koopman, Cheryl Gore-Felton, Margaret Chesney and David Spiegel Spiritual Coping Strategies of Individuals Dually Diagnosed with HIV and Mental Illness Sarah Shelton and Lara Stepleman

Chapter 3

The Scientific Conquest of Death: An Analysis and Response Brad F. Mellon

Chapter 4

Church Religiosity and Church Attendance and Party Choice in Eight West European Countries: A Comparative Longitudinal Study, 1970-1997 Oddbjørn Knutsen

Chapter 5

Religion and Politics in Malawi Sam Mchombo

Chapter 6

“Train up a Child in the Way…”: A Qualitative Study of How the Black Church Influences Parents Cassandra Chaney, Loren D. Marks, Diane D. Sasser and Katrina Hopkins

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63 107

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Chapter 7

Religion and the Psychology of Gambling in China and the U.S. Henry N. Pontell and Gilbert Geis

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Chapter 8

The Evolution of Religion and Conscious Experience Matt J. Rossano

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Chapter 9

Religion as Adaptation: The Role of Time Preference Robert F. Mulligan

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vi Chapter 10 Index

Contents What the Spiritual and Religious Traditions Offer Psychologists Thomas G. Plante

213 221

PREFACE The interrelationship of psychology and religion is the subject of this new and important book. The areas of health care, longevity, and terrorism and their links to psychology and religiousness form the central core of subjects approached here. Chapter 1 - This study explored the associations of pain, distress, and social support with spiritual beliefs and experiences among persons living with HIV/AIDS. The authors reviewed the scientific literature linking different dimensions of spirituality to psychosocial functioning among persons with HIV/AIDS. A growing body of research suggests that spirituality is an important and positive resource in the lives of persons with HIV/AIDS. In the present study, the authors recruited an ethnically diverse and predominantly low-income sample comprised of 158 HIV-infected participants, of whom 43% had developed AIDS. Participants completed self-report measures of pain, distress, social support, demographic characteristics, and endorsement of spiritual beliefs and experiences in three domains: embracing life’s fullness, spiritual beliefs, and spiritual growth. Experiences of embracing life’s fullness were significantly greater among HIV-infected participants who were less distressed and had better social support. Endorsement of spiritual beliefs was greater among women and those who had experienced constant pain in the past six months and lower among those who were Catholic, not religiously affiliated, and of European American ethnicity. Experiences of spiritual growth were greatest among those who were less distressed. These results suggest that positive mental and physical health outcomes are significantly associated with different dimensions of spirituality among adults living with HIV/AIDS, which has implications for clinical care. Chapter 2 - Psychological distress and related mental disorders occur at higher rates among individuals with chronic medical illness when compared to the general population. In addition to common stressors shared across many chronic illnesses, individuals with HIV/AIDS must overcome challenges unique to their disease. Specifically, factors such as stigma and shame that plague individuals living with HIV/AIDS are not typically encountered to the same degree by individuals with other types of illnesses. Spirituality is one form of coping that may serve as an effective buffer to the distress encountered by individuals living with HIV/AIDS. Spirituality is important to the majority of Americans, and many individuals utilize their spirituality as a means of coping with crises, including crises with health. This strategy has been defined as “spiritual coping” and is recognized as an effective means by which individuals can reduce psychological distress, including the psychological distress associated with medical conditions. This chapter examines the role of spiritual coping among

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adults with chronic illness with an emphasis on individuals dually diagnosed with HIV/AIDS and a mental disorder. The advantages and challenges of spiritual coping as a resource in psychotherapy are discussed through case examples of individuals living with HIV/AIDS who have diverse spiritual perspectives and received psychotherapy in a faith-supportive counseling program. Chapter 3 - The Scientific Conquest of Death: Essays on Infinite Lifespans (2004) is a compendium of writings collected and published by the Immortality Institute (hereafter also the ‘Institute’), an organization dedicated to the eradication of voluntary death. This group is made up of serious and highly competent scientists and philosophers, thus its work stands squarely in the realm of science, not science fiction. The first part of the book describes in detail a number of new and anticipated technological breakthroughs that hold the promise of, at least potentially and theoretically, extending the human life span. The second part offers ethical, philosophical, and sociological perspectives on this ambitious goal. Clearly the Institute’s approach has both religious and psychological implications, as well as a number of related issues. One obvious issue is fear, specifically the fear of death and loss of control. Another is that of death as oblivion. In his book The Illusion of Immortality, Lamont (1990) wrote, “While some men surrender up their lives on behalf of their fellows feeling sure of attaining eternal bliss thereby, there are many others who do so in the full knowledge that death means their absolute end” (p. 268). The Institute website adds, “How does one come to terms with the seemingly inescapable problem of oblivion that comes after one’s own death?” This chapter examines the Institute’s scientific discussion of radical life extension and related questions about death and the afterlife. It looks into psychological approaches to these issues, and analyzes the psychology of wanting to live forever. The religious response is drawn largely from the Judeo-Christian tradition, but also includes wisdom from other world religions. Chapter 4 - In this article the impact of church religiosity (measured by frequencies of church attendance) on party choice is studied in eight West European countries from the early 1970s to the late 1990s. The author used a genuine cumulative data set based on all Eurobarometers from 1970 to 1997 to examine how church attendance influence party choice and how this has. The analysis comprises eight of the nine countries that were members of the (then) European Economic Community: Belgium, Britain, Denmark, France, (West) Germany, Ireland, Italy and the Netherlands. The development of the strength of the correlation between party choice and church attendance, and which political parties those who goes to church frequently, the more irregular churchgoers and those who never goes to church, vote for, and how this has changed over time, are the central research questions. The impact of church religiosity within the various religious denominations in the religiously mixed countries Britain, Germany and the Netherlands are also analysed. Finally, the author examined the impact of church religiosity on left-right party choice, i.e. when the various parties are grouped into left-wing and rightwing groups. Chapter 5 - The prevailing attitude about elections and power shifts in many African countries is that religion plays a minimal role in shaping the results. By and large, this seems correct. Nevertheless, religion does play a role in influencing political developments. In some cases, the pulpit has occasionally served more to articulate political aspirations than to preach the word of God. In Malawi, the transition to democracy was influenced as much by the

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Catholic Bishops’ public stand against the injustices of the Kamuzu Banda regime as it owed to agitation of civil society. With the end of the late President Kamuzu Banda’s autocratic rule and the rise to power of President Bakili Muluzi, a Muslim, the country has been in the grips of speculation as to whether Islam is poised to replace Christianity as the dominant religion. Charges of desire to “Islamicize” the country have had to be consistently refuted by the incumbent. Still, the rise of Islam, an erstwhile minority religion, to a position of virtual dominance through being identified with the presidency, aided by sponsorship from oil-rich nations, and the emergence of strained relations between it and Christianity, have increasingly become relevant factors in current political developments in Malawi. As the general election that will retire Bakili Muluzi from the presidency draws near, the question of the religious affiliation of the next president has acquired significance; it is relevant to prospects of maintenance of peace, calm, and stability. Further, in the current climate of global conflict, couched as it is in a policy of “war on terror,” the alignment of Christianity and Islam in these global issues is far from neutral. This paper places these two religions in historical context, comments on recent events in global politics, and examines the role Islam and Christianity are likely to play in shaping political developments in Malawi. Chapter 6 - Previous research has indicated that many African Americans receive social, economic, and other supports from their churches. However, comparatively little is known about how the Black Church supports its members’ efforts as parents. To address this weakness in the research, in-depth qualitative interviews were conducted with 50 African Americans who were actively involved in Black churches (in DE, IL, LA, MA, and OR). Participants represented several religious denominations and were from a variety of social classes and educational levels. The participants were asked questions that explored how their religion supported them as parents. The qualitative data were analyzed using a grounded theory methodology to identify themes that were mentioned repeatedly by the participants. This paper will explore three of those themes: (a) The Bible as a Guide to Parenting: “Go to the Bible to Help You”; (b) Church as a Provider of Programs, Models, and Mentors: “This [Church] Helps Me”; and (c) Parenting is a Sacred Responsibility: “My Children are God’s Gift to Me.” Narratives will be offered to support and illustrate each of these themes. Implications and applications will be discussed. Chapter 7 - Historical and contemporary writings have noted different propensities for gambling between Chinese and western culture. Much of this literature points to the notion that religion may be a major factor that accounts for such differences. This paper examines the notion that fundamental religious doctrines in China and the U.S. play a significant underlying role in the psychological attraction of gambling in each society. Using Weber’s work on the role of the Protestant ethic in the development of capitalism and social control, we argue that these forces provided strong proscriptions against gambling in the U.S., while similar controls were absent in Chinese religious doctrine. Moreover, we argue that gambling and religion have many common features making it difficult at times to easily separate them into what is usually considered to be the antithetical realms of the secular and the sacred. Our review of historical materials, ethnographic reports, and contemporary survey data, leads to the conclusion that the absence of divine commands and strictures concerning gambling are likely to play a prominent part in the relatively high rates of such behavior in China compared to those in the United States. Chapter 8 - William James argued that the mystical experience was the foundation for all religion. Globally and historically, rituals that induce altered states of consciousness have

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been associated with religion and religious practices. This paper reviews recent research exploring the biological and evolutionary origins of expanded conscious experience. Based on this review a four-stage model of the evolution of expanded conscious experience is proposed. (1) A general primate stage involving rituals that induce altered states for purposes of enhancing social cohesion by reducing tension. Evidence is reviewed showing that nonhuman primates engage in ritualistic behavior. This behavior induces an altered state of consciousness which reduces social tension and can occasionally produce a trancelike or hypnotized state that may have adaptive health benefits. (2) A second stage characterized by group mimesis or the use of ecstatic, group-coordinated rituals that enhanced social bonding. Archeological evidence is reviewed indicating that our hominid ancestors very likely engaged in ritual behaviors that induced altered or ecstatic mental states. These rituals would have been increasingly important as mechanisms for maintaining social stability under circumstances of expanding group sizes with increasing numbers of non-kin members. Physiological evidence is reviewed showing that group-experienced altered states can enhance social cohesion. (3) A third stage involving the emergence of shamanism and rituals of shamanistic healing. Archeological and anthropological evidence indicates that shamanism is (most likely) the oldest form of religion. Shamanism necessarily involves the attainment of altered states of consciousness. Evidence exists that these altered states may have provided health benefits that gave a selective advantage to those who engaged in rituals and were susceptible to their suggestive aspects. (4) A final stage where shamanism is joined by human narrative capacity allowing for the construction of religious myths and stories. These stories would have been essential for maintaining group cohesion in spite of increasingly complex and stratified societies. Archeological evidence from the Upper Paleolithic provides evidence of ancestor worship, exclusive “elite” rituals, and fertility concerns all of which are consistent with increasingly complex societies with divergent forms of religious expression. The narratives that emerged from this period provided the foundation for the religions of first civilizations. Chapter 9 - This paper argues that religion confers survival benefits on societies and individuals because it allows a general lowering of time preference. Time preference is one of the most basic economic concepts and a fundamental category of human action. Theories of interest, term structure, and opportunity cost all depend on time preference, which is also the basis for capital budgeting in modern finance. This paper establishes how and why the emergence of religious belief supported a reduction of time preference, allowing for employment of capital in time-consuming roundabout means of production. The economic concept of time preference explains why belief in God conferred survival value as we evolved, and why it no longer does so. Time preference is the desire to enjoy immediate gratification. Though considered a universal determinant of human action, it has been observed to vary greatly in intensity across individuals. For example, time preference is especially high in children who lack experience and maturity, and in individuals with low life expectancy. Time preference is also high for criminals, and the general lowering of time preference both facilitates and is facilitated by the development of civilization and the increase in complexity of social relationships. The essence of low time preference is planning for the future, a willingness to delay gratification, and patience to wait for future benefits. Once religious belief emerged among our distant ancestors, to be transmitted as a successful adaptation, it must have contributed to the reproductive success of the believers. Primitive humans experienced an appalling life expectancy. Homo sapiens evolved in an

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environment where infant mortality approached 100% and life expectancy for those surviving infancy was certainly below 20 years. Our remote ancestors had little reason not to consume all their seed corn at once, and deistic belief mitigated their natural tendency to enjoy whatever gratification they could immediately control. Religious belief enhanced the survival prospects of both individuals and communities by conditioning them to engage in longerrange planning through such beliefs as life-after-death, spirit survival, and reincarnation. The survival benefit of religious belief is mostly lost once life expectancy lengthens to the point where, in and of itself, it results in lowered time preference and more responsible, more forward-looking behavior from the majority of agents in the community. Chapter 10 - There has been a remarkable amount of popular and professional interest in the relationship between spirituality, religion, psychology, and health in recent years. Contemporary interest in spirituality and religion is popular among not only the general population but also among many psychology professionals as well. While most people believe in God and consider themselves to be spiritual, religious, or both, most psychologists do not and have no training in religion and spirituality. Psychologists can learn much from the spiritual and religious traditions that offer principles and tools that are productive to use even if one does not share the same religious or spiritual interests. The purpose of this brief commentary is to offer thirteen spiritual and religious tools common among all of the major religious and spiritual traditions that can be utilized by contemporary professional psychologists in clinical practice and elsewhere in their professional work to enhance their already high quality professional services that they provide. In addition to the thirteen tools, relevant ethical issues are briefly discussed as well.

In: Religion and Psychology: New Research Editor: Joan C. Upton

ISBN: 1-60021-672-2 © 2008 Nova Science Publishers, Inc.

Chapter 1

PAIN, DISTRESS, AND SOCIAL SUPPORT IN RELATION TO SPIRITUAL BELIEFS AND EXPERIENCES AMONG PERSONS LIVING WITH HIV/AIDS John E. Perez, 1 Tatiana Forero-Puerta,2 Oxana Palesh,2 Sami Lubega,2 Carl Thoresen,2 Elizabeth Bowman,3 Cheryl Koopman,2 Cheryl Gore-Felton,2 Margaret Chesney4 and David Spiegel 2 *

1

University of Massachusetts, Boston, MA, USA 2 Stanford University, Palo Alto, CA, USA 3 Indiana University, Bloomington, IN, USA 4 National Center for Complementary and Alternative Medicine, National Institues of Health, Bethesda, MD, USA

ABSTRACT This study explored the associations of pain, distress, and social support with spiritual beliefs and experiences among persons living with HIV/AIDS. We reviewed the scientific literature linking different dimensions of spirituality to psychosocial functioning among persons with HIV/AIDS. A growing body of research suggests that spirituality is an important and positive resource in the lives of persons with HIV/AIDS. In the present study, we recruited an ethnically diverse and predominantly low-income sample comprised of 158 HIV-infected participants, of whom 43% had developed AIDS. Participants completed self-report measures of pain, distress, social support, demographic characteristics, and endorsement of spiritual beliefs and experiences in three domains: embracing life’s fullness, spiritual beliefs, and spiritual growth. Experiences of embracing life’s fullness were significantly greater among HIV-infected participants who were less distressed and had better social support. Endorsement of spiritual beliefs was greater among women and those who had experienced constant pain in the past six *

Address correspondence to John E. Perez, Department of Psychology, University of Massachusetts, Boston, 100 Morrissey Blvd., Boston, MA 02125. E-mail: [email protected]

2

John E. Perez, Tatiana Forero-Puerta, Oxana Palesh et al. months and lower among those who were Catholic, not religiously affiliated, and of European American ethnicity. Experiences of spiritual growth were greatest among those who were less distressed. These results suggest that positive mental and physical health outcomes are significantly associated with different dimensions of spirituality among adults living with HIV/AIDS, which has implications for clinical care. The belief in God has often been advanced as not only the greatest, but the most complete of all the distinctions between man and the lower animals. It is however impossible, as we have seen, to maintain that this belief is innate or instinctive in man. On the other hand a belief in all-pervading spiritual agencies seems to be universal; and apparently follows from a considerable advance in the reasoning powers of man, and from a still greater advance in his faculties of imagination, curiosity and wonder. – Charles Darwin, The Descent of Man Religion and medicine intersect where it is most important--at the juncture between life and death, at the door to final separation. – Fricchione

Religion and spirituality have long been identified as widely used resources for coping with serious adversity. Moreover, research indicates that spiritual well-being is related to physical and psychological well-being among chronically ill patients, and spirituality may be particularly salient when facing death (Ellison and Smith, 1991; Paragament, 1997; Rousseau, 2000; Spilka, Hood, Hunsberger, and Gorsuch, 2003). Illnesses such as HIV/AIDS that pose a threat to a person’s life present an intimate challenge that often leads to spiritual questions and spiritual concerns that are reflected in the ways persons cope with their illness (Carson, Soeken, Shanty, and Terry, 1990; Fryback and Reinert, 1999; Kendall, 1994; Landis, 1996; Peri, 1995; Cotton, Tsevat, et al., 2006). Increasingly, researchers and practitioners are embracing a broader health perspective that encompasses bio-psychosocial-spiritual components associated with illness (Dossey, 1995; Wiedenfeld et al., 1990). Religion and spirituality can be traced back to the first evidence of abstract human thought (Momen, 1999). Indeed, any discussion of human development would be incomplete without acknowledging religion or spirituality as important sociological and historical factors. Within the history of medicine, spirituality has long been recognized as a core dimension of well-being. For much of our cultural record, spirituality and medicine were not two distinct fields, but one system. Traditionally, the role of the physician has been twofold: healer and religious leader (Barnard, 1985; Momen, 1999). Religious references have not completely disappeared from medicine. Even the Hippocratic Oath, still recited by physicians today, contains religious allusions (Arras and Steinbock, 1999). In addition, spiritual beliefs and practices continue to be pervasive in modern society. In recent surveys, for example, approximately 90-95% of Americans acknowledged belief in God or a higher power; 9 out of 10 people also said that they pray, most of whom (67%-75%) pray on a daily basis; and a majority of Americans (about 6 in 10) said religion is a “very important” part of their lives (Gallup Poll, 2004; Gallup and Lindsay, 1999). Twentieth century Western contemporary medicine became dominated by positivistic and naturalistic viewpoints, but modern research seems to be reestablishing links between spirituality and medicine, particularly within the context of life-threatening illnesses. With a growing body of empirical research, modern social and health scientists are demonstrating that spirituality can be and should be studied scientifically in the life of patients (Emmons and Paloutzian, 2003; Koenig, McCullough, and

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Larson, 2001; Miller and Thoresen, 2003), as well as in the work of health care professionals (Wasner, Longaker, Fegg, and Borasio, 2005). While spirituality and religion are multidimensional and overlapping constructs, and are often used interchangeably in the social and health sciences, the terms spirituality and religion do contain some important distinctions. Spirituality is difficult to define operationally, but it is usually distinguished by what it is not—material reality as experienced by the physical senses (Miller and Thoresen, 2003). Spirituality is often described in terms that highlight its transcendent, metaphysical qualities. In essence, it can be described as a life philosophy that involves seeing beyond physical, intellectual, and ethical realms into a more expansive truth or awareness of something sacred that permeates the world in different ways. When actualized, a spiritual philosophy is used as a guide for personal conduct (Dombeck, and Karl, 1987; Ellerhorst-Ryan, 1985; Heriot, 1992; Lipsey, 1988). Spirituality is a broader term that encompasses religion. Religion describes a more formalized expression of a spiritual perspective via beliefs, rituals, and conduct that are often organized by institutions (Heriot, 1992; Mickley, Soeken, and Belcher, 1992). For the purpose of this chapter, we use the broader term spirituality to encompass both spiritual and religious phenomena.1

THE IMPORTANCE OF SPIRITUALITY AMONG PERSONS LIVING WITH HIV/AIDS A growing number of studies demonstrate that persons living with HIV/AIDS use their spirituality as a source of strength and utilize it as a core coping strategy. Spirituality appears to play a significant role in the lives of persons with HIV/AIDS, both on a subjective level (e.g., subjective well-being) (Somlai and Heckman, 2000), as well as on an objective level (e.g., observable in reports of improved health outcomes) (Woods, Antoni, Ironson, and Kling, 1999). Researchers have hypothesized that spiritual beliefs provide a variety of resources (e.g., institutional, social, emotional) that create a buffer against the psychological impact of uncontrollable life events (Paragament et al., 1988; Spilka, Shaver, and Kirkpatrik, 1985). Furthermore, the use of spirituality as a coping strategy seems to be salient among persons facing illness, disability, and death (Bearson and Koenig, 1990; Jenkins and Pargament, 1995). Several studies indicate not only high levels of self-reported spiritual beliefs and practices among persons dealing with HIV/AIDS, but also the utilization of such beliefs as coping methods that can provide meaning in the face of existential challenges. In one study that recruited 450 patients from four clinical sites, most patients belonged to an organized religion and used their religion to cope with their illness. From this group, patients who tended to be more spiritual and religious also had (among other measures) greater self-esteem and greater life satisfaction (Cotton, Puchalski, et al., 2006). A study of 142 Puerto Rican women living with HIV/AIDS in New York City also revealed high levels of spiritual practice among these women (Simoni and Ortiz, 2003). Ninety-four percent of the correspondents associated themselves with a particular religious denomination, 49% had attended some type of religious services in the past three months, and 29% were members of a church or place of worship. In 1

For a more comprehensive discussion on the use of the terms spirituality and religion in the behavioral sciences, see Miller and Thoresen (2003).

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addition, interview-based qualitative studies have revealed specific perceived benefits of spirituality. For instance, in interviews with 63 older HIV infected adults who self-identified as religious or spiritual, nearly all reported that these beliefs and practices had been significant in coping with their illness (Siegel and Schrimshaw, 2002). The types of benefits that the participants reported included but were not limited to feelings of: 1) peace and tranquility; 2) empowerment and control; and 3) self-acceptance and reduced self-blame. One study reported that approximately one third of a sample of 450 HIV/AIDS patients felt their life was better now than it was before being diagnosed with HIV/AIDS. These patients named an increase in spirituality/religion as the leading association (68.5%) with feeling life had changed for the better (Szaflarski et al., 2006). Spiritual and religious practice generally involves a variety of activities, including church attendance, prayer, and meditation. Several studies suggest that religious service attendance is associated with better cardiovascular health (Colantonio, Kasl, and Ostfeld, 1992; Hummer, Rogers, Nam, and Ellison, 1999; Oman, Kurata, Strawbridge, and Cohen, 2002) and lower mortality rates (McCullough, Hoyt, Larson, Koenig, and Thoresen, 2000; Oman et al., 2002; Pargament, Koenig, Tarakeshwar, and Hahn, 2001). Prayer has also been shown to produce positive health outcomes. For example, people who believe in God and pray during an illness have been reported to have better health outcomes than people who do not (Koenig et al., 1992; Koenig et al., 1998; Oxman, Freeman, and Manheimer, 1995). According to a recent survey of more than 30,000 adults in the U.S., prayer specifically for health reasons was the most commonly used form of complementary and alternative medicine (CAM) therapy (Barnes, Powell-Griner, McFann, and Nahin, 2004). Moreover, prayer is among the most utilized coping strategies among terminally ill persons (Guillory, Sowell, Moneyham, and Seals, 1997). A study of patients dealing with the advanced stages of cancer reported that faith and prayer were ranked first in coping with fear, and third in general coping (Gotay, 1984). In relation to HIV/AIDS, long-term survivors of the illness perceive both prayer and meditation to be intrinsically linked to their well-being (Carson, Soeken, Shanty, and Terry, 1990). A study of alternative therapies in a sample of over 1,000 HIV/AIDS patients found that the most common activities influencing mental health were prayer, meditation, breathing exercises, and spiritual activities (Greene, Berger, and Reeves, 1999). There is some evidence suggesting that spiritual practices are associated with improved physical and mental conditions. A link between better immune functioning and greater spirituality and religious involvement has been demonstrated in diverse populations, including women with metastatic breast cancer (Sephton, Koopman, Schaal, Thoresen, and Spiegel, 2001) and elderly in the general population (Koenig et al., 1998). In research with HIV-positive gay men, religious behavior (e.g., prayer, attendance at religious services) was associated with higher T helper/inducer cell (CD4+) counts and percentages (Woods et al., 1999). Moreover, spirituality was associated with longer-term survival among HIV-positive men, and this association was partially mediated by lower cortisol levels (Ironson et al., 2002). While these results provide initial support for an association between spirituality and physical/mental functioning, more research is needed to clarify the physiological and psychosocial mechanisms that link spirituality to physical health outcomes among persons with HIV/AIDS. One recent study aimed at determining the changes in spirituality and religiousness in HIV patients after their diagnosis, and investigated a potential link between this change and disease progression. The findings indicated that 45% of the sample of 100 individuals

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surveyed through a 4-year period reported an increase in religiousness and/or spirituality after being diagnosed with HIV. Furthermore, the study reports that these individuals also had significantly greater preservation of CD4 cells and better control of viral load over the time of the study. The results hence suggest that an increase in spirituality/religiousness following HIV diagnosis could predict disease progression (Ironson, Stuetzle, and Fletcher, 2006). In summary, an examination of the existing literature illustrates that substantial research, both quantitative and qualitative, has demonstrated the importance of spiritual beliefs among terminally-ill individuals, particularly those living with HIV/AIDS. Data generally suggest that spiritual beliefs and practices are frequently employed as a coping mechanism in this group and may be associated with improvements in the emotional and physical well-being of chronically ill individuals.

THREE DIMENSIONS OF SPIRITUALITY IN RELATION TO LIVING WITH HIV/AIDS Current scientific research in behavioral and health sciences suggests that religion and spirituality are multidimensional constructs. Specific dimensions have included religious affiliation, organizational religious practice (e.g., attending services), private religious practice (e.g., prayer, meditation), daily spiritual experiences, religious beliefs and values, religious community support, religious coping styles, forgiveness, and altruism among others (Miller and Thoresen, 2003; Seybold and Hill, 2001). Thoresen et al. (1996) have identified and operationalized three dimensions of spirituality that may have particular salience among persons with HIV/AIDS: Embracing life’s fullness, spiritual beliefs, and spiritual growth. In regard to embracing life’s fullness, numerous studies in a variety of patient populations have found positive associations between spiritual variables and diverse indicators of adjustment and well-being, including life satisfaction (Reed, 1987; Swensen, Fuller, and Clements, 1993). An appreciation for life is intrinsic to the search for higher meaning, particularly within the context of a terminal illness such as HIV/AIDS. Individuals faced with this diagnosis must find ways to integrate their illness into the framework of their lives, and in so doing, find a sense of meaning in the disease (Barroso, 1999; O’Neil and Kenny, 1998; Soeken and Carson, 1987). Some studies have found that such meaning may be provided by spirituality in the face of threat to one’s existence (Jenkins, 1995; Schwartzberg, 1993). Spiritual beliefs, such as a belief in God or a higher power, may provide a sense of interpersonal connection for persons living with HIV/AIDS. In one study, persons coping with HIV/AIDS reported that their spiritual beliefs and practices offered support through a relationship with God or higher power (Siegel and Schrimshaw, 2002). For many of these persons, God played the role of a supportive entity, particularly for those who were unable to speak openly about their illness to other people. Many participants shared a common sentiment that God would be always accepting and loving, even when they were faced by rejection and estrangement from others, including religious communities. One study demonstrated the importance of religion in the lives of HIV/AIDS patients, while simultaneously reporting that many participants felt alienated by religious groups. Although 1 in 10 participants in this study reported changing their place of religious worship due to alienation by their religious communities, the change did not undermine the importance

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religion and spirituality played in the lives of the participants (Cotton, Tsevant, et al., 2006). A relationship with God or a higher power is not only abstractly important for many patients; practical decisions also play a role in belief and faith. In a longitudinal study that surveyed 2,266 patients who received care for HIV, 65% reported that religion was “somewhat” or “very” important to them, and 85% asserted the same of spirituality. Furthermore, 72% of the participants reported relying either “sometimes” or “often” on spiritual or religious means to make decisions, including health-related decisions (Lorenz et al., 2005). In another study, placing trust in God was associated with lower anxiety and depression in HIV/AIDS patients (Woods et al., 1999). For many persons with HIV/AIDS, their experience of illness may lead to spiritual growth. In an interview-based study of 19 HIV-positive men, Schwartzberg (1993) found that 42% viewed their illness as a means for such growth. Belcher, Dettmore and Holzemer (1989) found that spirituality changed among respondents after the onset of AIDS, while in a more recent study of 347 adults diagnosed with HIV/AIDS, 66% of participants reported becoming either “more religious” or “more spiritual” since their diagnosis (Cotton, Tsevat, et al., 2006). For these persons, spirituality served as a resource for personal control, comfort, and a means of ordering and making sense of their experience with the illness. Participants in another interview-based study considered spirituality to aid in transforming hopelessness to meaningfulness; indeed, some participants even reported having a better quality of life after their diagnosis than prior to it (Fryback and Reinert, 1999). In a related domain, Folkman and her colleagues studied the experience of positive emotion under stress in a longitudinal study of AIDS caregivers (Folkman, Moskowitz, Ozer, and Park, 1997; Moskowitz, Folkman, Collette, and Vittinghoff, 1996). They identified three kinds of coping related to the occurrence and maintenance of positive affect: positive reappraisal, goal-directed problemfocused coping, and the infusion of ordinary events with positive meaning. Spirituality provides a context that allows the reframing of life experiences with HIV/AIDS into a positive light. Moreover, spiritual beliefs may help caretakers of persons with HIV/AIDS to create, note, or remember positive events under stressful conditions (Folkman and Moskowitz, 2000). Embracing life’s fullness, spiritual beliefs, and spiritual growth are often associated constructs. A qualitative study consisting of interviews with 34 women living with various stages of HIV illustrates the interconnectedness of these experiences (Dunbar, Mueller, Medina and Wolf, 1998). Eighty-two percent of the participants reported unexpected positive outcomes as a result of their illness. Several components were found to be important to both their psychological and spiritual growth, including: 1) acknowledging their own mortality; 2) affirming a desire to live with better values; 3) finding a deeper meaning and purpose in life through greater spiritual involvement; and 4) gaining a more positive sense of self. These findings suggest the possibility for broad psychological and spiritual growth among persons with HIV, and that their spirituality helps them to confront and deal with the inevitable existential concerns associated with the disease. As a result, the researchers in this study as well as others support implementation of methods that encourage group or personal spiritual development in persons facing their own mortality (Dunbar et al., 1998; Smith, 1995).

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PSYCHOSOCIAL LINKS BETWEEN HIV/AIDS AND SPIRITUALITY: PAIN, DISTRESS, AND SOCIAL SUPPORT Pain and distress often accompany the personal experience of HIV/AIDS, and social support is an important moderator of pain and distress. From a social cognitive perspective (Bandura, 1986, 2001), spirituality and health may have a reciprocal influence. Suffering due to physical pain and negative affect can influence the development of spirituality, and health outcomes can be influenced by spiritual beliefs and practices. Similarly, a religious community may provide social support, and persons seeking social support may more actively participate in religious communities to elicit such support. Indeed, social support may be an important mechanism by which spirituality leads to better mental and physical outcomes among persons with HIV/AIDS. As a growing body of research is establishing a positive link between spirituality and health, it is important to understand the potential mechanisms that underlie this connection. Several studies found positive associations between spiritual variables and diverse indicators of adjustment and well-being, such as pain management, in a variety of patient populations (Acklin, Brown, and Mauger, 1983). Among patients with advanced cancer, religious participants reported significantly lower levels of pain compared to their nonreligious counterparts even though both groups were equally likely to report the presence of pain (Yates, Chalmer, St. James, Follansbee, and McKegney, 1981). Moreover, although subjective experiences of pain often create significant suffering for individuals with HIV/AIDS, pain is sometimes capable of providing spiritual meaning. In a qualitative study of pain in a sample of AIDS patients, participants said that pain made them stronger and more capable of facing death; moreover, no one from this group perceived AIDS-related pain to be associated with punishment (Newshan, 1998). Learning to cope, understand, and see pain as a challenge or gift rather than a punishment demonstrates spiritual work, according to Levine (1982), who noted that individuals are conditioned to hate and fear pain. Humans also have the capacity to accept pain and seek meaning or significance in it, rather than struggling against it (Frankl, 1959). Ultimately, the individual coping with pain within a spiritual context may not be a victim to the pain, but instead can become an active participant by adopting a transcendent attitude or spiritual perspective (Levine, 1982). With regard to both physical and emotional pain, Eastern spiritual traditions such as Buddhism promote mindfulness and acceptance, skills that are being effectively integrated into Western psychotherapies (Hayes, Strosahl, and Wilson, 1999; Linehan, 1993). Mindfulness skills may facilitate pain management in a way similar to hypnosis, which is highly effective in managing pain (Holyroyd, 1996; Patterson and Jensen, 2003; Spiegel and Spiegel, 2004). Distress and depression can be major aspects of the HIV/AIDS experience, particularly in relation to handling the illness and facing death. Like pain, it also can be associated with a spiritual component. A study on factors of death distress among patients facing lifethreatening illnesses, including cancer and HIV/AIDS, suggested that the experience of such distress is associated with the psychosocial spiritual dimensions in the patient’s life (Chinbnal, Videen, Duckroo, and Miller, 2002). According to some researchers, this indicates that spirituality can help alleviate fear and dread of death in such patients (Chinbnal et al., 2002; Hall, 1994). A link between depression and both mortality and immune function has been found in chronically ill populations (Kilbourne and Rollman, et al., 2002; Ickovics,

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Hamburger, and Viahov, et al., 2001). Other studies support a negative association between spirituality and depressive symptoms, both in the general population and in samples of individuals with HIV/AIDS (Simoni and Ortiz, 2003; Smith, McCullough, and Poll, 2003; Woods et al., 1999). Qualitative studies on the perceived benefits of spirituality also offer findings that are relevant to patient distress. Spirituality was seen as helpful in easing the emotional weight of illness in many patients with HIV/AIDS (Siegel, and Schrimshaw, 2002). Placing fate in the hands of God reduced the struggle to control the illness. Many patients also described that surrendering this control to an entity higher than themselves lifted a great burden off them. In addition, spirituality facilitated meaning and acceptance of the illness. Participants came to see the illness as part of a larger plan, in which their contribution was important (e.g., to teach others important lessons, live healthier lives). Spirituality can relieve fear and uncertainty of death, particularly through a belief in an afterlife or another form of continuation after death (Gibbs and Achterberg-Lawlis, 1978). It can also decrease discomfort and loneliness and increase emotional adjustment and positive death perspectives (Reed, 1987). Additionally, spiritual activities can greatly enhance one’s sense of well-being, reduce emotional distress, and enhance quality of life among persons living with HIV (Sowell et al., 2000). Social support is another important factor in the experience of living with HIV/AIDS. Interpersonal relationships have the potential to ease negative aspects of dealing with the illness and to provide positive reinforcement. Spirituality has previously been identified as facilitating this type of positive experience in the lives of HIV/AIDS patients (Dunbar et al., 1998). Social support not only involves meaningful interactions between persons, but at its essence, it consists of a feeling of connectedness between persons (Kendall, 1994; McCormick, Holder, Wetsel, and Cawthon, 2001). Religious communities have been known to provide this sort of resource, imparting meaning to the daily challenges of living with HIV/AIDS (Barroso, 1999; Carson, Soeken, Shanty, and Terry, 1990). Spirituality reportedly provides benefits within social support networks by promoting feelings of acceptance and belonging and reducing feelings of isolation and marginality (Siegel and Schrimshaw, 2002). Researchers theorize that the type of support offered by spirituality is more than simply social; it is unique because it involves a relationship with a higher power or greater reality (Simoni, Martone, and Kerwin, 2002). Achieving a connection with an entity or reality that is perceived to operate in a higher realm than oneself may offer hope of a greater plan or purpose that transcends human understanding or capacities. It may also provide relief in the face of death. One study suggests that there may be special benefits of religious support above and beyond secular social support. In a nationally representative sample of African Americans, the relationship between church attendance and lower levels of emotional distress was mediated by religious support from members of their congregation rather than by secular social support (Ellison, Musick, Levin, Taylor, and Chatters, 1997). However, it remains an empirical question whether religious support (i.e., social support provided by religious or spiritual communities) leads to quantitatively different health outcomes among persons with HIV/AIDS. In summary, a growing body of research suggests that spirituality is an important resource in the lives of persons with HIV/AIDS. Positive associations between spirituality and well-being among persons with HIV/AIDS have emerged in the medical, psychological, and sociological literature. Different components of spiritual experience are associated with beneficial outcomes for persons living with HIV/AIDS, including prayer, meditation, and

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church attendance. Various aspects of the experience of living with HIV/AIDS, including pain, distress, and the effects of social support, have been discussed within a spiritual framework throughout the HIV/AIDS literature. Pain and distress may be moderated by spiritual beliefs and practices, and social support may be an important mechanism in the link between spirituality and well-being among persons with HIV/AIDS.

THE PRESENT STUDY In the present study, we examine the associations of pain, distress, and social support with spiritual beliefs and experiences among persons living with HIV/AIDS. To examine these associations, we used social cognitive theory (Bandura, 2001) to guide our hypotheses. According to this theory, human functioning is the product of a dynamic interplay of personal, behavioral, and environmental influences. In particular, this theory posits reciprocal causation between an individual’s personal factors (cognitive, affective, and biological), the individual’s behavior, and the environment (Bandura, 1986). Thus, environmental factors such as social support and personal factors such as pain and emotional distress can influence spiritual behaviors, and vice versa. Religious and spiritual variables have often been examined as predictors of psychological and health outcomes; however, there is little research that focuses on different domains that can characterize spirituality. Given that spirituality predicts positive health outcomes, it is important to understand aspects of personal and social factors that may foster spirituality. Consistent with social cognitive theory and our multidimensional conceptualization of spirituality, we conducted a study with HIV-seropositive men and women to examine the associations of distress, pain, and social support with experiences of embracing life’s fullness, of endorsing spiritual beliefs, and of spiritual growth. Guided by previous research, we hypothesized that endorsing these three aspects of spirituality would be positively associated with social support and negatively associated with distress. We also hypothesized that pain would be negatively associated with embracing life’s fullness, because the experience of pain tends to focus one’s attention on the pain itself; therefore, pain would be expected to reduce the sense of life’s fullness. Also, we explored the relationship of pain to the other two aspects of spirituality that were examined—endorsing spiritual beliefs and spiritual growth—without making a directional hypothesis about how these aspects of spirituality might be related to pain. On one hand, being in pain could motivate people to seek spiritual growth and to focus on spiritual beliefs; on the other hand, being in pain could interfere with individuals being able to focus on these aspects of spirituality. Furthermore, this study explored the relationship of demographic characteristics (i.e., ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, religious affiliation, income) and AIDS status with embracing life’s fullness, spiritual beliefs, and spiritual growth. We were particularly interested in the relationship of psychosocial factors to these aspects of spirituality. However, given previous findings from the 1998 General Social Survey that showed stronger endorsement by women than men of various aspects of spirituality and religiousness (Fetzer Institute/National Institute on Aging Working Group, 2003), this study explored demographic factors as well.

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METHOD Participants Ninety-two men and 66 women living with HIV infection participated in the study. Fortythree percent (n = 69) of our participants met T cell count for AIDS (Centers for Disease Control, 1992). The majority of our participants were in their early 40s (M = 40.2, SD = 7.6), and they had on average 13.7 years of education. Sixty-five percent (n = 102) of our participants were unemployed, 22.2% (n = 35) were working full-time and 13.3% (n = 21) were working part-time. Of those who were unemployed, more than half (53%, n = 54) were permanently disabled. The majority of our participants were earning less than $20,000. The most common ethnic background of participants was Caucasian/European American (57.6%, n = 91). Half of our participants identified themselves as gay or lesbian (50%, n = 79), 43.7% (n = 69) identified themselves as heterosexual, and 5.7% (n = 9) identified themselves as bisexual. The majority of men in this study were gay (77%, n = 71), and 12% (n = 8) of women were lesbian. Participants who were married or living with someone accounted for 27.8% (n = 44) of the sample, 49.4% (n = 78) were single, 7.6% (n = 12) were separated, 7.6% (n =12) were divorced, 4.4% (n = 7) were widowed, and 3.2% (n = 5) described the status of their relationship as “other”. Complete demographic information is presented in table 1. Table 1. Descriptive Statistics for Demographic Variables (N = 158) Demographics Age Years of education Employment status Not employed Part time (less than 30 hours per week) Full time (more than 30 hours per week) Religious affiliation Catholic Protestant Jewish Muslim Other None Racial/Ethnic background American Native/Alaskan Native Asian or Asian-American Black or African-American Latino/Hispanic Non-Hispanic White Filipino Other

Frequency or mean 40.2 13.7

Percent or SD 7.6 3.0

102 21 35

64.6% 13.3% 22.2%

31 19 5 2 54 51

19.6% 12.0% 3.2% 1.3% 34.2% 32.3%

8 3 50 15 91 2 9

5.1% 1.9% 31.6% 9.5% 57.6% 1.3% 5.7%

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Table 1. (Continued). Demographics Sexual Identity Heterosexual Lesbian/Gay Bi-Sexual Transsexual Relationship status Single Married/Living as married Separated Divorced Widowed Other Total household income Less than $ 20,000 $20,000-39,999 $40,000-$59,999 $60,000-$79,999 $80,000-$99,999 $100,000 or above

Frequency or mean

Percent or SD

69 79 9 1

43.7% 50.0% 5.7% 0.6%

78 44 12 12 7 5

49.4% 27.8% 7.6% 7.6% 4.4% 3.2%

102 23 11 9 6 7

64.6% 14.6% 7.0% 5.7% 3.8% 4.4%

Measures Demographic Questionnaire and Medical Status A brief self-report measure assessed participants’ age, ethnicity, marital status, income, sexual orientation, education, religious affiliation and employment. We requested written documentation from physicians to verify HIV infection status. Via chart review, AIDS status was determined based on the CD4+ T cell count (those below 200 met criteria for having AIDS) (Centers for Disease Control, 1992). Social Support UCLA Social Support Inventory (Schwarzer et al., 1994). Perceived social support was assessed using a 24-item version of the UCLA Social Support Inventory. The participants were asked to report on social support received from four sources, including family, friends, partners, and groups in four domains (advice, assistance, reassurance, and listening). The total social support score summed these responses. If the respondent did not have a partner, then his/her total score was extrapolated from his/her responses to the items for the other three sources, as the purpose of this measure was to assess the quality of social support from sources available to each participant. In this study, the internal consistency coefficient (Cronbach’s alpha) for the Social Support Inventory was .92.

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Pain Rating of Chronic Pain (adapted from Spiegel and Bloom, 1983). Participants’ level of chronic pain was measured by the following question: "If you have had pain in the last six months, it typically lasted: a) constant pain for entire six months, b) If one day or more: Days__, and c) if less than one day: Hours (up to 24).” Participants were considered to suffer from chronic pain if they endorsed having constant pain for the entire six months. We also assessed whether participants were taking pain medications in the last six months. Previous research showed that self-report measures of pain are accurate (Hilgard and Hilgard, 1975; Lagana` et al., 2002). Distress Profile of Mood States (POMS) (McNair, Lorr, and Droppleman, 1992) is a 65-item scale designed to measure mood disturbances. It yields a total mood disturbance score and scores for the each of the following six scales: 1) tension-anxiety, 2) depression-dejection, 3) angerhostility, 4) confusion-bewilderment, 5) fatigue-inertia, and 6) vigor-activity. The total score is calculated by adding five subscales and subtracting one subscale (vigoractivity). Participants are asked to rate how they felt in the past week by rating each word on a 5-point Likert-type scale, with 1 representing “not at all” and 5 representing “extremely”. The measure has demonstrated good internal consistency, reliability, and validity across different population samples (McNair et al., 1992). In this study, the Cronbach’s alpha for the POMS-total score was .72. Life Meaning Principles of Living Survey (Thoresen, Bowman, Koopman, Durán, Gill, Yang, and Spiegel, 1996). This measure was developed for the parent study to assess respondents’ use of each of three strategies for experiencing life meaning. The three strategies are: 1) embracing life’s fullness, 2) spiritual beliefs, and 3) spiritual growth, and were derived from literature on spirituality and physical/mental health. Thirteen items used a 6-point Likert-type scale, from 1 = “completely disagree” to 6 = “completely agree,” and four items used a 5-point scale (e.g., for the frequency of praying to God/Higher Power/Universal Energy) from 1 = “never” to 5 = “several times a week (or more).” The three subscales are computed using mean percentile rank-ordered scores. The Cronbach’s alpha for the subscales ranged from fair to excellent: Embracing Life’s Fullness (4 items) = .72, Spiritual Beliefs (8 items) = .91, and Spiritual Growth (5 items) = .67.

Procedure This study was part of an ongoing randomized clinical trial designed to examine the effect of supportive-expressive group psychotherapy (Belanoff et al., 2005) on quality of life and health behavior in men and women living with HIV/AIDS. HIV-positive men and women were recruited through newspaper advertisements and through county hospitals and medical clinics. The recruitment efforts were bolstered by the assistance of the AIDS Community Research Consortium (ACRC), a non-profit organization in Redwood City, California devoted to community based clinical trials. Participants provided informed consent for participating in the screening interview, in which they were assessed using the Structured

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Clinical Interview for DSM-IV Axis I Disorders - Non-patient Edition (SCID-I/NP, Version 2.0; First et al. 1996). Based on the results of this initial evaluation, participants were screened using eligibility criteria for inclusion and exclusion that have been previously described in detail (Koopman et al., 2000). After being screened to determine eligibility for this study, participants provided informed consent for involvement in the main part of the study. Each participant completed the baseline questionnaires prior to being randomized to treatment condition. These assessments were conducted using pencil and paper measures, with a research assistant available to answer questions. Participants were reimbursed $25 for completion of the baseline assessment. In this study, we report data collected at baseline on a subsample of 158 HIV-positive participants (92 men and 66 women) who were drawn from a larger sample of 186 participants in this study. We dropped the additional 28 participants (12 men and 16 women) from this analysis due to missing data on measures of the variables examined in this study, using listwise deletion. The demographic and medical characteristics of this sample are summarized in Table 1.

Data Analyses Three sets of multiple regression analyses were conducted to determine which independent variables (ethnicity, marital status, sexual orientation, religious affiliation, gender, age, income, AIDS status, taking pain medication, level of distress, level of pain, and social support) would be significantly associated with Embracing Life’s Fullness, Spiritual Beliefs, and Spiritual Growth in the present sample. Because we wanted to explore several independent variables in a relatively small sample size, we used statistical (stepwise) regression with a cut-off of p < .10 for demographic variables to remain in the model (Tabachnick and Fidell, 2001). Analyses of residuals were conducted to verify that multiple regression analyses assumptions were met. Dummy coding was conducted for the categorical variables such as gender (male or female) and marital status (married/living as if married or unmarried). The use of dummy variables in multiple regression analysis requires using at least one less than the actual number of categories in the analysis. For the ethnic group membership, religious affiliation, and sexual orientation, which were comprised of multiple categories, as shown in table 1, we chose the most frequently endorsed specific categories for each to serve as the dummy variables. For each dummy variable, such as “African American,” participants received a score of “1” if that category described them, and a “0” if that category did not describe them. In this way, all participants were included in the comparison for each dummy variable, even though this kind of analysis omits differentiation of some categories represented in the sample. Dummy variables for the ethnic group membership were Non-Hispanic White, African American, or Latino/Hispanic. For religious affiliation, the dummy variables selected as the most frequently endorsed specific affiliations were Catholic, Protestant, or no religious affiliation. For sexual orientation, the dummy variables were gay/lesbian or heterosexual. Screening of the data via examination of residuals indicated that the dependent variables met the assumptions of normality, linearity, and homoscedasticity for multiple regression analysis. Furthermore, there were no univariate or multivariate outliers and no multicollinearity among the independent variables. Descriptive statistics, internal

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consistencies, and correlations among the key independent and dependent variables are provided in Table 2. Table 2. Means, Standard Deviations, Internal Consistencies, and Correlations among Key Independent and Dependent Variables Variable

Distress (POMS)

Distress (POMS) Pain Social support Embracing life’s fullness Spiritual beliefs Spiritual growth Mean Standard deviation Cronbach’s alpha

.08 -.06 -.46** -.11 -.26** 37.94 35.17 .72

Pain

.05 .09 .24** .08 .52 .50 na

Social support

Embracing life’s fullness

Spiritual beliefs

Spiritual growth

.32** .23** .12 59.91 17.55 .92

.44** .53** 50.32 20.09 .72

.54** 50.32 21.91 .91

50.23 18.40 .67

Note. **p < .01. POMS = Profile of Mood States. na = Cronbach’s alpha was not applicable because Pain was a dichotomous variable.

RESULTS Embracing Life’s Fullness A statistical (stepwise) regression analysis was performed to examine the relationships of ethnicity, marital status, sexual orientation, religious affiliation, gender, age, household income, AIDS status, taking pain medication in the last six months, level of distress, level of global pain and social support with scores on Embracing Life’s Fullness. The hierarchical regressions were conducted in two blocks. The demographic variables, AIDS status, and taking pain medications were entered in the first block using a forward entry method. Distress, global pain, and social support were entered simultaneously in the second block. The results appear in Table 3. These variables accounted for 32% of the variance (adj. R2 = .30) in Embracing Life’s Fullness, F(4, 153) = 18.07, p < .001. Embracing Life’s Fullness scores were positively associated with social support and negatively associated with distress. Table 3. Statistical Regression of Demographic and Psychosocial Variables on Embracing Life’s Fullness Variable Protestant Distress Pain Social support Constant Note. ^p < .10, ***p < .001.

B 7.28 -.25 4.61 .33 3.00

SE B 4.13 .04 2.68 .08 .21

β .12^ -.43*** .12 .28***

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Spiritual Beliefs A statistical regression analysis was performed using the same approach described above, with Spiritual Beliefs serving as the dependent variable in place of Embracing Life’s Fullness (see results in Table 4). The demographic and psychosocial variables accounted for 39% of the variance (adj. R2 = .36) in Spiritual Beliefs, F(7, 150) = 13.82, p < .001. Being female and having global pain were positively associated with Spiritual Beliefs. Being Catholic, White, and not religiously affiliated each were negatively associated with Spiritual Beliefs. Table 4. Statistical Regression of Demographic and Psychosocial Variables on Spiritual Beliefs Variable Not religiously affiliated Gender Catholic Caucasian Distress Pain Social support Constant

B -19.68 6.97 -8.50 -7.40 -.08 9.11 .16 41.50

SE B 3.22 3.12 3.78 3.05 .04 2.83 .08 7.32

β -.42*** .16* -.16* -.17* -.12^ .21** .13^

Note. ^p < .10, *p < .05, **p < .01, ***p < .001.

Spiritual Growth Table 5 presents the results of performing a statistical regression analysis using the same approach described above, with Spiritual Growth serving as the dependent variable. The model accounted for 9% of the variance (adj. R2 = .07) in Spiritual Growth, F(3, 154) = 4.90, p < .01. Distress was negatively associated with Spiritual Growth, in that those participants who reported greater Spiritual Growth also reported less distress. No other factors were found to be significantly related to Spiritual Growth. Table 5. Statistical Regression of Demographic and Psychosocial Variables on Spiritual Growth Variable Distress Pain Social support Constant

B -.14 3.69 .11 46.99

SE B .04 2.84 .08 5.47

Note. **p <.01. None of the demographic variables remained in the model.

β -.26** .10 .10

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DISCUSSION Using cross-sectional data, this study examined the relation of pain, distress, and social support to spiritual beliefs and experiences among persons living with HIV/AIDS. We also examined demographic characteristics that may be associated with specific spiritual dimensions. The three spiritual dimensions examined in this study were moderately correlated, indicating that they are overlapping yet distinct constructs. Moreover, each spiritual dimension had a unique combination of psychosocial correlates.

Embracing Life’s Fullness Embracing life’s fullness was associated with having lower levels of distress and having better social support from partners, family, friends, and groups. The experience of constant pain in the last six months was not significantly related to embracing the fullness of life. These findings suggest several possible connections among spiritual, social, and psychological experiences throughout one’s illness. The finding that greater levels of distress are associated with a decreased ability to embrace the fullness of life is consistent with the disturbances in cognition and behavior found in many mood disorders. Disturbances such as anxiety and depression are often associated with anhedonia, decreases in energy, feelings of worthlessness, social isolation, and changes in eating and sleeping patterns, all of which could affect one’s ability to embrace life’s fullness. In addition, the strong negative cognitive biases or preoccupations with fears that can be associated with a distressed mood can further limit one’s ability to adapt to life stressors or utilize appropriate coping skills. Conversely, it is also possible that individuals with a tendency to embrace life’s fullness use this attribute as a coping strategy in itself that protects them from feeling highly distressed about their illness by focusing on positive aspects of their lives. Embracing life’s fullness also appears to be related to increased social support, suggesting that interpersonal relationships may be integral to experiencing the fullness of life. It may be that those who score high on embracing life’s fullness are also more likely to seek out and maintain social support systems; it is also possible that sharing experiences with others increases the perceived enjoyment of daily life. Social support is also likely to provide additional resources, encouragement, and opportunities for emotional expression that allow individuals to feel less limitation or frustration and greater empowerment as they cope with their illness.

Spiritual Beliefs The endorsement of spiritual beliefs was positively correlated with experiencing constant pain in the past six months and being female, and negatively correlated with having no religious affiliation, having a Catholic affiliation, and being European American. The participants’ levels of distress and social support were not significantly related to spiritual beliefs. A greater endorsement of spiritual beliefs in those who have been experiencing constant pain may reflect the use of spirituality as a coping mechanism in illness. The use of

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prayer, meditation, or other religious practices may serve to psychologically ease the experience of suffering, or allow an individual to feel comfort and gain strength in an external source of power. The increased experience of constant pain may also be a subjective indicator of the progression of one’s illness, in which case, increased spirituality may be part of one’s process of accepting declining health or death. However, when CD4+ T cell count was used as an indicator of disease progression, it was not significantly related to spiritual beliefs. The finding that spiritual beliefs tend to be greater among females may relate to occurrences of greater spirituality among the female population in general (Fetzer Institute/National Institute on Aging Working Group, 2003). It may be that women are better able to use spirituality as an additional form of external emotional support, while men are more likely to address problems and stressors with a focus on self-reliance or distraction. It may also be the case that being HIV-positive as a female is associated with unique stressors or life experiences that lead to increased endorsement of spiritual beliefs as a result of illness. Further research may serve to elucidate how the experience of HIV-related stressors is specifically connected to spirituality in women versus men. Similarly, the finding that the endorsement of spiritual beliefs is significantly lower among European Americans (compared to ethnic minorities, particularly African Americans) may be a reflection of the general population (e.g., Taylor, Chatters, Jayakody, and Levin, 1996) or may be related to the specific experience of HIV infection among European Americans as opposed to ethnic minorities. It may be that HIV-positive Whites are less socially marginalized than their minority counterparts, creating a less stressful experience and allowing more opportunities for alternative forms of external support. In addition to having higher overall levels of spirituality, ethnic minorities may experience more stressors in connection to their illness (such as accessing or affording proper healthcare, or general language barriers in society) with fewer outlets, leading to a stronger endorsement of spirituality in an effort to cope. While it may be expected that endorsement of spiritual beliefs was significantly lower among those who were not religiously affiliated, the finding that spirituality was also lower among Catholics in this particular HIV-positive sample was not anticipated. It may be that specific teachings within the Catholic faith cause these individuals to be less inclined to embrace the spiritual beliefs of the religion. It may also be that the affiliation with the beliefs of the Catholic church is not a distinctly spiritual matter, but rather, that other aspects of the affiliation (such as familial or cultural identification and engagement in social ritual) may be more salient in these individuals’ lives.

Spiritual Growth A greater emphasis on spiritual growth was found among those individuals who were least distressed. There are several possible explanations for this finding. It may be that individuals who consciously pursue spiritual growth on a regular basis through such means as solitary reflection tend to feel less psychological distress about their illness as a result. Another aspect of spiritual growth, relating to one’s concern and empathy for others, may also explain this finding. In concerning oneself with the needs of others, individuals may be less likely to focus on distressing aspects of their own lives and illnesses. Alternatively, less distress may facilitate greater spiritual engagement. In addition, this relationship may also be

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mediated by some third factor that allows those who feel less distressed to actively engage in the pursuit of spiritual growth.

Limitations and Strengths Certain limitations of this study must be acknowledged. Due to the cross-sectional nature of this study, it is difficult to determine the direction of association among these variables and causal relations cannot be inferred. According to social cognitive theory, one’s experiences with pain/distress or levels of social support can influence one’s spiritual development, and these factors can be reciprocally influenced by one’s spirituality. Future research in this area will help to elucidate the exact mechanisms of these relationships. The self-report methodology creates additional limitations. The use of structured questionnaires may fail to capture the richness of spiritual experiences and may not accurately reflect actual spiritual practices. Finally, the results should be interpreted with caution because the use of statistical (stepwise) regression with a small sample size can capitalize on chance and overfit the data (i.e., may not generalize well to the population of persons with HIV/AIDS). Therefore, crossvalidation of these findings with a larger sample size is desirable. This study makes an important contribution to the research literature because it explores potential factors associated with spiritual beliefs and experiences among persons with HIV/AIDS. This study successfully incorporated data from an ethnically diverse, genderbalanced sample of HIV-positive persons. These findings also reflect the experiences of individuals at various stages of illness, thereby increasing our ability to generalize our findings to people in earlier stages of disease as well as the latter stages. The identification of factors associated with spirituality may illuminate potential mechanisms that might be targeted in future psychosocial interventions for persons coping with HIV/AIDS. For example, given this study’s findings about the relationships of social support and distress with embracing life’s fullness, it may be worthwhile to explore whether interventions can help bolster the experience of embracing life’s fullness by improving social support. Given previous research showing that depression and poor social support predict more rapid disease progression in HIV-seropositive persons (Leserman et al, 2000), it may be worthwhile to consider whether spiritual experiences such as embracing life’s fullness can play a direct role in contributing to promoting better immunity and health.

Implications for Medical Treatment In the context of the growing body of literature on spirituality and health, this study has important implications for increasing the access and acceptability of clinical interventions. First, medical providers need to understand the importance and significance of spirituality among medically-ill patients. Finding ways to integrate traditional medical practice with spiritual practices may reduce morbidity and mortality associated with preventable diseases by increasing the willingness of persons, particularly ethnic minorities, to seek preventive health care. It may be that if an individual’s spiritual beliefs, which provide great comfort, are not acknowledged by the established medical system, the likelihood of seeking out that system for treatment and ongoing care is minimized. Supporting spiritual beliefs and practices

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within the context of care and treatment may facilitate access for underserved communities that are disproportionately affected by preventable illnesses such as HIV/AIDS, cancer, and diabetes.

Future Research Future longitudinal research will be necessary to examine changes in the experiences of pain, distress, and social support in relation to spiritual beliefs and experiences over the course of an individual’s illness to delineate mediators of the link between these constructs among HIV-positive individuals. Another important area of research is to understand the influence of psychosocial variables—such as pain, distress, and social support—on the development of spirituality throughout the course of illness, particularly life-threatening illness. Understanding how spiritual beliefs and experiences promote psychological and physical well-being has tremendous implications for how traditional medical systems in the U.S. treat and care for individuals with life-threatening illnesses. Indeed, research that can expound upon what we know and clarify mediating and moderating factors associated with spirituality and health outcomes has the potential to decrease morbidity and increase quality of life.

AUTHOR NOTE This study was funded by Grant MH54930 the National Institute of Mental Health to David Spiegel, M.D. (MH54930). We also appreciate the contributions of Luther Brock, XinHua Chen, Catherine Classen, Sue Dimiceli, Ron Durán, Michael Edell, Jason Flamm, Rachel Gibson, Michele Gill, Dennis Israelski, Peea Kim, David Lewis, José Maldonado, Rachel Power, Kristin O’Shea, Susan Diamond, Andrew Zolopa, and the women and men who participated in this research.

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Szaflarski, M., Ritchey, N. P., Leonard, A. C., Mrus, J. M., Peterman, A. H., Ellison, C. G., et al. (2006). Modeling the effects of spirituality/religion on patients' perceptions of living with HIV/AIDS. Journal of General Internal Medicine, 21, S28-S38. Tabachnick, B. G., and Fidell, L. S. (2001). Using multivariate statistics (4th ed.). Needham Heights, MA: Allyn and Bacon. Taylor, R. J., Chatters, L. M., Jayakody, R., and Levin, J. S. (1996). Black and white differences in religious participation: A multisample comparison. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 35, 403-410. Thoresen, C., Bowman, E., Koopman, K., Durán, R., Gill, M., Yang, P., and Spiegel, D. (1996). Principles of Living Scale. Unpublished measure. Department of Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences, Stanford University. Wasner, M., Longaker, C., Fegg, M. J., and Boracio G. D. (2005). Effects of spiritual care training in palliative care professionals. Palliative Medicine, 2, 99-104. Wiedenfeld, S., Bandura, A., Levine, S., O’Learly, A., Brown, S., and Raska, K. (1990). Impact of perceived self-efficiency in coping with stressors on components of the immune system. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 59, 1082-1094. Woods, T. E., Antoni, M. H., Ironson, G. H., and Kling, D. W. (1999). Religiosity is associated with affective status in symptomatic HIV-infected African-American women. Journal of Health Psychology 4, 317-326. Yates, J. W., Chalmer, B. J., St. James, P., Follansbee, M., and McKegney, F. P. (1981). Religion in patients with advanced cancer. Medical and Pediatric Oncology, 9, 121-28.

In: Religion and Psychology: New Research Editor: Joan C. Upton

ISBN: 1-60021-672-2 © 2008 Nova Science Publishers, Inc.

Chapter 2

SPIRITUAL COPING STRATEGIES OF INDIVIDUALS DUALLY DIAGNOSED WITH HIV AND MENTAL ILLNESS Sarah Shelton and Lara Stepleman Department of Psychiatry and Health Behavior, Medical College of Georgia, Agusta, GA, USA

ABSTRACT Psychological distress and related mental disorders occur at higher rates among individuals with chronic medical illness when compared to the general population. In addition to common stressors shared across many chronic illnesses, individuals with HIV/AIDS must overcome challenges unique to their disease. Specifically, factors such as stigma and shame that plague individuals living with HIV/AIDS are not typically encountered to the same degree by individuals with other types of illnesses. Spirituality is one form of coping that may serve as an effective buffer to the distress encountered by individuals living with HIV/AIDS. Spirituality is important to the majority of Americans, and many individuals utilize their spirituality as a means of coping with crises, including crises with health. This strategy has been defined as “spiritual coping” and is recognized as an effective means by which individuals can reduce psychological distress, including the psychological distress associated with medical conditions. This chapter examines the role of spiritual coping among adults with chronic illness with an emphasis on individuals dually diagnosed with HIV/AIDS and a mental disorder. The advantages and challenges of spiritual coping as a resource in psychotherapy are discussed through case examples of individuals living with HIV/AIDS who have diverse spiritual perspectives and received psychotherapy in a faith-supportive counseling program.

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INTRODUCTION The Importance of Religion/Spirituality in America with Regard to Health It is estimated that between 75% and 85% percent of Americans declare their faith to be a highly important component to their existence (Bufford, R., Paloutzian, and Ellison, 1991; Cavalli, Pargament, and Nasr, 2002; Pendleton, Paloutzian and Ellison, 1982). Over ninetypercent of individuals living in America state a belief in God, and nearly half report attending a church on a weekly basis (Paloutzian and Kirkpatrick, 1995; Pendleton et al., 2002). Roughly eighty percent of Americans believe that faith through prayer can facilitate healing for themselves and others (Cherry, 1999; Pendleton et al., 2002). In addition, more than half report believing that God has healed them or aided their recovery in the past (Pendleton et al , 2002). A significant percentage of people seeking medical treatment report praying personally and seeking the prayers of others, and many of them indicated a desire for their doctors to acknowledge and integrate their spiritual beliefs in their treatment (Cherry, 1999; Plante and Sherman, 2001; Wright, 2005). Considering the prevalence of spiritual and religious beliefs in the United States, it is somewhat surprising that this topic has not gained a more salient position in medical/psychological research and clinical applications (Paloutzian and Kirkpatrick, 1995). This is beginning to change, as scientists and practitioners are recognizing the importance of spirituality to health and health behaviors (George, Larson, Koenig, and McCullough, 2000; Plante and Sherman, 2001; Wright 2005).

The History of Research on Religion/Spirituality and Health Numerous studies have examined the role of religion/spirituality in health and healing. More than three-quarters of these studies demonstrate a positive relationship between religion/spirituality and physical health (Cherry, 1999; Spilka, Hood, Hunsberger, and Gorsuch, 2003), and very few studies have found religion/spirituality to have a harmful effect on health (George et al., 2000; Spilka et al., 2003). The primary exceptions to this are religions that have prohibitions against medical interventions, even when deemed necessary for recovery or survival, and cults whose rituals involve forms of child abuse (Paloutzian and Kirkpatrick, 1995). A review of more than 200 medical studies concluded that religion/spirituality has a positive influence on health and disease, and that a lack of spirituality is a risk factor for illness (Cherry; 1999; George et al., 2000). The nature of research on religion/spirituality as it applies to health began with examining the effects of intercessory prayer. One of the most well-known studies of this nature was conducted by Byrd (1988) evaluating the effect of prayer on healing. His work is credited with stimulating new interest in the scientific examination of spiritual constructs. He designed a randomized double-blind experiment, in which 393 patients admitted to the coronary care unit at San Francisco General Hospital were assigned to either an experimental or control group. The experimental group was prayed for daily by home prayer groups. He found that those who were prayed for were five times less likely to need antibiotics and three times less likely to develop pulmonary edema. In addition, the prayed-for group experienced fewer cases of pneumonia and cardiopulmonary arrest, and fewer patients in this group died

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compared to the control group. Other studies have shown that individuals who are religious/spiritual are at a significantly lower risk for development of coronary disease and exhibit lower mortality in the event of diagnosis (George et al., 2000). Similarly, studies have demonstrated reduced mortality among breast cancer patients who describe themselves as religious/spiritual (George et al., 2000). Other studies have focused on correlations between religious/spiritual behaviors and positive health factors. For example, regular church attendance is associated with better immune system functioning, fewer hospital admissions, and shorter hospital stays among elderly individuals (Cherry, 1999). A positive relationship between church attendance and longevity has also been demonstrated, with regular church attendees living an average of 28% longer than those who did not regularly attend church. This parallels the longevity ratio of nonsmokers to smokers (Cherry, 1999; George et al., 2000). Moreover, engaging in religious practices (church attendance, prayer, Bible study, etc.) as well as importance placed on religion/spirituality have been found to be associated with lower levels of blood pressure in several studies (Ellison and Smith, 1991; George et al., 2000; Mitka, 1998; Steffen, Hinderliter, Blumenthal, and Sherwood, 2001). Research has also examined how religion/spirituality indirectly affects physical health by increasing healthy coping behaviors and positive emotional states which, in turn, affects health. Past research with adult women in various stages of uterine and ovarian cancer credited religion/spirituality with helping them sustain hope in the face of sickness. Edward Creagan, M.D of the Division of Medical Oncology at the Mayo Clinic has noted “among the coping methods of long-term cancer survivors, the predominant (coping) strategy is spiritual” (Ziegler, 1998, 15). Oncology patients who value religion/spirituality report less subjective pain (frequency and intensity) when compared to non-religious/non-spiritual oncology patients (Ellison and Smith, 1991). Another study examined elderly individuals diagnosed with depression secondary to hospitalization for physical illness and found a positive relationship between spirituality and quicker remission from depression (Mitka, 1998). Religious/spiritual involvement has also been shown to increase self-esteem and decrease loneliness (Ellison and Smith, 1991; Ellison, 1983; Paloutzain and Ellison, 1982). In sum, religion/spirituality appears to play a role in a broad range of illness related issues, including development, course, outcome, perceptions, and survival of illness. Religion/spirituality also affects patients’ coping with illness through means such as decreasing depression and anxiety while increasing hope, pain tolerance, quality of life, and influencing perceptions of one’s own health, energy, and vitality (Ellison and Smith, 1991; George et al., 2002). There are three main mechanisms by which religion/spirituality are believed to influence physical health and coping. The first is health behaviors. Religious/spiritual people are less likely to engage in risky health behaviors. Some denominations have strict prohibitions against use of certain chemicals (i.e. alcohol, tobacco), violence, and risky sexual behaviors. Many religious groups view the body as having holy significance and engage in healthy behaviors out of respect for the body. Obviously, differences between and within denominations with regard to these behaviors are substantial. However, people who view themselves as religious/spiritual tend to live healthier lifestyles compared to nonreligious/non-spiritual people, regardless of the content of their particular beliefs. (George et al., 2000; Paloutzian and Kirkpatrick, 1995).

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The second mechanism is the notion of social support. Involvement with a religious institution provides more opportunities for forming close relationships. These relationships are likely to lend support, both emotional and practical, in times of need. However, social support accounts for merely 5% to 10% of the relationship between health and emotional well-being and religion/spirituality (George et al., 2000). The third proposed mechanism is that religion/spirituality provides a sense of meaning and coherence to life events. Believing that events in life have special significance and meaning empowers people with courage and hope thus reducing subjective suffering (Paloutzian and Kirkpatrick, 1995; Paloutzian, and Ellison, 1982). This mechanism has received the most support, accounting for 20%-30% of the relationship between health and emotional well-being and religion/spirituality (George et al., 2000).

Integrating Religion/Spirituality with Health Care As of 1999, approximately one third of all medical schools in the United States have incorporated some form of spirituality education into their required curricula. Roughly half offer spirituality courses as electives (Ziegler, 1998). Since Decartes promoted his belief in the separation of mind and body in the 1600’s, medicine has operated largely independent of the spiritual and psychological aspects of their patients’ lives. Perhaps modern healthcare is on the verge of a return to a more holistic approach exemplified by the words of Plato, “The great error in the treatment of the human body is that physicians are ignorant of the whole. For the part can never be well, unless the whole is well” (Cherry, 1999, 7). The FICA model of integrating spirituality into the physicians’ assessment of patients asserts that spirituality can be effectively explored with patients of all ages, including children (Puchalski et al., 1999, 1). The patient’s developmental level is taken into consideration with regard to depth and focus of the interview. An increasing number of medical schools are presenting the FICA acronym as a useful technique during lectures on spirituality and medicine. (See figure 1.) “F- Faith and Beliefs.” The physician inquires what, if any, faith is important to the patient. This question should be simple and broad, such as “Are you a religious or spiritual person?” “I- Importance and Influence.” If the answer to the first question is positive, then the physician inquires about the emphasis the individual places on these beliefs. “C- Community.” The physician asks if the patient experiences his or her spiritual life in the context of an identifiable community. This is useful information, in that it indicates the likelihood of social and practical support. “A- Address and Application.” The physician asks the patient if and how he or she would like these beliefs incorporated into the physician-patient relationship. There will be variability across patients with regard to this question. Some patients may ask for a clergy referral, particularly in the event of life-threatening circumstances (Puchalski et al., 1999). Other patients will not wish to discuss their beliefs any further, but most will appreciate being asked about them (Allen, 1980). Figure 1. FICA Model (Puchalski et al., 1999, 1).

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Recently the National Institute of Healthcare Research (NIHR) appointed a panel to review existing research on religion/spirituality and health. They joined with other panels from the National Institute on Aging (NIA) and the Fetzer Institute in an effort to identify and conceptualize domains that link religion/spirituality and health. They concluded that there are 10 such domains, one of which is religious/spiritual coping. It is defined as the extent to which one relies on faith to minimize stressors (George et al., 2000). Numerous studies conducted with chronically ill and physically injured populations support the idea of tailoring treatment to the individual needs of the patient by assessing familial, developmental, and other influences (Carter and Atala, 1992). Illness and injury can understandably produce considerable anxiety in patients (Albano, Causey, and Carter, 2000; Forman, 1993). This anxiety can be understood utilizing a three-component model. When confronting stressors, fear and anxiety are expressed through three distinct but interrelated dimensions: the physiological, cognitive, and behavioral. The cognitive component consists of thoughts, images, beliefs, interpretations, and attributions about the situation and expected outcomes (Albano, Causey, and Carter, 2000). It is within this dimension that religion/spirituality may play an especially powerful role in influencing coping with illness. People who hold religious/spiritual beliefs are more likely to interpret stressful life events through a religious/spiritual filter. Therefore, they are likely to reframe negative events in a positive manner by assigning them spiritual significance (George et al., 2000; Hester, 1998). Research on the experience of pain in patients suggests that cognitive developmental level, temperament, as well as familial, situational, and emotional dimensions should all be considered in order to select an optimal intervention plan (Albano, Causey, and Carter, 2000; Stearns, Smith, and Carter, 2000).

The Difference between Religion and Spirituality Religion typically embodies both external/institutional experiences, such as identification with a particular denomination, as well as internal experiences, such as prayer and other religious practices. Spirituality, on the other hand, has been described as a belief system focusing on intangible elements that impart vitality and meaning to life’s events (George et al., 2000; Pendleton et al., 2002; Wright, 2005). An individual’s personal spirituality is believed to play a larger role in coping with stressors in comparison to institutionalized religion (Paloutzian and Kirkpatrick, 1995). While the difference between religion and spirituality is a topic of theological debate, the majority of Americans do not distinguish between the two when conceptualizing their faith life. Therefore, distinguishing between the two concepts in research with non-theologians is not recommended (George et al., 2000).

The Role of Religion/Spirituality in Coping Coping has been described as “constantly changing cognitive and behavioral efforts to manage specific external and/or internal demands that are appraised as taxing or exceed the resources of the person” (Pendleton et al., 2002, 1). A related yet distinct construct is religious/spiritual coping, which is defined as “a search for significance in times of stress in ways related to the sacred” (Pendleton et al., 2002, 1). Many people report turning to their

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faith beliefs when faced with a crisis, such as illness or injury (Paloutzian and Kirkpatrick, 1995). Adults have been found to utilize at least 21 different religious/spiritual coping strategies, with the most common being cognitive reappraisal of their situation from a spiritual perspective. In other words, one can find positive aspects in a negative situation thus making the stressor easier to tolerate. For instance, someone who has lost a loved one may find comfort in their belief that the deceased is no longer suffering or is in a “better place.” Examples of other spiritual coping strategies include “surrendering” to a higher power thus relieving oneself of actual or perceived pressures and expectations to produce change. A parallel strategy is refusing to accept a negative situation by having hope or faith that a Higher Power will definitely intervene to produce change. Religious/spiritual coping in adults has been implicated in the construction of events, coping processes, and the outcomes pursued (Pendleton et al., 2002). Thus far, we have discussed the importance of spirituality in America and delineated the history of research on spiritual coping strategies among populations with mental and medical illnesses. In the remainder of this chapter, we intend to provide an overview of HIV/AIDS in America and to examine the unique psychosocial factors related to this disease. We will then illustrate the role of spiritual coping among HIV-positive individuals in their mental health treatment through a review of the literature and case examples.

OVERVIEW OF HIV/AIDS IN AMERICA Human Immunodeficiency Virus (HIV) is a retrovirus that can lead to Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome (AIDS), a syndrome where the immune system becomes compromised over time, leading to increased susceptibility to various opportunistic infections that can be life-threatening. HIV primarily infects and destroys CD4+ T cells, an important component of the human immune system. HIV also attacks vital organs such as the brain, kidneys, and heart which can lead to dementia, encephalopathy, renal failure, and heart problems. Individuals with HIV are also at high risk for cancers because of their compromised immune system. (Bartlett and Gallant, 2004) HIV is transmitted through direct contact of a mucous membrane with an HIV affected bodily fluid including blood, semen, vaginal fluid, and breast milk. Transmission can occur during sexual activity, childbirth, breastfeeding, needle sharing, blood transfusions, or other forms of exposure to body fluids (Frank and Sax, 2005). HIV has now reached the status of a pandemic. In January 2006, the Joint United Nations Program on HIV/AIDS (UNAIDS) and the World Health Organization (WHO) reported that more than 25 million people have died of AIDS since it was first recognized in 1981. The CDC (2006) estimated that approximately 40,000 individuals in the United States are infected with HIV each year, and three million people world-wide die of AIDS each year. There are currently between 850,000-950,000 Americans living with HIV/AIDS, with as many as onefourth of these individuals being unaware of their HIV-positive status (Schneider, Glynn, Kajese, and McKenna, 2006). In the U.S., racial and sexual minorities comprise a disproportionate number of HIV infections relative to their representation in the general population. African-Americans are the ethnic group most affected by the disease making up 40% of cases but accounting for just

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12% of the total population in the U.S. (CDC, 2004). HIV is on the rise among AfricanAmerican women with that group representing over half of female cases in the U.S. (Anderson, 2001). The occurrence of HIV is also significantly higher among men who have sex with men, making up nearly half of all male cases in America (Sanchez et al., 2006). Unfortunately, minorities also commonly face economic and social challenges that serve as obstacles to health care (Bartlett, Cheever, Johnson, and Paauw, 2004). So, those most affected by the disease are often those least likely to have adequate access to and resources for health care (Anderson, 2001; Bartlett et al., 2004). Sadly, statistics show that the number of diagnosed HIV cases is on the rise across all demographic groups (Kowalak, 2001). This trend is surprising due to the high volume of public education and community outreach initiatives in recent years. This may be explained, in part, by erroneous beliefs that HIV is no longer a life-threatening disease. These perceptions are fostered by the success of new HIV-fighting medications that have led to increased life span and better management of HIV-related symptoms. This false sense of security has altered perceptions regarding the gravity of HIV and thus the need for related risk-reducing behaviors (e.g. condom use). This is particularly true among younger individuals, which is resulting in an increase in high-risk sexual behaviors and higher HIV infection rates for this population (Holloway, Seaton, and Crowley, 2004). Antiretroviral oral medications, given in a multiple drug combination called Highly Active Antiretroviral Therapy (HAART), are the most recognized and effective treatments for HIV. Regular blood work to monitor CD4+ counts and viral loads informs treatment by adjusting oral medication combinations to control the virus. While great strides have been made in managing HIV, there remains no cure for those infected (Bartlett and Gallant, 2004; Frank and Sax, 2005).

HIV/AIDS-Related Psychological Distress Although HIV/AIDS has largely been conceptualized as a medical illness, HIV has also been referred to in the literature as a “psychiatric epidemic,” because the disease can cause, exacerbate, or sustain psychiatric symptoms (Treisman and Angelino, 2004). Reciprocally, psychiatric disorders lead to greater risk of HIV infection and poorer HIV-related prognosis due to poor judgment and impulsivity resulting in high-risk behaviors and poor medical compliance. Further, individuals with depression often suffer from low motivation accompanied by a sense of hopelessness or helplessness that contribute to poor medication adherence, missed appointments, and dangerous behaviors such as intravenous drug use (Klinkenberg and Sacks, 2004). It is estimated that more than 50% of HIV-positive individuals in the U.S. meet diagnostic criteria for a psychiatric diagnosis not counting substance abuse (Klinkenberg and Sacks; Treisman and Angelino, 2004). Depression is the most common emotional disorder occurring in HIV-positive populations, estimated at prevalence rates of one in three individuals (Bing, Burnam, and Longshore, 2005). Its prevalence is surpassed only by substance abuse disorders, which are found in roughly three-quarters of HIV patients (Hsu, 2002). Substance abuse and Major Depressive Disorder co-occur more frequently than any other combinations of mental illness (Treisman and Angelino, 2004).

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While depression and anxiety are more common in all chronic medical illnesses compared to the general population, individuals with HIV face challenges unique to their disease. Stigma and shame are two interrelated but separate constructs used to describe the experiences of HIV-positive people and are arguably the most powerful psychological factors contributing to the prevalence of psychological distress in this population. Stigma is defined as “an undesirable or discrediting attribute that an individual possesses, thus reducing the individual’s status in the eyes of society” (Holloway, Seaton, and Crowley, 2004, 2). Shame can be described as an internalized emotional response to the stigmatization inflicted upon them by others. Shame is defined as “a negative emotion elicited when a person experiences failure in relation to personal or social standards, feels responsible for this failure, and believes that the failure reflects self-inadequacy rather than inappropriate behavior” (Holloway, Seaton, and Crowley, 2004, 2). Several factors contributing to the stigmatization of persons with HIV have been proposed. First, HIV-positive individuals are perceived as being responsible for their infection via perceived participation in socially “deviant” behaviors such as drug use, promiscuity, and prostitution. Interestingly, HIV is stigmatized significantly more so than Hepatitis C, even though the latter is also a sexually transmitted disease that often has more dire medical consequences (Brown, Macintyre, and Trujillo, 2003). This may be because HIV is commonly associated with groups afforded less societal privilege and suffer more discrimination such as those from minority and economically disadvantaged backgrounds. Specifically, HIV-related stigma is tied to racial prejudice and homophobia (Kadushin, 1999; Takahashi, 1997). Such stigmatizing associations are not found in relation to Hepatitis or noninfectious diseases such as cancer. Second, HIV stigma may be driven by the public’s view of HIV as fatal despite significant life-lengthening strides in the medical field (Brown, Macintyre, and Trujillo, 2003). Third, some individuals still view HIV as highly contagious, like leprosy, despite attempts to educate the public about transmission factors (Herek, Capitanio, and Widaman, 2003). Finally, some symptoms associated with advanced HIV manifest in physically unappealing ways (e.g. muscle wasting and dermatologic conditions) and make more visible that the individual has an illness. Even subtle physical changes (e.g. body fat distribution) that the majority of non-infected people would not recognize as associated with HIV can make an individual feel self-conscious and contribute to a sense of shame (Holloway, Seaton, and Crowley, 2004). Research suggests that while overt acts of stigmatization and discrimination of HIVpositive individuals have decreased, such acts persist in a covert manner on both a conscious and subconscious level including but not limited to avoidance behaviors (Holloway, Seaton, and Crowley, 2004). Studies suggest that people’s perceptions of their own behavior toward HIV-positive individuals are typically inaccurate, resulting in an underestimation or denial of the degree of stigmatizing behaviors in which they engage (Holloway, Seaton, and Crowley, 2004). Stigma is an enormous problem in the fight against HIV/AIDS because it decreases the likelihood that individuals will receive testing, disclose their HIV status, and seek medical intervention for their disease (Fortenberry, McFarlane, and Bleakley, 2003). Stigma is such a powerful psychological phenomenon that something known as “secondary stigma” has been documented in the literature in reference to the discrimination and resulting shame that health care providers and caregivers working with HIV-positive populations sometimes experience. (Brown, Macintyre, and Trujillo, 2003).

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One psychological consequence of stigma can be social isolation and withdrawal. This kind of social withdrawal can result from or contribute to a depressed state. Moreover, failure to disclose one’s HIV status to friends and family reduces the amount of available support, which in turn may increase an individual’s sense of loneliness. Conversely, individuals who do disclose their HIV status to friends and family risk rejection and abandonment, particularly among families and peers who hold strict moral or religious beliefs that may admonish many of the risk behaviors associated with HIV infection (Valdisseri, 2002). Depending on one’s religious upbringing and current religious/spiritual perspective, a diagnosis of HIV/AIDS can have additional psychological implications for that person. It is not uncommon for individuals with conservative religious views to conceptualize behaviors that led to the acquisition of the disease (e.g. certain sexual acts, drugs use) to be “sinful” and consider their illness as “punishment” for their actions (Miller, 2005; Ramer et al., 2006; Tarakeshwar et al., 2005). This type of perspective can lead to a form of religiously-based guilt that can be difficult for some people to fully resolve. Although the integration of mental health services into routine medical care is a growing trend, the availability of adequate psychological services for HIV/AIDS populations is the exception rather than the rule. The economic, geographic, and social barriers frequently facing this population often result in their health care resources being limited, fragmented, and grossly inadequate. While there are some health care professionals who vigorously advocate on behalf of HIV/AIDS patients, there is also pressure on health care providers to turn attention away from patients who are non-adherent, difficult to treat, and who lack resources to pay for their healthcare. Thus, incorporating psychological interventions into the medical care of HIV and other chronically ill patients is actually very cost effective because it can help to decrease treatment-interfering maladaptive patient behaviors. This view is contrary to common assumption that increased services only lead to increased expense, which fails to take into account positive health benefits often resulting from psychological interventions that can reduce health-related costs over the long term. When psychiatric illnesses such as depression are controlled, individuals function better in all domains including the physical. For instance, improved emotional functioning leads to more appropriate utilization of health care services and reduces the number of unnecessary hospitalizations and emergency department visits, the two most costly medical services (Rudd, Moeykens, and Colton, 1999). While mental health interventions should be tailored to the individual needs of each patient, there are several overarching goals for those with HIV and mental illness. First, interventions aimed at improving HIV-positive individuals’ quality of life should be a priority. This includes reduction in mental health symptoms such as depression and anxiety. Second, strategies to improve patients’ motivation and ability to be active and capable participants in their own medical care should be employed. The first and second goals are related, as patients must first value their lives in order to invest in protecting and improving them. Effective self-care and proper utilization of the health care system will result in improved physical and mental health. Third, decreasing risky behaviors that negatively impact patients’ medical and mental health status is important to improving their prognosis and mortality as well as reducing the risk of transmission to other non-infected individuals (Treisman and Angelino, 2004).

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RESEARCH ON SPIRITUAL COPING AMONG HIV-POSITIVE INDIVIDUALS Research examining the use of spiritual coping among individuals living with HIV/AIDS mirrors the research conducted with individuals living with other types of chronic illnesses in most aspects. Research with HIV-positive populations demonstrates that these individuals utilize the same spiritual coping strategies identified in other medical populations, such as prayer, collaboration with God, and belief or hope in miracles (Bormann et al., 2006; Tarakeshwar et al., 2005). Additionally, research findings indicate that spirituality is positively correlated with health behaviors, psychological well-being, and physical health in HIV/AIDS populations, just as it is among other groups with chronic illness (e.g. Ironson, et al., 2002; Phillips et al, 2006). Regarding the association between spirituality and health behaviors, Avants et al., (2003) found that spirituality/religiousness accounted for 40% of the variance of sex-related HIV risk-taking behaviors. Spirituality is also negatively correlated with HIV-related drug risktaking behaviors (Avants et al., 2003; Simoni, Martone, and Kerwin, 2002). It appears that spirituality may play a partial role in reducing HIV-risk taking behaviors, thereby reducing the likelihood of disease transmission. Similar to research on spirituality among other medical populations, research conducted with HIV-positive individuals revealed that spirituality is associated with positive mental health factors. For instance, spirituality has been linked to a sense of comfort, real and perceived social support, inspiration (Avants et al., 2003), mastery, high self-esteem (Simoni, Martone, and Kerwin, 2002; Simoni and Ortiz., 2003), empowerment, sense of control, sense of meaning, enhanced problem solving ability (Somlai and Heckman, 2000), and reduced fear of death (Siegel and Schrimshaw, 2002). Therefore, it is not surprising, given the correlation between spirituality and all of the positive mental health factors, that the rate of depression is lower among individuals living with HIV/AIDS who consider themselves to be spiritual (Dalmida, 2006; Simoni, Martone, and Kerwin, 2002). Some research demonstrates a link between spirituality and physical health factors among HIV-positive individuals that is similar to patterns found in research examining spirituality among other medical populations. For instance, individuals living with HIV/AIDS who considered themselves to be spiritual were shown to report less subjective pain and higher subjective energy levels (Ramer et al., 2006). Phillips et al. (2006) discovered a relationship between spirituality and better sleep quality, an important factor in physical health. Spirituality has also been linked to lower cortisol levels (a hormone indicating the presence of psychological stress) and better immune system functioning among individuals living with HIV/AIDS (Bormann et al., 2006; Dalmida, 2006; Ironson et al., 2002; Tarakeshwar et al., 2005) The latter finding is of particular importance to this population due to the immunodeficiency inherent in their illness. Finally, spirituality is related to longer survival among individuals HIV-positive populations (Ironson et al., 2002). Aspects of spiritual coping among individuals living with HIV-AIDS that are somewhat unique to this population in comparison to other groups living with chronic illness, include a higher occurrence of anger at God and/or belief that God is punishing them through their illness (Ramer et al., 2006). A related difference is that while the majority of HIV-positive individuals consider themselves to be spiritual, few identify themselves as religious (Ironson

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et al., 2002; Tarakeshwar, 2005). This is not surprising when one takes into account the disapproving position that many formalized religious institutions have regarding behaviors associated with HIV such as same-sex physical intimacy, non-monogamy, sex outside of marriage, and drug use. This realization has direct implications for assessing spirituality among HIV-positive individuals. One must take special care to ensure that the constructs of religion and spirituality are not blurred while assessing spirituality among individuals living with HIV/AIDS in particular, because items reflecting religiousness are not likely to be endorsed even among highly spiritual responders. The next section examines three case examples of adult individuals living with HIV/AIDS who have psychiatric diagnoses and received long-term psychotherapy at a faithsupportive counseling program. The patients profiled represent diverse cultural and religious/spiritual backgrounds. The benefits and challenges of their use of religious beliefs and spiritual coping in psychotherapy are reviewed.

Case Examples The following clients were all seen by the first author of this chapter in the context of a faith-supportive counseling program for HIV-positive individuals with mental health symptoms. As these patients were all seen in the context of a psychology training program, they were transferred yearly, if needed, to incoming trainees. Thus, these patients have had several therapists over the course of a relatively short period. Identifying information about each case has been removed or altered to protect patient confidentiality.

Claire Claire is a heterosexual African-American female in her mid-thirties who is married with three children ranging from elementary to high-school age. She has been living with diagnoses of HIV/AIDS and lupus for approximately ten years. Claire acquired HIV from her first husband (now deceased from AIDS-related health problems) who was reportedly an IV drug user and had unprotected sex with numerous women while married to this patient. Claire was diagnosed with “Major Depressive Disorder” which ranged from “Mild” to “Severe with Psychotic Features” over the course of her treatment, which consisted of roughly three years of weekly psychotherapy with three different psychologists-in-training. For the past year and a half of her therapy, she chose to incorporate her religion/spirituality (Christian-Baptist) into her mental health care. During times of high stress (often consisting of family conflict), Claire was prone to suffer from auditory hallucinations. One of the most obvious benefits of Clair’s use of spiritual coping was her utilization of prayer to reduce panic and distress associated with this symptom of psychosis and to stop her from succumbing to command hallucinations. On one occasion, Claire reported keeping herself safe by reciting prayers over the telephone with a friend from church in the middle of the night, while hearing voices commanding her to cut and stab herself with a knife. The patient’s therapy appointment was the next day which led to a psychiatric admission to get her psychosis under control with medication, but the use of

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prayer in the mean time served not only to comfort the patient but to prevent self-harm as well. Claire’s spiritual views also facilitated a sense of forgiveness toward her first husband who infected her with the disease and allowed her to move forward to focusing on the present rather than dwelling on the past. Furthermore, the social support she found in her church community, through pastoral counseling with her minister and friendships with others in her congregation, undoubtedly served to buffer some of Claire’s depressive symptoms. Her faith also helped her to maintain hope that she may one day be cured of her medical and psychological problems, whether through medicine or divine intervention. She often stated “My God is bigger than HIV.” Additionally, she found a great deal of meaning and a sense of purpose for her life through her involvement in her church. For instance, she volunteered at the church and was pursuing education and training that would allow her to become a volunteer counselor in a church-affiliated program. There were two identifiable challenge to Claire’s progress in therapy that directly related to her religious and spiritual views. At times, Claire would entertain the possibility that we was being “punished” by God for “sinful” acts from her past including substance use and sexual acts outside of marriage. During these times, Claire’s depression would escalate and she would suffer from a high degree of self-induced guilt and shame. In addition, Claire saw herself in a loveless marriage that she conceptualized as “holding her back” rather than supporting her in her recovery from depression. Indeed, the therapist’s perspective was in agreement with the patient’s and felt that divorce was probably the more healthy solution for Claire Yet, Claire found herself unable/unwilling to pursue a divorce on religious tenets ingrained in her mind from childhood even despite her minister’s approval, based on years of his own unsuccessful interventions with the couple. Claire’s case illustrates how religious and spiritual perspectives can both facilitate and arguably hinder therapeutic gains. For her, spiritual coping consisted of social support, the use of prayer to reduce anxiety and increase a sense of control, forgiveness towards those who had harmed her – even for the person who infected her with a potentially deadly disease, instilling hope for her future with regard to HIV/AIDS, depression, and her troubled marriage, and contributing to a sense of meaningfulness and purpose for her life. While her religious views on marriage served to keep her in an unhealthy relationship, the other benefits of spiritual coping for Claire allowed her to grow and begin to thrive – even if in unhealthy soil. Though Claire continued to experience occasional psychotic episodes, her depressed mood and overall level of functioning improved dramatically with psychotherapy that allowed and encouraged her to discuss and utilize her spirituality as a legitimate means to cope with her psychological distress.

Jerry Jerry is a single Caucasian male in his early fifties who has never been married and has no children. Though Jerry had sex with men and did not have sex with women, he felt uncomfortable identifying himself as gay or homosexual and considered himself “questioning.” He has been living with a diagnosis of HIV for approximately twenty years and was infected by an unknown man with whom he had unprotected sex. Jerry received a psychiatric diagnosis of “Anxiety Disorder Not Otherwise Specified” and “Narcissistic

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Personality Disorder.” Jerry’s symptoms included vague anxieties that manifests in psychosomatic ways. These symptoms waxed and waned in sync with the level of stress Jerry was experiencing at work and in his personal relationships. Jerry has been in therapy for approximately two and a half years with two different therapists. Jerry elected to receive psychotherapy within a faith-supportive counseling program for pragmatic scheduling and financial reasons and not initially with the intention of utilizing his spiritual views (Astrology and Metaphysics) as a resource in treatment. However, he ultimately did elect to utilize his spiritual views in therapy with mixed results. Jerry exhibited very poor insight into his anxiety symptoms and the interpersonal problems caused or exacerbated by his personality disorder. He sought out specialist after specialist in search of the origin of his anxious symptoms (racing heart, sweating, muscle tension, digestive problems). None of the many specialists who evaluated Jerry but were able to find a physical cause for his symptoms even after batteries of expensive and invasive tests. Still, Jerry’s narcissism caused him to remain resistant to the idea that his symptoms could have a psychological basis, because he was unable to consider that another individual’s idea (even that of a highly trained medical specialist) could be correct since it differed from his own interpretation. This same kind of limited insight and narcissistic personality style, including an inflated sense of self-importance and sense of entitlement, cause him countless problems with his interpersonal relationships with family, friends, co-workers, and romantic pursuits. It is important to note that the tenets of any religious/spiritual framework can be misinterpreted or misused, regardless of their content. In Jerry’ case, it was Astrology’s emphasis on predetermination that prevented him from developing any sort of internal locus of control. In other words, he was unable/unwilling to examine the cause and effect pattern or the influence that his own choices and actions played in his life circumstances and relationships. Rather, he consistently viewed himself as a victim of the whims of the universe and made no progress in therapy in improving his interpersonal effectiveness. Metaphysics’ emphasis on intuitiveness as a higher and more evolved state of awareness served to strengthen Jerry’s narcissistic tendencies, as he misused this spiritual tenet so as to never be proven wrong even in the face of contradictory objective data. For example, he frequently approached heterosexual men and adamantly insisted they were actually homosexual and attracted to him despite their strong objections to the contrary. He justified these kinds of behaviors with statements like “he doesn’t even know he is gay, but I was able to sense that from him.” Jerry at times even doubted the existence of HIV/AIDS, describing it as a societal conspiracy to halt homosexual relations. This perspective, though not unique to this one individual, was bolstered by his narcissistic belief that he, of all people, because of his perceived sense of importance and perfection could not possibly be affected by a stigmatizing condition. His religious/spiritual beliefs that could be construed as dismissive of scientific data in favor of intuitive “knowledge” also allowed him to remain in a state of partial denial about his HIV-positive status. Though Jerry’s spiritual perspective posed challenges in therapy with regard to his personality disorder, his belief that the universe dictates events as opposed to the notion of random occurrences provided him with a sense of comfort that often worked to reduce his anxiety during times of tribulation. Though he was never able to view his physical symptoms as resulting from his anxiety, he was able to focus on the meaning behind negative life events instead of focusing merely on the distress resulting from them. In fact, he was very reflective

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both in and outside of therapy sessions, contemplating what life lessons he could learn from things that had happened to him that would make him a better human being and in turn affect the world around him in a positive way. In this sense, Jerry used spiritual coping to reduce anxiety and to assign positive meaning to events in his life that would otherwise be considered negative, at times including his experience with HIV. However, the same spiritual belief system that aided him in reducing his anxiety and probably buffered depressive symptoms also helped to fuel his personality disorder and maintain chaos in his interpersonal life.

Fawn Fawn is a Native American heterosexual female in her mid-forties who is married with three adult children. She has been living with a diagnosis of HIV/AIDS for the last twelve years, which she believed was acquired through sexual contact with her first husband. Fawn’s first marriage was verbally, emotionally, and physically abusive. She received a psychiatric diagnosis of “Major Depressive Disorder, Mild,” and exhibited definite post-traumatic symptoms though she did not meet full criteria for “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.” Fawn was engaged in psychotherapy for approximately four years with three different therapists. For the past year and a half of her therapy, she elected to use her spirituality (a blend of Christianity and Native-American tradition) as a prominent resource in psychotherapy. This had implications for the therapeutic approach as well as the therapeutic outcome. Fawn responded well to a narrative therapy approach, involving “story telling” about her life in a manner consistent with Native American tradition. While Fawn had reportedly struggled with other therapeutic models in the past, she enjoyed the process and made significant strides with this approach. Fawn’s spirituality helped her to not place HIV at the center of her life. Her spiritual beliefs consisted in part of a “whatever will be, will be” approach to life. This allowed Fawn not to ruminate over how and why she contracted the disease but rather to move forward with her life giving HIV minimal influence over her psychological state. Her Native American spirituality roots provided a strong sense of connection to animals for her. She as able to find a significant amount of meaning in her care-taking and relationship with her many dogs, which she raised and bred. When Fawn was unable to connect with other people for social support due to residual fear, distrust, and hostility from the prior abuse that she suffered, her connection to animals filled that void. Both her Native American and Christian spiritual roots instilled within her the notion of patience as a virtue in the midst of trying circumstances. For Fawn, this concept was a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it allowed her to withstand quite a bit of interpersonal heartache, such as one son being sent to prison and another son detaching from the family, with an impressive amount of fortitude. On the other hand, this concept also contributed to her remaining for many years in an abusive relationship that permanently damaged her and her children’s psyches. A related struggle for Fawn in therapy was discussing the specifics of her abusive trauma. Despite numerous attempts doing trauma work, she was unable/unwilling to talk in detail about what she had suffered, even claiming “amnesia” at times. Though she never articulated it, one could argue that her Native American roots, highly valued by herself

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and her family of origin, contributed to this struggle through the tenet of not speaking aloud about bad/evil things (Wright, 2005). Her blend of spirituality also promoted a high degree of respect for elders, particularly those in her family. After many years of an awkward and arguably unhealthy relationship with her parents (largely related to her abusive first marriage), Fawn was able to restore her sense of connection to both her mother and father, heal mutual interpersonal wounds, and build a highly satisfying and meaningful friendship with them as an adult. For Fawn, it seemed that her use of spiritual coping became more sophisticated and adaptive through psychotherapy, affording her more opportunity to benefit from her belief system. Allowing her to talk through how her spirituality affected her perceptions and expectations in psychotherapy seemed to help her sort through on her own how some of her beliefs had the potential to aid her in her recovery and how some had the potential to play upon weaknesses in her psyche.

CONCLUSION Reflections on Case Examples As one can see from the case examples provided in this chapter, ones spirituality directly influences world view, core beliefs, perceptions, expectations, and reactions with regard to HIV, psychological distress, and life circumstances. While an individuals’ spirituality does not direct them in a vacuum to the exclusion of all other influences, its impact is pervasive across many areas of functioning affecting beliefs, thoughts, feelings, and behaviors. More important than the content of any faith belief system, is the degree to which a person embraces that system and how the content interacts with an individual’s unique personality, pathology, and life experiences. Two people sharing the same basic spiritual beliefs may have very different spiritual coping styles that have the potential to be adaptive or maladaptive, depending on the interaction of their faith with their life circumstances and the person-specific factors mentioned earlier. The most common benefit of spiritual coping seems to be the ability to find and assign meaning to life events. The most frequent misuse of spiritual coping is self-punishment, guilt, and shame that results more from religiosity and specific religious doctrine as opposed to the more global construct of spirituality. Spiritual coping is like any other form of coping, having the potential to be advantageous or harmful. Consider the non-spiritual coping strategy of distraction, which is to avert attention away from a distressful event onto less emotionprovoking thoughts or activities. One can utilize this strategy very effectively to tolerate a painful or frightening medical procedure to reduce distress. However, one can also utilize this strategy to a fault by refusing to acknowledge repeated signs and symptoms of a potentially serious medical or mental illness.

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Implications for Research Spiritual coping is presently a rapidly growing field of psychological research after many years of lying dormant as something worthy of scientific pursuit. The authors of this chapter encourage researchers to investigate the many ways in which spiritual coping can contribute to the reduction of psychological distress and recovery from psychological disorders. There remains much to be learned about the manner in which people use their faith to cope with stressors, and therapists owe it to their patients to learn as much as they can about spirituality as a coping mechanism if it to be effectively incorporated into the therapy process.

Implications for Psychotherapy Historically, many therapists have shied away from encouraging, or even allowing, their patients to incorporate spirituality into therapy, believing it to be a component of a person’s life that is somehow “separate” and should be isolated from the rest of their existence (Dowd and Nielsen, 2006; Weiner, Cooper, and Barbre, 2005). The author of this chapter points to the prevalence of spirituality in America and the importance that it holds for many individuals and asserts that to ignore a person’s spiritual belief system is to ignore a huge part of that person’s identity and runs the risk of seeing only a partial picture in therapy. One must, of course, be careful that it is the patient bringing in his or her own spiritual constructs into therapy rather than the therapist. Even if the therapist and patient share the same religious denomination or basic beliefs, or perhaps even attend the same church, synagogue, or mosque, the therapist must recognize that each person’s personal interpretation of their faith is unique to them. So, one can never assume that they know exactly how being a Catholic, for instance, has influenced their patient in a specific manner. Rather, such therapeutic insights require specific discussions with the patient in which her or she is allowed to articulate in his or her own words how their spirituality is impacting their experience. Often times, the therapist’s spiritual or religious beliefs will be in direct conflict with the patient’s. The use of spirituality as a resource in therapy is not an opportunity for dogmatic debate. This type of therapeutic approach does indeed require a high degree of cultural competence, and the burden is on the therapist to learn about their patient’s belief system. This can be done through formal research but can often be accomplished by interviewing the patient about their spirituality. For example, in working with one patient whose spiritual perspective was unfamiliar to this therapist, she was forthcoming about her ignorance and asked the patient to “teach” her about his faith. Many readers may be wondering “What about individuals who do not embrace a particular faith system? What about atheists or non-religious patients?” Remember that religion and spirituality are related but separate constructs. The argument can be made that every person is a spiritual being, even if non-religious. For instance, the atheist does not believe in a supreme being but believes in many things, including his or her own existence, which is spiritually meaningful. Many times, non-religious patients believe in and aspire to global ideals like the notion of justice, peace, or scientific methods. These are things that can be considered and utilized in spiritual coping in much the same way as a religious or more traditionally spiritual concept. Spiritual coping is a non-exclusive strategy. For a therapist to

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argue that a patient must be religious in order to benefit from spiritual coping as a therapeutic resource makes as much sense as to argue that patient must be Freudian in order to benefit from psychoanalytic interventions. The authors want to make it clear that the use of spirituality as a resource in therapy should be made available to patients. Some will undoubtedly feel uncomfortable with this notion, considering their spirituality something too private and sacred to discuss – even with their therapist. It is fine and healthy for patients to draw such boundaries. The authors of this chapter point out that just as patients have the right to choose not to discuss their spirituality in therapy, they likewise have the right to draw from their spirituality in the therapy process as they see fitting and beneficial. Holistic care is growing in popularity across America. Health care providers of all types are recognizing the benefits of conceptualizing all aspects of their patients’ lives as potential resources for wellness. Contemplating clinical pictures from a bio-psycho-social-spiritual framework appears to the authors of this chapter to be the most comprehensive, and therefore most appropriate, approach to patient care.

REFERENCES Albano, A.M., Causey, D., and Carter, B.D. (2000). In C.E. Walker and M.C. Roberts (Eds.), Handbook of clinical child psychology. (3rd Ed.) New York: Wiley and Sons, 291-316. Allen, D., Bird, L., and Herman, R. (1980). The ministry of medicine in the care of the whole person. Whole-person medicine: An international symposium. Downer’s Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 231. Anderson, J. (2001). A guide to the clinical care of women with HIV. Rockville, MD: Womencare, 275-289. Avants, S., Marcotte, D., Arnold, R., Margolin, A. (2003). Spiritual beliefs, world assumptions, and HIV risk behavior among heroin and cocaine users. Psychology of Addictive Behaviors, 17 (2), 159-162. Bartlett, J., Cheever, L., Johnson, M. and Paauw, D. (2004). A guide to primary care of people with HIV/AIDS. Fairfax, VA: HRSA Information Center, 13-158. Bartlett, J. and Gallant, J. (2004). Medical management of HIV infection. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins Medicine, 49-112. Bing E., Burnam, M., and Longshore D. et al. (2005). The estimated prevalence of psychiatric disorders, drug use and drug dependence among people with HIV disease in the United States: results from the HIV Cost and Services Utilization Study. Bormann, J., Gifford, A., Shively, M, Smith, T., Redwine, L., Kelly, A., Becker, S., Gershwin, M., Bone, P., and Belding, W. (2006). Effects of spiritual mantram repetition on HIV outcomes: a randomized controlled trial. Journal of Behavioral Medicine, 29 (4), 359-376. Brown, L., Macintyre, K., and Trujillo, L. Interventions to reduce HIV/AIDS stigma: what have we learned? AIDS Education Prevention, 2003, 15 (1), 49-69. Bufford, R.K., Paloutzian, R.F., and Ellison, C.W. (1991). Norms for the Spiritual WellBeing Scale. Journal of Psychology and Theology, 19 (1), 56-70.

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Byrd, R. (1988). Positive therapeutic effects of intercessory prayer in a coronary care unit population. Southern Medical Journal, 826-829. CDC; U.S. Department of Health and Human Services (2005). HIV/AIDS Surveillance Report, (16), 1-46. Cherry, R. (1999). Healing prayer. Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson Publishers, 3-21. Dalmida, S. (2006). Spirituality, mental health, physical health, and health-related quality of life among women with HIV/AIDS: Integrating spirituality into mental health care. Issues in Mental Health Nursing, 27, 185-198. Dowd, E. and Nielson, S. (2006). The psychologies in religion: working with the religious client. New York: Springer Publishing, 1-305. Ellison, C.W. (1983). Spiritual well-being: Conceptualization and measurement. Journal of Psychology and Theology, 11, 330-340. Ellison, C.W. and Smith, J. (1991). Toward and integrative measure of health and well-being. Journal of Psychology and Theology, 19 (1), 35-48. Forman, S.G. (1993). Coping skills interventions for children and adolescents. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass Publishers, 1-15. Fortenberry, J., Mcfarlane, M., and Bleakley, A. Relationships of stigma and shame to gonorrhea and HIV screening. American Journal of Public Health, 92 (3), 378-381. Frank, I. and Sax, P. (2005). The HIV medicine self-directed study guide. Washington, D.C.: American Academy of HIV Medicine, 3-53. George, L.K., Larson, D.B., Koenig, H.G., and McCullough, M.E. (2000). Spirituality and health: what we know, what we need to know. Journal of Social and Clinical Psychology, 19 (1), 102-116. Herek, G., Capitanio, J., and Widaman, K. (2003). HIV-related stigma and knowledge in the United States: prevalence and trends. American Journal of Public Health, 92, (3), 371377. Hester, M.P. (1998). The status of psychology of religion: An interview with Raymond F. Paloutzian. Teaching Psychology, 25 (4), 303-306. Holloway, J., Seaton, R., and Crowley, J. (2004). HIV/AIDS stigma: theory, reality, and response. Rockville, MD: Health Resources and Service Administration, 2-72. Hsu, J. (2002). The Hopkins HIV report, Hopkins HIV Report Archive, July, 8-12. Ironson, G., Solomon, G., Balbin, E., O’Cleirigh, C., George, A., Kumar, M., Larson, D., Woods, T. The Ironson-Woods Spirituality/Religiousness Index is Associated with Long Survival, Health Behaviors, Less Distress, and Low Cortisol in People with HIV/AIDS. (2002). The Society of Behavioral Medicine, 34-48. Kadushin, G. (1999). Barriers to social support and support received from their families of origin among gay men with HIV/AIDS. Health and Social Work, 24 (3), 198-208. Klinkenberg, W. and Sacks, S. (2004). Mental disorders and drug abuse in persons living with HIV. AIDS Care, 16 (1), S22-S42. Kowalak, J. (2001). Immune disorders in J. Kowalak (Ed.), Professional guide to diseases. (7th Edition) Springhouse, PA: Springhouse Publishers, 393-399. Miller, R. (2005). An Appointment with God: AIDS, Place, and Spiritualty. The Journal of Sex Research, 42 (1), 35-45. Mitka, M. (1998). Getting religion seen as help in being well. Journal of the American Medical Association, 280 (22), 1896-1897. Paloutzian, R.F., and Ellison, C.W. (1982). In L.A. Peplau and D. Perlman (Eds.).

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Loneliness: A sourcebook of current theory, research, and therapy. New York: WileyInterscience, 224-237. Paloutzian, R.F., and Ellison, C.W. (1991). Manual for the Spiritual Well-Being Scale. Paloutzian, R.F. and Kirkpatrick, L.A. (1995). Introduction: The scope of religious influence on personal and societal well-being. Journal of Social Issues, 51 (2), 1-11. Pendleton, S.M., Cavalli, K.S., Pargament, K.I., and Nasr., S.Z. (2002). Religious/spiritual coping in childhood cystic fibrosis: A qualitative study. Pediatrics, 109 (1), 1-11. Phillips, K., Mock, K., Bopp, C., Dudgeon, W., and Hand, G. (2006). Spiritual Well-Being, Sleep Disturbance, and Mental and Physical Health Status in HIV-Infected Individuals. (2006). Issues in Mental Health Nursing, 27, 125-139. Plante, T. and Sherman, A. (2001). Faith and health: psychological perspectives. New York, NY: The Guilford Press, 1-377. Puchalski, C.M. (1999). FICA: A spiritual assessment. Journal of Palliative Care, 2-4. Ramer, L., Johnson, D., Chan, L., Barrett, M. (2006). The effect of HIV/AIDS disease progression on spirituality and self-transcendence in a multicultural population. Journal of Transcultural Nursing, 17(3), 280-289. Rudd, R., Moeykens, B., and Colton, T. (1999). Health and literacy: a review of medical and public health literature. In J. Comings, B. Garners, and C. Smith (Eds.) Health and Literacy. New York, NY: Jossey-Bass, Sanchez, T. (2006). Human Immunodeficiency Virus (HIV) risk, prevention, and testing behaviors: men who have sex with men, MMWR. 55 (SS06), 1-16. Schneider, E., Glynn, M., Kajese, T., and McKenna, M. (2006). Epidemiology of HIV/AIDS. MMWR. 55 (SS06), 589-592. Siegel, K. and Schrimshaw, E. (2002). The perceived benefit of religious and spiritual coping among older adults living with HIV/AIDS. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 41 (1), 91-102. Simoni, J., Martone, M., and Kerwin, J. (2002). Spirituality and Psychological Adaptation Among Women with HIV/AIDS: Implications for Counseling. Journal of Counseling Psychology, 49 (2), 139-147. Simoni, J. and Ortiz, M. (2003). Mediational Models of Spirituality and Depressive Symptomatology among HIV-Positive Puerto Rican Women. Cultural Diversity and Ethnic Minority Psychology, 9 (1), 3-15. Somlai, A. and Heckman, T. (2000). Correlates of spirituality and well-being in a community sample of people living with HIV disease. Mental Health, Religion, and Culture, 3 (1), 57-70. Spilka, B., Hood, R., Hunsberger, B., and Gorsuch, R. (2003). The psychology of religion: an empirical approach. New York, NY: The Guilford Press, 1-543. Stearns, S.D., Smith, C.A., and Carter, B.D. (2000). Psychological ramifications of pediatric pain. Clinical Pediatric Emergency Medicine, 1 (5), 299-305. Steffen, P.R., Hinderliter, A.L., Blumenthal, J.A., and Sherwood, A. (2001). Religious coping, ethnicity, and ambulatory blood pressure. Psychosomatic Medicine, 63 (4), 523530. Takahashi, L. (1997). Stigmatization, HIV/AIDS, and communities of color: exploring response to human service facilities. Health and Place, 3 (3), 187-1997.

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Tarakeshwar, N., Hanson, N., Kochman, A., and Sikkema, K. (2005). Gender, ethnicity, and spiritual coping among bereaved HIV-positive individuals. Mental Health, Religion, and Culture, 8 (2), 109-125. Treisman, G. and Angelino, A. (2004). The psychiatry of AIDS: a guide to diagnosis and treatment. Baltimore, MD: The John Hopkins University Press.1-193. Valdisseri, R. (2002). HIV/AIDS stigma: an impediment to public health. American Journal of Public Health, 92, 341-342. Weiner, M., Cooper, P., and Barbre, C. (2005). Psychotherapy and religion: many paths, one journey. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield Publishers, Inc., 1-289. Wright, S. (2005). Reflections on spirituality and health. (2005). Philadelphia, PA: Whurr Publishers Ltd., 1-215. Ziegler, J. (1998). Spirituality returns to the fold in medical practice. Journal of the National Cancer Institute, 90 (17), 1255-1257.

In: Religion and Psychology: New Research Editor: Joan C. Upton

ISBN: 1-60021-672-2 © 2008 Nova Science Publishers, Inc.

Chapter 3

THE SCIENTIFIC CONQUEST OF DEATH: AN ANALYSIS AND RESPONSE Brad F. Mellon Pastoral Care and Chair of the Ethics Committee, Frederick Mennonite Community, Frederick, PA, USA New Testament and Ethics, Bethel University Seminary of the East, Philadelphia, PA, and Washington, DC, USA

ABSTRACT The Scientific Conquest of Death: Essays on Infinite Lifespans (2004) is a compendium of writings collected and published by the Immortality Institute (hereafter also the ‘Institute’), an organization dedicated to the eradication of voluntary death. This group is made up of serious and highly competent scientists and philosophers, thus its work stands squarely in the realm of science, not science fiction. The first part of the book describes in detail a number of new and anticipated technological breakthroughs that hold the promise of, at least potentially and theoretically, extending the human life span. The second part offers ethical, philosophical, and sociological perspectives on this ambitious goal. Clearly the Institute’s approach has both religious and psychological implications, as well as a number of related issues. One obvious issue is fear, specifically the fear of death and loss of control. Another is that of death as oblivion. In his book The Illusion of Immortality, Lamont (1990) wrote, “While some men surrender up their lives on behalf of their fellows feeling sure of attaining eternal bliss thereby, there are many others who do so in the full knowledge that death means their absolute end” (p. 268). The Institute website adds, “How does one come to terms with the seemingly inescapable problem of oblivion that comes after one’s own death?” This chapter examines the Institute’s scientific discussion of radical life extension and related questions about death and the afterlife. It looks into psychological approaches to these issues, and analyzes the psychology of wanting to live forever. The religious response is drawn largely from the Judeo-Christian tradition, but also includes wisdom from other world religions.

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INTRODUCTION There is a cemetery in the northeastern part of the United States that extends as far as the eye can see on both sides of the highway for a considerable distance. Clearly, it stands as a somber reminder of the reality and finality of death. A group of scientists, entrepreneurs, and philosophers, however, have come together to wage war against this reality. The Immortality Institute has attracted a significant number of innovative leaders and marshaled their various areas of expertise to “conquer the blight of involuntary death.” In the introduction to their first book, The Scientific Conquest of Death: Essays on Infinite Lifespans (2004) the editors asked, “What should we make of this? Is it possible that scientists – or at least humankind – will conquer the blight of involuntary death? If so, to what extent will we succeed?” (p. 7). They also questioned if such a task is not only feasible, but desirable as well. First we will explore the scientific approaches to radical life extension, followed by a psychological assessment of the motivations behind the movement, together with perspectives derived from religious thought on the subject. Thus, our chapter begins with the descriptive task followed by the analytical task.

THE SCIENCE OF CONQUERING VOLUNTARY DEATH Scientific advances in the realms of radical life extension and the war on aging that once were considered theoretical and experimental, are now receiving serious attention.1 In this section we will explore and discuss several of these advances, including cryonics, nanotechnology, genetics, stem cells, therapeutic cloning, and artificial intelligence.

CRYONICS Although Cryonics has been in existence for a considerable time, recently it has received increased attention in the media especially because of high profile patients like former baseball star Ted Williams. According to an article entitled “What is Cryonics?” in the Cryonics Institute (hereafter also CI) website (2006), Cryonics is a technique designed to save lives and greatly extend lifespan. It involves cooling legally-dead people to liquid nitrogen temperature where physical decay essentially stops, in the hope that future technologically advanced scientific procedures will someday be able to revive them and restore them to youth and good health. A person held in such a state is said to be a ‘cryopreserved patient’, because we do not regard the cryopreserved person as being really ‘dead’ (p. 1).

1

We are using the terms ‘radical life extension’ and ‘immortalist’ as synonyms that refer to the movement to extend the human life span.

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Further, proponents of the procedure have pointed out that several different kinds of biological specimens, including insects and eels, as well as human tissue and embryos have been both cryonically preserved and successfully ‘reversed.’ A controversial suggestion is that the procedure would be more effective if the cryopreservation of patients were to be permitted while they were still alive. The purpose would be to cool the human tissue and preserve it before extensive damage occurs by illness that results in death. The CI article said that at present this practice is not allowed by law but, “We hope that one day it will be, under carefully controlled conditions, once revival from cryopreservation can be demonstrated.”

NANOTECHNOLOGY Nanotechnology is closely aligned with cryonics and other human enhancement technologies. Wikipedia (2006) defines nanotechnology as “…any technology which exploits phenomena and structures that can only occur at the nanometer scale, which is the scale of several atoms and small molecules” (p. 1). The online encyclopedia further recognizes the rich history behind nanotechnology, going back to the work of distinguished physicist Richard Feynman at the California Institute of Technology in 1959. Later, two researchers first coined the term ‘nanotechnology’ apparently independently of one another. In 1974, Japanese scientist Norio Taniguchi used it in a ground-breaking research paper on the “…processing of, separation, consolidation, and deformation of materials by one atom or one molecule,” while Eric Drexler connected the term with a “…future manufacturing technology based on molecular machine systems” (p. 2). Further, according to de Magalhaes (2004), One key concept in nanotechnology is the molecular assembler, a machine capable of assembling other molecules given a set of instructions and the necessary resources…. A man-made molecular assembler capable of building machines to guide specific chemical reactions would allow the construction of devices with atomic precision capable of a myriad of functions. (pp. 53-54)

What could this mean for radical life extension? First, de Magalhaes found that researchers are looking to nanotechnology for advances in pharmaceuticals, repair of nerve and tissue damage, and cancer treatment. Second, this emerging technology theoretically should be able to reverse aging by reversing chemical reactions that cause damage during the aging process. One caveat to bear in mind is that nanotechnology and especially nonbiological molecular assemblers, although biologically possible are still in the very early stages of development. Freitas (2004), however, has contributed to the optimism surrounding nanotechnology for the near future. In his view, this science will “…enable a process I call ‘dechronification’— or, more colloquially, ‘rolling back the clock’” (p. 86). More specifically, dechronification will be effected by nanomedicine to hold back biological aging through a variety of procedures in the trillions of tissues found in the human body. According to Freitas the result would be “A rollback to the robust physiology of your late teens or early twenties….,” that would extend natural life to an average of 700-900 years. Further, if science were able eventually to eliminate most of the many preventable medical conditions that cause death, the

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human life span might increase to 1100 years. In the end, “…genetic modifications or nanomedical augmentations to the human body…may extend healthy life spans still further, to a degree that cannot yet be accurately predicted.” (pp. 87-88). Kurzweil (2004) agrees and discussed the possibility that ‘nanobots’ will “…intelligently slip in and out of our bodies in clever ways” (p. 95). His writings boldly examine “digital digestion” and “programmable blood,” and foresee a “reasonably mature” system available by the 2020’s (pp.103-06).

GENETICS Gene therapy as a method of sending information to the human body, primarily through the use of viruses as vectors, is fast becoming an important factor in the war on aging (de Magalhaes, 2004). The most significant advance in this field is the well known Human Genome Project (hereafter also HGP). The HGP was the team effort of a group of international scientists with the goal of mapping all human genes. According to the National Human Genome Research Institute (2006) (hereafter also NHGRI), continuing efforts include research into the genetic components of a number of diseases, especially of the nervous and immune systems. Key advances for anti-aging include the use of a growth factor known as IGF-1, which has proved successful in reversing skeletal muscle deterioration in mice. Further, age related neural atrophy has been reversed in certain primates by means of gene therapy. Speaking at a conference during the summer of 2005, Francis Collins of the NHGRI boldly declared that genes related to many human diseases will be identified within the next two to three years and preventive medications will become available. Referring to the completion of the HGP mapping of 3 billion letters of human DNA in April 2003 he noted, There are numerous practical consequences of this revolution, and some are arriving rather quickly. In the medical arena, prediction of individual susceptibility to future illness will be moving from science fiction to reality within the next five to six years…. The molecular understanding of disease has also transformed the pharmaceutical industry, and one can anticipate an increasing number of new drugs whose derivation depended upon a precise genomic understanding of disease. This is already happening in the field of cancer with drugs like Avastin and Gleevec showing great benefit in certain types of malignancy.

The optimism and excitement over these advances, however, are balanced with major concerns about the future of the research. First, there is concern about potential misuse or abuse of the technology. For example, Collins can foresee the possibility of genetic discrimination, as well as the abuse of human enhancement using genetics. Second, de Magalhaes added that “Virus-based gene therapy does not appear adequate to cure aging for not only is its safety dubious but the amount of genetic information viruses can carry is insufficient” (p. 51). Similarly, bacterial-based vectors may fail to provide an answer for the war on aging because of safety concerns.

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STEM CELLS AND THERAPEUTIC CLONING Stem cell therapy has become a highly debatable issue in modern society. On the one hand, it is hailed as one of the most significant breakthroughs in modern science and medicine. On the other hand, the production and use of stem cells has raised serious ethical issues and concerns. At the center of the debate is the use of embryonic stem cells. One view contends that human embryos should not enjoy the same status and protection as more developed or fully developed persons. In his book More Humane Medicine, Drane (2003) contrasted his view on embryonic stem cell research with the position of those who consider such research a violation of the sanctity of life. Drane countered with, “Liberal ethicists and scientists generally do not equate human embryos with human persons. For them development counts ethically.” He went on to say that as a human develops, “…the form of human personhood as well as uniquely personal capacities contribute to moral status.” In his view, to equate an embryo with a developed person is “counter intuitive.” He wrote, “No one would intuitively treat a microscopic speck of human embryo as a person” (pp. 323-325). In support of this view Drane referred to the breakthrough at the University of Pennsylvania where two scientists succeeded in creating an embryo without joining sperm and egg. He sees this as a challenge to the view that an embryo is the beginning of a human person. He also suggested that it would be ethically proper to use for research purposes frozen embryos left over from in vitro-fertilization that otherwise would be discarded. He felt that this entire situation deserves to be “morally evaluated” and concludes that since they “…are doomed to become incapable of developing…. The possibility of curing some diseases from the use of embryonic stem cells is an important moral consideration.” Drane clearly pointed out that although “…the human embryo has moral status and demands respect,” the level of respect increases with the development of the cells into a “recognizable human form and cerebral capabilities” (p. 324). Caplan (2005) likewise spoke out in favor of embryonic stem cell research when he wrote, “Is destroying cloned embryos to get stem cells the moral equivalent of murder? This is to confuse potentiality with actuality” (p. 1). He then asked the reader to think about the analogy of a squirrel that eats an acorn. Is this really the same as the destruction of a fullygrown oak tree “in terms of value lost” [italics mine]? Further, Caplan’s words invite us to consider whether a small child or a freezer full of embryos should be rescued first from a burning building. He concluded, “If the embryos were to be destroyed, that would be unfortunate. If the child were to be killed that would be a tragedy beyond belief” (pp. 2-3). Another view in the debate is represented by such groups as the U. S. Conference of Roman Catholic Bishops and the Center for Bioethics and Human Dignity (hereafter also CBHD). The CBHD website discusses embryonic stem cell research both in terms of ethics and law. This group has argued against public funding for human embryo stem cell research on the grounds that the destruction of embryos runs counter to established international law and ethical regulations that prohibit misusing any human subject for research purposes. Further, for the past 30 years these norms have been applicable to the unborn at every stage of development, and since 1995 to human embryos outside the womb as well. George (2001) expressed this view in a straightforward and powerful way: The being that is now you or me is the same being that was once an adolescent, and before that a toddler, and before that an infant, and before that a fetus, and before that an

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Stem cell research is considered to be a vital emerging technology in the war on aging and for the advancement of radical life extension. According to West (2004), “These cells have fulfilled their promise in displaying the awesome power of making any cell type in the body” (p.71). He went on to say that theoretically they might be used to either repair or even replace tissues damaged by disease or advancing age. This technology, however, is not without problems. For example, West admitted that the introduction of stem cells into a human subject from an external source would most likely be rejected much like “a foreign invader.” He described how he and a number of colleagues proposed a solution to this problem called ‘therapeutic cloning’: We argued that the procedure called cell nuclear transfer – the transfer of a somatic cell into an enucleated egg cell – not only could produce embryos that when transferred into a uterus could produce a clone, but could also be harnessed to make embryonic stem cells as well. Such cells would be essentially identical to the patient’s cells. This could potentially solve the remaining problem of histocompatibility by creating human embryonic stem cells and then any cells in the body, all of which should never be rejected by the patient. (p. 72)

This procedure is also supported by Caplan: Cloning is the gold standard for stem cell research. When stem cells are made from cloned embryos it means that you can transplant any cells made from the stem cells back to the person from whom the DNA was taken without fear of rejection. You are your own source of stem cells so if scientists can go on to figure out how to make muscle cells, spinal cord cells, or insulin cells from stem cell lines derived from your own body then there is no reason they could not easily use them to fix your torn tendon, grow back your injured spinal cord, repair your damaged heart or treat your diabetes.

Caplan further asserted that we should not consider this kind of cloning ‘immoral,’ otherwise will experience fewer cures for the diseases that plague humankind, “And where is the ethics in that?” The promise of embryonic stem cells and therapeutic cloning for life enhancement and life extension, however, has achieved little of what might be called actual clinical success. In fact, “…scientists conducting research have encountered significant obstacles – including tumor formation, unstable gene expression, and an inability to stimulate the cells to form the desired type of tissue” (Bevington, 2004). The use of adult stem cells, in which embryos are not harmed or destroyed, have proved more effective in clinical trials to date. Although in the final analysis adult stem cells do not yet demonstrate the ability to produce the complete range of cell types that can be attributed to embryonic stem cells, they, too hold much promise. Weiss (2005), for example, commented, “Many suspect that with a little more looking, new kinds of stem cells may be found in adults that are as versatile as those in embryos” (p. 27). The ground breaking work of Verfaillie at the University of Minnesota provides a good illustration by demonstrating that bone marrow stem cells appear to be capable of doing all that embryonic stem cells can do.

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‘CYBERIMMORTALITY’ Whereas the advances in medical technology we have discussed thus far have focused on biological life extension or immortality, there also is a drive toward what has been termed “Cyberimmortality” [30]. Although Artificial Intelligence (AI) has been stigmatized within computer science by failures to produce projected results, Bainbridge (2004) noted that it has experienced a “…resurgence…coupled with a refocus” (p. 113). Bainbridge’s writing contends that the definition of AI is broad enough to include “…not only computerized vision and language, but a whole host of other approaches” (p. 115). These include different types of reasoning, logic, and neural networks. He added that the goal is to supersede functions the human mind can perform. The hope is that “In the distant future, we may learn to conceptualize our biological lives on earth as extended childhoods preparing us for the real life that follows in cyberspace” (p. 119). The central idea appears to be creating machines that would be capable of giving ‘new life’ to a human personality beyond physical death for an indeterminable length of time.

SCIENCE, TECHNOLOGY, AND DEATH AS OBLIVION A careful analysis of the movement toward biological and cyber immortality reveals that it is driven not only by advances in science and technology, but by the fear of death as oblivion or at the very least, uncertainty with respect to an afterlife. This fear stands behind certain metaphors such as de Grey’s (2004) “War on Aging.” Thus de Grey has looked to cryonics, for example, as a viable answer to what he sees as the future certainty of a personal – and permanent – oblivion. In his paper on “Questions of Oblivion,” Dawber (2005) suggested that in our present day we are faced more than ever with at least the possibility of death as oblivion. He raised the basic question, “What happens to a person after death?” and said that “Over thousands of years, people in different cultures have lived as if they knew the answer – that some new form of existence begins after death” (p. 1). Nevertheless, if science can’t support this claim, we will have to deal with the likelihood that physical death opens the door not to an afterlife, but to nothingness. Dawber however concluded his comments with the following statement: Yet though we can deny that any theology, religion, or philosophy has explained life after death in a way that makes sense with the rest of our knowledge of humanity, we cannot deny that there are things of which we are not aware that could prove our immortality. This is because the question of whether there is existence or Oblivion [sic] after death is essentially a theological question. (p. 16)

Stein (2005) introduced a different approach to this question in his essay on “Survival or Extinction?” He raised the following pertinent questions, “Can we survive our own deaths? Is there truly a life beyond…? Are we spiritually immortal? Or does it all end with our earthly demise?” (p. 1). This view centers upon the larger question of dualism, or the thought that the human body contains or possesses a different substance, such as an immortal soul or spirit, etc. Stein contended that any belief in an afterlife depends on acceptance of some form of dualism, but that physics and modern arguments argue against it. If what Stein called

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monistic-physicalism, as the opposite of dualism is true, then in his view a post-death survival can be ruled out. According to a poll taken by the Immortality Institute, nearly 48% of the respondents said they believed that death is oblivion, while fewer than 35% admitted they “honestly don’t know.” This means that almost 83% hold either to an atheistic or agnostic understanding of the experience of death. Similarly, Lamont (1990) described death “as the natural and final end of a human personality.” He wrote, “While some men surrender up their lives on behalf of their fellows feeling sure of attaining eternal bliss thereby, there are many others who do so in the full knowledge that death means their absolute end” (p. 268). Lamont added that it would be misleading to refer to death as a “reward,” mainly because “…a true reward like a true punishment entails conscious experience of the fact.”

PSYCHOLOGICAL AND RELIGIOUS ANALYSIS Having completed the descriptive task, we now move on to the analytical task. This section begins with a brief overview of the relationship between religion and psychology, followed by an assessment of the life extension movement both in general and with respect to its constituent parts.

RELIGION AND PSYCHOLOGY The respective fields of religion and psychology might at first glance appear to many as ‘strange bedfellows.’ For example, Nielsen (2000) noted that some view religion as existing only on the periphery of psychology, and by and large never really accepted by it. These disciplines, however, have enjoyed a relationship in particular through the combined field of psychology of religion, a field that has experienced periods of growth, decline, and renewed interest over the years (Beit-Hallahmi, 1974). Although some leaders in the field of psychology such as William James, G. Stanley Hall, and Gordon Allport have embraced and included religion in their research, the main stumbling block appears to be a perception that psychology has to do with science, while religion has only to do with faith. This perception may be refuted, however, by the fact that religious and theological studies have taken on a more scientific approach. We could point, for example, to the many seminary programs that have adopted the discipline of Hermeneutics, the science of interpretation as applied to the study of biblical and related texts. In the final analysis, we can point to several organizations and journals devoted to the study of psychology and religion, as well as at least six major schools of thought on the relationship between these disciplines (Hood, 1998). Additionally, research has recently shown that clinical psychology and counseling may be more effective when religious beliefs of clients are recognized and included.

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RADICAL LIFE EXTENSION THROUGH THE LENS OF PSYCHOLOGY AND RELIGION We have observed above that the drive to extend the human life span includes such disciplines as cryonics, nanotechnology, genetics, and stem cell therapy. The movement is involved not only in biological research but also in cyberspace, by way of Artificial Intelligence. The interest for students of religion and psychology is located primarily in the motivation of the fear of death either as oblivion or as an ‘unknown’ entity, as evidenced by statements connected with participants in the movement. The experience of physical death necessarily involves a sense of loss, both of others and of self. It is also loss of control, as something over which we have no say. Death comes at a time of its own choosing. Accordingly, Becker (1973) wrote and theorized about what has come to be known as death anxiety. Gire (2002) portrayed this experience in the following way, “Death anxiety is a multifaceted construct that is not easy to define but has been conceptualized to include: fear of death of oneself, fear of death of others, fear of dying of self, and fear of dying of others” (p. 3). In general, studies have found that death anxiety tends to decrease as belief in an afterlife increases. For example, a comparison of Hindus, Muslims, and Christians in India demonstrated that Hindus, with a strong belief in life after death, exhibited the lowest levels of death anxiety among the test group (Parsuram and Sharma, 1992). Another recent study indicated that religious persons confessing to a nominal faith and do not attend religious services regularly, tend to fear death more than dedicated believers or even committed atheists (Wink and Dillon, 2005). Thus, religious faith can mitigate death anxiety for the faithful, while a ‘little religion’ tends to lead to an increased fear of death.2 In applying the psychology of death anxiety to life extension and the immortalist movement, we can begin with the poll taken by the Immortality Institute on “Death is…” (above). We observed that nearly half of the respondents answered that death is “oblivion,” while over a third of the group confessed they “honestly don’t know.” Dawber has cautioned us to consider that death anxiety and the fear of oblivion are not one and the same, since even those that believe in an afterlife can experience the former. He found that fear of death and dying escalates when people of faith doubt their beliefs, or when they hold firmly to a belief in hell or other form of divine judgment. The fear associated with belief in an afterlife can increase when that concept represents an unknown quantity, much like the “I honestly don’t know what death is” answer to the poll question above. Gire wrote in support of this view that the fear of death of oneself often is related to questions about what happens after death, including fear of judgment, and uncertainties about heaven and hell. Death anxiety also can extend to fears about what might occur to the body following death, such as burial or cremation. Becker believed in the fear of death as a motivator for human behavior. Gire noted that when approached positively, this fear can lead to exemplary behavior, such as reaching toward the goal of leaving behind an enduring legacy. Death anxiety likewise can motivate an individual to do whatever is required to preserve life, whether one’s own or that of others. If

2

But compare Dawber’s finding that a firm belief in hell or divine judgment on the part of the faithful actually can increase death anxiety (below).

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not approached positively, however, the fear of death can result in destructive behaviors and may result in serious disorders, such as depression. Religious teachings on the subject of death anxiety vary among religious groups. Buddhists, for example, although denying the existence of the soul believe in a form of human consciousness that must be purged of covetousness and avarice through many reincarnations until reaching a state of ‘Nirvana.’ By way of contrast, Christianity, Pharisaic Judaism, and Islam hold to a dualistic belief in which the soul not only exists but survives after physical death to await a future bodily resurrection and a divine judgment. Native American religion tends to view death as withdrawal from existence within a body to an underworld located in a land far beyond the horizon. For some, the afterlife is a “welcoming refuge” of beauty and flowers helping them deal with the sufferings associated with life. Further, some of the Great Plains tribes practiced a “Ghost Dance,” through which “…they hoped to revive their ancestors and return the world to its original state” (Jones and Molyneaux, 2001, p. 62). Thus major religious thought in general approaches death and death anxiety in terms of continuation after death that includes judgment and an afterlife. As we noted above, the idea of a ‘life after life’ can bring comfort, while at the same time the anticipation of judgment may lead to an increase in one’s anxiety level. In the Christian tradition there are teachings specifically intended to mitigate fear of death and dying. For example, the biblical writer to the Hebrews sought to help believers with death anxiety by reminding them that Christ took part in humanity “so that by his death he might destroy him who holds the power of death – that is, the devil –and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death” (Hebrews 2:14-15). The Life extension movement seeks to promote human, earthly existence as a response to death anxiety. It is noteworthy that most religious thought, although dealing with the reality and fear of death, likewise places great value on earthly life. To illustrate, the Jewish Rabbis appear to have a well rounded view of the subjects of life and death. In another essay I observed that they upheld the sanctity of life taught in the Scriptures (Mellon, 2002). Their discussions in the extra-biblical writings delineated “stages” of life: Even with limited physiological knowledge the Rabbis could demonstrate how every organ of the human body was intricately designed by God to prolong and sustain life. Similarly, the Rabbis offered a discussion of “stages” in the aging and dying process. An ancient commentary on Ecclesiastes reads that at 60 years-old, one faces the prospect of old age and at 70, has gray hair. If a person should live to be 80, he has been given the gift of “special strength.” At 90, however, one “bends beneath the weight of his years,” and at 100, he is as if already dead (Cohen, 1949, p. 73). Cohen further informed us that regarding death anxiety, “The Rabbis sought to minimize the dread with which the end of life was normally contemplated” (p. 75). According to a Midrash on Ecclesiastes, the dying process was to be viewed as a natural one, as derived from the statement, “There is...a time to be born and a time to die...” (Ecclesiastes 3:1-2).3 The Rabbis further suggested this text intends to remind the reader that from the moment of birth, the possibility of death continually exists. A rabbinic commentary on the biblical Genesis

3

A Midrash was an ancient interpretation of a Scripture text.

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went so far as to say that death was included among the things created by God that he called “very good” (Genesis 1:31).4 The Hebrew Sages however did not believe that every kind of death was the same or necessarily good. “Nine hundred and three varieties of death have been created in the world,” some of which are severe (such as croup), while others are “light.” Death comes differently to the righteous and the wicked. A Midrash to Psalm 11 taught that the angel of death extracts the blood of a righteous person gently, but from the wicked, violently. The value of the rabbinic tradition is that it emphasized the sanctity of life while at the same time recognized the reality of death in order to mitigate death anxiety. The Rabbis’ delineation of the stages of life recognized a general principle that quality of life diminishes with old age. There was a consensus that the taking of innocent life and suicide were forbidden, yet also an understanding that a time may come when death arrived more as a friend than an enemy. Dying can be a natural process and seen as a part of life, not opposed to it, but this comfort was directed specifically to the faithful. In The Scientific Conquest of Death I wrote on “Some Ethical and Theological Considerations” regarding the immortalist movement, drawn largely from a Judeo-Christian perspective (Mellon, 2004). There I commended the Institute’s emphasis on the importance and value of earthly human life because the Scriptures contain a similar emphasis. For example, Ecclesiastes 3:11 instructed that God has placed immortality in our hearts; we simply cannot comprehend it. In Psalm 139:13-16 we read that God has created humankind in such a way that we are “fearfully and wonderfully made.” The Christian Scriptures likewise promote human existence on earth, as illustrated by Jesus’ teaching that this life is worth far more than the resources necessary to sustain it (Matthew 6:25). In his profound treatise The Gospel of Life, Pope John Paul II (1998) framed it in this way: The Gospel of life is at the heart of Jesus’ message. Lovingly received day after day by the Church, it is to be preached with dauntless fidelity as ‘good news’ to the people of every age and culture …When he presents the heart of his redemptive mission, Jesus says, ‘I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly’ (John 10:10). (p. 223)

Consistent with the Jewish tradition, however, the Christian Scriptures and related writings were forthright about the reality of death. To illustrate, Ecclesiastes 12:1-7 provided a poetic and metaphorical description of the aging and dying process. Death reminds us that we depend upon God for our existence (cf. Acts 17:28), and according to Barth (1933) it forms a limit between God and humankind. Our critique of the immortalist movement in general demonstrates that although there is some commonality with religious thought and psychology, there also is contrast. Psychology is helpful to point out and delineate a working definition of the phenomenon of death anxiety. We have seen that the immortalist view and major religious thought largely agree on the value of human, earthly life, yet disagree on how to deal with the fear of death. Our next task will be to analyze the life extension movement according to each of the constituent parts examined above.

4

Clearly this must be an inference derived from context, since death was not mentioned until Genesis 2:17.

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First, we looked at cryonics. Proponents of cryonics encouraged their clients to look to a more promising future with respect to scientific and medical breakthroughs and to wait patiently (after death) for that future. They desire to do something that Koestler (1976) contended is extremely difficult: catch a glimpse of what might be available or understood several decades into the future. Similarly, Judeo-Christian tradition and certain other religions have pointed their followers to a ‘better’ future, and encourage them to connect on a spiritual plane with that future, seeking (after death) to attain a new life within its bounds. The primary difference, however, -- and certainly not an inconsequential one – is that a cryonics ‘patient’ seeks to attain life in a better future by being cryopreserved, while the person of faith hopes for the better future by means of resurrection. Second, nanotechnology envisions a better future, but unlike cryonics by its very nature strives for a relatively seamless entry into that future. Instead of waiting to be preserved after death to patiently wait for technological advances in the cure of disease, the nanotechnology ‘patient’ theoretically will have extremely minute robots “slipping intelligently” in and out of his or her body and enabling that body to live as long as 700 or even 1100 years. The experience of living for hundreds of years is not at all foreign to Judeo-Christian thought. Consider the well known patriarch Methuselah, for example, who is said to have lived to the ripe old age of 969. The reality, however, is that even 969, or 1000, or 1100 years is not forever. Death continues to be a reality and along with death anxiety is an issue with which humans must come to terms. Even Methuselah stands among a long list of those about whom it is said, “And he died” (Genesis 5:27). Third, we observed that gene therapy represents an emerging technology holding much hope for anti-aging as well as cures for a variety of debilitating and heretofore ‘incurable’ diseases. Genetic research thus is similar to religious faith in that both are hopeful about the future. Furthermore, both see the importance of working toward that end. The Apostle Peter, for instance, told his readers they not only can “look forward to the day of God” but that they should “speed its coming” by living holy and godly lives (2 Peter 3:11-12). Unlike faith, however, gene therapy at present is not sufficiently advanced so as to offer much by way of mitigating death anxiety. Francis Collins (2005), speaking as the Director of NHGRI offered his opinion that extending the human life span through genetics or other technologies to 200 years is still a long way off. He did not appear to be nearly as optimistic as Kurzweil and others on the possibility of radical life extension for the foreseeable future. Fourth, stem cells and therapeutic cloning are touted as promising technologies for the enhancement and extension of human life. Religious response to the creation and /or use of embryonic stem cells, however, is varied. Christian thought in particular is divided on the subject, depending on whether one looks at it by way of natural theology/law or theology proper. On the one hand, natural theology/law elevates the use of human reason for making judgments, and some proponents of this method like Drane, for example, find it “irrational” to believe that an embryo could represent human life. On the other hand those who advocate the use of theology proper, in which reason is subordinate to divine revelation in the Scriptures, see in those teachings the suggestion that an embryo is precisely what ‘human’ looks like at the beginning stage of development. A further observation for the debate is that adult stem cells may be as potent as the embryonic variety and thus far have achieved greater success in clinical trials. Certainly at the heart of stem cell research is a love for and desire to propagate human life, and as we have seen the same can be said for religious thought in general. The use of this

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therapy for the alleviation of death anxiety, however, is uncertain in the minds of many religious practitioners. The idea that cyberspace may one day contain human personalities and thereby extend the human life span is perhaps the most unusual and difficult to assess in terms of religious and psychological analysis. AI envisions a future, but one that is inhabited by machines capable of thinking for themselves and transporting human personalities far beyond physical death. Admittedly, this emerging technology is hard to understand, let alone critique. Perhaps – and somewhat like faith -- only the most dedicated follower will be able to perceive it as an aid in the war against death anxiety.

CONCLUSION The immortalist or radical life extension movement, as we have seen, focuses upon extending physical life in a variety of ways that are biological and mechanical. Biological immortality is sought by means of medical technological breakthroughs, including stem cell research, therapeutic cloning, and gene therapy. Nanotechnology as a ‘hybrid’ approach introduces intelligent machines into the human body in the hope of ‘recreating’ it. Artificial Intelligence looks to introduce the human personality into an intelligent computer grid that would enable that personality to survive – albeit in a different form – far beyond physical death. Based on a poll taken by the Immortality Institute, we found that over 80% of respondents view death either as oblivion or as an uncertainty. These findings suggest that the motivation behind the movement is not to be found exclusively in science and technology, but also in the fear of death. Psychologists like Ernest Becker have helped us understand the concept of death anxiety, and we noted that religious thought approaches that anxiety in different ways. Certainly there is common ground between the Immortalist movement and religious points of view. Both not only anticipate a better future, but seek to connect with that future by means of present effort. The main difference, however, lies in the fact that at the end of the day, Immortalist doctrine desires an immortal future in this world, while most religions find hope in the next. Perhaps our most enlightening discovery, however, is that a positive approach to the experience of death anxiety can be found among true, committed believers on both sides of the issue.

REFERENCES Bainbridge, W. S. (2004). Progress toward cyberimmortality. In Immortality Institute (Ed.), The scientific conquest of death (pp. 107-122). Buenos Aires: LibrosEnRed. Barth, K. (1933; reprint 1976). The epistle to the romans. (6th ed.). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Becker, E. (1973). The denial of death. New York: The Free Press. Beit-Hallahmi, B. (1974). Pyschology of religion 1880-1930: The rise and fall of a psychological movement. Journal of the History of the Behavioral Sciences, 10, 84-90.

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Bevington, L. (2004). Stem cell research and ‘therapeutic’ cloning: A Christian response. Retrieved March 24, 2005 from http://www.cbhd.org/resources/stemcells/overview. Caplan, A. (2005). Stem cell research needs regulation. Retrieved May 30, 2005 from http://www.MSNBC.com. Cohen, A. (1949; reprint 1995). Everyman’s Talmud. New York: Schocken. Collins, F. (2005). 12th Annual Genetics and Reproductive Ethics Conference. The Center for Bioethics and Human Dignity. Available: http://www.cbhd.org. Dawber, A. (2005). Questions of oblivion. Retrieved November 5, 2005 from http://www.imminst.org. De Grey, A. (2004). The war on aging. In Immortality Institute (Ed.), The scientific conquest of death (pp. 29-46). Buenos Aires: LibrosEnRed. De Magalhaes, J. P. (2004). The dream of elixir vitae. In Immortality Institute (Ed.), The scientific conquest of death (pp. 47-62). Buenos Aires: LibrosEnRed. Drane, J. (2003). More humane medicine: A liberal catholic bioethics. Edinboro, PA: Edinboro University of Pennsylvania Press. Freitas, R. (2004). Nanomedicine: The quest for accident limited healthspans. In Immortality Institute (Ed.), The scientific conquest of death. (pp.77-91). Buenos Aires: LibrosEnRed. George, R. (2001, July 30). Stem cell research: A debate; don’t destroy human life. The Wall Street Journal, p. 18A. Gire, J. T. (2002). How death imitates life: Cultural influences on conceptions of death and dying. Retrieved May 5, 2006 from http://www.ac.wwu.edu/~culture/gire.htm. Hood, R. W. (1998). Psychology of religion. In W. H. Swatos and P. Kvisto (Eds.), Encyclopedia of religion and society, pp. 388-391. Walnut Creek: Altamira. Immortality Institute, Ed. (1996). The scientific conquest of death: Essays on infinite lifespans. Buenos Aires: LibrosEn Red. Jones, D. and Molyneaux, B. (2001). Mythology of the American nations. London: Anness Publishing Ltd. Koestler, A. (1976). Whereof one cannot speak…? In A. Toynbee, et al., Life after death. New York: McGraw-Hill. Kurzweil, R. (2004). Human body version 2.0. In Immortality Institute (Ed.), The scientific conquest of death. (pp. 93-106). Buenos Aires: LibrosEnRed. Lamont, C. (1990). The illusion of immortality. (5th ed.). Retrieved May 5, 2006, from http://www. imminst.org. Mellon, B. (2002). A rabbi, a priest, and a ‘mantra’: Judeo-christian reflections on quality-oflife issues. Available: http://www.cbhd.org/resources. ________. (2004). Some ethical and theological considerations. In Immortality Institute (Ed.), The scientific conquest of death (pp. 157-167). Buenos Aires: LibrosEnRed. Nanotechnology. (2006). Retrieved April 30, 2006 from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nanotechnology. Parsuram, A., and Sharma, M. (1992). Functional relevance in belief in life-after-death. The Journal of Personality and Clinical Studies, 8, 97-100. Pope John Paul II. (1998). The gospel of life. In Uhlmann, M. (Ed.), Last rights: Assisted suicide and euthanasia debated. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Stein, D. (2005). Survival or extinction. Retrieved November 5, 2005 from http://www.imminst.org. Weiss, R. (2005, July). The stem cell divide. National Geographic, 208, 2-27.

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West, M. (2004). Therapeutic cloning. In Immortality Institute (Ed.), The scientific conquest of death (pp. 63-76). Buenos Aires: LibrosEnRed. What is cryonics? (2006). Retrieved March 15, 2006 from http://www.cryonics.org/ biblio.html. What was the human genome project? (2006). Retrieved April 30, 2006 from http://www.genome.gov/12011238. Wink, P., and Dillon, M. (2005, February 1). Authors ask: Why does religiousness pull a midlife u-turn? Science and Theology News. Retrieved May 5, 2006 from http://www.stnews.org/Books-34.htm.

In: Religion and Psychology: New Research Editor: Joan C. Upton

ISBN: 1-60021-672-2 © 2008 Nova Science Publishers, Inc.

Chapter 4

CHURCH RELIGIOSITY AND CHURCH ATTENDANCE AND PARTY CHOICE IN EIGHT WEST EUROPEAN COUNTRIES: A COMPARATIVE LONGITUDINAL STUDY, 1970-1997 Oddbjørn Knutsen Department of Political Science, University of Oslo, Oslo, Norway

ABSTRACT In this article the impact of church religiosity (measured by frequencies of church attendance) on party choice is studied in eight West European countries from the early 1970s to the late 1990s. I use a genuine cumulative data set based on all Eurobarometers from 1970 to 1997 to examine how church attendance influence party choice and how this has. The analysis comprises eight of the nine countries that were members of the (then) European Economic Community: Belgium, Britain, Denmark, France, (West) Germany, Ireland, Italy and the Netherlands. The development of the strength of the correlation between party choice and church attendance, and which political parties those who goes to church frequently, the more irregular churchgoers and those who never goes to church, vote for, and how this has changed over time, are the central research questions. The impact of church religiosity within the various religious denominations in the religiously mixed countries Britain, Germany and the Netherlands are also analysed. Finally, I examine the impact of church religiosity on left-right party choice, i.e. when the various parties are grouped into leftwing and right-wing groups.

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INTRODUCTION The Religious Party Cleavage. Research Questions Many researchers have noted that there is a somewhat paradoxical situation related to the importance of the religious cleavage. Only a small number of political issues clearly follow the religious/secular conflict line. By the same token, there are very few issues that are completely divorced from them. Despite the paucity of explicitly religious issues and the lack of religious themes in most campaigns, religious beliefs have proven to be a strong predictor of party choice in many West European democracies. Smith (1989: 20) has therefore characterised the religious cleavage as a passive rather than an active force in shaping political behaviour. Perhaps the most important reason why religion continues to play an influential role for voter choice is that religious conflicts helped determine the structure of the modern party system and therefore still affect the electoral choices open to the voter. The religious cleavage is also important because it reflects deeply held human values, which have a great potential for influencing behaviour. Although religious issues are not very prominent on the political agenda, religious values are related to a wide range of social and political beliefs: work ethics, achievement aspirations, life-style norms, parent-child relations, morality, social relations, attitudes toward authority and acceptance of the state. Religion signifies a Weltanshauung that extends into the political area (Dalton 1990: 86). Empirical research on mass behaviour has underscored the continuing importance of the religious cleavage. Rose and Urwin (1969) conducted one of the first comparative analyses of the topic, examining the social basis of party support in 16 western democracies. Their finding was that, contrary to conventional wisdom, “religious divisions, not class, are the main social basis of parties in the Western world today” (Rose and Urwin 1969: 12). In a comparative study that included most West European countries, Rose (1974a: 16-18) compared the impact of religion, social class and region on left-right voting on the basis of data from mainly the 1960s, and found that religion was much more important in all the Catholic and religiously mixed countries. Only in Britain and the Scandinavian countries was social class the most important predictor for left-right party choice. The religious cleavage has two aspects: the various religious communities of which people are members, including a category for those who are not a member of any religious community (religious denomination); and how religious they are – independent of the religious community they belong to (Bean 1999: 552; Dalton 1996: 177-179). This latter aspect is normally measured by frequency of church attendance. In this article I focus on the second aspect, church religiosity, and I also consider the impact of church religiosity within the various religious denominations, in particular for the so-called religiously mixed countries where there is more than one significant religious community, namely Britain, Germany and the Netherlands. In this article I will examine the impact of church religiosity measured by frequencies of church attendance on party choice in a comparative setting. I use a genuine cumulative data set based on all Eurobarometers from 1970 to 1997 to examine how church religiosity

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influences party choice and how this has changed from the early 1970s to the late 1990s.1 The analysis comprises eight of the nine countries that were members of the (then) European Economic Community in the early 1970s: Belgium, Britain, Denmark, France, (West) Germany, Ireland, Italy and the Netherlands.2 The research questions are as follows: 1. How have frequencies of church attendance changed in the period studied? Are there basic comparative differences in this sense? 2. For the whole period (1970-97), what is the comparative strength of variation in church religiosity as a party cleavage, and how has this changed from the early 1970s to the late 1990s? 3. For which parties do frequencies of church attendance have the largest impact within the various party systems and across national contexts? The various parties will be grouped into party families, and the cross-national comparison will be done on the basis of parties within the same party family. 3 4. What causes the changes in the strength of the correlation within a given country? How do the secular and the religious segment change their voting behaviour so that we observe change in the overall impact of church attendance?4 For which parties do we find the most significant change in support from the religious and the secular segments? 5. The main approach in this article is to use party choice as a nominal level variable and to examine the impact of church attendance on all significant parties that comprise the party system of the eight countries. I call this way of treating the party choice variable "overall party choice". All parties are treated as separate categories. In the latter part of the analysis I deviate from this approach by examining the impact of church attendance on the left-right or socialist/non-socialist division of parties. I first examine the impact of church attendance on the left-right division of parties in 1

2

3

4

The integrated Eurobarometer datafile is extracted from the ZEUS database. Eurobarometers are biannual surveys carried out for the European Commission throughout the EU. From 1987 to 1998, the ZEUS Institute at the University of Mannheim integrated these data sets in a harmonised database, analysed the data and advised the Commission in matters of comparative survey research. I would like to thank Hermann Schmitt for giving me the opportunity to use the datafile. I am also grateful to the Mannheimer Zentrum für Europeische Sozialforschung, which has hosted me as a guest professor while I have been doing the research on which this work is based. Luxembourg is not included in this analysis. The Eurobarometers (and the cumulative file) contain specific data for Northern Ireland, which are not included in this analysis (nor in the data for Britain). We should underscore that we use only the data for West Germany for the whole period. We refer to the country as “Germany”. Britain, Denmark and Ireland became members of the EEC in 1973, and were included in the Eurobarometer then. Thus, we have data only from 1973 from these countries, and the first time period in this study contains only two surveys (from 1973 and 1974) from these countries. The practice of biannual surveys started in 1974-75. Earlier surveys called European Community Studies were carried out one survey in 1970, 1971 and 1973. These surveys are considered a part of the Eurobarometer surveys and included in the integrated Eurobarometer datafile. The relevant party families are Communist, Left Socialist, Social Democratic, Green, Nationalist, Liberal, Christian, Conservative and Radical Rightist parties. The parties that are grouped into the various party families are discussed thoroughly in Knutsen (2000: 4-10). The classification of parties is shown in the Appendix Table 1. Changes in voting pattern that do not result in overall changes in the overall impact of church attendance are also interesting. The religious and the secular segment may change their voting pattern in a fundamental way, but these changes may counterbalance each other, and the net result may be no change in the overall impact of the religious cleavage.

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Oddbjørn Knutsen the same way as indicated above for "overall party choice". I then focus upon two additional research questions: 6. I compare the impact of church attendance on overall party choice with the impact on the left-right division of parties in order to examine the degree to which the left-right division of parties tap all impact that church attendance has on party choice or whether the overall impact cut across the left-right division of parties. How this is measured is discussed in this latter section of the article. 7. In grouping the political parties into a leftist and a rightist party group, the conventional division of parties has been to group parties belonging to the Old Left party families, social democratic, left socialist5 and communist parties into the leftist group and parties belonging to all other party families into the rightist party group. The emergence of the Green parties in many countries had made this traditional division somewhat problematic because the Green parties and voters often place themselves to the left and could be considered part of the leftist party group. I place the Green parties alternatively in the rightist and the leftist party group, and focus on to what degree it makes a difference for the impact of church attendance whether the Green parties alternatively are grouped among the non-socialist and the socialist parties.

HYPOTHESES Several studies have examined the impact of the religious cleavage over time in a comparative setting (Inglehart 1977: 216-225, 245-249; Dalton 1990: 82-88; Dalton 1996: 176-185), and numerous studies have focused on trends within a single country (see, for example, Baker, Dalton & Hildebrandt 1981: chap. 7; Lewis-Beck & Skalaban 1992: 171174).6 The main findings from these studies are that although there has been a considerable change in the distribution on the religious cleavage variables in the direction of a more secular mass public, the correlation with party choice has shown a surprising persistence at a high level. For example, Dalton (1996: 185) compares the impact of religion on voting with the impact of social class in a comparative longitudinal study and concludes that “the time lines of religious voting … do not show the marked dropoff found for class voting … Despite the paucity of explicit religious issues and the lack of religious themes in most campaigns, religious characteristics can still be a strong predictor of party choice”. The secularisation process has possibly resulted in an increase in the segment of the population that is do not have goes to church regularly or have a high degree of religiosity, but this secularisation process has not the obvious consequence for the strength and character of the impact on party choice as one immediately would expect. There are in fact two basically different perspectives about the impact of the increased secularisation over time one which predicts a decline (the declining correlation hypothesis), and one which predicts a stable correlation (the stable correlation hypothesis). Both hypotheses take the secularisation 5

6

The left socialist parties can be considered as New Left parties, but they originated earlier than the Greens and placed themselves firmly to the left on the economic left-right axis, often to the left of the social democrats. These parties were considered part of the labour movement and have conventionally been grouped in the leftist party group although they also have expressed New Left and (later) green opinions. In addition, see the various country-specific contributions in Broughton & ten Napel (2000).

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process for granted. The stable correlation hypothesis presumes that religious and the secular segments have the same voting pattern over time, the declining correlation hypothesis presumes these segments have changed their voting pattern so that church attendance has become less important. In a comparative perspective I expect that the confessional cleavage will have strongest impact on party choice in Catholic and religious mixed countries. Conflicts between the Church and the secular forces have historically been strongest in these countries. Of the (mainly) Protestant countries, I expect that religious/secular value orientations will be most significant in countries with particular "Christian" parties which articulate religious value orientations, i.e. in Denmark. The religious parties articulate a religious value orientation most consistently in respective party systems, and I expect that these parties in particular will have voters who are members of the religious communities. The Conservative parties also have emphasised a religious value orientation. For example, in England there has been a close association between the Conservative party and the Church of England (Rose 1974b: 517), and in the Scandinavian countries High Church clericalism and the Conservative parties have had historical alliances (Elder, Thomas & Arter 1983: 68-69). The parties that historically have articulated opposition to the churches and could be expected to have secular voters are first and foremost Socialist and other left-wing parties, as well as liberal and radical "bourgeois" parties. Socialism, Liberalism and Radicalism have traditionally been the main antagonists of the church, religious individuals and Christian political interests. In the late nineteenth century and the early part of the twentieth century liberal and radical bourgeois forces engaged strongly in anti-clerical opposition against especially the Catholic Church in many countries. After World War II these parties have attempted to get rid of their anti-clerical image (von Beyme 1985: 35-36). The same can to some extent be said about the Socialist parties. The Liberal parties in the Protestant countries have another profile than the Liberal parties on the Continent. They have traditionally been associate with religious dissenters (as the Liberal party in Britain) or Low Church individuals and organisations as in the Scandinavian countries. Although the Christian People's parties have absorbed most of the Low Church voters in these countries, I expect the Liberal parties in Britain and Denmark to have a different placement along the religious conflict compared to the Liberal and Radical parties in Catholic and religious-mixed countries. I also expect that the newer Green and Left-Socialist party families will have secular voters. The voters of these parties emerge primarily from the secular segment of the electorate, and most of these parties have emphasised new morality issues like support for women's liberalisation and liberalising abortion - issues which are strongly opposed to the religious parties and the churches. Let us now go on to examine the data. I proceed in approximately the same order as the research problems were phrased, starting with the level of church attendance in the eight West European countries in some detail. Then I go on to analyse patterns for the whole period, and then changes over time. A main part of this analysis is a decomposition of the correlation between party choice and church attendance and how the various components have changed over time (research question 4). For studying change over time, we divide the data into six periods. The earlier ones are five-year intervals, coinciding with the decades, and in the 1990s the periods are shorter given that we do not have data from 1998 and 1999. The six periods are then: 1970-74, 1975-79, 1980-84, 1985-89, 1990-93 and 1994-97. The analysis of the

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relationship between church attendance and left-right party choice is presented in the last section before the conclusion.

EMPIRICAL ANALYSIS Church Attendance as a Measure of Church Religiosity. A Comparative Overview In a pioneering work, Jagodzinski and Dobbelaere (1995) analyse church religiosity and secularisation in a comparative West European setting. In their theoretical discussion of religiosity, they use church integration as their central variable. They consider people as more integrated into the churches the more frequently they participated in religious rites and services (Jagodzinski & Dobbelaere 1995: 86). Admitting that church integration is an indirect measure of more basic religious orientations and beliefs, they go on to examine the relationship between church integration (measured by frequency of church attendance) and more direct measures of church religiosity or religious beliefs. They find very strong correlations between church attendance and more direct measures of church religiosity. On the basis of the European Value Surveys (I and II), they find that correlations varied between 0.41 and 0.73 in different countries (Jagodzinski & Dobbelaere 1995: 87-91). This is a magnitude seldom found in survey research. Moreover, they analyse changes in frequency of church attendance and in more direct measures of church religiosity, finding that pronounced changes in church integration are paralleled by similar changes in church religiosity or religious beliefs. Frequency of church attendance can then be used also as a measure of more general changes in church religiosity. There is apparently no clear time lag between the two processes (Jagodzinski & Dobbelaere 1995: 91-96). Jagodzinski and Dobbelaere differentiated between four basic categories of church integration on the basis of the question of frequency of church integration. Here we use a modified three-category version. We distinguish between: 1. nuclear or core Christians: those who go to church once a week or more frequently; 2. marginal Christians: those who go to church more than once a year but less frequently than the former category; and 3. the disengaged: those who practically never go to church (never or once a year or less). One problem is what to do with those who do not consider themselves to belong to any religious denomination (called the unchurched or the unaffiliated below). In the Eurobarometer data, the question on frequency of church attendance is asked only of those who say they consider themselves as belonging to a religious community. Should we exclude the unchurched from our analysis of church religiosity, or should they be grouped together with the disengaged or even placed in a category indicating a lower degree of church religiosity? The latter seems not to be a logical solution, given that the disengaged show the lowest degree of church religiosity, as it is defined here. Jagodzinski and Dobbelaere (1995: 116) argue for collapsing these two groups: in most countries it seems to be a matter of

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attachment and feelings whether respondents assign themselves to a denomination when they have withdrawn from the church. “Withdrawal from the church is an internal, rather than external, formal act”.7 The distribution on the church attendance variable will be highly affected by the portion of the respondents who do not consider themselves members of a denomination, if the unchurched are excluded. This portion varies largely cross-nationally. The analysis of the relationship between party choice and church attendance would be based on a very different portion of the samples in the various countries, since the portion varies largely cross-nationally: According to the data for the whole period (1970-97) the portions who are unaffiliated varies from 3-10% in Ireland, Italy and Germany to 33% in Britain and 44% in the Netherlands and decreases with different speeds cross-nationally over time. The analyses would then be based on a very different portion of the samples in the various countries, from 56% in the Netherlands to 97% in Ireland (according to the data for the whole period), and the portion would change from period to period due to the increase in the unchurched group. In line with the reasoning above, we have included those who do not belong to any religious denomination in the disengaged group, that is, those who consider themselves as belonging to a religious community without attending church. In the Eurobarometer data set, it is possible to use this division for the whole period, although the response categories have changed somewhat over time. The question has been asked as follows: Do you go to/attend religious services? Response categories (until EB 30 in 1988) were: 1. 2. 3. 4.

several times a week once a week a few times a year never

Response categories (from EB 31 in 1989) are: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

several times a week once a week a few times during the year once a year or less never

The core Christians are those who choose the two first alternatives in both versions; the marginal Christians are those who choose the third alternative in both versions; while the disengaged are those who choose “never” in the first version and the two last alternatives in the second version. The distributions can be studied in detail over time and in a comparative perspective. I present figures for all religious denominations altogether, and will come back to withincountry differences according to religious denomination after the analyses based on all 7

Jagodzinski and Dobbelaere (1995: 116) argued in favour of collapsing the two categories, but for technical reasons due to the surveys they are analysing, they keep these two categories separate.

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respondents for each country. Figure 1 presents the trend on an overall index of church attendance, calculated by the percentage belonging to the core group minus the unchurched group. I comment on the core and the disengaged group first, although the figures are not presented (the whole Table is presented in the Appendix Table 2). As expected, the Irish mass publics stand out as the most faithful churchgoers. In the early 1970s more than 90% belong to the core group, but this drops gradually to around 70% in the 1990s. In Italy and Belgium the core group made up about half of the adult population in the early 1970s. In both countries there is a sharp decline to about 35% in the late 1970s, and in Belgium there is then a more gradual decline to about 15% in the late 1990s. This contrasts sharply with the development in Italy, where there is stability and even a small increase in the core group from the late 1970s. The core group in the Netherlands was at 40% in the early 1970s. This decreases rapidly to less than 30% in the late 1970s, and the pattern then follows that of Belgium at very similar levels. The core group is at 29% and 23% in Germany and France, respectively, in the early 1970s, and in both countries there is a gradual decline, so that only 13% and 7%, respectively, belong to the core group in the late 1990s. In Britain the core group constitutes 16% in the early 1970s, and in contrast to many of the other countries, this percentage is fairly stable over time, declining to 12% in the late 1990s. The Danish core group is clearly the lowest in a comparative context. It was at only 5% in the 1970s, and declined to 4% in the 1990s. The largest changes in the size of the core group (in terms of percentage differences) from the early 1970s to the late 1990s are found in Belgium and the Netherlands, where the decline is about 30 percentage points, followed by Ireland (23 percentage points) and France, Germany and Italy (16-17 percentage points). The change is much lower in Britain and Denmark, but in these countries there is a “floor” limit that delimits the possibility for change. The major decline may have take place at an earlier time-point in these Protestant countries. “The core had almost dissolved by the end of the 1960s” (Jagodzinski & Dobbelaere 1995: 104). The size of the disengaged group does not simply mirror that of the core group. As early as the early 1970s, those who did not go to church on even an irregular basis constituted nearly 50% in Denmark, Britain and the Netherlands (46-49%), 41% in France and 31-33% in Belgium and Germany. As for the core group, Ireland is outstanding, with only 4-5% belonging to the disengaged group in the 1970s, and Italy is also unique compared with the other countries (apart from Ireland), with a much lower portion (17%). The size of the disengaged group increases in all countries and the increase is gradual, although a sharp change takes place in the early 1980s in several countries. The increase for the whole period is largest in Belgium and France. In these countries the increase is about 30 percentage points, but the increase is of nearly the same magnitude in Britain, Germany and the Netherlands, and somewhat smaller in Denmark. In France, Britain, the Netherlands and Denmark in the late 1990s, the size of the disengaged group is 65-73%, but Belgium and Germany approach the size in these countries (61% and 56%, respectively). The increase in the disengaged group is considerably smaller in Ireland and Italy. In Italy the unchurched group increases to about 25% in the late 1970s, but is then quite constant. In Ireland the significant increase takes place in the 1990s, when the disengaged group increases from 8% to 19%.

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Figure 1 presents the overall results of these trends at each extreme of church religiosity by means of the PDI-index explained above.8 In the whole period, the three countries with the least religious populations in terms of church attendance are Britain, Denmark and France. Of these, the Danish population is the least religious in the 1970s, and while the population of France is somewhat more religious than those of Britain and Denmark. These differences become smaller over time. In the next group of countries we find Germany, the Netherlands and Belgium. Church attendance is higher in Belgium than in the two other countries in the 1970s, but a rapid decline during the 1970s (in particular among the core group) brings Belgium to the same level as Germany. The decline is larger in the Netherlands than in Germany, so that the Netherlands has a very similar level of church attendance as the first group of countries in the 1990s. Belgium and Germany follow each other quite closely. Italy is a deviant case in this respect. A rapid decline in the 1970s is followed by a small increase and then a small decline. The overall church attendance in the 1990s is – according to the index – a few percentage points higher in the 1990s than in the late 1970s.9 Finally, there is a clear decline in church religiosity in Ireland, but since the starting-point is so deviant from the level of the other countries, and the change is not particularly large, Ireland remains by far the country with the highest level of church religiosity. 100.0

80.0

60.0

PDI-index

40.0

20.0

0.0 1970-74

1975-79

1980-84

1985-89

1990-93

1994-97

Belgium Britain Denmark France Germany Ireland Italy Netherlands Mean

-20.0

-40.0

-60.0

-80.0

Figure 1. Development of church attendance in eight countries according to the PDI-index

8

9

It should be underscored that this measure is somewhat different the percentage differences measure used in Table 2 below that we also have named PDI. The PDI-index for church religiosity is developed to describe an univariate distribution, while percentage differences in Table 2 measure the effect of a cleavage variable on party choice, and is an effect measure of an independent variable on a dependent variable. For a similar finding, see Jagodzinski and Dobbelaere (1995: 103-104). Donovan (2000: 144) refers to findings about frequency of church attendance from the midst 1950s to the late 1970s that show that the portion who attend church weekly has declined dramatically from about 70% to about 30% and then remained fairly stable (to the late 1990s). The basic secularisation in the Italian case in terms of church religiosity then took place mostly before the period studied here.

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As to differences in church religiosity between members of various denominations, we might expect differences between Catholics and Protestants. Church attendance should be expected to be higher among Catholics. Whereas for Catholics church attendance is an almost indispensable manifestation of their beliefs, Protestants usually attribute less importance to attendance at religious services (Jagodzinski & Dobbelaere 1995: 87). According to the data for the whole period there is a tiny Protestant minority in France, Belgium and Ireland, and a corresponding Catholic minority in Denmark of a few percentage in these religiously homogeneously countries.10 Given the data for the whole period, we do find some differences in these four countries, but they vary cross-nationally. In France there is no difference between Catholics and Protestants with regard to church attendance, while there is some difference in Belgium. On the index discussed above, the Catholics score 8 and the Protestants score -2. The core group is of the same size for both denominations, but a larger portion of the Protestants is disengaged. Larger differences are found in Denmark and Ireland. The index value in both countries is higher for Catholics: -23 and 81, compared with -41 and 50, respectively. The Catholics in Denmark are surprisingly disengaged, and the Protestants in Ireland resemble more the members of the other confession than members of the same confession in other countries. Although we find some difference in church attendance between Protestants and Catholics in these countries, country appears to be more important than confession for explaining variations in church religiosity. For the remaining three religiously mixed countries, Britain, Germany and the Netherlands, the frequency of church attendance according to religiously denomination is shown in Figure 2. In Britain there was a huge gap in the level of church attendance between the Catholics and members of the dominant Protestant churches in the 1970s. There is a considerable decline in the level of church attendance among Catholics during the 1980s and then considerable stability. The non-conformists, for whom we have reliable data only to the late 1980s,11 also show a high level of church attendance, which even increases somewhat. The level of church attendance among Protestants is much lower and is also declining, but to a smaller degree than among Catholics. There are nevertheless large differences between the two denominations in level of church attendance also in the 1990s. In Germany we find differences that are even larger between the two confessions in the 1970s. The core groups of Catholics and Protestants are at 55% and 11%, respectively, in the early 1970s. There is a large decline in church attendance among Catholics from the early 1970s to the late 1980s, followed by a stable pattern to the late 1990s. The church attendance among Protestants is fairly stable until the late 1990s, followed by a considerable decline. The decline in the core groups is remarkable among the Catholics, 25% in the late 1990s, while it is the portion of disengaged members of the Protestant church that contribute most to the declining index score among Protestants: from 37% to 56% from 1970-74 to 1994-97. The pattern in the Netherlands also shows a steep decline in the portion who attend church frequently among Catholics.12 As in Britain and Germany, most of the change takes 10 11

12

In Italy the question about religious denomination did not have a category for "Protestants". It was not possible to identify the non-conformists in the data from the 1990s due to a new set of categories on the question on religious denomination. There are few surveys in which both the questions about church attendance and that on religious denomination were asked in the period 1980-84. The religious denomination question was asked in only three surveys, and in only one of them was it differentiated between the three denominations that are central in the Netherlands. In

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place until the late 1980s. The change is much smaller, though significant, from the late 1980s to the 1990s. The change among members of the Dutch Reformed Church is much smaller, and from the late 1980s the index scores among the members of the Reformed Church and the Catholics are similar, indeed lower for the Catholics in the late 1990s. The change among Catholics is indeed remarkable in the period examined here. This can be illustrated most dramatically by the portion of Catholics who belong to the core group. It declines from 70% to 18% in the period. The Dutch Reformed Church has a significant larger core group in the 1990s, about 35%. The pattern for the Orthodox Calvinists13 can be contrasted with the Catholics in particular. The level of church integration is very high, and it is not declining to the same extent as for members of the other denominations. The index score declines somewhat, but remains very high. The core group constituted 84% in the early 1970s and still 69% in the late 1990s. The disengaged had in the same time period increased from 4% to 12%. It appears that we have here a group that has a much more solid and cohesive collective creed than that of the Dutch Reformed and the Catholics in the Netherlands.14

50.0

40.0

30.0

PDI-index

20.0

10.0

0.0 1970-74

Catholics Protestants Non-conformists 1975-79

1980-84

1985-89

1990-93

1994-97

-10.0

-20.0

-30.0

-40.0

Figure 2 A. Frequency of church attendance according to religious denomination over time in Britain. PDIindex.

13

14

this survey the question on church attendance was not asked. It is therefore not possible to present data showing the level of church attendance according to religious denominations for this period in the Dutch case. In the Netherlands the Protestant Dutch Reformed Church experienced conflicts within the church in the nineteenth century. A group of committed Calvinist Christians established their own religious communities, free of ties to the state and the nation. These Orthodox Rereformed (Gereformeerd) churches are then offshoots of the Dutch Reformed Church (Lipset & Rokkan 1967: 15-17; Lijphart 1974: 228-229). For similar findings although they use a different religious typology, see Holsteyn & Irwin (2000: 81-82).

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50.0 40.0 30.0 20.0

PDI-index

10.0 0.0 1970-74

1975-79

1980-84

1985-89

1990-93

1994-97

-10.0

Catholics Protestants

-20.0 -30.0 -40.0 -50.0 -60.0

Figure 2 B. Frequency of church attendance according to religious denomination over time in Germany. PDIindex. 100.0

80.0

PDI-index

60.0

Catholics Dutch Reformed Rereformed

40.0

20.0

0.0 1970-74

1975-79

1985-89

1990-93

1994-97

-20.0

Figure 2 C. Frequency of church attendance according to religious denomination over time in the Netherlands. PDI-index.

Party Choice and Church Religiosity The pattern of church attendance for all religious confessions is the basis of analysis here. For the countries with a small minority of Catholics or Protestants, an analysis based on the various confessions for the whole period did show fairly similar patterns, and the fact that the

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small religious minority was included did not at all change the results from analyses in which that minority was excluded. For the three religiously mixed countries (including Britain), the impact of church religiosity within the various denominations will be examined after the main analysis. The different variance in the dependent variable should be kept in mind when we analyse the strength of the correlation between party choice and church religiosity. This applies in particular to the countries at the extremes of the scales, Ireland versus Britain, Denmark and France. The fact that the variance changes largely over time in many countries should also be kept in mind. The three-fold church attendance variable is on the ordinal level of measurement. We have the choice between using Cramer’s V and eta as the statistical coefficient for measuring the strength, assuming that the variable is on a nominal and interval-level of measurement. The three measures show basically the same pattern. Figure 3 shows the strength for the whole period measured by the eta-coefficient. 0.6

0.5

Eta-coefficient

0.4

0.3

0.2

0.1

0 Netherlands

Belgium

Italy

France

Germany

Denmark

Ireland

Britain

Figure 3. The strength of the correlation between party choice and church attendance, 1970-97 (Etacoefficients).

The correlation is strongest in the Netherlands (0.55), followed by Belgium and Italy (0.48-0.50). These correlations are indeed at a level one seldom finds in social research. The voting gaps between the core and the disengaged groups are indeed “extreme” in these countries (Dalton 1990: 82). In the next group we find France, Germany, Denmark and Ireland, where the correlations are 0.28-0.35. The skewed distributions on the church attendance variable for the last two countries should be kept in mind. Finally, the correlation is considerably lower in Britain than in the other countries. The correlation in the former group of countries is about five times higher than in Britain.15

15

I have also examined the correlations between church attendance and party choice by using Nagelkerke’s R2 from multinominal logistic regressions with church attendance as an independent covariate. These figures

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Figure 4 shows how these correlations have changed over time. There is generally a decline in the strength of the correlations, but it is not large, and the decline does not involve all countries. The small general decline can be illustrated by the decline in the mean correlation for the eight countries. It declines from 0.37-0.38 in the 1970s to 0.32 in the late 1990s. The decline is significant if we examine the countries where the impact of church attendance is largest: Belgium, France, Germany, Italy and the Netherlands. For these five countries, the average correlation in the 1970s was 0.55, and it declines gradually to 0.43 in the late 1990s. This is a significant decline: the average decline is nearly 25% of its original strength in the early 1970s. The decline is largest in Italy (-0.17), followed by Germany and France (-0.11) and then Belgium and the Netherlands (-0.08, -0.07). These findings, then, show that there is some average decline in the strength of the impact of church religiosity on the party system, but, on the other hand, there is much persistence in most countries.16 Belgium

Britain

Denmark

France

Germany

Ireland

Italy

Netherlands

Mean

0.700

0.600

Eta-coefficient

0.500

0.400

0.300

0.200

0.100

0.000 1970-74

1975-79

1980-84

1985-89

1990-93

1994-97

Figure 4. The strength of the correlation between church attendance and party choice over time measured by the eta-coefficient.

16

show the same ranking of countries and with the same basic four-fold division of countries. The correlation between the eta-coefficients and Nagerkerke's R2 for the eight units is 0.98. Nagelkerke’s R2 from multinominal logistic regressions with church attendance as an independent covariate shows very similar results as the results based on the eta-coefficients. The relative decline for the various countries is, however, somewhat different: The largest decline is found in Italy as for the analysis based on the eta-coefficients, but the second largest decline is found in the Netherlands, while the decline is of fairly similar magnitude in Belgium, France and Germany. The average for all eight countries decreases from 0.163 to 0.106 for all eight countries, and from 0.264 to 0.156 for the five countries where the decline is substantial, reflecting a decline of 35% and 41%, respectively. The very similar patterns are reflected in the correlation between the two sets of 48 coefficients which is 0.98.

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There is no specific period when the decline is particularly large for these countries. In Belgium and the Netherlands, the decline takes place from the late 1970s to the late 1980s, and there is then no further decline, but indeed a small increase in the impact of church attendance in the Netherlands from the late 1980s to the late 1990s. In Italy much change takes place during the 1990s, when the party system changes in a fundamental way. In Germany much decline takes place from the early to the late 1970s, but there is also a decline in the 1990s. The decline in France is gradual from the late 1970s. There is an impressive stability (at a low level) in the impact of church religiosity on party choice in Britain, and a small decline in Denmark. In Ireland there is a large increase, largely from the early to the late 1980s. Let us now examine the placement of the various parties and party families on the religious cleavage. Table 1 presents the PDI17 and lor-statistics18 for the various parties in the party families for the whole period. The statistics are calculated by comparing the differences between the core and the disengaged groups. On the right-hand side of the table, the average scores for the various party families are calculated. I take these scores as my point of departure for commenting on the pattern for the party families, and focus mostly on the lorscores as mentioned in the introduction. There are indeed only two party families that have clearly positive lor-scores, indicating that they get stronger support from the core group than from the disengaged, namely the Christian and the Conservative parties. Of these party families, the Christian party family has by far the highest lor-score. All three socialist party families, Communists, left socialists and social democrats, have much greater support from the disengaged segment, with lor-scores between -1.00 and -2.00. The Greens and the radical rightist parties also have much stronger support from the disengaged group. Both of these New Politics parties, then, appear to be anchored in the disengaged segments of the population. Looking at the parties within the various party families, we note the high lor-score for all the Christian parties. The score is highest for the small Danish party, underscoring the character of the Christian parties in the Protestant countries. The Christian parties in 17

18

PDI is a percentage difference measure that subtracts the support from the disengaged segment from the support from the core segment. A positive effect then implies that the party get stronger support from the core segment while a negative effect implies stronger support from the secular or disengaged segment. Lor is log odds ratio. We use odds ratios (sometimes called the cross-product ratio) as our main measure of the strength of association (Mosteller 1968; Fienberg 1980: 16-19) in order to compare differences in support for given party groups over time and differences between party groups. This measure has the important property of being statistically independent of the marginal distributions (Reynolds 1984: 64-67; Fienberg 1980: 17; Mosteller 1968: 4). We can compare the odds ratios from different tables (or part of tables) also when the distributions of variables are different. In contrast, because of the existence of “floor” and “ceiling” effects (i.e. percentages that are close to 0 and to 100), the absolute percentage difference in support for a given party group between, for example, the core and the disengaged may be a misleading measure of the strength of association. The odds ratio should generally be used instead (Heath et al. 1991: 21–22). The odds ratio is an asymmetric measure in that if the high and low values on the gender variable are changed, the figures will be different. However, if we take the natural logarithm of the two ratios, they will have the same magnitude but different signs. The log odds ratio (hereafter called lor) is then a symmetric measure in the sense that the odds ratio of two tables (or parts of tables) represents the same degree of association if the logarithm of the two odds ratios is such that they have the same absolute value but different signs (Agresi 1996: 24; Fienberg 1980: 17). This is important, because otherwise it would be difficult to use the measures for comparing, for example, parties that the core segment is more likely to support to those the disengaged segment is more likely to support. I have calculated the lor-scores so that a positive score means that the core segment is most likely to support a party while a negative score implies that the disengaged segment is most likely to support a party.

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Scandinavia have been far more deviant than their Continental counterparts in their national setting (Karvonen 1994: 137-138), something that is documented empirically here for the Danish case compared with the Continental counterparts. The other deviant pattern is the low score for the Irish Fine Gael, which is indeed lower than for the party that we have classified as Conservative, Fianna Fail. This illustrates that it is still problematic to classify these parties as Christian and Conservative, respectively. The other mainstream Christian Democratic parties have quite similar lor-scores, with CDU/CSU being somewhat lower than the parties in Belgium, Italy and the Netherlands. Table 1. Overall Differences in Support for the Various Political Parties according to Church Attendance in a Comparative Setting, 1970-97. Parties are Grouped into Party Families Belgium Britain Denmark France Germany Ireland Italy Netherlands Average A. Lor Comm. -1.10 -1.87 -2.44 -2.27 -1.92 Left Soc. -1.62 -0.63 -2.17 -2.62 -1.67 -1.74 Soc. Dem -1.97 -0.45 -0.81 -1.05 -1.23 -0.79 -0.35 -1.77 -1.05 Green -1.37 -0.55 -0.81 -1.22 -1.79 -1.74 -0.93 -1.20 Nationalists 0.26 0.16 -0.43 0.00 Liberal -0.66 0.19 0.15 1.43 -0.41 -0.70 -0.13 -1.07 -0.15 Christian 2.60 4.30 1.80 0.64 2.67 2.68 2.45 Conservative 0.39 0.07 1.18 1.07 0.22 0.59 Radical right -1.37 -0.85 -0.70 -1.45 -0.04 -0.88 Spec. P. I 0.77 -0.83 0.27 -1.40 Spec. P. II -0.18 2.27 Other p. -1.26 -0.67 -0.01 -0.07 -0.88 -0.99 -0.77 -0.09 -0.59 B. PDI Comm. -1.3 -1.3 -11.7 -36.2 -12.6 Left Soc. -14.4 -1.8 -11.1 -2.4 -7.1 -7.3 Soc. Dem -30.7 -10.8 -15.3 -20.5 -27.9 -10.6 -3.9 -29.0 -18.6 Green -9.3 -1.1 -0.5 -7.4 -7.3 -6.6 -3.6 -5.1 Nationalists 2.0 0.4 -0.8 0.5 Liberal -8.4 2.6 0.7 25.1 -2.1 -2.2 -0.8 -11.2 0.5 Christian 52.7 21.6 41.9 10.3 49.0 53.0 38.1 Conservative 9.2 0.8 19.3 25.3 0.5 11.0 Radical right -2.3 -3.8 -1.4 -2.5 -0.3 -2.1 Spec. P. I 12.6 -1.4 0.7 -13.2 Spec. P. II -0.4 7.7 Other P. -2.7 -0.3 0.0 -0.2 -2.1 -5.1 -2.3 -0.3 -1.6 Total 53.4 12.1 35.7 43.6 41.9 35.6 50.2 60.8 Note: Special parties are for Denmark Agrarian Liberals (I) and Centre Democrats (II), for France MRG (I), for Italy PSDI (I) and for the Netherlands D66 (I) and Calvinist Fundamentalists (II).

The stronger average support from the churchgoers for the Conservative parties does not apply equally to all of these parties. It is primarily the French and Irish parties that contribute in this respect, while the difference is low for the other parties. Neither the French nor the Irish parties belong to the mainstream Conservative parties, and for more mainstream Conservative parties, differences are small (in the British case) or even insignificant (in the Danish case). The liberal party family is the most differentiated in this respect, as we perhaps should expect. Behind the average lor-score of -0.16 there are indeed three groups of liberal parties with regard to the religious cleavage. The largest group, comprising four parties, gets clearly

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stronger support from the disengaged segment. This group comprises the parties in Belgium, Ireland, the Netherlands and to a smaller degree Germany. Although the differences are significant, the different levels of support from the core and disengaged groups are nevertheless smaller for these parties than for any of the socialist party families in these countries, although the difference for the Irish party approaches the one for the social democratic party. A second group of liberal parties gets fairly even support from the religious and the disengaged segments. In this group we find the British, the Danish and the Italian liberal parties. Finally, only in France does the liberal party get much stronger support from the core segment than from the disengaged. As discussed in the introduction, the UDF alliance includes a Christian component. The nationalist parties also differ with regard to support among the religious and disengaged segments. The Italian Lega Nord clearly gets stronger support from the disengaged segment of the population, while the opposite tendency is found in Belgium and Britain, although the differences are small. Four of the five radical rightist parties get clearly stronger support from the religiously uncommitted than from the core group. The exception is the Italian MSI, for which we do not find any difference. All green parties get strongest support from the disengaged group, and the strongest differences in terms of lor-scores are found in some of the countries where the green parties are large: Belgium, France and Germany. The pattern is also very consistent for all the socialist party families, Social Democrats, Left Socialists and Communists. Some variances exist with regard to the size of the difference, however. Differences are much smaller for the Italian and British and (to a lesser extent) the Danish and Irish social democratic parties than for the other four parties. All left socialist and communist parties are heavily religiously disengaged with regard to voter support. The only exception is the small left socialist PSU in France, for which differences are comparatively small. Let us now go on to examine more closely how church religiosity polarises the various party systems and how the changes take place over time. The decline of the correlation between party choice and church attendance implies that party voters have moved closer to each other, or that parties that contributed in particular to the polarisation have declined in overall support, contributing to the decrease. When we examine the material, it is evident that the patterns over time are even more complicated. The polarisation may even be caused by different parties at different time-points, and new parties may contribute to an increasing polarisation while the polarisation between the old parties may have declined, establishing a fairly stable net result over time. Our starting-point is the cross-tabulation between frequency of church attendance and party choice for the whole period. These cross-tables are shown in Table 2, along with the lor- and PDI-measures.19 Changes over time are commented on only in the text; no tables or figures are shown for the various parties.

19

The “sum” under |PDI| is an overall measure of the strength of the relationship between church attendance and party choice. It is obtained by summing the absolute values of the various PDIs for the parties (based on the subtractions of the support among the core and the disengaged) and dividing by two. This is a good measure for examining change over time, and the discussion below is partly based on changes in the magnitude of this measure.

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Oddbjørn Knutsen Table 2. The Relationship between Party Choice and Church Religiosity, 1970-97 Core

Belgium PCB/KPB PS/SP Ecolo/Agalev Volksu./RW/FDF PRL/PVV PSC/CVP Flemish Bloc Other p. Sum Total N Britain Labour P. Green P. Nationalists Liberal P. Conservat. P. Other p. Sum Total N Denmark DKP Left soc. Soc. Dem. Greens Rad. Lib. Chr. Peopl. P. Cons. Peopl. P. Progress P. Agrar. Lib. Centr. Dem. Other p. Sum Total N France PCF PSU PSF Ecologists UDF RPR Front National MRG Other p. Sum Total N

Marginals

Diseng.

Sum

PDI

Lor

|PDI|

0.7 8.2 3.7 9.7 11.2 64.6 0.8 1.1 100.0 5298

0.7 24.0 9.1 9.0 19.4 34.1 1.6 2.1 100.0 4401

2.0 38.8 13.0 7.6 19.6 11.9 3.1 3.9 100.0 8177

1.3 26.1 9.3 8.6 17.1 33.0 2.1 2.6 100.0 17876

-1.3 -30.7 -9.3 2.0 -8.4 52.7 -2.3 -2.7

-1.10 -1.97 -1.37 0.26 -0.66 2.60 -1.37 -1.26 Sum

1.3 30.7 9.3 2.0 8.4 52.7 2.3 2.7 53.4

34.5 1.6 2.9 17.7 42.9 0.3 100.0 3224

34.2 1.3 2.0 16.0 46.2 0.3 100.0 6477

45.3 2.8 2.5 15.1 33.7 0.7 100.0 13153

40.6 2.2 2.4 15.7 38.6 0.5 100.0 22854

-10.8 -1.1 0.4 2.6 9.2 -0.3

-0.45 -0.55 0.16 0.19 0.39 -0.67 Sum

10.8 1.1 0.4 2.6 9.2 0.3 12.1

0.2 4.4 18.3 0.4 5.5 22.0 13.3 3.0 27.6 2.2 3.2 100.0 820

0.4 6.7 33.2 0.4 5.0 1.6 15.1 7.5 24.5 3.1 2.5 100.0 8261

1.6 18.8 33.6 0.8 4.8 0.4 12.5 6.8 15.0 2.6 3.2 100.0 11558

1.1 13.3 32.8 0.6 4.9 1.7 13.6 6.9 19.3 2.8 2.9 100.0 20639

-1.3 -14.4 -15.3 -0.5 0.7 21.6 0.8 -3.8 12.6 -0.4 0.0

-1.87 -1.62 -0.81 -0.81 0.15 4.30 0.07 -0.85 0.77 -0.18 -0.01 Sum

1.3 14.4 15.3 0.5 0.7 21.6 0.8 3.8 12.6 0.4 0.0 35.7

1.3 2.1 17.9 3.5 37.9 31.8 1.5 1.1 3.0 100.0 3330

5.0 1.6 33.4 5.8 23.9 23.2 2.0 1.9 3.2 100.0 7488

13.0 3.9 38.4 10.9 12.8 12.5 2.9 2.5 3.2 100.0 12789

8.8 2.9 33.9 8.2 19.8 18.6 2.4 2.1 3.2 100.0 23607

-11.7 -1.8 -20.5 -7.4 25.1 19.3 -1.4 -1.4 -0.2

-2.44 -0.63 -1.05 -1.22 1.43 1.18 -0.70 -0.83 -0.07 Sum

11.7 1.8 20.5 7.4 25.1 19.3 1.4 1.4 0.2 43.6

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Table 2. (Continued) Core Germany SPD Greens FDP CDU/CSU Republic. P. Other p. Sum Total N Ireland Workers' P. Labour Green Prog. Dem. Fine Gael Fianna Fail Other p. Sum Total N Italy PCI/PDS/PCR Proletar. Dem. PSI Rad.P./Verdi Lega Nord PRI/PLI Chr. Dem. Forza Italia MSI PDSI Other p. Sum Total N Netherlands Green Left PVDA VVD CDA D66 Calv. Fund. Other p. Sum Total N

Marginals

Diseng.

Sum

PDI

Lor

|PDI|

24.2 1.6 4.5 67.4 0.8 1.5 100.0 4948

45.4 4.0 7.4 40.1 1.2 1.8 100.0 9771

52.1 8.9 6.6 25.5 3.3 3.6 100.0 9594

43.7 5.5 6.5 39.9 1.9 2.4 100.0 24313

-27.9 -7.3 -2.1 41.9 -2.5 -2.1

-1.23 -1.79 -0.41 1.80 -1.45 -0.88 Sum

27.9 7.3 2.1 41.9 2.5 2.1 41.9

1.6 11.2 1.5 2.3 25.7 54.4 3.3 100.0 15521

5.8 21.1 4.1 4.5 21.0 37.8 5.8 100.0 1667

12.7 21.8 8.1 4.5 15.4 29.1 8.4 100.0 1413

2.9 12.9 2.3 2.6 24.5 51.0 3.9 100.0 18601

-11.1 -10.6 -6.6 -2.2 10.3 25.3 -5.1

-2.17 -0.79 -1.74 -0.70 0.64 1.07 -0.99 Sum

11.1 10.6 6.6 2.2 10.3 25.3 5.1 35.6

7.4 0.2 11.1 2.5 1.6 5.9 57.6 2.6 6.0 3.0 2.1 100.0 7912

22.1 0.6 19.4 3.7 2.4 6.5 27.5 3.0 8.0 4.2 2.6 100.0 6944

43.6 2.5 15.0 6.1 2.5 6.7 8.6 2.1 6.3 2.3 4.3 100.0 4724

21.3 0.9 15.0 3.8 2.1 6.3 35.1 2.6 6.8 3.3 2.8 100.0 19580

-36.2 -2.4 -3.9 -3.6 -0.8 -0.8 49.0 0.5 -0.3 0.7 -2.3

-2.27 -2.62 -0.35 -0.93 -0.43 -0.13 2.67 0.22 -0.04 0.27 -0.77 Sum

36.2 2.4 3.9 3.6 0.8 0.8 49.0 0.5 0.3 0.7 2.3 50.2

1.8 9.7 7.2 63.8 5.3 8.7 3.6 100.0 6277

3.9 25.5 17.5 36.5 13.7 0.5 2.3 100.0 5023

8.9 38.7 18.4 10.8 18.4 1.0 3.9 100.0 13537

6.1 28.7 15.4 29.4 14.1 2.8 3.5 100.0 24837

-7.1 -29.0 -11.2 53.0 -13.2 7.7 -0.3

-1.67 -1.77 -1.07 2.68 -1.40 2.27 -0.09 Sum

7.1 29.0 11.2 53.0 13.2 7.7 0.3 60.8

For Belgium CV= 0.358; Eta= 0.503; For Britain CV= 0.099; Eta= 0.119; For Denmark: CV= 0.274; Eta= 0.293; For France: CV= 0.248; Eta= 0.344; For Germany: CV= 0.235; Eta= 0.319; For Ireland: CV= 0.203; Eta= 0.284; For Italy: CV= 0.344; Eta= 0.471; For Netherlands: CV= 0.397; Eta= 0.549

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Let us study some of these details, starting with the five countries where the decline of the impact of church attendance was significant. I first comment on the pattern for the whole period, then the development over time. Let us start with the three countries where we observed the largest decline in the correlation between party choice and church attendance, Italy, France and Germany. In Italy the parties with the highest negative lor-scores, indicating strongest support from the disengaged segment of the population, are the Communist and the left socialist parties, followed by the Green parties. Lega Nord appears also to be a secular party at the voter level. Democrazia Cristiana appears to get very different support from the core versus the disengaged segment of the Italian population. The only other parties that get stronger support from the core segment are Forza Italia and the tiny PSDI. The main polarisation takes place between the Communists and DC, as the PDI measure shows. The Communists get for the whole period 44% of the vote of the disengaged group, while DC gets nearly 60% of the vote of the core group. The decline in the strength of the correlation takes place in two periods, from the late 1970s to the early 1980s and then from 1990-93 to 1994-97 (see Figure 4). The first decline is associated with the decline in support for the Communist Party, which decreases its support among the disengaged group from 53% in the late 1970s to 36% in the early 1980s. Although some of this loss is absorbed by the left socialist Proletarian Democrats and the Greens, the Christian Democrats also increase their support among the disengaged segment, and consequently the strength of the religious cleavage declines somewhat. In the latter period there is a sharp decline. This change is associated with the crises and changes in the party system, as well as the overall decline of the main larger parties, DC and Communists, and the splinter parties that succeeded them. Forza Italia, however, gets considerably stronger support from the core than from the disengaged segment of the Italian electorate, counterbalancing the strong decline associated with the Christian parties. In sum, the strength of the religious cleavage – and also the decline – in the Italian case is mainly associated with the main rivals, the Communists and Christian Democrats. In the 1990s these parties dissolve or are divided into several parties, which together get smaller support than their forerunners. The magnitude of the religious party cleavage is only to some extent absorbed by other parties, and declines significantly. The large decline takes place even though, as we have seen from the changes in the distribution on the church attendance variable, the secularisation process is slower in Italy than in other countries with a large core segment in the 1970s. France does not have a large Christian party, although one of the components of UDF defines itself as Christian, and the Christian voters have traditionally voted for the parties on the right, while the secular voters have voted for the parties on the left. This can clearly be seen from the figures based on the whole period under study (see Table 2). The PDI-scores are largest for the main socialist (PCF, PSF) and non-socialist (UDF and RPR) parties. The same pattern appears when we examine the lor-scores, although the Green parties have lorscores on the same level or even higher than RPR and PSF. The declining correlation with party choice is gradual from the late 1970s (see Figure 4). Among the disengaged segment, the declining support for the Communist party is a main explanation for the declining impact of the religious cleavage. In the 1970s about 20% of the disengaged segment of the French population supported the Communists. This drops gradually to less than 10% in the late 1980s and the 1990s. Some of the reduced support for the Communist party is absorbed by the Greens and by the MRG in the 1990s, but this is less

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than the declining support for the Communists. Front National gets fairly similar support from the core and the disengaged segment of the French population according to these data and does not contribute significantly to increase or counterbalance the decline of the religious cleavage.20 The support for the various levels of church religiosity is very stable for the Socialist Party in France. Although support is stronger among Catholics than among the unchurched, it is the passive members of the Catholics church that are most likely to support the socialists. As to the changes among the core segment, we find that there is a main change related to support for the UDF-alliance. In the late 1970s UDF was a large party,21 and gained considerably stronger support from the core segment than from the disengaged segment: 50% versus 15%. We find that the decline of the alliance is nearly exclusively taking place among the core segment, gradually from 50% to about 20% in the late 1990s. In the same period the decline is only from 15% to 13% among the disengaged segment! Indeed, this decline in the impact of church attendance on the UDF-vote is then larger than the decline for the whole party system, and is counterbalanced by a somewhat larger difference for RPR, particularly in the late 1990s. In sum, the decline of the impact of church religiosity it is primarily caused by the decline of the Communist Party, which draws most of its support from the disengaged segment of the population, and the decline of the UDF-alliance, which is mainly supported by the core segment. These parties lose most significant support from the groups that traditionally have been their main supporters along the religious cleavage, the disengaged and the core, respectively. These trends are to some extent counterbalanced by other parties gaining support from the various segments on the church attendance variable, but these trends are not strong enough to hinder an overall decline. In Germany we find a relatively clear decline in the impact of church attendance on party choice According to the data based on the whole period (see Table 2), CDU/CSU is the only party that gets stronger support from the core segment, while the disengaged segment supports SPD and the Greens. The lor-score for the Greens is on the same level as for CDU/CSU, and clearly higher than for SPD. The Republican Party also gets most of its vote from the disengaged segment, while differences are much smaller for FDP. The main polarisation takes place, however, between SPD and CDU/CSU. There is some decline in the correlation from the early 1970s to the late 1970s, and then stability to the 1990s (see Figure 4). The decline during the 1970s is caused by decreasing polarisation between SPD and CDU/CSU. The decline of the SPD vote is stronger among the disengaged than among the core group, while the increase in the CDU/CSU vote is correspondingly stronger among the disengaged than among the core. The result is a decline in the overall correlation. The rise of the Green Party takes place mainly among the disengaged segment of the electorate, and during the 1980s support for the Green increases within that segment at the expense of SPD. The SPD decline mirrors the increase of the Green, and the overall strength of the religious cleavage is stable and even increases somewhat compared with the late 1970s. The main change in this period takes place between the Green and SPD within the disengaged segment, while support for CDU/CSU is stable among the three levels of church religiosity.

20 21

For a somewhat different finding, see Boy and Mayer (2000: 155-156). More correctly, we refer to the parties that became part of the UDF alliance in 1978.

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During the 1990s a major change takes place. While the anchoring of Green voters is stable also in this period, this is not the case for SPD and CDU/CSU. The voting pattern among the core segment is fairly stable from the late 1980s to the 1990s, but the voting pattern among the disengaged segment changes. SPD loses support, about 6-8 percentage points, while CDU/CSU increases correspondingly. These changes are also reflected in significant changes in the lor-scores. This declining polarisation is not compensated for by other parties. The result is a considerable decline in the impact of church religiosity on the vote. In sum, in both relevant periods the declining correlation is caused by smaller polarisation between the core and the disengaged with regard to support for the main parties, SPD and CDU/CSU. In Belgium and the Netherlands the decline was smaller than in the other three countries within this group. In Belgium Table 2 based on the data for the whole period shows that the Christian Democrats have by far the highest lor- and PDI-scores. Only the nationalist parties get stronger support from the core segment in addition to the Christian Democrats, and that difference is small. The Socialists, Communists, Greens, Liberals and radical rightist Flemish Bloc all get stronger support from the disengaged segment. The lor-scores are largest for the Socialist parties, followed by the Greens and radical rightist parties, and it is the Socialist parties that contribute most to the polarisation among the parties receiving strongest support from the disengaged segment. In Belgium the changing character of the religious cleavage is much more pronounced than the relatively small overall decline indicates. The pattern on the core side is fairly stable. The difference in support for the Christian Social parties is very stable over time across the core and disengaged segment. On the disengaged side, the two parties representing the old party families, the Communists and Socialists, contribute much less to the polarisation in the 1990s than in the 1970s. The Communist Party loses overall support and is not significant at the voter level in the 1990s, in some contrast to the 1970s and early 1980s, when it gained some support from the disengaged segment. The Socialist Party gains extremely different support from the disengaged and the core segment in the 1970s and early 1980s: nearly 50% of the vote of the disengaged compared with less than 10% of the vote of the core groups. The main polarisation clearly involves the Christian versus the Socialist Party. However, the appearance of the Green parties changes this pattern to some extent. The Green party draws support mainly from the disengaged part of the electorate, but the differences are not as strong as for the Socialist party, as the lor-scores indicate. The Socialist Party loses support among the disengaged segment, while the support among the core segment is fairly constant. The result is a clear decline in different support for the Socialist Party according to church attendance. In fact, the decline of the Socialist Party and the support for the Greens among the disengaged segments are nearly of equal size. However, the two parties’ combined support among the core group increases somewhat, indicating that their overall support among the various segments contributes to a small decline in the religious cleavage. Another party, however, contributes to diminish this decline somewhat, namely the radical rightist Flemish Bloc, which in the 1990s gets considerable support from the disengaged group, but not from the core. To sum up, there is only a small decline in the religious cleavage in the Belgian case. There is fairly stable support for the Christian Parties from the various core groups, while there are several changes with regard to how the increased disengaged portion of the

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population is voting. The old secular party families, in particular the socialist parties, are losing support among the disengaged part of the electorate at the expense of the New Politics parties, greens and radical rightists. The religious cleavage in the Netherlands remains the most significant in a comparative setting throughout the whole period, and there is only a small decline when church attendance is examined for all denominations combined. The eta-coefficient shows a significant decline to the late 1980s and then an increase (see Figure 4). According to the PDI- and lor-measures for the analysis of the whole period (see Table 2), two parties (or, more correctly, groups of parties) gain overwhelming support from the core segment, CDA and the Calvinist Fundamentalists, while the other four parties gain significantly more votes from the disengaged segment. The lor-scores are large for all parties, but of the secular parties they are largest for the two socialist parties, Labour and Green Left. According to the PDI-measure, the main polarisation takes place between Labour and CDA, but the other secular parties also contribute significantly. The relatively stable pattern in the strength of the correlation over time masks, however, clear changes in the character of the religious cleavage in the Netherlands. According to the lor-scores, the differences between the disengaged and the core segment of the population decline with regard to support for the Labour Party, and also for the Green Left, while they increase for the secular non-socialist parties, VVD and in particular D66. Among the core segment, difference in support for CDA decreases significantly, while increasing among the Calvinist Fundamentalists. The religious cleavage increasingly involves the secular versus the religious non-socialist parties. The socialist parties and the Labour Party in particular are losing support among the disengaged segment, while support is more stable at a low level among the non-socialist segment. In the 1970s PvdA gained support from about 50% of the disengaged voters, but this decreases to around 40% in the 1980s and about 30% in the 1990s. Support from the core segment is fairly stable at around 10%. The two secular non-socialist parties, VVD and D66, increase their support among the disengaged correspondingly, from a total of about 30% in the 1970s to nearly 50% in the 1990s. The increase is particularly large for D66. Something similar is taking place among the two religious parties: in the 1970s CDA gained nearly 70% of the vote from the core segment. This declines gradually to about 60% in the late 1980s and 53% in the late 1990s. Support among the disengaged segment increases somewhat, from 6% in the early 1970s to 14% in the early 1990s, but declines to 7% in the late 1990s. On the other hand, the Calvinist Fundamentalists get stronger support from the core segment over time, from 7% in the late 1970s to 15-20% in the 1990s, while support among the disengaged segment remains at 2% or even less. The core segment, then, votes increasingly for the Calvinist Fundamentalists and less for the mainstream Christian Democratic party, CDA. In sum, there is little change in the strength of the correlation between party choice and church religiosity, but important changes are taking place within the secular and religious blocs. Let us now examine the three remaining countries, where the impact of the religious cleavage has been small or has involved a smaller segment of the population than in the countries discussed above. In the British case there is a small, but stable, correlation between church attendance and party choice (see Figure 4). According to the results for the whole period (see Table 2), the small percentage difference is first and foremost caused by the Labour and Conservative

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parties. An interesting finding is that support for the Conservative Party is strongest among the marginal group, not the core. The Liberal Party, which traditionally has been supported by non-conformists, also gets somewhat stronger support from churchgoers than from the disengaged segment. There is no significant difference for the Nationalist parties. Despite the fact that the overall correlation is fairly stable over time, a significant change takes place among the voters, according to the data. The different support from voters at different levels of church religiosity declines for the Conservative Party, while the differences for the Liberal Party increase. In the 1970s the Conservatives got stronger support (11-13 percentage points) from the core than from the disengaged; in the 1980s this declined to 6-7 and in the 1990s to about 5 percentage points. The corresponding figures for the Liberal party are on average for the three decades 0, 4 and 6 percentage points. Support for the Labour party is, on the other hand, stronger among the disengaged segment at a stable level compared with the core segment. In Denmark we have already noticed that that core group is very small for the whole period. It is, in fact, so small for some of the time periods that we should be careful to make inferences. Perhaps we should look more into the irregular churchgoers in the Danish case and compare them with the disengaged segment. The core groups comprise fewer than 100 respondents in the early 1970s, early 1980s and in 1994-97, even in this large data material. The material for the whole period is, however, a good starting-point (see Table 2). The left socialists and the Social Democrats gain significantly stronger support from the disengaged population than from the core segment, while it is particularly the Christian People’s Party and the Agrarian Liberals who gain strongest support from the core segment. The lor-score for the Christian People’s Party is remarkably high, as we indicated above. The lor-scores indicate a significant tendency for the radical rightist Progress Party to obtain stronger support from the disengaged segment. In the Danish case as in others, the voting pattern for the marginal group shows basically that it is a medium category between the extremes. No parties get significantly larger support from these groups than from the extremes, although the Conservative Party is a possible exception. The differences are, however, small. On the other hand, there is not a monotonic decline or increase from the disengaged to the core group for all parties. A major difference between the Social Democrats and the left socialists is, for example, that the Social Democrats gain nearly the same level of support from the marginal and the disengaged group, while the left socialists gain much higher support from the disengaged group than from the core and the marginal segment, between which there are only small differences. The Christian People’s Party resembles the left socialists in that support of the marginals is at the same low level as one of the extremes, but in this case it is at the same low level as the disengaged group. Support from the core is large. The development over time is interesting, particularly with regard to the voting behaviour of the small core segment. The Christian People’s Party in Denmark was formed in 1970 and was initially quite marginal, but it became more significant later in the 1970s. For some reason the party did not get support from any of the respondents in the survey from 1973, which the data material for Denmark for the first time period is based on. The Christian Party made its inroads in the late 1970s, according to the survey. In the early 1970s other nonsocialist parties gained a large portion of the core segment’s vote, in particular the Agrarian Liberal and the Liberal parties. The Christian People’s Party got 20-30% of the vote of the regular churchgoers from the late 1970s on according to the data, and the tendency for the

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Liberal party to get stronger support from the core segment disappeared immediately. The tendency for the Agrarian Liberals to get stronger support from the core segment is more permanent, but drops in the 1990s in an interesting way: support from the core segment remains quite constant (26-30%), while support among the disengaged segment increases dramatically, from 8% in the 1980s to 25% in the late 1990s. The Agrarian Liberals have become the leading rightist party in Denmark, now combining support from urban secular forces with their traditional agrarian-based supporters, who are religious. The strength of the religious cleavage in Denmark increases during the 1970s due to the impact of the new Christian People’s Party, which gains support from a segment of the churchgoers that apparently had no previous “political home”. The decrease from the late 1970s is due to the development among voters for the Agrarian Liberals commented on above, as well as a corresponding change among the left socialists (including the Communists, which were incorporated into the left socialist group in the late 1980s). These parties gain some support among the core groups, while support among the disengaged segment remains at a high level. Finally, the development in Ireland deserves some attention because the impact of the religious cleavage increases (see Figure 4). According to the table for the whole period (see Table 2), the two old and dominant parties in Irish politics, Fine Gael and Fianna Fail, both get strongest support from the large core segment of the Irish population. It is Fianna Fail, not Fine Gael, that clearly has the most disproportionate support from the core segment versus the disengaged and the marginal Christians. All the other parties get stronger support from the small disengaged segment, in particular the Workers’ Party and the Greens, but the differences are also significant for Labour and the Progressive Democrats. In order to understand the increase of the religious cleavage in Ireland, it is necessary to underscore that the Irish party system was to a large extent a three-party system in the 1970s, comprising not only Fine Gael and Fianna Fail but also the Labour Party. The “Other parties” category in the early 1970s comprised an electoral alliance between Fine Gael and Labour, which makes it somewhat difficult to use 1970-74 as a starting-point for the analysis. In any case, the religious cleavage is stable at a fairly low level until the late 1980s, and the basis for the stable cleavage is a clear polarisation between Fianna Fail and the Labour Party. Voters for Fine Gael appear to have no stable anchoring in the religious cleavage. The party gets stronger support from the core segment in the late 1970s, and a small opposite tendency is found in the early 1980s. From the late 1980s the Irish party system changes in a profound way. Several new parties gain significant support, and all these are appealing to the increasing disengaged segment of the population. The left socialist Workers’ Party, and the new parties, the Greens and the Progressive Democrats, gain a combined 11.4% of the support of the electorate according to the data, and the support is heavily skewed towards the disengaged segment of the population: for all three time-points from the late 1980s, their combined support is about 10% from the core segment, 20% from the marginal segment and nearly 35% from the disengaged group. The three parties’ combined PDI-scores are 21-26, and although the polarisation along the religious cleavage associated with the Labour Party declines somewhat when these parties make their entrance primarily among the disengaged segment of the population, this decrease does not counterbalance the increase caused by the three new secular parties. For example, the decrease in PDI associated with the Labour Party from 1980-

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84 to 1985-89 is 8 percentage points, while the increase caused by the new parties is 30 percentage points. In the late 1980s it is first and foremost the Workers’ Party that contributes to the increased religious polarisation, but this is supplemented by the Green Party in the 1990s. The overall increase caused by the Progressive Democrats is small in this respect. Among the parties that generally gain strongest support among the core segment, Fine Gael gets firmer and more stable anchorage along the religious cleavage by getting consistently stronger support from the core than from the disengaged segment, a difference that increases significantly from the late 1980s. Fine Gael has even more different support from these segments than Fianna Fail in the late 1990s. In sum, the Irish party system underwent some important changes, with new secular parties on the left and right sides of the political spectrum being established or gaining increasing support, something which increased the impact of the religious cleavage. According to the percentage difference measure, nearly all of the increase can be attributed to voters for the Workers’ Party and the Green Party. Secularisation and changes in the party system increased the impact of church religiosity on party choice in a way that is opposite to the main trend found in other countries.

Party Choice and Church Attendance within the Different Religious Denominations in Religiously Mixed Countries Table 3 shows the relationship between party choice and church attendance among the various denominations in Britain, Germany and the Netherlands for the whole period. I comment on these tables first and then go on to discuss changes over time, which are shown only by the correlation coefficients in the latter part of the table. The Conservative Party gets stronger support from the Established Protestant Churches in Britain (Table 3 A), the Church of England and the Church of Scotland, and support is indeed stronger among the core within the Protestant Churches. The same applies to a smaller extent for the Liberal Party. The Labour Party’s stronghold within the established churches is clearly within the disengaged strata. The correlation is clearly higher than for the other denominations in Britain. The correlation is fairly stable over time, but there is a basic change taking place among the parties getting strongest support among the Protestant core. The Liberal party gains votes while the Conservatives lose votes among this group. In the 1970s the Liberal party did not get stronger support from the core than from the marginal group and the disengaged, while the differences were considerable for the Conservative Party, which got nearly 60% of the vote from the core compared with about 40% from the disengaged. In the 1980s the Liberals get greater support, by a few percentage points, from the core than from the marginal and disengaged groups, while the pattern for the Conservatives is fairly stable compared with that of the 1970s. In the 1990s the Conservatives lose heavily among the core, while the Liberals gain increasing support, and polarisation according to church attendance among the Protestants is now primarily caused by the Liberal party, not the Conservatives (in addition to the Labour Party). The Liberal Party increases its support among the Protestant core from 1116% in the 1970s to about 30% in the 1990s while maintaining stable support among the disengaged of 15-20%. The Conservative Party, on the other hand, gets less than 40% of the

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vote of the core and about 30% of the disengaged in the 1990s. The pattern for Labour is stable in the period, contributing to a stable overall correlation among the Protestants. Table 3. Party Choice and Church Attendance According to Religious Denomination in Religiously Mixed A. Britain Core Marginal

Diseng.

Total

PDI

Lor

|PDI|

Catholics Labour P. 51.4 Green P. 1.4 Nationalists 3.1 Liberal P. 12.7 Conservat P. 30.8 Other p. 0.7 Sum 100.0 Total N 1047 Cramer's V=0.054 Eta=0.068

52.7 1.8 1.6 13.4 30.1 0.3 100.0 677

55.9 2.5 1.4 13.4 26.2 0.6 100.0 485

52.8 1.8 2.3 13.1 29.6 0.5 100.0 2209

-4.5 -1.0 1.6 -0.7 4.6 0.1

-0.18 -0.56 0.77 -0.06 0.22 0.08 Sum

4.5 1.0 1.6 0.7 4.6 0.1 6.2

Protestants Labour P. 24.5 Green P. 1.9 Nationalists 3.4 Liberal P. 19.4 Conservat P. 50.5 Other p. 0.2 Sum 100.0 Total N 1540 Cramer's V=0.117 Eta=0.159

32.2 1.3 2.3 15.4 48.5 0.3 100.0 4904

45.2 1.4 2.1 14.0 37.0 0.3 100.0 4335

36.4 1.4 2.4 15.4 44.1 0.3 100.0 10779

-20.7 0.5 1.3 5.5 13.5 -0.2

-0.93 0.31 0.50 0.40 0.55 -0.58 Sum

20.7 0.5 1.3 5.5 13.5 0.2 20.8

31.6 0.5 1.2 18.2 48.1 0.5 100.0 412

41.6 0.5 0.5 20.0 36.3 1.1 100.0 190

33.3 0.4 1.3 19.9 44.5 0.5 100.0 979

-10.5 -0.3 1.3 1.8 8.5 -0.8

-0.46 -0.69 1.27 0.11 0.35 -1.39 Sum

10.5 0.3 1.3 1.8 8.5 0.8 11.6

1990-93 0.096 0.189

1994-97 0.142 0.145

Non-conformists (1970-89) Labour P. 31.0 Green P. 0.3 Nationalists 1.9 Liberal P. 21.8 Conservat P. 44.8 Other p. 0.3 Sum 100.0 Total N 377 Cramer's V=0.084 Eta=0.092

Catholics Protestants Non-conf.

1970-74 0.047 0.169 0.159

Correlations over time (eta) 1975-79 1980-84 1985-89 0.100 0.048 0.162 0.154 0.148 0.171 0.118 0.017 0.101

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Oddbjørn Knutsen Table 3. (Continued)

B. Germany Core Marginal

Diseng.

Total

PDI

Lor

|PDI|

Catholics SPD 20.8 40.1 Green 0.9 4.3 FDP 3.4 6.1 CDU/CSU 72.6 46.5 Republic. P. 0.9 1.5 Other p. 1.4 1.6 Sum 100.0 100.0 Total N 3818 3920 Cramer's V= 0.252 Eta= 0.349

50.6 7.6 5.7 28.9 3.7 3.5 100.0 2212

35.0 3.8 5.0 52.6 1.7 1.9 100.0 9950

-29.8 -6.7 -2.3 43.7 -2.8 -2.1

-1.36 -2.16 -0.53 1.87 -1.47 -0.96 Sum

29.8 6.7 2.3 43.7 2.8 2.1 43.7

Protestants SPD 35.1 48.9 Green 4.1 3.8 FDP 7.9 8.4 CDU/CSU 50.8 35.9 Republic. P. 0.6 1.1 Other p. 1.6 1.9 Sum 100.0 100.0 Total N 1061 5786 Cramer's V= 0.119 Eta= 0.161

55.1 6.3 6.6 27.1 2.7 2.1 100.0 4638

50.1 4.8 7.6 33.7 1.7 2.0 100.0 11485

-20.0 -2.2 1.3 23.7 -2.2 -0.5

-0.82 -0.46 0.20 1.02 -1.60 -0.29 Sum

20.0 2.2 1.3 23.7 2.2 0.5 25.0

Catholics Protestants

1970-74 0.378 0.196

Correlations over time (eta) 1975-79 1980-84 1985-89 0.314 0.324 0.331 0.108 0.160 0.216

1990-93 0.328 0.133

1994-97 0.263 0.119

C. Netherlands

Catholics Green Left PVDA VVD CDA D66 Calv. Fund. Other p. Sum Total N Cramer's V= 0.248 Eta=0.336+A152

Core Marginal Diseng.

Total

PDI

Lor

|PDI|

1.5 10.4 8.0 70.1 6.6 0.0 3.4 100.0 2211

3.2 20.4 12.0 49.5 11.6 0.1 3.3 100.0 5759

-4.0 -21.0 -8.1 42.5 -8.0 0.0 -1.3

-1.34 -1.37 -0.80 1.81 -0.88 -0.70 -0.33 Sum

4.0 21.0 8.1 42.5 8.0 0.0 1.3 42.5

3.6 24.5 13.9 40.6 14.7 0.2 2.5 100.0 2454

5.5 31.4 16.1 27.7 14.6 0.1 4.7 100.0 1094

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Table 3. (Continued) Core Marginal Dutch reformed Green Left PVDA VVD CDA D66 Calv. Fund. Other p. Sum Total N Cramer's V=0.316 Eta=0.425 Gereformeereden Green Left PVDA VVD CDA D66 Calv. Fund. Other p. Sum Total N Cramer's V=0.296 Eta= 0.370

Catholics Dutch Ref. Geref.

Diseng.

Total

PDI

Lor

|PDI|

1.7 12.2 10.3 54.8 6.0 10.5 4.5 100.0 1238

2.7 26.6 21.8 31.0 14.2 1.0 2.8 100.0 1052

3.2 38.3 22.8 18.2 13.6 0.5 3.4 100.0 1046

2.5 24.9 17.8 35.8 10.9 4.4 3.6 100.0 3336

-1.5 -26.1 -12.6 36.7 -7.6 10.0 1.1

-0.64 -1.50 -0.95 1.70 -0.90 3.20 0.28 Sum

1.5 26.1 12.6 36.7 7.6 10.0 1.1 47.8

2.6 3.5 3.0 62.2 3.1 21.4 4.1 100.0 1353

4.4 13.9 16.8 45.3 15.0 2.6 2.2 100.0 274

6.2 16.0 10.5 37.7 15.4 9.3 4.9 100.0 162

3.2 6.3 5.8 57.4 6.0 17.4 3.9 100.0 1789

-3.6 -12.5 -7.5 24.6 -12.3 12.2 -0.9

-0.91 -1.65 -1.32 1.00 -1.74 0.98 -0.20 Sum

3.6 12.5 7.5 24.6 12.3 12.2 0.9 36.8

1970-74 0.363 0.429 0.496

Correlations over time (eta) 1975-79 1985-89 0.380 0.272 0.483 0.423 0.494 0.324

1990-93 0.296 0.445 0.391

1994-97 0.393 0.499 0.427

Labour’s large support among Catholics varies little with integration into the Catholic Church. The same applies to the other parties. There is a small tendency for the Conservative Party to get stronger support from the Catholic’s core, while the opposite is the case for Labour. It is difficult to study changes over time due to the small number of cases in each period. The basic pattern from Table 3A is, however, sustained throughout the period. The correlation is in most periods not significant, and we can conclude that there is only a very weak correlation between church attendance and party choice among Catholics. This does not change over time. The strong support for the Liberal Party among non-conformists is not particularly anchored in the core among this group. Indeed, we find the same main pattern as for the other confessions for the whole period. Conservatives get their strongest support from the core, while Labour gets its strongest support from the disengaged. The correlation is relatively weak, and we find the same pattern in both the 1970s and the 1980s.

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In sum, the impact of church attendance on party choice is largest within the Protestant churches and barely significant within the Catholic Church and among the non-conformists. Although the frequency of church attendance changes greatly in the period within the various confessions, the strength of the church attendance cleavage is very stable within all three religious communities. The most important change takes place within the Protestant churches. The impact of church attendance within the two main religious denominations in Germany (Table 3 B) is similar in the following senses according to the table based on the data for the whole period. SPD, the Greens and the Republican Party receive strongest support from the disengaged, while CDU/CSU receives strongest support from the core. The differences are that the impact of church attendance is stronger among Catholics than Protestants. This is indicated by the correlation coefficients and by the PDI- and lor-measures for all the parties mentioned above. The correlation coefficients are more than twice as strong for Catholics. According to the PDI-measure, the differences are particularly large for CDU/CSU, but according to lor, they are even larger for the Greens. Another difference is that church attendance has only a small effect on the FDP vote among Protestants, while being considerably correlated among Catholics, where support is strongest among the disengaged. The strength of the correlation drops considerably for both confessions over time. From the early 1970s to the late 1990s, the eta-coefficients among Catholics are 0.38 and 0.26, respectively, and 0.20 and 0.12 among Protestants. Among the Catholics the main polarisation according to church attendance is caused by CDU/CSU versus SPD and the Greens. The Greens get a considerable share of the vote of the disengaged in the 1980s, but this is compensated for by a corresponding loss in support for SPD. The decline in the correlation takes place in two steps, during the 1970s and the 1990s. In the 1970s, SPD loses support from the Catholics while CDU/CSU increases its share of the vote. The main change takes place among the disengaged strata, and the polarisation between the major parties decreases. The change among Catholic voters in the 1990s is somewhat different. CDU/CSU loses about 10 percentage points of the vote of the strongly diminished Catholic core, while gaining a corresponding percentage among the disengaged. SPD and the Greens gain a stable 25% of the vote of the Catholic core but lose about 10 percentage points among the disengaged from the late 1980s to the late 1990s. Among the Protestants a major change also takes place in the 1990s, although there are some considerable fluctuations also from the early 1970s to the 1990s. The strength of the impact of church religiosity declines considerably from 1970-74 to 1975-79 but then rebounds to the same level as in the early 1970s. There is then a large decline in the 1990s. The sudden decline in the late 1970s results from a gain for CDU/CSU and a corresponding loss for SPD among the disengaged Protestants. A corresponding change of smaller magnitude takes place among the core: SPD is gaining support and CDU/CSU is losing support. These tendencies are reversed during the 1980s, and in the late 1980s support from the core and the disengaged is nearly exactly the same as in the early 1970s for the major parties.22 22

As to the SPD, we refer to the combined support of SPD and the Greens in the 1980s. The declining support for SPD among the disengaged due to the considerable support for the Greens within this segment is described several times above, and applies also to Protestants.

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The change in the 1990s follows a classic pattern of how a conflict variable becomes less important and the same pattern as the decline in the 1970s, but is of larger magnitude. Changes basically take place among the core: from 1985-89 to 1994-97, CDU/CSU loses a large portion of its support among the Protestant core, while SPD and the Greens increase their support considerably. In the late 1980s support for CDU/CSU among the Protestant core was 58%, but drops to 39% in the late 1990s, while support for SPD and the Greens combined increases from 35% to 50%. In the same period CDU/CSU increases its support among the disengaged, while SPD/Greens are lose nearly 10 percentage points in this group. The PDI-index for the two party groups declines from 36 to 11 and from 31 to 10, respectively. In sum, the same processes appear to be at work among Protestants and Catholics. Church religiosity appears to be less important for voting for the major parties in the system. The changes are fairly similar in size in the two countries, but the impact of church religiosity was considerably larger among Catholics than among Protestants in the early 1970s. Church religiosity has therefore become unimportant for voting among the Protestants, while still being of considerable importance among Catholics in the 1990s. Finally, let us examine the patterns in the Netherlands. Table 3 C shows the pattern for the three religious denominations separately. We have seen above that the erosion of the Catholic core has been dramatic in the Dutch case. It is natural to see the decline of the support for the religious parties in connection with the secularisation of the Catholic segment. The decline of the religious parties (especially CDA) among Catholics may be caused more by secularisation than by declining support among the religious core. This interpretation may even result in a stable relationship between church attendance and party choice, despite the gradual loss among Catholics for the Christian Democrats. The alternative explanation is that the core, marginal and disengaged groups vote more similarly over time. According to the pattern for the whole period (see Table 3 C), CDA gets 70% of the vote of the Catholic core, while the secular parties get the remaining 30%. Among the disengaged, CDA gets nearly 30%, and the secular parties get the remaining vote. All parties are strongly affected by church religiosity among Catholics, apart from the Calvinist Fundamentalist parties, which do not get the vote of the Catholics. It is the stable correlation perspective that gains support from the data. The correlation is fluctuating somewhat over time but is basically stable. CDA gains a stable 70% of the Catholic core, while the support is even decreasing among the disengaged. The secular parties all get a small and stable percentage of the core, while there are some changes among the disengaged, in particular from the 1980s to the 1990s: D66, VVD and the Green Left gain at the expense of the Labour Party. There is an even stronger correlation between church attendance and party choice among members of the Dutch Reformed Church than among members of the Catholic Church according to the data for the whole period. Church attendance affects the voting pattern of the Dutch Reformed Church in a way very similar to the pattern among Catholic voters. The secular parties get strongest support from the disengaged, while CDA gets strongest support from the core, and the lor-scores for all these parties are impressively similar for the two confessions. There are, however, two exceptions. The lor-score for the Green Left is much lower among the Dutch Reformed Church. The support for the Green Left is indeed low among all levels of church religiosity. The most important difference is that the Calvinist

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Fundamentalist parties get a significant portion of the vote of the core, while support is nearly absent among those with a lower level of church religiosity. Among Catholics these parties did not get support from any segment according to church religiosity. Another difference in the voting pattern between the Catholics and members of the Reformed Church is that support for CDA is higher at every level of church religiosity among Catholics. The correlation between church attendance and party choice is not becoming smaller over time. It remains stable at a high level. Does this mean that the voting pattern is very stable? Let us first examine the changes for the religious parties, CDA and the Calvinist Fundamentalists. CDA gets fairly stable support from the reformed core, about 55%, but is increasing its support among the marginal and disengaged groups somewhat, in particular from the 1970s to the 1980s. The Calvinist Fundamentalists increase their share of the vote among the Reformed core from 6% in the late 1970s23 to 18% in the 1980s and 1990s, causing the support among the core for both religious parties to increase from about 70% to 80% from the late 1970s to the 1990s. The overall impact on support for these two parties24 according to church religiosity is then fairly stable since CDA’s increase in support among the marginal and disengaged groups is of a similar magnitude. Among the secular parties the Labour Party loses heavily among the marginal and disengaged segments, while D66 gains considerably, from 7% to nearly 25% of the vote of these groups. These two changes among the parties gaining strongest support from various segments of members of the Dutch Reformed Church then counterbalance each other, and the strength of the overall conflict variable is stable. Finally, the pattern for the Gereformeerden (rereformed) should be examined. We have seen that church religiosity among this group remains unusually high, and since nearly twothirds of the group belong to the core even in the 1990s, there is indeed small variation in the church religiosity variable. Table 3 C shows that the two religious parties get more than 80% of the vote of the core and that the Calvinist Fundamentalist parties get more than 20% of the core, a considerably larger share than among the Dutch Reformed core. Even among the tiny marginal and disengaged groups, the religious parties get nearly 50% of the vote. One should resist overly detailed analyses of changes over time due to the small number of cases for the marginal and disengaged groups in particular. We are on firmer ground when we analyse the trends among the core group. The Calvinist Fundamentalist parties gain about 30% of the vote from this group in the 1980s and 1990s, compared with less than 20% in the late 1970s, while support for CDA decreases correspondingly.25 Other changes are difficult to detect due to the small number of cases.

Socialist/Non-Socialist Party Choice and Church Religiosity There are several interesting aspects of the relationship between socialist/non-socialist party choice and church attendance seen in relation to the detailed findings above. First, we 23

24

25

We use the late 1970s as a starting-point for this comparison because the Calvinist Fundamentalists were not appropriately incorporated on the voting intention variable in the early 1970s. Indeed the Calvinist Fundamentalists comprise three parties, but since they are collapsed in the analyses in this article we consider them as one party. The findings about the changes in support among the core segments of the Dutch Reform Church and the Gereformeereden are fairly similar to those reported in Holstein & Irwin 2000: 86-87).

Church Religiosity and Church Attendance and Party Choice …

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might expect the placement of the Green parties to be crucial for the strength of the relationship. Green voters are decisively disengaged and unchurched, and if the Green parties are placed in the non-socialist group, the correlation might be severely depressed compared with the opposite treatment – placing the Green parties in the socialist group. Independent of the Green parties, we expect to find some cross-cutting of the church religiosity cleavage in relation to the socialist/non-socialist party choice dichotomy. This may be strongest in countries with significant non-socialist parties that gain most of their support from the disengaged. This applies in particular to countries where considerable secular liberal parties exists, primarily Belgium and the Netherlands, but also to countries with radical rightist parties which also to a large degree draw strongest support from the disengaged segment on the church attendance variable. Let us first examine the strength of the correlation between socialist/non-socialist party choice and church attendance for the whole period. Because we want to compare the strength over time and since we are interested in comparing the effect of the placement of the Green parties in different categories, we use the lor-measure as the basic measure for examining change. PDI-measure will be used for comparison of the overall impact of church attendance with the impact of socialist/non-socialist party choice. Figure 5 (A and B) shows the strength for the whole period with the Green parties treated in the different ways. We first comment on Figure 5 A, where the Greens are placed in the non-socialist group. 2.50

2.00

Lor-score

1.50

1.00

0.50

Britain

Germany

Ireland

Denmark

France

Netherlands

Belgium

Italy

0.00

Figure 5 A. The strength of the correlation between socialist/non-socialist party choice and church attendance according to the lor-measure. Green parties placed in the non-socialist group.

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Oddbjørn Knutsen 2.50

2.00

Lor-score

1.50

1.00

0.50

0.00 Belgium

Italy

Netherlands

France

Ireland

Germany

Denmark

Britain

Figure 5 B. The strength of the correlation between socialist/non-socialist party choice and church attendance according to the PDI-measure. Green parties placed in the socialist group.

The correlations are large, except in Britain. They are largest in Italy, Belgium and the Netherlands, and quite similar at a lower level in Denmark, France, Ireland and Germany. When the Green parties are placed in the socialist group (Figure 5 B), correlations increase significantly in the relevant countries (increase in lor-score in parentheses): Germany (0.28), France (0.26), Ireland (0.21), Belgium (0.14) and Italy (0.12). The correlation in Belgium and Italy is now larger than in the Netherlands, and the correlation in France nearly approaches the one in the Netherlands. Comparing with Figure 3, which showed the correlations for the whole party choice variable, we note that the Netherlands does not show the largest coefficient for socialist/nonsocialist party choice, while this was the case for the overall effect. Apart from that deviation, the ranking of countries is fairly similar to that in Figure 3. In order to examine the relationship between the overall correlation between a social structural variable and party choice and the impact on the socialist/non-socialist division, we introduce the concepts of overlap and cross-cutting. The socialist/non-socialist division of parties may tap the entire correlation that exists between a cleavage variable and party choice, or it may tap none of that correlation. These patterns correspond to an overlapping versus a cross-cutting pattern. An overlapping pattern implies that the overall correlation equals the correlation with the left-right division of parties, while a high degree of cross-cutting implies that the overall correlation is much higher than the correlation with the left-right division of parties. This is measured in the following way: The impact of church attendance on the leftright division of parties is measured by the percentage difference measure, and compared with the overall PDI-measure in Table 2 explained in note 15. The percentage of the PDI measure for the left-right division of parties compared with the overall PDI-measure indicates the degree of overlap.26

26

If all socialist parties get stronger support from the disengaged segment while all non-socialist parties get stronger support from the core segment, the degree of overlap is 100%. If two socialist parties get 10 percentage points

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I have analysed the degree of overlap first for the whole period and then changes over time. I first refer to the analyses based on the data for the whole period. The degree of overlap for the whole period is, as expected, smallest in the Netherlands (58%) and in Belgium (77%). This means that the left-right division of parties taps 58% and 77% of the total relationship between party choice and church attendance. In the other countries the degree of overlap is considerably larger, ranging from 0.86-0.90 in Denmark, Germany and Ireland to 0.95 in France and Italy and 0.99 in Britain. All socialist parties get strongest support from the disengaged strata in all countries.27 It is among the non-socialist parties that we find considerable deviations from the rule (which is indeed very consistent) that support is strongest from the core. The figures (in percentages) can be read directly from Table 2. In the Netherlands it is the two liberal parties (VVD and D66) that contribute to the large cross-cutting by getting decisively strongest support of almost equal magnitude from the disengaged. In Belgium it is the Liberal parties that are the major component, but the Flemish Bloc also contributes significantly. Of the other countries the largest figures are found in Germany, Ireland and Denmark (4-6 percentage points). In Germany it is FDP and the Republicaner Party that contribute to the cross-cutting, and in Denmark it is the Progress Party. In Ireland the Progressive Democrats are a major source. Figure 6 (A and B) shows the development of the correlation between socialist/nonsocialist party choice and church religiosity over time measured by the lor-scores, by the two ways of treating the Green parties. Let us start with Figure 6 A, where the Greens are placed in the non-socialist group. . France

Belgium

Netherlands

Germany

Italy

Denmark

Ireland

Britain

Mean

3.00

2.50

Lor-score

2.00

1.50

1.00

0.50

0.00 1970-74

1975-79

1980-84

1985-89

1990-93

1994-97

Figure 6A. Trends in the strength of the correlation between socialist/non-socialist party choice and church attendance according to the lor-measure. Green parties placed in the non-socialist group.

stronger support from disengaged and the core segment, respectively, and the same applies for two nonsocialist parties (even with a different percentage difference), we have an example of complete cross-cut. 27 A small exception is the Italian PSDI, which is grouped under the socialist party group, but gets a 0.7 percentage point stronger support from the core (and an even stronger support from the marginal group) than from the disengaged.

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. France

Belgium

Netherlands

Germany

Italy

Denmark

Ireland

Britain

Mean

3.00

2.50

lor-score

2.00

1.50

1.00

0.50

0.00 1970-74

1975-79

1980-84

1985-89

1990-93

1994-97

Figure 6B. Trends in the strength of the correlation between socialist/non-socialist party choice and church attendance according to the lor-measure. Green parties placed in the socialist group.

There is no doubt that the correlation is declining when the Greens are grouped in the non-socialist group. According to the average figures for the eight countries, there is a small increase from the early to the late 1970s, and then a gradual decrease. From 1970-74 to 199497 the decline in the average lor-score is 23%, and from the late 1970s the decline is 31%. In the early 1970s the correlation was largest in Belgium, Italy and the Netherlands, followed by France and Germany and then Denmark. The correlations drop in these countries, but those in the first group remain highest for the whole period. The correlation in Ireland increases to a level similar to that found in France and Denmark in the late 1980s and 1990s. The correlation in Germany drops to a lower level than in these countries. This implies that the decline is particularly large in the countries where the magnitude of the correlation was large in the 1970s. The decline is about 0.80 in Germany and Italy, 0.60 in Belgium and the Netherlands, and 0.40 in France. In Denmark and Ireland it is increasing somewhat (about 0.20), while again there is stability at a low level in Britain. The decrease becomes smaller when the Greens are placed in the socialist party group (Figure 6 B), but the difference is not large according to the lor-measure. The average lorscore declines by 17% and 27%, respectively, from 1970-74 and 1975-79 to the late 1990s. The main differences from the former figure are that the increase in the magnitude of the correlation becomes even more pronounced in Ireland and the decline in Germany becomes less pronounced. Indeed, the figures for seven of the eight countries are fairly similar in the 1990s. When the Greens are placed in the socialist group, the decrease is largest in Italy

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(0.77), followed by Belgium and the Netherlands (about 0.60), and then German (0.47) and France (0.42). The increase in the strength of the correlation in Ireland is, on the other hand, remarkable, placing Ireland in a group where the strength is largest in the 1990s, together with Belgium, Italy and the Netherlands. Finally, we have examined whether the degree of cross-cutting of the church religiosity cleavage increases or decreases over time. We have seen that the overall correlation between party choice and church attendance decreased in most countries. The same applies to the correlation with the socialist/non-socialist division, and for some countries this decline appears to be even stronger than for the overall decline based on all parties. It appears that especially in Belgium and the Netherlands the decline for the left-right division is much more pronounced than the fairly moderate overall decline in the correlation observed in Figure 4. We have again compared the PDI-measures for the tables based on all parties and the leftright division as described in some detail above. The results of this comparison are not shown in any table, but the pattern for the Netherlands is outstanding: the degree of overlap decreases from 0.78 in the early 1970s to 0.44 in the 1990s. It is the two liberal parties that contribute to the increase, first and foremost D66. There is also a decrease in overlap in Belgium of a somewhat smaller magnitude, from 0.86 to 0.69, caused primarily by voters supporting the radical rightist party Flemish Bloc. In Belgium and the Netherlands the decline of the church religiosity cleavage on overall party choice is 10-15% of the original strength in the early 1970s, but for the left-right division of parties it is considerably stronger, about 30%. In these two countries where the religious cleavages traditionally have been very pronounced, the decline of the church religiosity cleavage is considerably larger for the left-right division of parties that for overall party choice where all parties are taken into consideration. The left-right division of parties simple overestimates the overall decline of the religious cleavage in these countries because the church religiosity cleavage increasingly cut across the left-right division of parties. Similar decreases are not found in any other country, and there is indeed an incline in some countries. In Italy there was a certain cross-cutting pattern (overlap of 0.90) in the early 1970s, caused mainly by the liberal parties. The decline and collapse of these parties contribute to the evaporation of the cross-cutting pattern in the 1990s; the overlap is 1.00 in the late 1990s. In Denmark a larger cross-cutting pattern in the 1970s (overlap of 0.76), caused by the Progress Party, is reduced (overlap of 0.89) in connection with the decline of the party. For the other countries there is a small degree of cross-cutting, as explained above, which is fairly stable over time.

CONCLUSIONS We find clear and even large cross-national differences in church religiosity throughout the whole period examined. Frequency of church attendance is low in Protestant Denmark and in Britain in the early 1970s, and this low level of religiosity is reached in several other countries during the 1980s (France and the Netherlands) and 1990s (Belgium and Germany). There is a clear decline in the degree of church religiosity measured by the church attendance variable in all countries apart from Italy where there nevertheless is a decline during the 1970s. The core group declines dramatically in most of the countries where a large portion

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had this high level of religiosity in the 1970s, first and foremost in Belgium and the Netherlands, but also in France, Germany and Ireland. The portion of the population who is disengaged is also increasing largely, and comprises 55-70% of the population in 6 of the eight countries in the 1990s. In Ireland and Italy the disengaged segment is much lower. In the religious mixed countries, Germany and the Netherlands, we find a dramatic decline in church religiosity among the Catholic segment. In the 1970s there was a huge difference in church religiosity between the Catholic and the Protestant segments. This declines significantly in Germany, and evaporates completely in the Netherlands. In both countries it is the portion of Catholics who belong to the core group that declines dramatically. A decline of considerably smaller magnitude takes place among the smaller Catholic segment in Britain. The strength of the church religiosity cleavage is on average high in the eight countries, but varies largely cross-nationally. Given the emphasis in the literature on the resistance to decline of the religious cleavage, the empirical analysis shows that it is declining considerably in some of the countries where it traditionally have been strong, first and foremost in Italy, France and Germany, and to a considerably smaller degree – in Belgium and the Netherlands. In the former countries we would question the emphasis of stability of the basis of the empirical analysis here. The decline is considerably. All socialist parties have voters that belong to the disengaged segment on the cleavage variable – the disengaged. We find some exceptions to the rule that all non-socialist parties are most likely to belong to the core or marginal segments, and these exceptions are most pronounced in the Netherlands and Belgium. In these countries the liberal parties have considerably stronger support from the disengaged segment – a main explanation for why there is a much higher degree of crosscutting of the church religiosity cleavage in relation to the socialist/non-socialist party division compared with other countries. In Belgium the tendency for the radical rightist Flemish Bloc to get stronger support from the disengaged also contribute in this respect. In both countries this crosscutting tendency increases over time. The main polarisation along the church religiosity cleavage involved the major socialist parties versus the Christian and some other non-socialist parties in the 1970s. In Belgium, Germany and the Netherlands the main polarisation was between the socialist and the Christian democratic parties, but the liberal parties also played an important role in strengthening the cleavage by getting considerably stronger support from the disengaged segment in all these countries. This tendency was strongest in the Netherlands and weakest in Germany, and these cross-national differences are important for explaining the comparative strength of the religious cleavage then – and later. In Italy the church religiosity cleavage polarised the Communists versus the Christian Democrats to a large degree. This was a very different pattern from the one found in France where the cleavage more strongly involved both the socialist and communists versus all bourgeois parties. In the three remaining countries where the cleavage was of much more moderate strength, the cleavage involved the social democrats versus (some of) the main non-socialist parties, the Conservatives in Britain, the Christian and the Agrarian Liberal parties in Denmark and both main non-socialist parties in Ireland. The left socialists in Denmark was already in the beginning of the 1970s a large component of the secular or unaffiliated coalition. The decline of the church religiosity cleavage involves (some of) these parties in the relevant countries. The Christian parties get a smaller share of the vote of the Christian vote not only in an absolute sense, but also relatively compared with the disengaged in Italy,

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Germany and to a smaller extent in Belgium and the Netherlands. The same applies to UDF in France. The same phenomenon takes place among the main parties that contribute most significant to the polarisation by getting definitely strongest support among the disengaged segment, the communist parties in Italy and France, and the social democratic parties in Belgium and Germany. In some countries New Politics parties contribute significantly to increase, or perhaps more correctly to diminish the decrease, of the church religiosity cleavage by getting significantly stronger support from the disengaged part of the electorate. As the analyses have shows, it is natural to see this increasing polarisation in connection with the declining support for the established socialist parties among the disengaged. The New Politics parties, and the green parties in particular, are gaining support among the disengaged at the expense of the established parties of the left. This is a pattern that is most clearly found in Belgium and Germany, but also in France and Ireland. In the Netherlands a similar pattern is occuring, but the parties that gain relatively most from the disengaged segment are first and foremost the centrist D66, and then the major liberal party VVD and the Green Left. This new polarisation caused mainly by the Green parties does not at all counterbalance the decrease caused by the old parties in Germany and France, but in Belgium and the Netherlands the decreasing polarisation is severely reduced cause by this factor. Finally, the increased polarisation in Ireland is also caused by new parties, the left socialist Workers’ Party, the Greens and to a smaller extent the liberal Progressive Democrats. This increased polarisation associated with the new parties is taking place at the expense of the social democrats, but in contrasts to the other countries, the new polarisation is considerably larger than the old polarisation, and the impact of church religiosity is then increasing. Finally, the analyses of the impact of church religiosity within the various denominations in the religiously mixed countries have shown that many of the same patterns and changes can be found within the Catholic and the (main) Protestant denomination in Germany and the Netherlands. In Germany degree of church religiosity becomes less important for voting for the major parties in the system, CDU/CSU and SPD both among Catholics and Protestants, and the impact of church religiosity declines for both confessions. The impact is generally considerably larger among the Catholic segment, and in the 1990s the church religiosity cleavage is still of considerable importance among Catholics, while of only minor importance among Protestants. By contrast, in the Netherlands it is among the Calvinist Protestants that we find the largest impact of church religiosity, and the impact of church religiosity does not decline considerable for any of the denominations. The strong decline of the distinct voting pattern for the Catholic segment is totally explained by the strong decline of church religiosity within this denomination. The voting pattern within the various levels of church religiosity is fairly stable. The same applies basically to the other denominations, but for these the decline of church religiosity is considerably smaller than for the Catholics.

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APPENDIX TABLE 1. GROUPING OF POLITICAL PARTIES INTO NINE PARTY FAMILIES*

Belgium

Communist Party (PCB/KPB)

Socialists/ Social Green Democrats Flemish and Ecolo/Agalev Frenchspeaking Socialist Parties (PS/SP)

Britain

-

-

Labour Party

Denmark

Communist Party(DKP)

France

Communists

Left Socialists

Nationalist/ Ethnic parties Volksunie/Walloon Gathering (RW)/ Democratic Front of French Speakers (FDF)

Green P.

Scottish National Party (SNP)/ Plaid Cymru (Welch nationalist)

Socialist People's Social P./ Left Socialists Democrats

Green P.

-

Communist Party(PCF)

Unified Socialist Party (PSU)/ other left socialist groups

Socialist parties (PS) and its predecessor1

Ecologists (Ecologist/Les Verts/ Generation Ecologie)

Germany

-

Workers' P./ Democratic Left

Social Democrats (SPD)

Green P./ Alliance '90 (Bündnis '90)/Greens

Ireland

-

Labour Party

Green P.

Socialist P. (PSI)

Radical P./ Verdi Lega Nord/Lega Lombarda/ Regional Lists

Labour Party (PvdA)

-

Italy

Communist Party Proletarian (PCI)/ Democrats Democratic Left Party (PDS)/ Communist Refoundation (RC) Netherlands Pacifist Socialist P. (PSP)/ Green Left Number of 4 5 countries Belgium Flemish and Flemish and French-speaking French-speaking Liberal Christian parties(PRL, Parties(PSC/CVP) PVV, PLP)

8 -

-

-

7 Flemish Bloc/National Front

3 None

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APPENDIX TABLE 1. GROUPING OF POLITICAL PARTIES INTO NINE PARTY FAMILIES* (CONTINUED) Communists

Left Socialists

Socialists/ Social Green Democrats Conservatives -

Nationalist/ Ethnic parties None

Britain

Liberals/Social Democrats/ Alliance/Liberal Democrats

Denmark

Radical Liberals Christian People's P. Union for the French Democracy (UDF)2 and pre decessors3 Free Democratic Christian Party (FDP) Democratic Union (CDU)/ Christian Social Union (CSU) Progressive Fine Gael Democrats

Conservative People's P. Rally for the Republic (RPR) and Gaullist predecessors4

Fianna Fail

-

Liberal P. (PLI)/ Christian Republican P. Democratic P. (PRI) (DC) and successors5

Forza Italia

Italian Social Social Democrats Movement (PSDI) (MSI)/ National Alliance (AN)/ Other rightwing parties D66, Calvinist fundamentalists7

France

Germany

Ireland

Italy

Progress P.

Agrarian Liberals, Center Democrats National Front Left Radicals (MRG)

Republican P. None

None

Netherlands People's Party for Christian Freedom and Democratic Democracy Appeal (CDA) and (VVD) predecessors6 Number of 8 6 5 5 countries * English translations of party names are generally used, but the abbreviations used in the various countries are shown in parentheses for many parties. 1 The French Section of the Workers' International (SFIO). 2 All components of the UDF-alliance are included (Radical Party, Republican Party and Centre Democrats (CDS)). 3 UDF was formed in 1978, and the various components that became the UDF-alliance have been coded into this category in the period 1970-78. That includes the predecessor of the Republican Party, Républicains Indépendents, the predecessor of CDS, Centre Démocrats, and the alliance between the Centre Democrats and the Radical Party, Réformateur. 4 Union for the Defence of the Republic (UDR) and Democratic Union for the Republic (UDR). 5 Popular Party (PPI), Centre Christian Democrats (CCD), Social Christians (CS) and Patto per l'Italia. 6 Christian Historical Union (CHU), Anti-Revolutionary Party (ARP) and Catholic People’s Party (KVP). 7 These parties are Reformed Political League (GVP), Political-Reformed Party (SGP) and Reformed Political Federation (RPF).

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APPENDIX TABLE 2. FREQUENCY OF CHURCH ATTENDANCE IN DIFFERENT TIME PERIODS, 1970-97

Belgium Core Marginals Diseng. N Sum PDI Britain Core Marginals Diseng. N Sum PDI Denmark Core Marginals Diseng. N Sum PDI France Core Marginals Diseng. N Sum PDI Germany Core Marginals Diseng. N Sum PDI Ireland Core Marginals Diseng. N Sum PDI Italy Core Marginals Diseng. N Sum PDI

Total 1990-97

Ch. 197074/1994-97

Ch. 197579/1994-97

15.3 23.6 61.1 5167 100.0 -45.8

26.4 24.9 48.7 33420 100.0 -22.3

-33.5 5.5 28.0

-19.5 -0.9 20.5

-61.5

-40.0

12.0 19.2 68.8 10527 100.0 -56.8

12.2 18.4 69.3 5357 100.0 -57.1

13.8 26.5 59.7 32636 100.0 -45.9

-3.7 -19.3 22.9

-3.5 -19.3 22.8

-26.6

-26.3

4.0 37.6 58.4 5042 100.0 -54.4

2.8 30.1 67.2 10000 100.0 -64.4

3.4 31.2 65.4 5006 100.0 -62.0

3.7 38.5 57.8 30205 100.0 -54.1

-1.4 -14.9 16.4

-1.2 -20.8 22.0

-17.8

-23.2

12.8 39.5 47.8 1997 100.0 -35.0

10.3 30.7 59.0 5064 100.0 -48.7

7.3 23.2 69.5 10161 100.0 -62.1

6.5 21.1 72.5 5046 100.0 -66.0

12.4 30.2 57.4 36908 100.0 -45.1

-16.1 -15.0 31.1

-9.1 -16.1 25.2

-47.2

-34.3

22.7 45.0 32.4 7029 100.0 -9.7

19.4 49.2 31.4 1969 100.0 -12.0

15.7 41.4 42.8 5420 100.0 -27.1

15.3 33.5 51.2 10357 100.0 -36.0

12.7 31.4 55.9 5226 100.0 -43.2

19.0 38.5 42.6 35969 100.0 -23.6

-16.6 -8.1 24.7

-10.0 -13.5 23.5

-41.3

-33.5

88.8 6.3 4.9 7002 100.0 83.9

87.6 7.0 5.4 1992 100.0 82.1

81.9 10.2 7.9 5021 100.0 74.0

78.0 10.7 11.3 10123 100.0 66.7

68.4 12.8 18.8 5086 100.0 49.6

80.7 9.5 9.8 30423 100.0 70.8

-22.8 7.8 15.0

-20.3 6.4 13.9

-37.8

-34.2

1970-74

1975-79

1980-84

48.8 18.1 33.2 4021 100.0 15.6

34.8 24.5 40.7 7056 100.0 -5.9

30.0 25.9 44.1 1954 100.0 -14.0

22.1 28.5 49.4 5072 100.0 -27.3

18.9 26.6 54.6 10150 100.0 -35.7

15.9 37.7 46.4 1933 100.0 -30.5

15.8 37.7 46.6 7553 100.0 -30.8

15.8 36.2 48.0 2245 100.0 -32.2

14.4 25.1 60.5 5021 100.0 -46.1

4.8 46.1 49.0 1199 100.0 -44.2

4.6 52.0 43.4 6961 100.0 -38.8

4.5 49.7 45.8 1997 100.0 -41.3

22.6 36.1 41.3 6368 100.0 -18.8

15.6 37.1 47.3 8272 100.0 -31.8

29.3 39.5 31.2 5968 100.0 -1.9 91.2 4.9 3.8 1199 100.0 87.4 53.3 29.7 17.0 5732 100.0 36.3

33.7 40.1 26.2 7470 100.0 7.6

33.4 43.7 22.9 2186 100.0 10.6

1985-89 1990-93 1994-97

39.3 39.1 21.6 5250 100.0 17.7

40.6 35.2 24.2 10444 100.0 16.5

37.5 35.0 27.5 5285 100.0 10.0

40.1 36.4 23.5 36367 100.0 16.7

-15.8 5.3 10.4

3.8 -5.1 1.3

-26.2

2.5

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105

APPENDIX TABLE 2. FREQUENCY OF CHURCH ATTENDANCE IN DIFFERENT TIME PERIODS, 1970-97 (CONTINUED) 1970-74 Netherlands Core Marginals Diseng. N Sum PDI

40.7 14.6 44.7 4542 100.0 -4.0

1975-79 29.0 24.8 46.3 7103 100.0 -17.3

1980-84 27.0 24.6 48.4 1992 100.0 -21.4

1985-89 1990-93 1994-97 18.4 20.7 60.8 5028 100.0 -42.4

16.9 18.6 64.5 10195 100.0 -47.6

13.7 18.0 68.3 5142 100.0 -54.6

Total 1990-97 22.9 19.9 57.1 34002 100.0 -34.2

Ch. 197074/1994-97

Ch. 197579/1994-97

-27.0 3.4 23.6

-15.2 -6.8 22.0

-50.6

-37.3

REFERENCES Agresi, Alan (1996): An introduction to categorical data analysis. New York: John Wiley & Sons. Baker, Kendall, Russell Dalton & Kai Hildebrandt (1981): Germany transformed: Political culture and the New Politics. Cambridge: Harward University Press. Bean, Clive (1999): The forgotten cleavage? Religion and politics in Australia‘, Candian Journal of Political Science 32 (3): 551-68. Bennie, Lynn, Jack Brand & James Mitchell (1997): How Scotland votes. Manchester: Manchester University Press. von Beyme, Klaus (1985): Political Parties in Western Democracies. Aldershot: Gower. Boy, Daniel & Nonna Mayer (2000): 'Cleavage voting and isue voting in France', chap. 7 in Michael S. Lewis- Beck (ed.): How France Votes. New York: Chatham. Broughton, David & Hans-Martien ten Napel (eds.): Religion and mass electoral behaviour in Europe. Routledge: London & New York. Dalton, Russell J. (1990): ‚Religion and party alignment‘, pp. 66-88 in Risto Sänkiaho et al.: People and their polities. Jyväskylä: The Finnish Poltical Science Association. _____ . (1996): Citizen politics. Public opinion and political parties in advanced western democracies. 2th ed.Chatham House. Donovan, Mark (2000): 'Italy: a dramatic case of secularisation?', cap. 9 in David Broughton & Hans-Martien ten Napel (eds.): Religion and mass electoral behaviour in Europe. Routledge: London & New York. . Elder, Neil, Alistair H. Thomas and David Arter (1983): The Consensual Democracies? The Government and Politics of the Scandinavian States. Oxford: Martin Robertson. Fienberg, Stephen E. (1980): The analysis of cross-classified categorical data. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Heath, Anthony et al. (1991): Understanding political change. The British voter 1964-87. Oxford: Pergamon Press. Holsteyn, Joop J.M. van & Galen A. Irwin (2000): 'the bells toll no more: the declining influence of religion on voting behaviour in the Netherlands', chap. 6 in David Broughton & Hans-Martien ten Napel (eds.): Religion and mass electoral behaviour in Europe. Routledge: London & New York.

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Inglehart, Ronald (1977): The Silent Revolution - changing values and political styles among western publics. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. Jagodzinski, Wolfgang & Karel Dobbelaere (1995): ‘Secularization and church religiosity’, chap. 4 in Jan van Deth & Elinor Scarbrough (eds.): The Impact of Values, Volume 4 in ‘Beliefs in Government’. European Science Foundation. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Karvonen, Lauri (1994): 'Christian parties in Scandinavia: Victory over the windmills?', chapter 7 in David Hanley (ed.): Christian democracy in Europe: A comparative perspective. London: Pinter. Knutsen, Oddbjørn (2000): 'Social structure and party choice in eight West European countries, 1970-97: A comparative longitudinal study of the impact of religious denomination, church religiosity and education. Paper to be presented at the conference “Politik heute: das Ende der politisierten Sozialstructur?”, AK “Wahlen und politische Einstellung“ der Sektion Politische Soziologie der DVPW in Mannheim, Germany, 18-19 May. Lewis-Beck, Michael & Andrew Skalaban (1992): ‚France‘, chap. 8 in Mark N. Franklin, Thomas T. Mackie, Henry Valen et al.: Electoral change. Responses to evolving social and attitudinal structures in western democracies. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lijphart, Arend (1974): ‚The Netherlands: Continuity and change in voting behavior‘, chap 5 in Richard Rose (ed.): Electoral behaviour: A comparative handbook. New York: The Free Press. Lipset, Seymour Martin & Stein Rokkan (1967). ‘Cleavage structure, party systems, and voter alignments: An introduction’, chap. 1 in Seymour Martin Lipset and Stein Rokkan (eds.): Party systems and voter alignments. New York: The Free Press. Mosteller, Frederick (1968): 'Association and estimation in contingency tables', Journal of the American Statistical Association 63: 1-28. Reynolds, H.T. (1984): Analysis of nominal data. Second edition. Series: Quantitative applications in the social sciences. Beverly Hills: Sage Rose, Richard & Derek Urwin (1969): 'Social cohesion, political parties and strains in regimes‘, Comparative Political Studies 2: 7-67. _____ . (1974a): ‘Comparability in electoral studies‘, chap. 1 in Richard Rose (ed.): Electoral behaviour: A comparative handbook. New York: The Free Press. _____ . (1974b): ‘Britain: Simple abstractions and complex realities‘, chap. 10 in Richard Rose (ed.): Electoral behaviour: A comparative handbook. New York: The Free Press. Smith, Gordon (1989): Politics in Western Europe – a comparative analysis. 5th ed. Aldershot: Dartmouth.

In: Religion and Psychology: New Research Editor: Joan C. Upton

ISBN: 1-60021-672-2 © 2008 Nova Science Publishers, Inc.

Chapter 5

RELIGION AND POLITICS IN MALAWI Sam Mchombo Department of Linguistics University of California at Berkeley, Berkeley, CA, USA

ABSTRACT The prevailing attitude about elections and power shifts in many African countries is that religion plays a minimal role in shaping the results. By and large, this seems correct. Nevertheless, religion does play a role in influencing political developments. In some cases, the pulpit has occasionally served more to articulate political aspirations than to preach the word of God. In Malawi, the transition to democracy was influenced as much by the Catholic Bishops’ public stand against the injustices of the Kamuzu Banda regime as it owed to agitation of civil society. With the end of the late President Kamuzu Banda’s autocratic rule and the rise to power of President Bakili Muluzi, a Muslim, the country has been in the grips of speculation as to whether Islam is poised to replace Christianity as the dominant religion. Charges of desire to “Islamicize” the country have had to be consistently refuted by the incumbent. Still, the rise of Islam, an erstwhile minority religion, to a position of virtual dominance through being identified with the presidency, aided by sponsorship from oil-rich nations, and the emergence of strained relations between it and Christianity, have increasingly become relevant factors in current political developments in Malawi. As the general election that will retire Bakili Muluzi from the presidency draws near, the question of the religious affiliation of the next president has acquired significance; it is relevant to prospects of maintenance of peace, calm, and stability. Further, in the current climate of global conflict, couched as it is in a policy of “war on terror,” the alignment of Christianity and Islam in these global issues is far from neutral. This paper places these two religions in historical context, comments on recent events in global politics, and examines the role Islam and Christianity are likely to play in shaping political developments in Malawi.

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MUSLIM PROTESTS IN MALAWI On Friday, June 27, 2003, after prayers, the Muslim community in the main commercial city of Blantyre in Malawi went on a protest march. They held a demonstration in the city streets, disrupted traffic, vandalized the offices of the Muslim Association of Malawi, destroying some of the computers there, and generally created an afternoon of tension and apprehension. Other demonstrations were held in Kasungu, a town in the central region of the country. The situation was much worse in the town of Mangochi, located at the southern extremity of Lake Malawi. A locale dominated by the Yao ethnic group, and predominantly Muslim, the Muslims attacked establishments identified with Christianity and with an American presence. They burned down churches belonging to the Assemblies of God, the Presbyterians, Seventh Day Adventists, Baptists, and Jehovah’s Witnesses. The Police rushed to protect the residence of the Mangochi Diocese Bishop Alessandro Assolari when word reached them that the protesters were headed in his direction. Less fortunate was Catholic Father Gilevulo who was assaulted on the road and had his vehicle overturned and set ablaze. They attacked the property and personnel of Save the Children USA and torched the district office of the ruling United Democratic Front (UDF) Party. Some of the demonstrators were even quoted as claiming that Mangochi is Muslim territory with no place for Christianity which, together with its American influence and sponsorship, should be ejected. The indignation of the Muslims did have some basis. It was in response to global politics of the modern era. In the summer of 2003, President George W. Bush of the United States did visit Africa. In the aftermath of the Sept. 11 (2001) attacks in the United States, attributed to the organization al-Qaeda led by Osama bin Laden, the world has been required to focus on, and get actively involved in, waging the “war on terrorism.” The September 11 events had as harbingers earlier bombings in Kenya and Tanzania that targeted American installations. Lyman and Morrison (2004) noted, On August 7, 1998, two massive bombs exploded outside of the U.S. embassies in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, and Nairobi, Kenya, killing 224 people—including 12 Americans—and injuring 5, 000. Responsibility was quickly traced to al-Qaeda. Four years later, al-Qaeda operatives struck again, killing 15 people in an Israeli-owned hotel near Mombassa, Kenya, and simultaneously firing missiles at an Israeli passenger jet taking off from Mombassa airport. (p. 75)

In response, the United States Government went after the al-Qaeda infrastructure in East Africa. However, Lyman and Morrison remained critical of the United States Government for focusing on al-Qaeda while, apparently, failing to heed other sources of terrorism. They warned that, while the U.S. has gone after the al-Qaeda infrastructure in East Africa, “the potential for growth of Islamic extremism and other sources of terrorism elsewhere on the continent has not registered sufficiently on its radar screen. By far the most troubling case is Nigeria” (Lyman and Morrison, p. 75). The identification of “Islamic extremism” with al-Qaeda and terrorism does, unwittingly, give to America’s war on terror the appearance of an onslaught on Islam in general. Extremism tends to be identified with fundamentalism. Although the concept of “fundamentalism” may have come from Princeton Presbyterian fundamentalists about a hundred years ago (Chomsky, p.c), the term has, in recent times, been used primarily in

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connection with aspects of Islam.1 In order to defuse misconceptions about the intent behind the “war on terror,” and to stress that it is not an onslaught on Islam in general, there has been considerable effort in the Bush administration to distinguish “Islam” from “Islamic extremism.” The distinction between them notwithstanding, the implementation of the policy has been perceived as largely indiscriminate. This was reinforced by President George W. Bush’s pronouncement on September 29, 2001 that the “war on terror will be much broader than the battlefields and beachheads of the past. The war will be fought wherever terrorists hide, or run, or plan” (Roth, 2004, p. 2). To the extent that Islamic establishments and regions are taken as locations where terrorists might “hide” or “plan,” they become targets of the “war on terror.” The situation is further complicated by the fact, noted by Roth (2004, p. 2), that “the Bush administration has used war rhetoric precisely to give itself the extraordinary powers enjoyed by a wartime government to detain or even kill suspects without trial.” Thus, one could excuse the tendency on the part of Muslims to view the current United States administration’s policies through the prism of subjugation of Islam and plundering of the oil resources of the Arab world. As plans for President George W. Bush’s visit to Africa were underway, it was imperative that appropriate security measures be taken. Naturally, a major component of those security measures was identification and “appropriate” removal of suspected al-Qaeda members. For three weeks prior to the Muslim unrest in Malawi, it was rumored that five foreign nationals resident in Malawi had been identified by the USA security network (CIA and FBI) as, allegedly, being members of al-Qaeda. These were: Fahad al Bahli of Saudi Arabia, Ibrahim Habachi and Arif Ulasam of Turkey, Mahmud Sardar Issa of Sudan, and Khalifa Abdi Hassan of Kenya. The National Intelligence Bureau of Malawi, apparently working in cooperation with the USA security network, apprehended the individuals and whisked them out of the country to an unknown destination. Rumors were rife that they had been taken to Guantánamo Bay in Cuba, the holding place for alleged al Qaeda “terrorists.” It was also rumored that one of the detainees was very ill and that another might already have died. The situation was exacerbated by an apparent official clampdown on coverage of the event. While the local independent print media made some commentary on the incident, and there was extensive commentary in Chichewa (the main local language) on the leading private radio by a Muslim who denounced in no uncertain terms the action of the U.S. personnel involved along with their Malawian accomplices, the national radio and television remained mute.2 The official news blackout was indicative of the degree of interference or control of the media exercised by the government, despite pretensions to democracy and freedom of the press. It was reminiscent of proscriptions on media independence and government control of information disseminated to the public that characterized the dictatorial regime of Kamuzu Banda (see Mchombo, 1996, 1997, 1998b). In fact, the current 1

Chomsky (p.c.) has pointed out that, with regard to the “war on terror,” “…the current incumbents in Washington declared ‘war on terror’ in 1981, when they took office under Reagan, and that one of their prime targets of that ‘war on terror’ was the Catholic Church. The notorious School of the Americas takes pride in the fact— which it proclaims—that the U.S. army ‘helped defeat liberation theology.’ So, whatever the latest phase of the ‘war on terror’ is supposed to be, Islam is just a target of convenience, like the Catholic Church was the first time around.” Although Islam is a “target of convenience,” the current phase of the “war on terror” appears to be contributing to a polarization of the world along religious lines of Christianity versus Islam. 2 I am indebted to Owen Kalinga for the information about the commentary made by the Muslim commentator on the private radio station. The individual is, apparently, a regular commentator.

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regime in Malawi has been plagued with charges of corruption, occasionally leading to suspension of international aid, and is viewed as exploiting the façade of democracy with the intent of reverting to autocratic rule (see Chirwa & Kanyongolo, 2000; Mchombo, 2000, 2002). The rumor fanned anti-Christian and anti-American sentiment among the Muslims, who construed the incident as an attack on their Muslim brothers and on Islam in general, and who claimed that the “disappearance” of the five suspects was an effective manifestation of the perception of American policy as it was couched in terms of a “war on terror.” They decided to react violently to register their anger and, through that, to signal their preparedness for Jihad (holy war). Most of the targets which they selected on which to vent their rage and indignation were either Christian or American. The exceptions were the vandalism of the Muslim Association of Malawi offices in Blantyre (and destruction of their computing machinery) and the torching of the district office of the ruling UDF Party in Mangochi. The reasons for that will be seen below.

BRIEF HISTORY OF ISLAM IN MALAWI The incident in Malawi could have been ignored or treated as comparable to the occasional student unrest or worker demonstration for upward salary adjustments or improvement in working conditions. That it took on greater significance is due to shifting perceptions about the role that religion has come to play in political developments in Malawi and the belief that there is external sponsorship to “Islamicize” the country. The cold war in the northern hemisphere expired in the early 1990s, but something akin to it persists to this day in Malawi, masked in religious fervor and proselytization. It is useful to provide context for these claims. The recent history of Africa, especially from the 19th century, is one of colonialism by various European nations. Their quest for various raw materials and affordable labor led to the continent being carved up into states that reflected more the European rivalries than the need for internal cohesion of the African colonies. Thus, the legacy of colonialism in Africa includes the creation and subsequent maintenance of highly arbitrarily drawn political boundaries that have placed different ethnic groups within the same countries, while simultaneously spreading some ethnic groups across different countries (see Mchombo, 1998b; Ungar, 1986). The Republic of Malawi, formerly known as Nyasaland, became a British Protectorate in 1892. It attained independence from Britain in 1964. Like other African states, Malawi has a number of ethnic groups within its borders. Of these, the major ones are the Nyanja, Lomwe, Tumbuka, Yao, Tonga, Sena, Lambya, Nkhonde, and Nyakyusa. Of these, the Nyanja were in the majority (see Kishindo, 1994; Matiki, 1996/1997, 1997; Mchombo, 1998a; Young, 1949). The Tumbuka, Tonga, Lambya, Nkhonde, and Nyakyusa are concentrated in the northern part of the country. In the north, the Tumbuka constitute, by far, the major group extending into the neighboring country of Zambia to the west. The Nyanja spread from the central plains to the southern parts of Malawi, spreading further into parts of Mozambique and Zambia. One subgroup of the Nyanja, concentrated in the central hinterland of the country, is called Chewa. The Yao predominate along the southern coastline of Lake Malawi, on both the

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Malawi and Mozambique sides, and spread into parts of southern Malawi. They are more numerous in Mozambique and spread to southern Tanzania. The Yao will be singled out here because, more than the others, the Yao is the ethnic group that converted to Islam much earlier under the influence of Arabs (see Bone, 2000, for a detailed discussion of Arab/Muslim interaction in Malawi). Before the British moved into Malawi, the Arabs had been active, engaging in ivory collection and the slave-trade. Sailing down Lake Malawi from Tanzania, they set up slave trading centers at Karonga near the northern extremity of Lake Malawi and at Nkhotakota on the central shore of the lake. In each of these locations, local collaborators served as agents of the Arabs. In Karonga, there was a series of conflicts between the British and the slave-trader Mlozi, which started in 1887 and continued at least until 1889; although they more likely continued until 1895 when Mlozi was finally captured in battle (see Kalinga, 1980). In Nkhotakota, a deal was struck between the British and the local slave-trade agent Jumbe to desist from further slave-trade. A treaty was signed between Jumbe and Sir Harry Johnston in 1889. The tree under which the treaty was brokered remains as an historical monument a few yards from the main center of Anglican missionary activity in Nkhotakota. The tree is near All Saints Church, the major Anglican church in Nkhotakota, St. Anne’s Hospital, and Linga Primary School, all run by the Anglican Diocese. One other outpost was Mangochi, located at the southern extremity of the lake. The latter was convenient, since it was in the heartland of the Yao, who were allies through their conversion to Islam. The slave-trading outposts of the Arabs, unsurprisingly, became the major locations where Islam flourished in Malawi. In Karonga, there have been pockets of Muslim settlements around the Boma (the local government offices) at Ngerenge lakeshore areas as well as near Kasoba. A small mosque was opened as recently as 2001 at Kasoba by President Muluzi, the president of Malawi from 1994-2004. The Muslims in Karonga were known as BaSwahili (the Swahili people) because of their use of Kiswahili (the Swahili language) and their links with Tanganyika (now Tanzania). Interestingly, many of these “Swahili people” were originally Yao from northern Mozambique and southern Malawi. 3 The group of Muslims who were located in Karonga identified linguistically and culturally with Muslims in Tanzania. They had minimal interaction with the majority of Malawian society. Instead, it was the Muslims from the central and the southern shores of Lake Malawi who became more visible in the country. For a long time, Muslims in Malawi were associated with either being of the Yao ethnic group (or with having origins in Mangochi and its environs) or being from the Nkhotakota area. British penetration of Nyasaland was spearheaded by missionary activity, specifically that of David Livingstone and, later, Robert Laws. Evangelization and the spreading of Christianity led to the establishment of a number of denominations in Central Africa, including those of the Church of Scotland (locally known as the Church of Central African Presbyterian (CCAP)) and the Church of England (the Anglican Church). Because of its active program of recruitment of young graduates in British universities for missionary work, the Anglican Church was popularly known as the Universities Mission to Central Africa (UMCA). The UMCA was formed after Dr. David Livingstone delivered a famous speech at 3

I am grateful to Felix Mnthali (p.c.) for drawing my attention to the existence of Islam in Karonga, and to Owen Kalinga for indicating that some of those Muslims who were referred to as BaSwahili (the Swahili people) were, in reality, of Yao ethnicity.

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Cambridge appealing to the British to turn their attention to Africa. The UMCA was formed by people at Cambridge, Oxford, Durham, and Trinity College, Dublin, all of which were very much associated with High Anglicanism (see Mphande, 1996). Then there were the Catholic Church, the Seventh Day Adventist Mission, and other denominations. Some of these missionary impulses, especially within the Anglican Church, were initially drawn to abolishing the Arab slave trade. The task of deterring the Arab slave traders and abolishing slavery placed the Anglican missionaries squarely in the coastal locations where Arab activity was most intense. The Anglican Church established its strongholds in Nkhotakota and Mangochi, the very locations where the Arabs had two of their slave-trade outposts and where Islam had been flourishing. In order to monitor the Arab ships sailing down the lake with their cargo of slaves, the Anglican Church established its major cathedral on the island of Likoma in Lake Malawi, making it a convenient observation post. This led to the conversion of practically the whole island population to the Anglican religion, including some of the coastal villages on the Mozambican mainland across the lake from the island. Among the earliest converts were freed slaves who, consequently, fell under the patronage of the missionaries and adopted Christianity. For the generation of Malawians currently in mid- to old-age, being Anglican or Muslim amounted to a declaration of one’s (possible) origins. If one were Muslim or Anglican, one had to be from the coastal areas just mentioned. The rest of the country was converted to other brands of Christianity, primarily Catholicism and Presbyterianism (the Church of Scotland).

ISLAM IN INDEPENDENT MALAWI In 1964, the colonial era in South Central Africa began to end. In July, 1964, Malawi, formerly British Nyasaland, became independent. Hastings Kamuzu Banda, ethnically a Chewa from the central region district of Kasungu, became the Prime Minister. Malawi attained Republic status in 1966, and Kamuzu Banda became President and later, after forcing the necessary constitutional amendment, was sworn in as President for Life. Kamuzu Banda was autocratic and brooked no opposition to his rule or to his political party, the Malawi Congress Party, which became the ruling and sole legal party in Malawi. Critics of his rule and policies, real or imagined, experienced the harshest conditions of political detention or worse (see Lwanda, 1993; Short, 1974). President Banda’s domestic policies, which saw him acquire land and wealth at the expense of the dispossessed masses, enforced “capitalism at its most rapacious,” as Tony Green, a British academic teaching at the University of Malawi in the early 1970s, commented. In foreign policy, Banda opted for open diplomatic relations with the countries that were at the time under sanctions imposed by the Organization of African Unity or the United Nations. These were South Africa, Rhodesia, then ruled by Ian Smith under a Unilateral Declaration of Independence (UDI) from Britain, and Portugal, which was involved in a tense struggle with Frelimo forces in Mozambique. The crafting of Malawi’s foreign policy was as much a function of global alliances, geo-political factors, and economic incentives as it was a function of the personal character of Banda. President Banda’s foreign policy of cordial relations with apartheid South Africa resulted from the latter’s willingness to provide initial

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capital for one of Banda’s cherished projects (see Hedges, 1989; McMaster, 1974; Short, 1974). The major thing that Banda did which shaped Malawi’s foreign policy was to move the administrative capital from Zomba, a small town located some forty miles northeast of Blantyre, the main commercial city, to the centrally located city of Lilongwe. The logic for this was simple: economic development in the country had been skewed because power was concentrated in the southern region, which hosted both the administrative capital and the commercial center and had the tea estates. The claim was that the country would develop more uniformly if the administrative headquarters were more centrally based. It would stimulate economic activity in the region, already the area for tobacco farming and corn growing. Naturally, it was supposed to be purely accidental that Lilongwe and the central region was also the heart of Chewaland and that Kamuzu Banda was a nationalistic Chewa. The project did not win the approval and support of the “traditional” donor countries (Great Britain, the United States, and other Western countries). They expressed reluctance to fund the project. Diversification of economic activity did not appear to justify the expenditure for shifting the administrative headquarters. In the ensuing impasse, South Africa, noting major political and strategic advantages, offered to provide Banda with the initial capital for the project. Malawi’s foreign policy immediately underwent a major shift to accommodate relations with the apartheid regime. Under the policy of “contact and dialogue,” Banda defended relations with South Africa using the argument that the way to change human relations in South Africa was not through economic boycott, but through discussion. It was a policy that isolated Malawi from the rest of the African countries, and for most Africans, Banda degenerated into “the greatest rogue that went unhung” (for more details, see McMaster, 1974). The criticism derived from the pressure on African countries to demonstrate unity against apartheid and for the liberation of countries then still under white rule. Malawi’s foreign policy of “contact and dialogue” with the white regime in South Africa as well as in Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) and of maintaining cordial relations with the Portuguese (then still controlling Mozambique, Angola, and Guinea Bissau) amounted to undermining the call for African unity and the liberation of those countries. Admittedly, Malawi was not alone in cultivating or retaining diplomatic relations with South Africa. Despite pretenses, the U.K. and the U.S. supported South Africa too—in the case of the U.S., right through the 1980s.4 However, Malawi is an African country and, as a member of the Organization of African Unity, it was expected to show solidarity with the other nations in their commitment to African liberation. In terms of global alliances, and its pretensions to non-alignment notwithstanding, Malawi had aligned itself with the Western bloc. Kamuzu Banda’s regime pursued a policy of anti-communism in its extreme version. This was reflected in the banning of anything communist, especially communist literature, liberally defined as works either promoting communist ideology or any publication originating from the Eastern bloc irrespective of the subject matter. With regard to the Middle East, Malawi’s policy was very closely allied to the policies of Britain, the United States, etc. In brief, Malawi maintained a pro-Israel policy in the ArabIsrael conflict. This had implications for the spread of Islam in Malawi. With a pro-Israel 4

I thank Noam Chomsky for pointing out this fact to me.

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policy and minimal contact with Arab nations, Arab influence and values remained rudimentary. The history of the Arab slave-trade in Central Africa contributed further to Banda’s political indifference to the Arab states. In one of his public speeches, commenting on his policy of contact and dialogue with the Afrikaner regime in apartheid South Africa, Banda noted that his critics were among those Africans who addressed Arabs as “brothers” despite the historical record of Arab atrocities towards Africans. He remarked that his father would squirm were he to see him being cordial to and embracing (Gamal) Nasser (then President of Egypt). Banda’s allusion to Arab enslavement of Africans was certainly a strand in his approach to the visibility of, or prominence accorded to, Islam in Malawi (see Short, 1974, pp. 297-304). Furthermore, Kamuzu Banda was a puritanical member of the Church of Scotland, Presbyterian denomination. He had studied medicine in Scotland, later opening a private surgery in Harrow, near London. He was such an Anglophile that on more than one occasion he remarked that he regarded Great Britain as his other home. It was no surprise, therefore, that, when Britain and Argentina went to war over the Falkland Islands, Malawi vigorously attacked Argentina as the aggressor in the conflict. In brief, the value system that imbued Banda’s psyche, ranging from his attire, through diet and language (he only spoke English), to religion, was British (see Mphande, 1996). Given all that, Banda’s tolerance of Islam could be construed as no more than that, tolerance. There was no vested interest in promoting it. Although Kamuzu Banda allowed freedom of worship in Malawi, the churches, just like the media and educational institutions, had, with few exceptions, to toe the party line (see Schoffeleers, 1999). Only the Jehovah’s Witness sect, whose members had been physically harassed and driven out of the country because of their unwillingness to purchase membership in the Malawi Congress Party, exhibited open dissent. However, Malawi was, by general consensus, a Christian country. The spread of Islam may have also been hampered by the Muslims’ lack of investment in educational or health-care facilities. This could also have resulted from interference from the British missionaries and administration. Having effectively ended Arab activities in the region, allowing them to establish social services would negate the objectives of colonization and evangelization. It should be noted that the Churches exerted pressure on the British government to colonize Malawi on the pretext that Islam, in the guise of Muslim slavetraders, was a threat to “Christian civilization,” then being implanted in the region. The missionaries had established schools and hospitals, and Kamuzu Banda was among the many beneficiaries of those facilities. The establishment of educational and health facilities by the Christian missionaries placed an onus on Muslim families whose children, in order to secure an education, had to attend missionary-run schools (see Bone, 1985; Chakanza, 2000). For many of them, peer pressure got them to convert to Christianity. To avoid increased defections of the youth from Islam to Christianity, some Muslim families simply avoided sending their children to school, effectively reducing their literacy levels and their competitiveness in job markets requiring skilled labor. This effectively guaranteed employment opportunities and subsequent political prominence to Christians. Islam remained a minority religion confined primarily to coastal areas which had come into contact with Arab influence, or among the Yao in the southern part of the country but predominating in Mozambique.

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TRANSITION TO DEMOCRACY AND THE RISE OF ISLAM Banda’s control over Malawi was so absolute, from the media through the judiciary, the military, and the legislature, to the executive branches of government, police and domestic affairs, and foreign affairs, etc., that it was practically impossible to imagine him dislodged from power. The expectation was that he would only relinquish power upon his demise, after which issues of transition would be dealt with. Under his autocratic rule, human rights violations practically became an aspect of ordinary daily life, a fact noted in various publications by Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, and other organizations devoted to monitoring human rights abuses. Africa Watch’s 1990 publication, Where Silence Rules: The Suppression of Dissent in Malawi, provided more details about the human rights violations of the Banda regime. Sam Mpasu (1995), a former political detainee, offers rare insight in lucid prose into the Kafkaesque politics of the Banda regime and the realities of life in Malawi’s notorious detention camps. This is in his non-fictional publication, Political Prisoner 3/75 of Dr. Hastings Kamuzu Banda. The brutality of the Banda regime made the population yearn for a change to a more democratic system. The altered global politics in the early 1990s, which witnessed the demise of the Soviet Union and the end of the cold war along with other changes in the regional politics in southern Africa, heralded an era of transition to democratic practice (see Mchombo, 1998b; Zeleza, 1994, 1997). With regard to regional politics, Malawians witnessed a change in leadership in the neighboring country of Zambia. President Kenneth Kaunda, who had ruled that country for some 26 years, was finally defeated at the polls. The government of Frederick Chiluba took over as a result of democratic elections. This conveyed the lesson that seemingly entrenched incumbents could be unseated. The possibility of peaceful change achieved through a democratic process appeared less remote. Then there were changes in South Africa. The apartheid regime that had contributed to Banda’s security apparatus was about to be unseated by the African National Congress under the leadership of Nelson Mandela. If South Africa, with its military might and elaborate repressive internal security machinery designed to oppress the majority population and protect minority interests, could crumble in the face of an unabated onslaught of indomitable aspirations to equality and democratic values, Malawi could certainly achieve similar goals. These changes also had a more direct impact on the options available to Kamuzu Banda. The Chiluba administration in Zambia and the ANC in South Africa had no vested interests in the Banda regime. They had fought for democratic changes in their respective countries, and they were sympathetic to groups fostering democratic values in the region. Just as Banda’s status within the New World Order created by the end of the Cold War had been altered, Malawi’s position in the geo-political situation was faced with overhaul. The opposition groups based outside Malawi found more support from these new democratic forces that provided impetus to challenge Banda’s rule. These external dynamics had the conspiracy effect of dismantling the dictatorship in Malawi. The regional politics derived extra effectiveness from an information revolution or the technological innovations in information transmission. Information technology facilitated the transmission of news and ideas without prior submission to the state machinery for censorship (see Lwanda, 1993, 1996; Mchombo, 1998b).

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Before political developments overtook Banda and eventually led to his ousting from office, Islam had begun to receive assistance. Beginning in the early 1980s, there was renewed interest from such countries as United Arab Emirates, Saudi Arabia, and Kuwait to alter the image of Islam and promote Muslim youth in Malawi.5 Muslim youth organizations and activities began receiving sponsorship, giving Islam visibility beyond the backwaters where it had survived. The 1980s witnessed a resurgence in construction of mosques in prominent locales that registered the presence of the religion. The visibility was intentional and disconcerting to the non-Muslims who began to see the country as overwhelmed by Islam.6 Banda’s receptiveness to increased Muslim presence was influenced by altered relations within the Middle East. Some Arab states, for instance Egypt under Anwar Sadat, had opened dialogue with Israel in the search for peace in the region. And, of course, there was the oil crisis of the 1970s, which, effectively, made it necessary to maintain relations with the oil-producing countries, mainly Arab, in order to sustain economic activity and reduce inflation. So, Islam began to venture into new territory. Even schools for Muslim students, referred to as madrasa, sprouted up in “highly visible places,” and Islamic Centers were established in many areas. Islam then received a major boost from subsequent political developments. Although for a long time the Church in Malawi had confined its activities to ministering to the spiritual needs of the people, it had also played a great role in meeting the educational and health needs of the population. In all this, the church had stayed clear of politics to the point of being viewed as an ally to the regime. However, the gross injustices prevailing in Malawi under the Banda regime could no longer be ignored as not meriting comment and redress. These included the disappearances of people in political disfavor; inequalities of access to economic resources, medical care, and education; and the curtailment of freedom of speech, of the press, and of academic inquiry. In January 1992, the Episcopal Conference of Malawi met in Lilongwe to review their relationship with the government. The end result was that “the bishops decided to act by writing a letter exposing unjust government policy in several areas of Malawian life.” (Cullen, 1994, p. 36). The letter, an 11-page pastoral document entitled “Living Our Faith,” spelled out the new course for the Catholic Church. The Catholic Church resolved to be more proactive in addressing the temporal problems of the people than had been the case previously. The pastoral letter detailed the ills of Malawian society, such as the increasing inequality between the rich and the poor, the spread of corruption, flaws in educational systems, denial of basic freedoms, cutbacks in health care, etc. There were 16,000 copies of the letter printed in the three major languages of the country (10,000 in Chichewa, 5,000 in Chitumbuka, and 1,000 in English) and distributed to all parishes to be read during the Ash Wednesday celebration on March 4, 1992. The real impact of the pastoral letter lay in the use of the pulpit to provide 5

Circa 1982 the author, while a faculty member of the University of Malawi’s Chancellor College in Zomba, and as Head of the then Dept. of Chichewa & Linguistics (now renamed Dept. of African Languages & Linguistics), was once visited on campus by a Muslim from either Kuwait or United Arab Emirates. The visitor was involved in directing or promoting Muslim youth activities in Malawi. He paid the author a visit to review with him, and possibly to secure his assistance in, a proposed project of translating the Qur’an into Chichewa. The promised follow-up visit for a progress report on the project never materialized. Incidentally, there may now be a Chichewa version of the Qur’an, according to a recent press report in Malawi. 6 Andrew Tilimbe Kulemeka (p.c.) noted that in Lilongwe the minaret of a centrally-located mosque is equipped with speakers that are so loud that the muezzin’s call to prayer can neither be missed nor ignored. It is believed that this is deliberate, serving to underscore the presence of Islam in the country.

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scope for public comment on the economic and political problems in Malawi, done simultaneously nationwide. This was an aspect of freedom of speech that the government had previously completely curtailed. The public criticism of the government that ensued constituted the real significance of the pastoral letter and the government was never to recover from it. It should be noted that the Catholic Bishops’ Pastoral emerged out of many years of religious acquiescence in Banda’s policies. The acquiescence arose out of earlier clashes between church and state when the then Archbishop of Blantyre had helped Chester Katsonga and others form a Christian Liberation Party along the lines of the Christian Democratic Parties that arose in Europe after World War II (see Schoffeleers, 1999). The creation of such a party to challenge the supremacy of Banda’s Malawi Congress Party, and his eventual rise to power, so angered Kamuzu Banda that, in order to maintain cordial relations between the church and the new government, the Catholic Bishops pledged to distance themselves from politics. The 1992 Pastoral letter was something of an abrogation of that earlier pledge. It had a vigor borne out of a kind of confession and was symptomatic of a kind of contrition, and it galvanized all faiths. The effect of the pastoral letter was to force people to talk openly about it and thus about the things it had detailed. This conversation provided scope for unbridled attacks on the government and gave rise to the emergence of opposition pressure groups, which later became opposition political parties. The major opposition parties to emerge were the Alliance for Democracy (AFORD) led by Chakufwa Chihana, a Tumbuka from the north, and the United Democratic Front (UDF) led by Bakili Muluzi, a Yao from the south. The political activism that ensued, compounded by international pressure for democratization, a severely weakened economy due to, inter alia, drought and the effects of HIV/AIDS, forced President Banda to hold a referendum on the retention of one-party politics. The referendum was held in 1993 and, with 67% voting for multi-party politics, Banda was handed his first defeat at the polls. In May 1994, a general election was held, and Banda received his ultimate defeat when his party, the Malawi Congress Party, lost to the United Democratic Front. The election results were notable for their ethnic alignments. The Tumbuka ethnic group in the north overwhelmingly voted for the candidate from their part of the country and of their ethnic affiliation, Chakufwa Chihana. The Malawi Congress Party, led by Kamuzu Banda, a Chewa, had its best showing in the central region of the country, predominated by the Chewa ethnic group. The southern part of the country, more multiethnic, with a larger percentage of the population, threw their support behind the candidate from their region, Bakili Muluzi, and the United Democratic Front (see Chirwa, 1994/1995; Mchombo, 1998b; Posner, 1995). With the victory of the United Democratic Front, Bakili Muluzi, a Yao and a Muslim, became the second president of Malawi. The irony implicit in the Catholic Bishops effectively paving the way for a Muslim to attain the highest office in the land has to be tempered with the realization that political change and the emergence of democratic practice had been achieved, in part, through the actions of religious figures (see von Doepp, 2000). Religion has remained central to political consciousness in Malawi. Now that Islam, having made the ultimate transition from being a minority religion, slowly expanding with a little help from oil-rich sponsors, to the State House, is now identified with the Head of State, the recurring question among Malawians has been: “Is the genie out of the bottle?” In brief, can Islam be contained and be made to coexist with Christianity? Alternatively, does the change herald the eventual takeover of Malawi by

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Islam, with prospects, or the specter, of introduction of Shariah law, leading to the kind of unrest witnessed in other countries as was the case in parts of Nigeria?

RELIGION, POLITICS, ELECTIONS, AND BEYOND The charge that a Muslim president may be inclined to make Islam the dominant religion in the country has been recurrent, and President Muluzi has repeatedly dismissed it as unfounded and completely antithetical to his political program. That may be so, but relations between the two religions have manifested signs of strain. During the summer of 2002, a Malawi paper carried a rather disturbing headline on the front page. It referred to the Catholic Church requiring that teachers in Catholic schools be Christian. This was supposed to be in retaliation, or in response, to perceived discriminatory tendencies in Muslim schools where students and teachers of other faiths were not (regularly) admitted. The quest for young minds through educational programs has been compounded by a concerted effort to reach out to the general public through the airwaves. The Muslims established a radio station, Radio Islam, countering, or countered by, Radio Maria of the Catholics. Then, there is the issue of the foreign policy that has been pursued by President Muluzi. The policy has promoted relations with Arab states and other Islamic nations such as Malaysia, with corresponding reduction in relations with Western countries such as the U.K. and the USA—countries which are currently viewed as not very supportive of Muluzi. In 2002, when President Muammar Qaddafi of Libya visited Malawi on his way back from the Africa Union meeting in South Africa, it was widely “rumored” that part of his agenda was to ensure that Islam continues to maintain a stronghold in the country. Such rumors have also been fueled by the influx of “petro-dollars” into Malawi. Both Libya, whose leader is viewed as being on a crusade to spread Islam, and Kuwait have poured money into Malawi. There are a number of projects in the country that have been funded by the Kuwait Fund for International Development. Besides the involvement of the Arab nations, Muslims of Pakistani origins have also been very active in revitalizing Islam in the country. They have worked with Muslims in Malawi and South Africa (the Durban area being key) and with those from Arab countries. Through these countries, young Malawi Muslims have been trained in Islamic universities in the Sudan, Egypt, and other Middle Eastern countries.7 An effort to retain Islam in the State House was a relevant side issue to President Muluzi’s spirited attempts to get the Constitution amended in order to repeal the restriction on holding the presidency for only two terms, each of five years duration. The idea was to replace it with what was called an “open term.” This meant that a candidate could run for as many terms as s/he deemed fit. The open term bill did not garner the necessary votes in Parliament. It departed, however, only to be replaced by a modified version, at least terminologically, called the “Third Term Bill.” The modification was to have the Constitution amended to enable President Muluzi to run for a third term. That got withdrawn when it became evident that it was headed for defeat in Parliament (see Mchombo, 2002). Both the

7

Thanks to Owen Kalinga for this observation. Indeed, the Asian (primarily Indian) community in Malawi was, for a long time, the most visible Islamic community in the towns.

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open term bill and third term bill were viewed as subterfuges for President Muluzi to remain in power indefinitely, effectively reverting to autocracy and dictatorship. The year 2004 was an election year in Malawi. After ten years of having a Muslim as Head of State and the United Democratic Front as the ruling party, the question is: What changes are imminent? For Islam, the issue is: Can it continue to hold in those higher positions of political power? Conversely, the Christians must wonder whether their numerical superiority can restore the political patronage that they enjoyed under President Banda. As noted by Felix Mnthali (p.c.), the expectation is that there is minimal chance that “…the Muslims will hold on to their hegemony in the politics of Malawi. They cannot be more than 30% of the population. The Christians won’t let them get away with whatever they wish.” Indeed, Christian Churches have been active facilitators in current efforts to create a credible opposition coalition to defeat the UDF at the next elections. The Christian leaders formed an organization called the Christian Churches Committee on the Electoral Process (CCCEP).8 Although some of the churches belong to the Public Affairs Committee (PAC), which includes Muslims, the CCCEP are doing this as individuals and their churches are “not involved.” By maintaining this separation, the PAC cannot be associated with any issues relating to the other organization. Further, given that the PAC also has Muslim members, the CCCEP can advance a Christian agenda without implying the connivance or complicity of the Muslim community. Nevertheless, in light of the sponsorship available and the hearts and minds willing to pursue the goal, one wonders whether Mnthali’s comment might not reduce to wishful thinking. Note that there is even a new organization called the League of Islamic Graduates of Malawi. Bakili Muluzi has been a keen supporter of this organization, with which he holds annual meetings (Lwanda, p.c.). Imran Shareef, a university lecturer based at Chancellor College, the main liberal college in the University of Malawi, serves as the Secretary General of the organization. That religion continued to be relevant to politics in Malawi was again made manifest toward the end of Muluzi’s second term. As the political parties prepared for the coming general elections, President Muluzi, having conceded that aspirations to a further term must be abandoned, and lacking the constitutional amendment that would legitimize the effort, decided to select the presidential candidates for his party. Ignoring here the procedural irregularities that accompanied this idiosyncratic selection process in which, apparently, participation by the UDF executive, let alone of the rank and file, was curtailed, President Muluzi selected Bingu wa Mutharika to be the Presidential candidate for UDF, with Cassim Chilumpha as his running mate. Bingu wa Mutharika was one of the intellectuals who joined the UDF at its inception. He had been with Comesa (Common Market for Eastern and Southern Africa) and remained there after standing against Muluzi at the UDF Convention in 1993 but failing to win the nomination. This act caused resentment in the UDF ranks, as did his ambition to stand for the presidency in 1999. Later, he was removed from Comesa, but he then formed his own party, the United Party, although he was eventually persuaded to re-join the ruling party, which he publicly did. He was rewarded for this change of heart by being appointed to the position of Deputy Governor of the Reserve Bank of Malawi and thereby became automatically a member of Muluzi’s economic circle (Lwanda, p.c.). Then followed 8

Thanks to George Nnensa for this point. The Christians’ effort to facilitate the formation of a coalition that could challenge the United Democratic Front (UDF) is not being done through the Public Affairs committee. This remains a nonpartisan body and wishes to protect that image.

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his accelerated rise to prominence, facilitated by President Muluzi. While strict adherence to democratic practice may have been given short shrift in the selection of candidates, and the general public has consigned that to politics internal to the UDF party, what could not be overlooked is the religious affiliations of the appointed candidates. Bingu wa Mutharika is from the southern part of the country and is a Catholic. Apparently, he was selected to attract or appease the Catholic or Christian voters and the rest of the population in this most populous region of the country. Cassim Chilumpha is from Nkhotakota in the center and is a Muslim. The constitution of the UDF party was also amended—the amendment eventually ratified at the UDF General Convention. The amended constitution provides for President Muluzi to become the Party Chairman when he leaves the office of President. The innovation is that, should the UDF win the elections, the President and the Vice-President will be under the Party chairman. Islam may thus continue to maintain its presence in the highest echelons of the UDF Party. For Christians who see tentacles of Islam strengthening their grip on the country’s leadership, the UDF’s slate of candidates does not provide much comfort. It is noted that, given the relatively advanced age of Bingu wa Mutharika and his perceived political ineptness, his term of office, were he to be elected, might have to be completed by the Vice President, the Muslim. Indeed, some church leaders speculate that Bingu wa Mutharika would have no real power, which would instead be wielded by the Muslim Chilumpha. Add to that the de facto rule by the former President from the vantage point of Chairman of the Party, and Islam will or could remain the religion of Malawi’s leadership. It is against this background that George W. Bush’s crusade to engage in war on terror, fighting Islamic fundamentalism, conducting war in Iraq, routing al-Qaeda, has to be evaluated. It is perceived as a concerted attempt to reverse the gains made by Islam, to subject the oil resources of the Gulf region to American control, and to subjugate Islamic civilization to Western or Christian values. In addition, there is a certain idealism that sees Islam as the underdog standing up to both America, the sole remaining super-power, and Britain, its staunchest ally. Add to that the perennial question of Palestine which invites sympathy from non-Muslims and Muslims alike, and the Muslim protests in Malawi fit into the larger picture of global politics. Events in countries such as the Sudan, where a civil war has raged for over twenty years, a war that has pitted the Muslim and Arab north against a Christian and African south, provides testimony of the consequences of confrontation between the two religions. In this case, the situation is further compounded, albeit subtly, by racial considerations. The civil war broke out when the Muslim (and Arab) north tried to impose its laws on the predominantly Christian (and African) south. This is Shariah law, whose origins date back to the origins of Islam. As noted in one place: Muslim jurisprudence is ordered by an imposing set of canonical texts, sometimes going as far back as the origins of Islam which constitute the sunna, the “trodden path” (i.e., by the Prophet). Religious law, called the shari’â, flows directly from it and is wholly inspired by it, sometimes in complicated detail. It is still imposed by governments of several theocracies, such as the Sudan. (Chebel, 2003, p. 11)

Further, there is the case of Uganda, a country that for a long time resisted promoting Kiswahili as a lingua franca, despite the reality of its linguistic ubiquity. This resistance

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derived from the perceived linkage between Kiswahili and Islamic culture and religion. For a country where, “particularly in Buganda, the Church has enjoyed an enviable esteem” (Whiteley, 1969, p. 69), the spread of Kiswahili was viewed as tantamount to submission to Islam. In fact, as noted further by Whiteley, “the position of Swahili in this land of Christians, was jeopardized from the outset by its association with Islam, a rival and ‘inferior’ religion, about whose alleged vices apprehensive Christians and many denominations were prepared to unite.” In brief, a version of a religious cold war seems to be underway in countries such as Malawi with the usual alignment of forces, allies, etc. The issue of the apprehension of the alleged al-Qaeda members was immediately cast in “Islam-versus-Christianity” terms. As noted in the local newspaper, The Daily Times of June 30, 2003, for the Muslims in Mangochi, “the whole issue was between Christians and their [the Muslims] faith” (p .3).

BACK TO THE MUSLIMS’ PROTESTS IN MALAWI An issue that was left pending relates to why the Muslims vandalized the Muslim Association of Malawi (MAM) offices in Blantyre, damaging some of the computers, and why they torched local offices of the UDF Party in Mangochi. The prevailing view was that the Muslims were expressing anger at the President for his failure to protect them, and also at MAM’s failure to press President Muluzi to take action. Instead, the President had allowed himself to be dictated to by the biggest enemy of Islam and friend of Israel, America. While this seems to provide a unified explanation for the attacks on installations not identified with either American influence or Christianity, the destruction of computers in MAM offices inevitably gave rise to alternative accounts. Speculation was that there might have been information relating to al-Qaeda activities stored in the computers of MAM. Destruction of the computers can be seen thus as a ploy to eliminate possible corroborative evidence. Regardless of the ranking of these speculations on a veracity scale, the message is explicit. A Muslim president should stand up for his religion, protecting it against the forces bent on its destruction, subjugation, or, worse, annihilation. If Islam remains the religion of the ruling elite, expectation will be that it is a duty that the elite must discharge or a responsibility that they have to bear. There is, however, one significant observation about Islam in Malawi that has been made by Lwanda. He notes that in Malawi the relationship between the ruling Muslim elite and some orthodox Muslims has not been straightforward. A Muslim, Sheikh Bughdad, was allegedly beaten to death by ruling party youth, unfashionably referred to as Young Democrats, in 2002. He had been openly critical of the way “Muluzi was using the name of Islam for his own corrupt objectives.” Some orthodox Muslims did not see Muluzi’s regime as torch-bearers of true Islam. Some political commentators suggest that, like Banda, who used culture, Muluzi has used Islam as a legitimating and leveraging tool (see Lwanda, 2006). Still, the enemy of Islam, personified by George W. Bush and Tony Blair, is viewed as plundering the resources of the Arab world, in part for personal aggrandizement, enrichment, and partly as a means of dealing with domestic problems. It is noted by Power (2003) that “as even a democracy like the United States has shown, waging war can benefit a leader in

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several ways: it can rally citizens around the flag, it can distract them from bleak economic times, and it can enrich a country’s elites” (p. 96). Critics of the current U.S. war in, and occupation of, Iraq echo the views expressed above. Adamovsky (2004), writing for ZNet, makes the following poignant claim: The hidden link between capitalism, social unrest, state violence, and corruption is becoming more and more exposed all over the world. Iraqis do not need to be explained this: George W. Bush is not only killing them on a daily basis, but also privatizing their economy in record time, while giving most contracts to his family’s and friends’ companies. (p. 1)

So, the Muslim response emanated from deep-rooted sentiments. Naturally, the destruction of property and the endangerment of lives were swiftly condemned by both the government and the local press. The Nation newspaper of 30 June, 2003, in an editorial, pointed out that the Muslims have also attacked people of other faiths like the Catholics in Mangochi. We have reason to believe that fuelling inter religious feuds will only bring lack of security among the many pious people in the country. Christians and Muslims always preach love and tolerance. It is a shame for such institution to start violence…” (Vol. 10, No. 121, p. 2)

This may have been enough of an indictment of Islamic extremism. However, the real boon to the Christian community was in how they could counterpoise their reaction to adversity. Thus, while Muslims could degenerate into acts of intolerance, the Christians responded by taking the high ground of tolerance. They did not retaliate by attacking Muslim establishments. Instead, their reserve showed the content of their religion and their adherence to the tenets of their preaching, as noted in the editorial of The Nation. Clearly, this was as much of a demonstration of the Christians’ respect for the laws proscribing destruction of property as it was an aspect of sheer propaganda. The response may have also been motivated by other considerations. Speculation raged that the Christians’ response had been calculated to deprive the ruling party of the pretext for unwarranted action. It was believed by many, especially in the Christian community, that the Islamic riots could have been instigated by the UDF leadership itself in the hope that the Christians would react violently too, in retaliation. That would have provided the ruling party, the UDF, with an opportunity to declare a state of emergency. Such a declaration might have provided the pretext for the postponement of the general elections, giving the ruling party more time to reorganize itself and purge opponents of the “third term.” The Christians’ reserve, whether construed as respect for the laws proscribing destruction of property and endangerment of life, or as propaganda or fear of adverse repercussions, resulted in (probably unwitting) avoidance of playing into the hands of UDF, assuming that the belief had plausible grounds. The significance of this was to become clearer a little later. At the consecration of a Catholic Bishop, Bishop Peter Musikuwa of Chikwawa, a month later, President Muluzi openly threatened that he would deal with any religious unrest, without referring directly to the Mangochi incident. The pragmatics of this pronouncement was not lost on the Christian community. It should be noted that years later, as far as is publicly known, no action was

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taken by the President to compensate the churches for their losses. Regardless of how the events of June 2003 and the responses to them are construed, it is a reality that, in Malawi, religion and politics have come into a symbiotic relationship, the full ramifications of which have yet to be determined. In closing, it should be noted that the individuals who had been apprehended and were the ostensible cause for the protests were, allegedly, set free in Sudan a month later. Curiously, there are conflicting reports about their release. It was reported in The Chronicle that they had not been interrogated by American security personnel nor had they come into contact with any. Yet, coincidentally, there was an article in The Daily Times entitled “ALQAEDA SAGA ...Govt. not aware of suspect’s release ... US says release confirmed in media.” In the article, it was claimed that the League of Islamic Graduates of Malawi (see above) wrote to the government inquiring into the fate of the five al-Qaeda suspects and demanding the return of their property. The Ministry of Home Affairs responded with the claim that there was no communication from the U.S. government of any progress. The U.S. government, on the other hand, said that the fate of the five suspects had been widely publicized in the local and international media, hence that there was no need to advise the Malawi government. The events may appear muddled from the standpoint of the Malawi press, and understandably so, but Roth (2004) gives a clearer account. Criticizing the United States government for its adoption of “war rules” instead of following “law-enforcement rules” in its dealings with foreign governments on issues of suspected terrorists, he points out that the administration followed a similar pattern in June 2003, when five al-Qaeda suspects were detained in Malawi. Malawi’s high court ordered local authorities to follow the law and either charge or release the five men, all of whom were foreigners. Ignoring local law, the Bush administration … insisted that the men be handed over to U.S. security forces instead. The five were spirited out of the country to an undisclosed location—not for trial, but for interrogation. The move sparked riots in Malawi. The men were released a month later in Sudan, after questioning by Americans failed to turn up any incriminating evidence. (p. 5)

Thus, the situation remained ominous and far from reassuring, given the potential for reprisals. In the meantime, Christian Churches, as noted above, were at the forefront of a movement that had almost achieved an anti-UDF (in effect an anti-Muslim) coalition of opposition parties designed to remove the UDF and its Muslim allies from power in the coming elections. Whether or not the egos of the opposition leaders would permit this, the message is clear: the divide between Christians and Muslims continues to grow.

REFERENCES Adamovsky, E. (2004, January 13). On Iraq’s future: Unstable democracy, violence and corruption. ZNet Commentary. Africa Watch Report. (1990). Where silence rules. The suppression of dissent in Malawi. New York: Human Rights Watch.

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Bone, D. S. (1985). The Muslim minority in Malawi and Western education. Journal of the Institute of Muslim Minority Affairs, 2, 412-419. Bone, D. S. (Ed.). (2000). Malawi’s Muslims: Historical perspectives. Zomba, Malawi: Kachere. Chakanza, J. C. (Ed.). (2000). Islam Week in Malawi. Blantyre, Malawi: Christian Literature Association in Malawi. Chebel, M. (2003). Symbols of Islam. New York: Barnes and Noble Books, Inc. Chirwa, C. (1994/1995, December-January). Regionalism, ethnicity and the national question in Malawi. Sapem, 59-62. Chirwa, W. J. (Chijere), & Kanyongolo, E. (Eds.). (2000). The state of democracy in Malawi. Draft Report. University of Malawi Centre for Social Research. Cullen, T. (1994). Malawi: A turning point. Edinburgh-Cambridge-Durham: The Pentland Press. Hedges, D. (1989). Notes on Malawi-Mozambique relations, 1961-1987. Journal of Southern African Studies, 15(4), 617-644. Kalinga, O. (1980). Karonga War: commercial rivalry and politics of survival. Journal of African History, 21(2), 209-218. Kishindo, P. J. (1994.) The impact of a national language on minority languages: The case of Malawi. Journal of Contemporary African Studies, 12(2), 127-150. Lyman, P. N., & and Morrison, J. S. (2004, January-February.) The terrorist threat in Africa. Foreign Affairs, 75-86. Lwanda, J. L. (1993). Kamuzu Banda of Malawi. Glasgow: Dudu Nsomba Publications. Lwanda, J. L. (1996.) Promises, power politics and poverty: The democratic transition in Malawi 1961-1999. Glasgow: Dudu Nsomba Publications. Lwanda, John L. (2006). Kwacha: The violence of money in Malawi’s politics, 1954-2004. Journal of Southern African Studies, 32(3), 525-44. McMaster, C. (1974). Malawi: Foreign policy and development. London: Julian Friedman. Matiki, A. (1996/1997). Language shift and maintenance: Social determinants of linguistic change among the Lomwe people. Journal of Humanities, 10/11, 1-25. Matiki, A. J. (1997). The politics of language in Malawi: A preliminary investigation. In R. K. Herbert (Ed.), African linguistics at the crossroads: Papers from Kwaluseni (pp. 521540). Köln: Rüdiger Köppe. Mchombo, S. A. (1996). The media in emergent democracies in Southern Africa. Marble (online version of Z Magazine) Mchombo, S. A. (1997). The fole of the media in fostering democracy in Southern Africa. The Journal of African Policy Studies, 3(2 and 3), 1-22. Mchombo, S. A. (1998a). National identity, democracy and the politics of language in Malawi and Tanzania. The Journal of African Policy Studies, 4(1), 33-46. Mchombo, S. A. (1998b). Democratization in Malawi: Its roots and prospects. In J.- G. Gros (Ed.), Democratization in late twentieth-century Africa. Coping with uncertainty (pp. 2140). Westport, CT: Greenwood Publishing Group, Inc. Mchombo, S. A. (2000, November 21). Free enterprise, privatization, corruption, all that. ZNet commentary. Mchombo, S. A. (2002, November 25). Malawi: ppen term, third term, and crisis of democracy. ZNet Commentary.

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Mpasu, S. (1995). Political prisoner 3/75 of Dr. Hastings Kamuzu Banda. Africa Publishing Group. Mphande, L. (1996). Dr. Hastings Kamuzu Banda and the Malawi Writers Group: the (un)making of a cultural tradition. Research in African Literatures, 27, 80-101. Posner, D. N. (1995). Malawi’s new dawn. Journal of Democracy, 6(1), 133-145. Power, S. (2003, December). How to kill a country. Turning a breadbasket into a basket case in ten easy steps. The Robert Mugabe way. The Atlantic Monthly, 86-100 Roth, Kenneth. (2004). The law of war in the war on terror. Washington’s abuse of “enemy combatants.” Foreign Affairs, 2-7. Schoffeleers, M. (1999). In search of truth and justice: Confrontations between church and state in Malawi 1960-1994. Kachere Book No. 8. Blantyre, Malawi: Kachere, Christian Literature Association in Malawi. Short, P. (1974). Banda. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. von Doepp, P. (1998). The Kingdom beyond Zasintha: Churches and political life in Malawi’s post-authoritarian era. In K. Phiri & K. Ross (Eds.), Democratization in Malawi: A stocktaking (pp. 102-127). Blantyre, Malawi: Kachere, Christian Literature Association in Malawi. Young, C. (1949). [Review of the book A practical approach to Chinyanja with EnglishNyanja vocabulary by T.D. Thomson (Salisbury, 1947)]. Africa, 19, 253-25. Ungar, S. J. (1986). Africa. The people and the politics of an emergent continent. New York: Simon and Schuster, Inc. Whiteley, W. (1969). Swahili. The rise of a national language. London: Methuen and Co. Zeleza, P. T. (1994). The democratic transition in Africa and the anglophone writer. Canadian Journal of African Studies, 28(3), 472-497. Zeleza, P. T. (1997). Manufacturing African studies and crises. Dakar, Senegal: CODESRIA.

In: Religion and Psychology: New Research Editor: Joan C. Upton

ISBN: 1-60021-672-2 © 2008 Nova Science Publishers, Inc.

Chapter 6

“TRAIN UP A CHILD IN THE WAY…”: A QUALITATIVE STUDY OF HOW THE BLACK CHURCH INFLUENCES PARENTS Cassandra Chaney1, Loren D. Marks1, Diane D. Sasser2 and Katrina Hopkins1 1

2

Louisiana State University, Baton Rouge, LA, USA LSU AgCenter and Cooperative Extension, Baton Rouge, LA, USA

ABSTRACT Previous research has indicated that many African Americans receive social, economic, and other supports from their churches. However, comparatively little is known about how the Black Church supports its members’ efforts as parents. To address this weakness in the research, in-depth qualitative interviews were conducted with 50 African Americans who were actively involved in Black churches (in DE, IL, LA, MA, and OR). Participants represented several religious denominations and were from a variety of social classes and educational levels. The participants were asked questions that explored how their religion supported them as parents. The qualitative data were analyzed using a grounded theory methodology to identify themes that were mentioned repeatedly by the participants. This paper will explore three of those themes: (a) The Bible as a Guide to Parenting: “Go to the Bible to Help You”; (b) Church as a Provider of Programs, Models, and Mentors: “This [Church] Helps Me”; and (c) Parenting is a Sacred Responsibility: “My Children are God’s Gift to Me.” Narratives will be offered to support and illustrate each of these themes. Implications and applications will be discussed.

For many African American parents, no organization sustains them more physically, materially, and spiritually than the African American Church. More specifically, Taylor and Chatters (1988) have reported that 64% of a national sample of African Americans received some form of support from their church. The prominence of the Black Church is not limited to the provision of support; it is influential in several other ways. The purpose of this chapter

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is to explore specific ways that church involvement influences a specific aspect of African American life—parent-child relationships.

A BRIEF OVERVIEW OF RESEARCH ON THE BLACK CHURCH At outset of this paper, we will briefly review literature that addresses three select influences of the Black Church. These influences are: (a) the physical and temporal influence, (b) the religious and spiritual influence, and (c) the influence on parenting perspectives and practices.

THE PHYSICAL AND TEMPORAL INFLUENCE OF THE BLACK CHURCH Historically, religion and religious institutions have assisted African Americans materially and psychologically through various channels and supports (Lincoln & Mamiya, 1990). First, the Black Church provides material, emotional, financial, and social assistance to its members—persons and families that historically (and currently) tend to have limited access to non-religious, traditional social institutions (Marks & Chaney, 2006; Taylor, Chatters, & Levin, 2004). Second, in addition to “helping their own,” many Black Churches organize and operate community outreach programs designed to serve others in the community (i.e., food and clothing programs, visiting programs to the sick and shut-in, etc.). A critical and often overlooked point is that for many (especially those from collectivist cultures), the opportunity to serve and contribute in meaningful ways to the faith community is often as important as the opportunity to be served (Marks, 2004). In a congregation, people can experience a sense of belonging, of being valued, of being protected and of being at home—a feeling that has been likened by Wind and Lewis (1994) to being “a member of a large family in a huge living room” (p. 154). This feature of African American congregations is particularly important “since many individuals may be searching for new ways of establishing the kinds of trusting relationships which are essential for their sense of security but which are no longer necessarily provided by…[their] neighborhoods” (Giddens, 1990, p. 114). By virtue of its ability to facilitate individual and group identity, the faith community provides a distinct form of social interaction that has the ability to facilitate “common thought, purpose and drive” (Berger, 1967, p. 6). This sense of unity may be both social and spiritual.

THE RELIGIOUS AND SPIRITUAL INFLUENCE OF THE BLACK CHURCH For a “significant minority” of the American population, religion is not only a physical support and resource, it is reportedly “the single most important influence in [life]” (Miller & Thoresen, 2003, p. 25). This type of centralized, pervasive focus on faith is particularly common among African Americans (Taylor et al., 2004). Previous studies have found that African Americans tend to be relatively orthodox in theology and are often deeply rooted in private religious practices including prayer and Bible

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study (Roof & McKinney 1987; Taylor & Chatters, 1991; Taylor, Chatters, & Levin, 2004). In addition to being more likely to engage in private religious practices, African Americans are also more likely to attend church regularly (Ellison, 1997). Further, their attendance is associated with greater benefits, as discussed next. In a landmark national study, Hummer and colleagues (1999) found that Americans who attend worship services more than once a week live an average of 7.6 years longer than those who never attend. However, “among blacks, most strikingly, there is nearly a 14-year advantage [80.1 versus 66.4 years in longevity] for those who attend more than once a week compared with those who never attend” (Hummer et al., 1999, p. 278). Reasons for this disparity have been qualitatively explored by Marks and colleagues (2005) who report that religion may influence the well-being of African Americans in at least six ways: (a) active faith involvement gives the aged a sense of meaning, respect, and veneration that helps “keep them alive…”; (b) religious coping, in addition to any helpful effects it may provide, tends to minimize or even displace harmful negative coping (e.g., praying instead of drinking heavily); (c) church involvement is a buffer against and an alternative to involvement in the dangerous “street life”; (d) faith provides hope, and conversely, “giving up on faith [is] giving up on life”; (e) the church provides strong social support (“church family is family”); and (f) the outlet of prayer allows persons to “cast [their] cares upon the Lord” (p. 454).

In sum, the linkage between well-being and religiosity in African Americans is generally stronger than in Whites. African-Americans experience and report higher levels of almost all dimensions of religiosity than do their White counterparts (Chatters & Taylor, 1994). When compared to non-religious Blacks, Blacks who are religious not only live longer, they also benefit from greater mental health and experience lower levels of psychological impairment, suicide, substance abuse, depression, and report higher levels of life satisfaction (Ball, Armistead, & Austin, 2003). With these points noted, we now turn to the influence of faith involvement on parents.

THE INFLUENCE OF THE BLACK CHURCH ON PARENTING PERSPECTIVES AND PRACTICES When compared with other institutions, churches are uniquely versatile in their capacity to help build and maintain individual and group identities, provide family support systems for members, provide for the multi-faceted needs of members, offer social support, provide members with a purpose in life, and contribute to more effective ways of parenting. With respect to parenting, churches provide direct and indirect teaching and guidance regarding parenting, while also offering models of positive (and negative) parenting that observant parents can learn from (Brodsky & DeVet, 2000; Taylor, Jackson, & Chatters, 1997). African American churches also provide a positive forum of mutual parental support. For example, Young (1970) not only described the strong extended kin networks that exist within many African American families but also identified the Black Church as being the greatest resource in providing nurturing environments for mothers and their children, as well as a positive cultural context in which to rear children. In addition to the kinship bonds that exist

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among African Americans, church attendance has been found to solidify African American families in general and parent-child relationships in particular (Mosely-Howard & Evans, 2000). In an examination of the socialization of African American children, Haight (1998) found that many adults viewed the church as a haven in which their children could learn about their heritage from other African Americans who value and nurture them. In addition to being exposed to religious education, children are provided a positive cultural environment that affirms their racial identity and promotes a healthy sense of pride and belonging (Haight, 1998). Cultural and personal benefits of religious involvement are not limited to children. Religious involvement has been correlated with desirable characteristics among African American parents as well. Strayhorn, Weidman, and Larson (1990) administered a scale of religiousness to 199 families of Head Start Children and found parents’ religiosity to be positively correlated with parents’ mental health indices. Further, parents scoring higher on religiousness reported significantly greater social support from their friends, more favorable parenting practices, higher socioeconomic status, and lower hostility in their parenting (Strayhorn et al., 1990). In a study of 92 African American mothers, Wiley, Warren and Montanelli (2002) similarly found strong and positive relationships between church attendance and parenting practices. In particular, participants who attended church more often reported less coercive parenting practices, were less likely to overreact when their children did things that bothered them, and were generally more calm when handling disciplinary issues. It was also found that participants who possessed a high level of faith reported less violence and less verbal aggression when handling conflict (Wiley et al., 2002). In a related study of 318 middle and working-class African American mothers, McAdoo (1995) found that an overwhelming majority of the women believed that the church had helped Blacks function in U.S. society (76%) and that religion provided emotional support for most mothers (86%). Additional studies indicate that connection to community resources such as churches may help African American parents to more effectively deal with stress (Haight, 1998; Taylor & Chatters, 1988; Wiley, Warren & Montanelli, 2002). These and other findings show that the Black Church supports African American parents and children in many ways, but depth is not a characteristic of the research (Marks & Chaney, 2006).

RESEARCH QUESTION This paper seeks to examine specific ways that involvement in the Black Church influences parents’ perspectives and practices. This study is based on in-depth, qualitative interviews with parents who are highly involved in the Black Church as laymembers. In the end, this paper qualitatively explores and responds to the question: How does religion and religious involvement influence African Americans as parents?

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PARTICIPANTS To respond to this question, a purposive sample of 50 highly religious African American parents (27 mothers and 23 fathers). The age of participants ranged from 25 years of age to 65 years of age. The mean age for the women was 42 years and the average for years of education was 12.5. Twenty of the women were married, three were divorced, and four were single/never married. The mean age of men was 46 years and the average for years of education was 12. Twenty of the men were married and three were divorced. The participants ranged from low-middle to middle SES. Together these participants’ different perspectives provided a rich portrait of how religious involvement influences the lives of parents and their families.

PROCEDURES After participants offered their informed consent to participate in the study, they completed detailed demographic forms. Participants were then asked 20 open-ended questions that addressed various aspects of religious and family life, including a focus on parent-child relationships. Interviews were conducted in the participants’ homes and typically lasted about two hours, although some interviews went considerably longer. Interviews were audio recorded and later transcribed verbatim.

ANALYSIS In order to identify recurring themes, interviews were analyzed and coded using the open coding process utilized in grounded theory methodology (Strauss & Corbin, 1990). To insure a qualitative version of inter-rater reliability, three persons independently analyzed the data. Six core themes were identified with consensus. Due to spatial constraints, only three of these themes will be presented in this chapter.

FINDINGS The three most salient themes relating to religion and parenting from our project include: (a) The Bible as a Guide to Parenting: “Go to the Bible to Help You”; (b) Church as a Provider of Programs, Models, and Mentors: “This Helps Me…”; (c) Parenting is a Sacred Responsibility: “My Children are God’s Gift to Me.” Each of these themes will be presented and supported by primary qualitative data from the participants.

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The Bible as a Guide to Parenting: “Go to the Bible to Help you” Based on our interview data, the Bible was not only viewed as important but was frequently referred to as an “instruction manual” by which to rear children. When asked why she believed religious involvement is important for parents, a mother named Candace1 stated: Having that spiritual foundation when raising kids is [essential]. [K]nowing, loving, and serving God is so important. When everything else is shifting and shaking and in question in our culture and our times, parents can stand on solid ground and enforce rules, set realistic and healthy boundaries and reach out to the Lord during those sure times of testing and trials in raising children. I can't think of anything harder than raising kids. [T]hey really don't come with an instruction manual—except for the Bible and the wisdom and guidance of the Lord.

When commenting on the value of referring to the Bible in connection with rearing children, a father named Darius made the following comment: It is so important for parents to consult the Bible when they are raising their children. The problem now is that parents are literally bombarded by all of these childrearing books that ain’t about nothing! They say one thing one minute, and then say something else the next. But, the Bible never changes! If you want to know how something works, you read the instruction manual…and if you want to know how to raise good, Godfearing children, you go to the Bible to help you.

When speaking about the importance of parents using the Bible as a guide when rearing their children, another parent similarly stated: The Bible is full of practical, good advice about raising children. For example, one often quoted scripture says that [if you] “Train up a child in the way he should go, when he is old, he will not depart from it.” What this practical advice means is that children will be children; but if you train them correctly, they will be[come] solid men and women—good, productive citizens and servants of the Lord. So be patient—as the Lord is patient with us!

Another mother named Sheila implicitly referred to the same Bible verse (Proverbs 22:6) in discussing her approach to faith and parenting with her three daughters. She reflected: [M]y Mom engrained it in me so well that the Bible says if you take them now, engrain that in them now, they’ll always come back to it. They’ll always come back to how they grew up. And I see that with me, [I left but I came back when I became older]. …I [am involved at church] because I want to instill that in them.

In addition to the Bible-based idea that parents should “Train up a child in the way…” there were many other ways in which the Bible reportedly impacted the parents in our study. In response to questions like: “What do you do to make it through challenging and stressful times?” parents offered responses like these:

1

All names are pseudonyms.

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Monique: I pray and I read my Bible. That’s what I do. Coretta: [I] pray, pray, pray, [and] read my Bible. The most stressful situation, does tend to bring you closer to God [because in a time of challenge] I try to find answers in His Word or in prayer [and then] try to shake my burdens [on] to Him. Marcus: [I] look in the Bible and there’s portions of the Bible that say how to deal with sorrow, how to deal with death, how to deal with happiness. [I] read that…I’ll go to the Scripture and just feed off of that. Antoine: [I like to turn to the Bible because] the Bible is a guide for everyday living…. [It teaches that] you have a Savior, and this is…what He can do for you. [F]rom that, you can [know] how to live and how to utilize the teachings into your life. Keisha: In our family], we have our ups and downs and our differences and disagreements, and I think being able to go back to the Word and read Scripture and what Scripture says about it helps…. [T]hat is my roadmap for my [family] life and for my marriage. Notably, the Bible was not only a parenting guide for these parents, it also reportedly served as a coping resource, a “guide,” or a “roadmap” during challenging times. For many of the parents we interviewed, the Bible not only helped them to “get through” challenging times, it also provided a lens for constructing and finding meaning in those challenges—as illustrated by the following parents: Jamaal: [Well], people need to know they have a God. It says in the Bible they have a God who knows everything that you’re going through. It’s not like you have a God that don’t know what you’re going through [or that] He can’t empathize or put Himself in your position, because He was tempted at every point just like we are, and He didn’t fall. And He’s just waiting there with loving arms, and says, “Come on, I understand. I understand what you’re going through …because I’ve been there.” Wallace: [Even when things are rough, my] daily reading and my Bible study don’t let me take anything for granted. I’m constantly reminded by God’s [word]…[reminded] about God’s love, God’s grace, God’s mercy…. I always read Proverbs and it straightens me out, in some way, shape, or form… ‘[C]ause boy do I do a lot of stuff that [God] uses as a bad example in that book [and being “called on it” humbles me]. Kayla: [I]t says in the Bible [that] He takes care of even the birds and we are more precious to Him than the birds are. We have to look at when we have challenges…some challenges bring us closer to Him. [The Word teaches us that] it’s a joy just being alive. In addition to using the Bible to get through challenging times and as a place to find personal meaning, some of the parents we interviewed reportedly integrated the Bible on a parental and familial level as well. Ronald explained: [My kids and I], we talk about what the Bible says. [I have told them], “You know, God never promised us a whole lot of things…like cars, [l]and, a house; none of those things He promised us…He never promised us a lot of wealth [or] a lot of clothes. And [that stuff], that’s not a part of Christian living, because when Jesus was on the earth, [the Bible tells us that] he said, ‘Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son

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Cassandra Chaney, Loren D. Marks, Diane D. Sasser et al. of Man has nowhere to lay his head.’ So, that tells us that if we’re gonna follow Him, then we [can’t get caught up in the stuff you can buy].” [That’s what I have taught them].

Sheila, like Ronald, has used the Bible as a springboard for parent-child discussion: We get our kids to sit down at the table with us and we have a little Bible study and have some passages read around. And we just talk about their day, about something that’s bothering them. Someone will read a scripture or explain something that they’ve heard in church…[we do all this] so that they will have a base that they can build upon.

Rashaad, Sheila’s husband, explained a Bible law that is also a “house” law for his kids: [A]s long as they’re staying up under [my] roof, we all have guidelines, we all have things we have to abide in…. You are going to have to follow the law, and the law we follow [in our family], as the Bible says, is “Honor thy father and thy Mother.” And I truly believe that. If you have sassy kids, don’t bring them around me because I’m not going to play….You will treat my household [with respect].

If Rashaad’s above statement seems authoritarian, it is only part of the picture. This father, like many others we interviewed, demanded high levels of obedience and respect from children (cf. Wilcox, 2002); but his parental interpretations of his Bible-based faith have a softer side as well. Rashaad also mentioned how family and church-based Bible studies sometimes provided a context for heartfelt parent-child discussions: Sometimes…[my] kids [will] come and ask (me) a question, …“[I made a mistake], Do you think [God]’ll forgive me?” And I say, “Sure he’ll forgive you. I forgive you [too].” …[With] my kids (three daughters)…I want to show that I love my kids. No matter what…So that when [I’m] an old man, ‘cause we all get old, they’ll always know, “My Daddy loved me.” And then they can pass that on to their kids and to their husband(s).

In summary, for Rashaad, Sheila, Ronald, and others, the Bible was a focal point of family discussion and teaching. For many other parents we interviewed, it was one of the first places they turned during challenging times to find peace and strength. Others turned to the Bible in search of personal and relational meaning. Indeed, virtually all of the parents we interviewed referred to “the Bible,” “scripture,” and/or “the Word” as an important influence, roadmap, and guide in their personal and family (i.e., parental and marital) life. These prevalent and salient references were especially significant because none of the interview questions asked about the Bible in explicit or implicit ways—the parents mentioned this influence of their own accord.

The Black Church as a Provider of Programs, Models, and Mentors: “This Helps me…” With the previous Bible-related theme outlined, we now move to a discussion of our second theme which addresses the influence of the Black Church as an organization. However, as is common in qualitative research, there is some overlap between themes. This is

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illustrated by Vanessa’s comment addressing her church’s influence on her parenting through its parenting program (Theme 2), a program that was Bible-based (Theme 1). Vanessa reported: I really enjoyed the parenting classes [I took at my church]! The thing that I really liked about the classes [was] that everything that was taught was based on what’s in the Bible. The parenting classes really helped me to recognize what it means to be a parent. …[They also] helped me to understand what my children need from me, which is love, most of all. I can’t wait until the parenting classes start again.

A father named Denton also commented on the impact of church-based parenting classes: As a parent of three, I get so much from the Men’s Classes. You know, Pastor always says that if something isn’t right in your house, it’s the man’s fault. And, I have to be honest, I used to always ask Pastor, “How is it my fault if I’m having problems with my wife and children?” But, attending these classes [has] really helped me because I now realize that…if I am where I should be spiritually, my family will…be where they need to be spiritually. So if I’m leading my family as I should, my family will follow. This helps me to be less stressed when dealing with my wife and children, because now I realize that when I work on myself, my family will follow my lead.

Although Vanessa and Denton illustrate focused examples of how the Black Church can directly influence parent-child relationships (e.g., through parenting classes), most examples that were offered by the parents we interviewed involved less direct influence. For example, a father of two named Rahim did not mention “classes” but did discuss the influence of church attendance on him and his children. He explained: [Attending and being involved in church] introduces both me the parent, and my children, to God the Creator. That is, [what I learn there] teaches me about who I am. [I learn about] my identity and my need for God in my life. [I learn] that I am a spirit and that God made me in his image. [Attending my church] teaches me about what I have in God; such as faith, love, grace, hope, peace, kindness, joy. …[My church also] teaches me how I can talk or relate to God and to my [church] family. …[T]here are many examples that I can learn from [in my church family].

Rahim’s statement, and many others like it, remind us that for many highly religious African Americans, “church family is family” (Marks & Chaney, 2006). Indeed, in addition to its spiritual and religious content, church is a place to establish family-like, fictive kin relationships (cf. Stack, 1974). Such relationships offer social support, but in the parentingcentered context of the present chapter they also provide “many examples [to] learn from,” as Rahim noted. Like Rahim, a middle-aged mother named Dot drew strength and guidance from looking at more mature models of womanhood in her church family. She, like some scholars, refers to these mentoring women as church “mothers.” The mothers of the church, the older women, [s]erve as role models and mentors to the younger mothers, and hopefully older men for the younger men and dads. …[T]he Bible certainly talks about the older mothers of the church serving in this role.

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Although Dot emphasized the influence of older generation on parents, she continued on to make an additional point. [These] other [more mature] people can [also] serve as mentors to the children during difficult times like the terrible twos or the uncertain teen years. [They] serve as [mentors] to fatherless boys or girls, etc. Single parents need a special ministry to assist them during this difficult period!

While other many parents made similar points, none did so more clearly and succinctly than Dot. In sum, the “church family” provides models and mentors not only for parents, but also for their children. In these ways, church involvement may directly impact: (a) parents, and (b) children—in addition to any other less direct influences faith involvement may have on the parent-child relationship.

Additional examples of direct influence on parents include the three that follow: Marshall: On the personal side for me, I’m always getting the word [at church]. My pastor has a way of saying something to enlighten me, [a] Scripture or something on a personal level that will make me feel better about dealing with the next day or the next week. [It] helps me relate with day-to-day things, everything’s so much better, I come home with a better attitude. ... I realize it’s going to be all right, you know? Dwayne: I don’t really have a set way of dealing with stressful times, [but on] Wednesday nights…it seems like my pastor always is going to say something that I need to hear [as a man and father]…as far as, you know, letting some things go and trying to move on. Angela: I [would like to] talk about the [church] women’s group that we, a friend and I…started. That has been such a place of community for lots of women, 10-12 women. It’s a place where they can come and really be able to share, on a personal basis, and learn from each other, and learn from God’s word what direction to go in. So, it’s really been a good thing. [The] connection, it’s a love connection that we have with each other [as sisters, women, and mothers]. The above examples reinforce the influence of the church on parents. The next two focus on child-focused influence. Ben, a father of three, emphasized that in his view: [W]hen you bring your children to church as infants and children and they have Bible study and they go to Sunday school and they learn the Word, it builds that base [for good, strong children]…

Chrishana similarly expressed: [My] kids…I thank God that they were brought up in a good church, [a] Bibleteaching church where they learned the Word of God. I think it kept them on track morally; it kept them out of trouble. I think they really received the Word and acted upon it in their own lives. …I know they’re on the right track, [although] I [still] pray for them

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every day, that they stay on the right track…but, hopefully, the doctrine they learned…they won’t stray.

Noting that “doctrine” and relationships (e.g., models, mentors, “church family”) reportedly impact both parents and children, we conclude this theme by briefly focusing on more programmatic influences of the Black Church on parents. One father of two said: Religious organizations help parents cope with the stresses of life by providing support groups, counseling…education programs, [and] healing classes. [Churches also help by] visiting parents and by [taking up] donations [for those in need during the tough times].

Indeed, several parents emphasized that church support is not just spiritual and social; it is also financial, when that type of assistance is needed. One father stated: [W]hen there’s problems, there’s someone there, especially like financially. There’s someone to help…[w]hen you tend to have these different problems…. [Even] before you get into real trouble…there’s help there. Whereas if you don’t attend church, the help—that particular help—is not there.

While informal gifts and loans from church family frequently occur (for a discussion of knocks of need, see Marks et al., 2006), many Black churches have more formal services available to parents as well. A mother named Monique explained: Our [Brethren’s Church] Credit Union encourages and teaches members about saving on a long-term basis to foster economic empowerment.

Financial services like those described by Monique are vital, but they are but one of a wide array of services provided by some Black Churches. Some churches have specialties such as youth ministry, scouting, seniors programs, health and healing ministries, a prison ministry, schools/academies for children, counseling services, alcohol and drug shelters, and other programs. This extensive programming has been referred to as “the long, strong arm of the Black Church” (Marks & Chaney, 2006), and this arm reaches and influences parents— through direct channels, indirect channels, or both.

Parenting is a Sacred Responsibility: “My Children are God’s Gift to me” A third aspect of religion that was frequently mentioned as a deep influence on the parenting perspectives and practices of those we interviewed was a compound spiritual belief—the belief that parenting is a sacred responsibility, based on the view that children are a “gift” from God. Judith, the 40-year old mother of a 10-year old son and 13-year old daughter confessed: A lot of times when I get home from work, I feel like going to sleep because I am so tired. But, I remember that my children are God’s gift to me [and] I’ve got to cherish that

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Judith’s narrative reflects the power that this “sacred” interpretation of the parent-child relationship has for her (cf. Mahoney et al., 2003; Marks & Dollahite, 2001). Sheila, whose children were adopted, made resonating comments: I always tell [my girls] that they’re a gift from God…. I tell my kids that they’re a gift because God chose me to be their mother, literally. It was the way that it came about. We (my husband and I) were sitting there and we were discussing, "Well, we have been trying all these years [ten years] and we haven’t been able to have any kids, let’s adopt kids.” And Rashaad was like, “Okay, we’re going to pray about it.” We did, … “Lord, give us some kids.” [Now we’ve got three]. I always say that they are a gift, they are special to me. Everybody says, “Man, you treat them just like they are yours.” Well, they are mine! Because I always feel God gave them to me. I just have to do right by Him…they’re so special.

While Sheila, Judith, and many other parents described their child(ren) as “gifts,” the phrases sacred trust or entrusted loan might more accurately capture the sentiment that they and many of the parents seemed to convey. Although several parents referred to their children a “gifts,” many of the parents (like Shariq, next) would also explicitly emphasize that they did not believe that their children belonged to them. Shariq, a father of five, said: [My faith has] taught me that my children are not [truly] my children. They are a gift from God, and He loaned them to me. And that’s a heavy responsibility. He entrusted me…He entrusts me with this loan. …[I] will be held accountable for these things [that I do as a father]. Our job as parents…we must remind ourselves, [is to raise our children for God]…because in this society we are taught that children are yours. But [they are] not yours, they are from the Creator…. [A]s a father and a husband, I’ve got to remind myself that “my” children, they’re only a loan. And I’m trying to do the best I can, [so] I can stand before my Lord after [this life at the Judgment Day]. I [want to be able to] stand before my children and say, “I…did what I said I would do for you. [I] provide[d] for you the best I [could], [I tried to] give you what I [could] give you.”

A mother named Lorraine made a statement that harmonized with Shariq’s: Religiosity puts [family] roots in a spiritual context. Parenting is seen as a “stewardship” activity and parents are actually standing in God’s stead in raising their children because ultimately they are God's children. So parents have a higher context or frame of reference when attending to the principles of parenting.

In our discussion of the Bible as a guide in theme one, it was emphasized that scripture was influential for these parents, in part, because it helped them to attribute meaning to their challenges. The belief that children are a “gift” or “sacred trust” from God seemed to similarly provide a well of meaning in the face of prosaic and sometimes profound challenges that accompany parenthood. Perhaps no couple captured this more richly than Joseph and Katrina, the parents of five children (including a daughter with special needs who passed away before adulthood).

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Joseph: [Charity, our special needs] daughter, [she] was a gift from God. That was a special little girl, [although] I think that was probably the biggest challenge that I’ve ever faced. There’s a lot of prayer and a lot of searching your heart, a lot of questions that were not answered through medical situations that firmly convinced me that God was [in] control of everything and that we would have to not give up and to see where this takes us as a family…. It completely changed my life completely around. It’s made me humble. It’s made me face reality in a major way. It has allowed me to reach out to other people, through her. What I’ve seen in her eyes, it really motivated me to be able to see kids in a different manner. …[It] certainly kept my feet on the ground. It was a major challenge, [but she was a gift]. Katrina: I’d say the same thing, [that Charity was a gift from God]. [She] really changed me and changed my life. She was a challenge. [But] it was a good thing. [The experience] taught me how to accept people, regardless of who they are, unconditionally. It also showed me that I could rise to the occasion, and how much life is a sacrifice. You can go much further than what you think you can go. You can do much more than what you think you can do. It was a challenge, but in the midst of all the ups and downs, there was still joy and there was still love. It really did teach me a lot of things [about] how life truly is, and how through all of that, you can live above your circumstances, if you truly depend upon God, [and] truly trust God for everything. Based on the insights of Joseph, Katrina, and others, it seems that the complex, challenging, and rewarding experience of serving as a parent constitutes an additional portion of God’s “gift” to mothers and fathers. A mother named Felicia offered a related reflection: God doesn’t have any grandchildren, [we are all His children]. [Even my own family], those are not [truly] my folks. You know, they’re all His children. …[M]y thing is to treasure Adrienne (my daughter), as a gift…but also to hold [her] lightly…at some point you have to let them go. [We must] treasure [our children], but hold [them] lightly. And that’s enough for me to do. So, I keep my relationship right with God, and treasure this gift; but [I] know that [she] is God’s child, not mine.

Felicia’s reflection calls to mind the words of The Prophet, by the Lebanese philosopher and poet Gibran (1951): Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself…

In concluding our discussion of this third theme, it is vital to note that the compound spiritual belief that parenting is a sacred responsibility and that children are a gift from God is powerful—not simply because this belief is poetic, but because this belief reportedly changed parenting behavior. This sacred view of children and parenting reportedly motivated Judith to listen to her children at the end of a long day instead of “crashing,” it kept Shariq focused on standing without shame on Judgment Day and making an accounting of his heartfelt efforts as a father, and it helped Joseph and Katrina to frame their harrowing experience—raising a daughter with special needs only to lose her to death—as a gift and a blessing. Indeed, in these narratives we learn much about how faith influences parents.

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This study was driven by the question, “How does religion and religious involvement influence African Americans as parents?” In summary, this paper indicates that religiosity supports African American parents in a number of ways. Three of those reasons (the recurrent themes highlighted in this paper) include: (a) The Bible as a Guide to Parenting: “Go to the Bible to Help You”; (b) Church as a Provider of Programs, Models, and Mentors: “This Helps Me…”; and (c) Parenting is a Sacred Responsibility: “My Children are God’s Gift to Me.” Next, we discuss some implications and applications of what we learned from our participants.

Implications for Clinical Practice, Education/Outreach, and Research In this section, implications for: a) clinical practice, b) education and outreach, and c) research will be discussed, respectively.

Implications for Clinical Practice A key finding of this study is that for these highly religious African American families, religious involvement impacts parenting in a number of ways. One implication of this finding is that if a clinician is to comprehensively or perhaps even adequately understand the family perspectives and practices of a faith-focused individual or family, he or she should not ignore the influence(s) of religious involvement (Dollahite et al., 2002). One way to gently open the door may be to ask early on whether there are any religious beliefs or practices that are important to the individual, couple, or family of which they would like to make you aware. A participant (marriage and family therapist) in a recent study of clinicians pointed out, While I have heard therapists say that religion and spirituality should only be talked about if the client opens the door by raising the issue, I am concerned about the effect of what we don’t say as therapists. If we don’t at least let clients know that we are willing to talk about their spiritual lives if they feel it would be helpful to therapy, then what we don’t say is in effect telling them that it is not ok to talk about these things (Carlson et al., 2002, p. 168).

If a client accepts an invitation to explain a personally meaningful and influential religious belief or practice, however, the therapist is on sacred ground that must be respectfully negotiated. Following the client’s comments, it may be appropriate to express appreciation for the insight offered before moving back to the clinical ground where the therapist has been trained. While clients may unwittingly move back and forth from sacred to clinical ground, clinicians need to be ever aware of both the ground on which they are standing and their licensed jurisdiction (Marks, 2004).

Implications for Education and Outreach Educators in both university settings and less formal outreach settings should be mindful of the body of research indicating the (largely positive but sometimes negative) influence of religion on individuals and families (Dollahite et al., 2004; Koenig et al., 2001). In offering

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parenting skills education, for example, family life educators should recognize spirituality and religion as important and prevalent resources in aiding individual and family resilience, as long as counter-productive “red flags” are avoided (e.g., framing a tragedy as “God’s punishment”; cf. Pargament, 1997). When trying to reach individuals or families, family life educators should carefully consider community churches as a possible venue for dissemination of information. The family’s place of worship is viewed as a comfortable and safe place to participate in educational programs. Further, individuals and families are likely to be more receptive to research-based ideas if support for such changes is implicitly or visibly supported by community principals such as religious leaders (Horn, 2001).

Implications for future Research A rigorous meta-analysis of research linking religion with marriage and parenting during the 1980s and 1990s found that 83% of the studies relied on one or two items to assess family members’ religiosity (Mahoney et al., 2001). The field’s conceptual depth of religion must increase dramatically if we are to adequately capture this complex and sometimes central aspect of personal and family life. Depth-focused studies of religion and family life are likely to uncover other insights that will move the field beyond the one- and two-item studies of the past to a more sophisticated understanding of how and why religion profoundly influences many American families, including African American families like those in this study.

CONCLUSION The evidence we provide in this chapter indicates that involvement in the Black Church is beneficial for many African Americans, but this evidence is not a novel contribution. Many scholars have previously highlighted the positive correlates of religious involvement in the general population (for reviews, see Dollahite et al., 2004; Koenig et al., 2001), and specifically among African Americans (for a review, see Taylor et al., 2004). However, most available studies do not delineate the processes involved. The defining contribution of this study is that it presents insiders’ reports regarding how their faith and church involvement sustain them as African American parents. To restate, those key supports include the guidance of the Bible, the rich and multi-faceted programs of the Black Church, and the belief that children are actually God’s children and that parenting them is a sacred responsibility. Through these supports of scripture, structure, and sacred belief, these parents are reportedly in a better position to “train up a child in the way he should go” so that “when he is old, he will not depart from it.”

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REFERENCES Ball, J., Armistead, L., & Austin, B. (2003). The relationship between religiosity and adjustment among African-American, female, urban adolescents. Journal of Adolescence, 26, 431-446. Berger, P.L. (1967). The social reality of religion. London: Farber and Farber. Brodsky, A. E. & DeVet, K. A. (2000). “You have to be real strong”: Parenting goals and strategies of resilient, urban, African American, single mothers. Journal of Prevention & Intervention in the Community, 20, 159-178. Carlson, T. D., Kirkpatrick, D., Hecker, L., & Killmer, M. (2002). Religion, spirituality, and marriage and family therapy: A study of family therapists’ beliefs about the appropriateness of addressing religious and spiritual issues in therapy. The American Journal of Family Therapy, 30, 157-171. Chatters, L. M., & Taylor, R. J. (1994). Religious involvement among older AfricanAmericans. In J. S. Levin (Ed.), Religion in aging and health: Theoretical foundations and methodological frontiers (pp. 196-230). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Dollahite, D. C., Marks, L. D., & Goodman, M. (2004). Religiosity and families: Relational and spiritual linkages in a diverse and dynamic cultural context. In M. J. Coleman & L. H. Ganong (Eds.), The handbook of contemporary families (pp. 411-431). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Dollahite, D. C., Marks, L. D., & Olson, M. M. (2002). Fathering, faith, and family therapy: Generative narrative therapy with religious fathers. Journal of Family Psychotherapy, 13, 263-294. [published simultaneously in T. D. Carlson & M. J. Erickson (Eds.), Spirituality and Family Therapy (pp. 259-290). New York: Haworth.] Edelman, M. (1987). Families in peril: An agenda for social change. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Ellison, C. G. (1997). Religious involvement and the subjective quality of family life among African Americans. In R.J. Taylor, J. S. Jackson, & L.M. Chatters (Eds.), Family Life in Black America (pp. 117-131). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Gibran, K. (1951). The prophet. New York: Knopf. Giddens, A. (1990). The consequences of modernity. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Haight, W.L. (1998). “Gathering the spirit” at First Baptist Church: Spirituality as a protective factor in the lives of African American children. Social Work, 43, 213-222. Horn, W. F. (2001). Turning the hearts of the fathers: Promoting fatherhood through faith. In J. Fagan & A. J. Hawkins (Eds.), Clinical and educational interventions with fathers. New York: Haworth. Hummer, R., Rogers, R., Nam, C., & Ellison, C. G. (1999). Religious involvement and U.S. adult mortality. Demography, 36, 273-285. Koenig, H. G., McCollough, M. E., & Larson, D. B. (Eds.) (2001). Handbook of religion and health. New York: Oxford University Press. Lincoln, C.E. & Mamiya, L.H. (1990). The black church in the African American experience. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Mahoney, A., Pargament, K. I., Murray-Swank, A., & Murray-Swank, N. (2003). Religion and the sanctification of family relationships. Review of Religious Research, 44, 220-236.

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Mahoney, A., Pargament, K. I., Tarakeshwar, N., & Swank, A. B. (2001). Religion in the home in the 1980s and 90s: A meta-analytic review and conceptual analyses of links between religion, marriage and parenting. Journal of Family Psychology, 15, 559-596. Marks, L. D. (2004). Sacred practices in highly religious families: Christian, Jewish, Mormon, and Muslim perspectives. Family Process, 43, 217-231. Marks, L. D., & Chaney, C. (2006). Faith communities and African American families: A qualitative look at why the black church matters. In S. D. Ambrose (Ed.), Religion and psychology: New research (pp. 277-294). Hauppauge, NY: Nova Science. Marks, L. D., & Dollahite, D. C. (2001). Religion, relationships, and responsible fathering in Latter-day Saint families of children with special needs. Journal of Social and Personal Relationships, 18, 625-650. Marks, L. D., Nesteruk, O., Swanson, M., Garrison, M. E. B., & Davis, T. (2005). Religion and health among African Americans: A qualitative examination. Research on Aging, 27, 447-474. Marks, L. D., Swanson, M., Nesteruk, O., & Hopkins-Williams, K. (2006). Stressors in African American marriages and families: A qualitative study. Stress, Trauma, and Crisis: An International Journal, 9, 203-225. McAdoo, H. P. (1995). Stress levels, family help patterns, and religiosity in middle- and working-class African American single mothers. Journal of Black Psychology, 21, 424449. Miller, W. R., & Thoresen, C. E. (2003). Spirituality, religion, and health: An emerging research field. American Psychologist, 58, 24-35. Mosely-Howard, G. S, & Evans, C.B. (January 2000). Relationships and contemporary experiences of the African American family: An ethnographic case study. Journal of Black Studies, 30, 428-452. Pargament, K.I. (1997). The psychology of religion and coping: Theory, research, and practice. New York: Guilford Press. Roof, W.C., & McKinney, W. (1987). American mainline religion. Rutgers University Press. Stack, C. B. (1974). All our kin: Strategies for survival in a Black community. New York: Harper and Row. Strauss, A., & Corbin, J. (1990). Basics of Qualitative Research: Grounded Theory, Procedures, and Techniques. Newbury Park, CA: Sage Publications. Strayhorn, J. M., Weidman, C. S., & Larson, D. (1990). A measure of religiousness, and its relation to parent and child mental health variables. Journal of Community Psychology, 18, 34-43. Taylor, R., Jackson, J.S., & Chatters, L. (1997). Family life in black America. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications, Inc. Taylor, R., & Chatters, L. (1991). Religious life. In J.S. Jackson (Ed), Life in black America, (pp. 105-123). Newbury Park, CA: Sage. Taylor, R.J. (1988). Structural determinants of religious participation among black Americans. Review of Religious Research, 30, 114-125. Taylor, R. J., & Chatters, L. M. (1988). Church members as a source of informal social support. Review of Religious Research, 30, 193-203. Taylor, R., Chatters, L., & Jackson, J. (Eds.). (1997). Family life in black America. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

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Taylor, R., Chatters, L., & Levin, J. (Eds.). (2004). Religion in the lives of African Americans: Social, psychological, and health perspectives. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Wilcox, W. B. (2002). Religion, convention, and parental involvement. Journal of Marriage and Family, 64, 780-792. Wiley, A., Warren, H. & Montanelli, D. S. (2002). Shelter in a time of storm: Parenting in two poor, rural African American communities. Family Relations, 51, 265-273. Wind, J. P., & Lewis, J. W. (1994). American congregations (Volume 1): Portraits of twelve religious communities. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Young, V. H. (1970). Family and childhood in a southern Negro community. American Anthropologist, 72, 269-288.

In: Religion and Psychology: New Research Editor: Joan C. Upton

ISBN: 1-60021-672-2 © 2008 Nova Science Publishers, Inc.

Chapter 7

RELIGION AND THE PSYCHOLOGY OF GAMBLING IN CHINA AND THE U.S. Henry N. Pontell and Gilbert Geis Department of Criminology, Law and Society University of California at Irvine, Irvine, CA, USA

ABSTRACT Historical and contemporary writings have noted different propensities for gambling between Chinese and western culture. Much of this literature points to the notion that religion may be a major factor that accounts for such differences. This paper examines the notion that fundamental religious doctrines in China and the U.S. play a significant underlying role in the psychological attraction of gambling in each society. Using Weber’s work on the role of the Protestant ethic in the development of capitalism and social control, we argue that these forces provided strong proscriptions against gambling in the U.S., while similar controls were absent in Chinese religious doctrine. Moreover, we argue that gambling and religion have many common features making it difficult at times to easily separate them into what is usually considered to be the antithetical realms of the secular and the sacred. Our review of historical materials, ethnographic reports, and contemporary survey data, leads to the conclusion that the absence of divine commands and strictures concerning gambling are likely to play a prominent part in the relatively high rates of such behavior in China compared to those in the United States.

INTRODUCTION It may have been merely coincidence that Alexander Murray, a 21-year-old lieutenant with the Grenadier Company of the 18th Royal Irish during the 1841 recapture of Chusan in the first Opium War, writing about his experiences in China, that “singular and heretofore almost unknown country” (Hayes 1999), offered appraisals of religion and of gambling there within only a few pages of each other. Of religion, Murray had this to say: The Chinese, as far as we had any opportunity of judging, seem totally devoid of all religious feeling. The temples appear never to be resorted to; it was, indeed, a rare thing

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A few pages on, Murray comments on what he saw as the ubiquitous presence of gambling. “From the youngest to the oldest in China,” he wrote, “all seem to have a propensity for gambling; dice, cards, and dominoes being found in almost every home.” (Murray 1843:218; see generally Holt 1964). Another visitor to China adds his story to the very long roster of similar reports, noting that in the late 1800s although the vessel in which he was traveling had the current with it, it took them an unconscionably long time to reach the seaport of Ta-koo because the sailors “were fonder of gambling than of working the junk” (Gützloff 1933:300). Similarly, in 1897 the Reverend James S. Dennis wrote that “China seems to lead the van of the gambling world. The indulgence of the Chinese,” Dennis went on to say, “is immemorial and inveterate; in fact, it is justly regarded as the most prominent vice in China, its only rival being the opium habit (Dennis 1897:85). For contemporary times, Lucian Pye, an eminent scholar of Asian culture, points out that except possibly for when Buddhism was first introduced [see generally Chen, 1965] in the Tang period of 617 to 917, China has never had an organized religion that was institutionally capable of replicating state authority such as existed in Christian, Muslim, Hindu, or Buddhist societies (Pye 1985; 1991:144). Proof of part of this observation can be found M. M. Kaye’s autobiographical description of the Hindu festival of Diwali, that (1999:201) features “playing games of chance; since not to gamble is inauspicious” (1999:201). Max Weber notes more generally of Buddhism, as practiced in China: “Anything corresponding to the cure of souls was absent” and that “[m]oreover. There was not a trace of ‘church discipline,’ which meant in turn that the means for a religious control of life were lacking” (Weber 1965:224). And, as we shall argue here, absent religious taboos or injunctions, the state generally is ineffectual in checking gambling, in part because it is not so heinous a behavior as to deflect enforcement resources from more serious concerns. Gamblers are very likely to be active unless they are persuaded that gambling is morally offensive or, perhaps, not economically cost-effective behavior. Observations similar to Lieutenant Murray’s were recorded five years short of a century later by Chinese who declared that religious practices in their country are seen as quaint at best, and at worst as wasteful and oppressive, and that a smokescreen of incense burning at the temples often was used to cover up gambling (Cochran, Hsieh and Cochran 1983). These declarations suggest a possible relationship between religion and the gambling habits of the Chinese in earlier times and today. The issue, however, is fraught with interpretative labyrinths and cul-de-sacs. In his classic contribution to economic sociology, Max Weber maintained that the doctrines of Protestantism were the key ingredient that led to and legitimated capitalism. Weber sought to make his case by scrutiny of the Protestant ethos as compared to the teachings of competing faiths and the by examination of the fit between Protestantism and capitalistic arrangements for the pursuit of wealth (Weber 1930; see also Swados and Lutz 2005; Chalcraft and Harrington 2001). Gambling subverted both the Protestant Ethic and capitalism, particularly the belief that human beings should prosper and enjoy the good life only by means of their own effort (or that of their forebears from whom

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they have inherited wealth). In 1674, this view had surfaced in the Virginia colony as a legal mandate that decreed that only the gentry could race horses and bet on the outcome: James Bullocke, a Taylor, having made a race for his mare to run with a horse belonging to Mr. Matthew Slader for 2,000 pounds of tobacco and caske, it being contrary to the Law for a Laborer to make a race, being only a sport for Gentleman, is fined for the same 100 pounds of tobacco and caske (Chavetz 1960:12).

Slader is identified with the honorific “Mr.,” while Bullocke by his occupation, a social distinction that signifies that he improperly had taken part in a matter best left to his betters. There is irony in this event, however, for it turns out that the Bullocke-Slader race was fixed by the “Gentleman,” who was sentenced to stand in the stocks for an hour as an example to potential wrongdoers (Robertson 1964:8-9). Today, Weber’s theme has taken some hard hits, primarily from the Cambridge University social anthropologist Alan Macfarlane who documented the existence of practices in Catholic England that reasonably could be regarded as capitalism and that were in place well before the Protestant Reformation (Macfarlane 1987). These revisionist claims further suggest that it may indeed be difficult to closely link elements of Chinese religion to the undoubted partiality toward gambling that exists among Chinese people. In addition, the analytical task becomes that much more treacherous since our aim is to try to determine if and, if so, how gambling might be influenced not by religious principles and practices but by their absence. That is, the co-existence of two conditions such as a tolerant, indifferent religious theological position regarding gambling and a large amount of the behavior does not necessarily mean that the two circumstances bear one upon another. And even if there is some apparent causal connection, the process by which this occurs is likely to entail much more than simply the presence or absence of a single factor. Asceticism may be the cultural order of the day without any formal religious underpinning. And other factors, such as a strong social emphasis on luck, an inclination among people’s to take risks, or the strong appeal of an opportunity to break out of a fixed financial state may, among other matters, play into the existence and popularity of gambling in any particular culture. Popular opinion sometimes has it that religious doctrines that seek to eliminate gambling from social life do so because the two realms, the sacred and the secular, are so antipathetic. But in fact gambling and religion share significant characteristics and the competitive success of one may necessarily come at the expense of the other. As Per Binde (2007) notes, gambling and religion both deal with the unknown, mystery, and fate, as well as with imagery of suddenly being blessed by something of value that alters life for the better. Binde suggests that gambling is in concord with religion in traditional cultures that are marked by polytheistic and animistic beliefs because what they have in common proves to be functional. The two practices intermesh; gambling and religion both are associated with worship and mythology. In monotheistic societies, he observes, since religious leaders claim a monopolistic authority in transcendental matters and in communication with the divine, gambling becomes defined as a wicked, sinful pursuit, and the shared elements of gambling and religion are likely to become a source of conflict (Binde 2007). Nonetheless, the possibility of rapprochement between the two realms can exist, as it was found that a third of those had who won large prizes in American lotteries declared that their success was the product of divine intervention (Kaplan 1978).

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THE AMERICAN COLONIES AND THE UNITED STATES The word gambling is derived from the Middle English gamen, which means to amuse oneself. But Christianity was not at all amused by this idea of amusement. From its beginnings, Christianity has been critical of gambling. This view eased somewhat after the Reformation when the Catholic church gradually replaced its earlier stance with the position that it was only “excessive” gambling that offended God’s will, but Protestant denominations, particular those favoring fundamentalist beliefs, persistently have expressed strong opposition to gambling (Ozment 1992). In the New England colonies, the fire and brimstone preacher Cotton Mather, saw gambling as an attempt by mere humans to render unto themselves powers that were God’s alone. If dire circumstances necessitated reliance on the drawing of lots, it was to be understood that the result was a divine decision: …lots, being mentioned in the sacred oracles of Scripture are used only in weighty cases, and as an acknowledgement of God sitting in judgment, with a desire of his power and provident to be manifested. They cannot be made the tools and parts of our common sports, without, at least, such an appearance of evil, as is forbidden in the word of God (Mather 1852/1702:263).

Choosing by lots represents gambling at its “purest.” The odds are even for all participants, presuming there is no sponsor siphoning off a share. The objection of Mather and other hard-line theologians had to overcome the awkward fact that there is no specific prohibition against gambling in the Bible. The ministers relied on analogies to sanctions against idolatry, fortune-telling, and materialism (Boone 1980). Lotteries are mentioned without disapproval in 70 instances in the Old Testament and seven more in the New Testament, In the latter, we have two candidates casting lots to allow God to reach the decision that Matthia ben Judah, a Bethlehem shepherd and longtime friend of Jesus, should be the one to replace Judas Iscariot in the ranks of the apostles (Acts 1:26) Later, Jesus’s garments were distributed among four Roman soldiers participating in the crucifixion by the drawing of lots (Luke 23:34; Farrar 1880:349). Perhaps this act by nonbelievers at so awful a moment in Christian eschatology contributed to the subsequent theological unease regarding lotteries. The core element in Christian theologians’ view of lots abides in the conviction that in uncertain matters of significance the casting of lots allows divine judgment to offer the proper solution. In addition, it was a priest, prophet, or apostle, or other representative of God on earth, who was authorized to conduct a lottery; it was not an action permissible for common folk. Nonetheless, when faced with the need to make an awful choice common folk have resorted to lots, presumably because of their religious connotation and the hope that the results would be morally and legally excusable. One such incident involves the whaler Essex working out of New England. In1820 it was rammed and sunk by a sperm whale. Eight of the twenty crew members survived in small boats that in 93 days sailed 5,000 nautical miles in the Pacific Ocean before being rescued. When the supply of hardtack had run out, the men ate the flesh of those who had died and when that source ended they drew lots to determine who among them would be killed so that the others might live. When the survivors were rescued

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there were no reprimands from the largely devout Quaker community in which they lived. Divine law had taken second place to the law of survival (Philbrick 2000). The early restrictions against gambling in the United States have also run an erratic later course. At first, lotteries were countenanced, but scandals coalesced with religious objections to bring them to an end in the 1880s and for many decades thereafter gambling was regarded as a sinful and corrupt enterprise (McGowan, 1994). Then, beginning with New Hampshire in 1964, virtually all the states inaugurated lotteries, and many joined Nevada, which had legalized gambling in 1931, by licensing casino and other forms of gambling enterprises. This development went hand in hand with the secularization of American society. Although only two percent of Americans report that they do not believe in God, the intensity of that conviction and the adherence of communicants to the letter of doctrinal tenets have abated dramatically in America since colonial times. Nonetheless, the continuing, albeit decreased influence of religion on gambling policy was indicated by Stephen J. Carter, a Yale Law School professor, who notes that voters in Alabama, one of the nation’s poorest states, recently resoundingly defeated a referendum that would have created a state lottery. Preachers had inveighed against the lottery from pulpits throughout the state. Carter offers the following pointed observation on what had been involved in the Alabama vote: When the religionists’ voice triumphed, supporters [of the lottery measure] retreated into sour grapes: “There were the religionists imposing their fanatical opinions on everybody else.” Of course, the argument cuts both ways. Another view might be that the fanatical lottery backers were trying to impose their opinions on everybody else. It was not enough for supporters to answer that nobody is forced to play. Available choices are not simply available choices. A culture defines itself in large measure by what it chooses to make available. It is not at all fanciful for religious parents (or, for that matter, nonreligious parents) to suppose that it will be harder to raise good (disciplined, unselfish, thoughtful) children in a state that encourages its citizens to gamble (and to make very bad bets at that) than in one that abstains form such an assault on the will (Carter 2000, 98-99).

The relationship between religion and gambling has been demonstrated in studies by Donald Lam (2006) and by John Hoffman (2000) who analyzed the results of a telephone survey of 2,947 adults conducted by the National Gaming Impact Study Commission (1999). The survey measured religiosity in terms of the frequency of participation in religious services (public religiosity) and respondents’ statements regarding the importance of faith in their lives (private religiosity). The verbal commitment to religion among Americans can be seen in regard to the 68 percent of the respondents who indicated that faith was “very important to them” compared to the responses for “not so important” (6 percent) and “not at all important” (3.8 percent). The large plurality (36 percent) indicated that they attended religious services at least once a week. Gambling behavior was assessed over the person’s life span and in regard to four types of wagering: casino gambling, racing or track betting, lottery, and bingo. The studies found a statistically significant negative relationship between gambling and religiosity; the more types of gambling engaged in, the lower the religious association of the gambler. The only counterintuitive finding was that lottery gamblers more than nonparticipants viewed their faith as an important part of their lives. Lam (2006:316) offers a rather simplistic explanation for this result, “that lottery gamblers could be relying on their

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faith to help them win lottery.” Hoffman (2000:491), for his part, points out that gambling and religion are “substitutable” practices in the sense that both compete for a supplicant’s time and money. It seems likely, for instance, that the Catholic Church’s reliance on bingo games for fund raising has tempered some communicants’ disapproval of lotteries. The remaining, quite sparse research literature considering gambling and religion includes a study by Desmond Brown and two colleague that found, predictably, that Catholics were more likely than Protestants to favor legislation endorsing gambling (Brown, Roseman and Ham 2003), while a telephone survey by Christopher Ellison and Kathleen Nybroten’s (1999) of 823 Texas residents confirmed their hypothesis that persons who participate in religious services most frequently, in their case members of conservative Protestant denominations, were more likely to oppose a state-sponsored lottery. These respondents also were very likely to profess a belief in the inerrancy of the Bible. The positive correlation between religious participation and anti-gambling behavior was also supported by Joseph Diaz (2000) in his telephone survey of 513 Las Vegas residents. His results, however, differed from those of Binde by finding a positive relationship between the importance of religion to the respondent and its influence on the extent of gambling. Diaz also found a sharp distinction within denominations in regard to gambling: only 6 percent of the Mormons, who make up a large portion of Las Vegas residents, reported daily gambling compared to 33 percent of the Catholics. Interestingly, the only two state jurisdictions that have a total ban against gambling are Utah and Hawaii. This odd coupling reflects the strong Mormon influence in Utah and, the likelihood that Hawaii residents, with the largest Asian population among the fifty states, is concerned that to allow gambling might result in serious social and economic dislocations in the islands. Hawaii does permit “social” gambling, the key element of which is that no person receives anything of value except his or her personal winnings. Despite these laws, illegal gambling is believed to be widespread in Hawaii. Binde (2007) identified four major themes forming the basis for the Christian critique of gambling. The first is that it is a function of greed; the second that gambling is a demonic enterprise, a position that is said to go back at least as far as the writings of St. Augustine in the fourth century. At the heart of this disapproval lies the idea that an omnipotent God configured an orderly world in which luck and chance had no part. Gambling, based on a failure to recognize the divine plan, inevitably produces personal disaster. John Northbrooke, a Puritan clergyman writing in the mid-1500s, declared that gambling results in an awesome laundry list of ills: theft, murder, whoring, swearing, blasphemy, lying, brawling, fighting, prodigality, night-watching, idleness, beggary, poverty, imprisonment, hanging—not to mention a final “etc.” (Northbrooke (1577:119). Gambling, however, was but one of Northbrooke’s bugaboos: his greatest crusades were against the theater and dancing. Of the latter he observed that “through dancing many maidens have been unmaidened.” (Northbrooke 1577:46). A reader today can readily agree with the judgment of the Cambridge History of English Literature that Northbrooke was “quaint, simple-minded, and longwinded” (Ward and Walter 1900:436).

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CHINESE RELIGION AND GAMBLING Prayers to gambling gods are part of a traditional Chinese practice (Harrell 1974:201) that persists both at home and in overseas Chinese communities such as those in Malaysia (Nonini 1979). The theological doctrine on gambling in both pre-Communist China and postrevolutionary China differed significantly and importantly from that of Christian societies. Binde (2007:151) notes: “Chinese religion…can briefly be described as a composite of ancestor worship, devotion to local deities, the philosophical and moral teachings of Confucianism and Taoism, and belief in fate.” Its teachings acknowledge a multitude of deities and sprits and it is tolerant of religious innovations. Notably there is no drive to monopolize interpretations of divine approval and divine disapprobation of human activities. At best, Confucianism posits a moral ambiguity regarding gambling. After Confucius death in 479 B.C.E., his disciples recollecting conversations with him published two of his views on gambling: first, that gentleman should not engage in it because it was morally bad, but second, that gambling was preferable to laziness and inactivity. This is hardly a powerful interdiction of wagering. Gambling has deep roots in China, and its practice may well have originated there. Reports indicate that keno was prevalent in China more than 3,000 years ago. Blackjack and poker are also believed by some scholars to have originated in China. Donald Lam reports that historical sources trace the origin of such games of chance in China to the Xia dynasty which was in place from 2000 to 1500 B.C.E. During the period of the Middle Kingdom, about 1000 B.C.E., Samuel Williams offers the following observations, likely exaggerated, but equally likely containing a grain of near-truth: Gambling in China is universal. Hucksters at the roadside are provided with cups and saucers, and the clicking of dice is heard at every corner. …Gambling houses are kept open by scores by paying bribes to the officers (Williams, 1899:Vol. I, 825).

More than a millennium later improved economic conditions had fed into an increase in gambling, first in the cities and thereafter spreading to the rural areas. By the time of the Han rule (206 B.C.E. to A.D. 330) gambling for entertainment had become a fixture in the fabric of Chinese life, particularly among officials in the imperial regime, whose over-indulgence at times led to punishment by the state. The essayist Wang Fu in the second century criticized what he saw as the indulgence of the idle rich in Luoyang, one of the four great early capitals of China, noting that gambling was one of their major vices (Loewe 1962:145; see generally Kinney 1990). Organizations were formed during the Tang dynasty (618-907) that provided a venue for heavy gambling. In time, some Chinese began to engage in gambling as a livelihood and inevitably developed ruses to increase their likelihood of winning. In the twelfth century a domino game called xuan he pei became popular. It, along with ma diao pei, which was invented about a century later, formed the basis for mah jong. Over the centuries, gambling cut across social classes in China. During the late Ming period a “typical comment” was said to be: “If there are sons of the sleek and fat, then they gather to wager their bag and baggage’ (Wakeman 1985:96). A treatise on thirteenth-century China indicated that gambling for money was “the favorite amusement of the lower classes, in spite of official prohibition” (Gernet, 1962:226). Freceric Wakeman (1985:267) adds: “As

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of the late sixteenth century, Beijing was characterized by having thousands of beggars who lived from hand to mouth, often gambling at dice for a living.” Finally, there is the hyperbolic observation of the Empire period that “in China, gambling is prohibited and yet it is carried on everywhere with unparalleled passion. China is, in fact, a vast gaming house…They play day and night until they have lost all they have and then they usually hang themselves” (Huc, 1855: 146).). Thereafter, and up to the present time, gambling has played a prominent role in Chinese life, despite the fact that in 1886 the government banned lotteries, equating them with robbery and prostitution. But, almost inevitably, as in the United States, officials have come to see gambling venues as an attractive source of state revenue. Gambling has been particularly prominent in the coastal regions of China and in time became infested with organized crime triads who also were involved in the smuggling of opium. Shanghai has long been a stronghold of gambling. In 1842, when the city was occupied by the British, a local writer noted that there was a group of beggars who lived near him in a temple inside the walled city and that they used a pavilion attached to the temple for incessant gambling activities (Lu 1999:11). Writing in 1890, a Chinese scholar indicated that gambling was carried on by organized groups and “constitutes the principal occupation of the people who comprise the Chinese quarter of eastern cities” (Culin 1890: 196). Wakeman (1995:23) maintains that “[d]uring the late 1920s and early 1930s, commercialized gambling in Shanghai existed on a larger scale than any other city in the world.” In the period of the SinoJapanese war (1937-1940) gambling was legalized in the parts of Shanghai that were occupied by the Japanese and also flourished in the city’s Treaty Ports and International Settlements. Following the war there was an attempt, largely unsuccessful, to crack down on gambling. Official prohibition also has marked the Communist regime that came into power in 1949 and outlawed six behaviors, which, interestingly, were identified as “sins,” a roster that included prostitution, slavery, kidnapping, pornography, gambling, and “feudal superstition.” The crusade against these activities reached a near hysterical peak during the Cultural Revolution with an alleged 1,700 persons who were involved in “street games,” such as dice, pools, and cards, arrested each day. But slowly the bans were lightened and gambling tolerated. The first major breakthrough came with the introduction of a lottery system in 1987. Initially, winning numbers were drawn, but the overwhelming number of participants led to a “scratch and win” format in which buyers know the result on the spot. These lotteries are promoted by heavy advertising (Hunter 2001:146; China Contact 2002:2). Government-sanctioned lotteries are available today in 95 percent China’s communities with an annual intake in 2006 of nearly US $20 billion (Lam 2006: 306). Income from lotteries most prominently is earmarked for expenditures on welfare endeavors which reap thirty percent of the sums realized. Wagering is also associated with a panoply of activities, including Pai Gow, Fan Tan, and Sic Bo. Authoritative reports indicate that gambling is now viewed favorably by most Chinese and regarded as a national pastime. It is estimates that China has upward of fifty major gambling casinos in urban areas that operate illegally, but with police protection (China Contact 2002:11). Surveys indicate that the most prominent lottery players in China, unlike in western societies, are professionals: teachers, doctors, and technical workers, followed by officers workers and retired persons (China Contact 2002: 26). In rural settings, one writer reports, gambling “had become a way of life” in part because “the games are the only source of excitement in the village” (Watson, 1875:168).

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An observation that is repeated by numerous other writers refers to the gambling proclivities of the Chinese and other Asians. …the Asians are among the world’s best gamblers. They seem to enjoy gambling more than other peoples. Casinos around the world rely heavily upon the patronage they receive from players of Asian heritage. It has been asserted that over half of the money gambled in England’s 120 casinos comes from the pockets of Chinese players….The card rooms of California are filled with Asian Americans (Thompson, 1998:20).

To this can be added a report from Shanghai by an American foreign correspondent: In the evening, after folks have emptied their rice bowls and put down their chopsticks, the criminal instincts overwhelm the most unlikely people—high school students, white-haired old women, even longtime Communist party members. As by compulsion, someone locks the door and they prepare for an evening of law-breaking. It is mah-jong time (Kristof, 1992:16).

Like virtually all commentators, Kristof describes what occurs but offers only the off-thecuff interpretation that the behavior seems to be a “compulsion.” If so, why do the Chinese and many other Asian groups have this compulsion? There is no answer that can be proven by experimental means; we offer a hypothesis that associates gambling with both the nature of doctrinal religion and religious practice in China.

ETHNOGRAHIC REPORTS Emily Basu carried out a participant-observer study of the Dhapa community of Hakka Chinese (see generally Constable 1996) who had migrated to Calcutta where they operated and worked in tanneries, an activity otherwise restricted to Muslims and Indian untouchables, the latter of whose occupational woes have been vividly portrayed in fictional form by Rohinton Mistry (1995:95-115; for a vivid depiction of the ugliness of an Indian tannery see Seth 1993:200-203). Basu seeks to understand the strong attachment to gambling—“Calcutta entrepreneurs are inveterate gamblers” (Basu1991:234) -- in a group that otherwise is dedicated to scrimping, saving, and reinvestment in order to try to prosper financially. She notes that this behavioral contradiction between thrift and gambling has often been reported but that “few scholars have attempted to explain this long-lasting appeal of gambling within Chinese culture (Basu 1991:232). In the end, Basu too, like those she finds negligent in terms of causal interpretations, also sidesteps this issue and relies on descriptive portrayals of gambling within her study population rather than etiological inferences regarding the underlying explanatory mechanisms. She points out that first and foremost, gambling is a mainstay of large celebrations. Weddings, for instance, are preceded by a full night of mah-jong that continues the following day before and after the wedding feast. Here we see a strong distinction between the American situation and Chinese practice. Weddings typically are religious rites in American society, and they may involve hi-jinks of a bachelor party the night before the event, but it would be regarded as unacceptable, bordering on sacrilege, to engage in a continuous gambling enterprise in connection with a marriage ceremony.

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Max Weber sought to complement his analysis of the relationship between the emergence of the Protestant Ethic and capitalism by examining the role that Confucianism and Taoism played in China in inhibiting the development of capitalism. Weber was no Sinologist and the sources available when he was writing were a good deal less comprehensive than those available today (Hamilton 1984; van der Sprenkel 961). In addition, of course, capitalism and gambling do not necessarily go hand in hand. There are numerous pre-literate societies in which gambling is ubiquitous. Nonetheless, for our purposes, Weber’s work is significant for its pinpointing themes in Chinese theology that appear to be relevant to our review of the role of religion in gambling behavior. There is no specific mention of gambling in Weber’s monograph, but his thesis, as summarized by C. K. Yang, is that “China’s failure to develop rational bourgeois capitalism was owing mainly to the character of a particular kind of religious ethic as the needed motivating force” (Yang `1951:xiv). In Weber’s words: “Neither in its official state cult nor in its Taoist aspect could Chinese orthodoxy produce sufficiently strong motives for a religiously oriented life such as the Puritans method represents” (Weber 1991:206). He adds that “[I]n Confucianism…neither the cultured nor the common man bothered about the beyond” (Weber 199:208) so that “[a] conflict in the Christian manner between the interest in the salvation of one’s soul and the demands of the natural or social order was inconceivable” (Weber 1991:210). It appears that a reasonable leap of intellectual faith can be made to the position that particular kinds of religious ethics are associated with the very heavy gambling among the Chinese people. Particularly important is that in Confucianism “there was neither the burden of some idea of original sin, nor the compulsion to fulfill God’s ethical demands upon a sinful world as a condition for salvation” (Yang 1951:xxx; see also Yang 1961); in vain, as Weber notes, missionaries tried to awake a feeling of sin in the Chinese they were seeking to convert. Nor was there any idea of “creatural wickedness” (Weber, 1991: 154) or a desire to be saved either from the migration of souls or from punishment in the beyond (Weber, 1991:156). An educated Chinese, Weber (1951:228) stated, “would continually refuse to be burdened with ‘sin.” Weber (1991:63) also pinpointed a long-existing and “intense acquisitiveness” among the Chinese, and noted that the temple was not a religious site but rather its significance “lay in secular social and legal practices” (Weber, 1991: 92). Indeed, Weber (1991: 144) points out that there is no special Chinese word for “religion” and that “[w]hether magical or cultic in nature, religion remained of a this-worldly turn of mind” (Weber, 1991:144). Nor is there any idea of sanctity in Confucianism (Weber, 1991:184). Taoism, for its part, stressed that the perfect person must be endowed with invulnerability and magical powers (Weber 1991:191), two traits that would cohere with gambling achievements. In every Chinese fairy tale, Weber observes, there is irrational magic so that “the ethical rationality of the miracle is out of the question” (Weber 1991:200). In Taoism, magic, not conduct, was basic to a person’s fate. Weber summarizes doctrinal positions with an insight that is central to the psychology of gambling presented here: “The toleration of magical and animist by both [religious] orthodoxy and heterodoxy and their positive cultivation by Taoism have been decisive for their continuous existence and their tremendous power in Chinese life” (Weber 1951:196). The most eye-opening development in China in regard to gambling has been a consequence of the handover to China of Macau, a former Portuguese colony, in December 1999. Macau is a 45-minute jetfoil ride from Hong Kong across the Pearl River Delta, and has a border gate connecting it to mainland China. Today, it outpaces all the world’s gambling

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sites, including Las Vegas. In 2006, the city’s 23 casinos generated $US6.8 billion. Legalized gambling had been permitted since 1847. By the 1920s, Macau had gained the reputation as one of the world’s most notorious sites of sin, where gambling houses, prostitution, and opium houses flourished in what has been described as a “seedy and decadent environment” (Porter 1995, 95). After 1937, gambling became a monopoly centered in the Lisboa Casino, which contributed some 67 percent of the colony’s revenue. Today, American interests have financed huge palaces, relying on the inordinate appeal of wagering to the Chinese. That appeal may very well be heightened by more recent developments in China’s burgeoning economy that has generated considerable newfound wealth among a growing proportion of the population, who now have unprecedented discretionary income at their disposal. Moreover, radical and tumultuous economic and political changes in China over the past century provide a strong impetus for persons to “live for the moment,” as they may readily see a similarly unpredictable future based on these past events.

CONCLUSION There is a burgeoning literature that attempts to tie human behavior tightly to biological makeup. Such an approach would maintain that the brains of the Chinese and their Asian compatriots are wired in a way that provides them with particular physical and emotional pleasure when gambling. That position requires a good deal more substantial evidence before it is to prevail. In the meantime, we accept Weber’s observation on this point that “one has to reckon with the possibility that many of the Chinese traits that are considered innate may be the products of purely historical and cultural influences” (Weber 1951:231). Most religions prohibit acts such as robbery and other forms of theft; however, the Protestant faiths are unique in their interdiction of gambling (Andreski 1964:)8). Assuredly, gambling does not necessarily flourish in all territories that are characterized by religions other than the Protestantism. But we suggest that in the manner that Protestantism may have smoothed the way for the arrival of capitalism, the absence of divine commands and strictures concerning gambling play a prominent part in the strikingly high rates of such behavior in China and other Asian countries.

REFERENCES Basu, E. O. (1991). Profit, loss, and fate: The entrepreneurial ethic and the practice of gambling in an overseas Chinese community. Modern China, 17, 117-259. Binde, P. (2007). Gambling and religion: Histories of concord and conflict, Journal of gambling issues, 20,145-165. Boone, K. C. (1989). The Bible tells them so: The discourse of Protestant fundamentalism. Albany, NY: SUNY Press. Brown, D. O., Roseman, M. and Ham, S. (2003). Perceptions of a Bible belt state’s proposed gambling legislation by religious affiliation. UNLV gaming research and review journal, 7(1), 49-59.

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Carter, S. L. (2000). God’s name in vain: The wrongs and rights of religion in politics. New York: Basic Books. Chafetz, H. (1960). A history of gambling in the United States from 1492 to 1955. New York: Potter. Chalcaft, D. J. and Harrington, A. (Eds.). (2001) The Protestant Ethic debate: Max Weber replies to his critics. A. Huffington and M. Shields, trans.. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press. Chen, K. K. S. (1994). Buddhism in China: A historical survey. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. China Contact (2002). Lotteries and gambling in China: A market analysis. Shanghai: Access Asia Lit. Cochran, S., Hsieh, A.C.K. and J. Cochran (Eds.). (1983) One day in China: May 21, 1936. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Constable, N. (1996). Guest people: Hakka in China and abroad. Seattle: University of Washington Press. Culin, s. (1890). Customs of the Chinese in America. Journal of American folklore, 3, 191200. Dennis, J. S.(1897). Christian missions and social progress: A sociological study of foreign missions. New York: Fleming H. Revel. Diaz, J. D. (2000). Religion and gambling in Sin-City: A statistical analysis of the relationship between religion and gambling patterns in Las Vegas residents. Social science journal, 37, 453-458. Ellison, C G. and Nybroten, K. A. (1999). Conservative Protestantism and opposition to statesponsored lotteries: Evidence from the 1997 Texas poll. Social science quarterly, 80, 356-369. Farrar, W. F, (1880). The Gospel According to St. Luke, with maps, notes and introduction. Cambridge, England: University Press. Gernet, J. (1962). Daily life in China on the eve of the Mongol invasion. 1250 to 1276. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Gützloff, K. F. A. (1833) Excerpts from the journal of a residence in Siam, and voyages along the coast of China to Manchow Tartary. Journal of the Royal Geographical Society of London,3, 291-310. Ham, S., Brown, D.O. and Jang, S. (2004). Proponents and opponents of casino gambling: A qualitative choice model approach. Journal of hospitality and tourism research, 28, 391407. Hamilton, G. G. (1984). Patriarchalism in Imperial China and Western Europe: A revision of Weber’s sociology of domination. Theory and society, 13, 394-425. Harrell, S. (1974). When a ghost becomes a God. In: A. Wolf (Ed.). Religion and ritual in Chinese society (pp. 193-206). Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Hayes, J. (1999). “’That singular and hitherto almost unknown country”: Opinions on China, the Chinese, and the “Opium War” among British naval and military officers who served during hostilities there.” Journal of the Hong Kong branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, 39:211-233. Holt, E. (1964). The opium wars in China. London: G. P. Putnam’s. Hoffman, J. P. (2000). Religion and problem gambling in the U.S. Review of religious research, 41, 488-509.

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Huc, E. R. (1855). Chinese empire. London: Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans. Hunter, M. R. (2001). Gambling (pp. 000-000). In R. J. Simon (Ed.), Comparative perspectives on major social issues. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Kaplan, H. R. (1979). Lottery winners: How they won and how winning changes their lives. New York: Harper and Row. Kaye, M.M. (1990). The sun in the morning: My early years in India and England. New York: St. Martin’s. Kinney, A.B. (19960. Art of the Han essay: Wang Fu’s ch’ien-fu-hun. Tempe, AZ: Center for Asian Studies, Arizona State University. Kristof, N. (1992). Shanghai v. mah-jongg: What odds? New York Times (February 15) 16. Lam, D. (2006). The influence of religiosity on gambling participation. Journal of gambling studies, 22, 305-320. Loewe, M. (1962). Everyday life in early imperial China. New York: G. P. Putnam’s. Lu, H. (1999). Becoming urban: Mendicants and vagrants in modern Shanghai. Journal of social history, 33, 7-36. Macfarlane, A. (1987). The culture of capitalism. New York: Blackwell. Mather, C. (1853/1702). Magnalia Christi Americana: The ecclesiastical history of NewEngland. Hartford, CT: S. Andrus and Son.McGowan, R. (1994). State lotteries and legalized gambling: Painless revenue or painful mirage. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press. Mintry, R. (1995). A fine balance. New York: Vintage International. Murray, A. (1843). Doings in China: Being the personal narrative of an officer engaged in the late Chinese expedition from the recapture of Chusan in 1841, to the Peace of Nankin in 1842. London: Richard Bentley. National Gaming Impact Study Commission (1999). Gambling impact and behavior study, 1997-1999. Chicago: National Opinion Research Center. Nonini, D.M. (1979). The mysteries of capital accumulation: Honoring the gods and gambling among Chinese in a Malaysian market town. In: Proceedings of the first international symposium on Asian studies (Vol. 3, pp. 701-710). Hong Kong: Asian Research Service. Nothbrooke, J. (1577).A treatise wherein dicing, dauncing, vaine playes or enterluds with other idle pastimes…commonly vsed on the sabbath day are reproved by the authoritie of the world of God and ancient writers. London: H. Bynneman for George Byshop. Ozment, S. (1992). Protestants: Thee birth of a revolution. New York: Doubleday. Philbrick, N. (2000). In the heart of the sea: The tragedy of the whaleship Essex. Rockland, ME: Wheeler. Porter, J. (1996). Macau: The imaginary city. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. Pye, L.W. and Pye, M. H. (1985). Asian power and politics: The cultural dimension of authority. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Pye, L. W. (1991). The state and the individual: An overview interpretation. China quarterly, 127:443-466. Robertson, W. H. P. (1964). The history of thoroughbred racing in America. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prenttice Hall. Seth, V. (1993). A suitable boy. New York: HarperCollins. Swados, W. Jr and Kaelber, L. (Eds.). (2005) The Protestant Ethic turns 100: Essays on the centenary of Weber’s thesis. Boulder, CO: Paradigm Publishers.

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Thompson, W. N. (1998). Casino de joegos del mondo: A survey of world gambling. Annals of the American academy of political and social science, 556. 11-21. Van der Sprenkel, O. B. (1964). Max Weber on China. History and theory, 3, 348-370. Wakeman, F. (1985). The great enterprise: The Manchu reconstruction of the imperial order in seventeenth-century China. London: George Allen and Unwin. Wakeman, F. (1995). Licensing leisure: The Chinese Nationalists’ attempts to regulate Shanghai, 1927-49. Journal of Asian studies, 54, 19-42. Ward, W.A. and Walter, A. R. (1907). Cambridge history of English literature. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Watson, J. L. (1975). Emigration and the Chinese lineage. Berkeley: University of California Press. Weber, M. (1930). The Protestant ethic and the spirit of capitalism. T. Parsons, trans. New York: Scribner’s. Weber, M. (1951). The Religion of China: Confucianism and Taoism. trans. H. H. Gerth. New York: Macmillan. Williams, S. W. (1899). Middle kingdom: A survey of the geography, government, literature, social life, arts, and way of life in the Chinese empire and its inhabitants. New York: Scribner’s. Yang, C. K. (1961). Religion in Chinese society. Berkeley: University of California Press. Yang, C. K. (1951). Introduction. In M. Weber, The Religion of China (pp. xiii-xliii). trans. H. H. Gerth. New York: Macmillan.

In: Religion and Psychology: New Research Editor: Joan C. Upton

ISBN: 1-60021-672-2 © 2008 Nova Science Publishers, Inc.

Chapter 8

THE EVOLUTION OF RELIGION AND CONSCIOUS EXPERIENCE Matt J. Rossano* Department of Psychology, Southeastern Louisiana University, Hammond, LA, USA

ABSTRACT William James argued that the mystical experience was the foundation for all religion. Globally and historically, rituals that induce altered states of consciousness have been associated with religion and religious practices. This paper reviews recent research exploring the biological and evolutionary origins of expanded conscious experience. Based on this review a four-stage model of the evolution of expanded conscious experience is proposed. (1) A general primate stage involving rituals that induce altered states for purposes of enhancing social cohesion by reducing tension. Evidence is reviewed showing that nonhuman primates engage in ritualistic behavior. This behavior induces an altered state of consciousness which reduces social tension and can occasionally produce a trancelike or hypnotized state that may have adaptive health benefits. (2) A second stage characterized by group mimesis or the use of ecstatic, groupcoordinated rituals that enhanced social bonding. Archeological evidence is reviewed indicating that our hominid ancestors very likely engaged in ritual behaviors that induced altered or ecstatic mental states. These rituals would have been increasingly important as mechanisms for maintaining social stability under circumstances of expanding group sizes with increasing numbers of non-kin members. Physiological evidence is reviewed showing that group-experienced altered states can enhance social cohesion. (3) A third stage involving the emergence of shamanism and rituals of shamanistic healing. Archeological and anthropological evidence indicates that shamanism is (most likely) the oldest form of religion. Shamanism necessarily involves the attainment of altered states of consciousness. Evidence exists that these altered states may have provided health *

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Matt J. Rossano benefits that gave a selective advantage to those who engaged in rituals and were susceptible to their suggestive aspects. (4) A final stage where shamanism is joined by human narrative capacity allowing for the construction of religious myths and stories. These stories would have been essential for maintaining group cohesion in spite of increasingly complex and stratified societies. Archeological evidence from the Upper Paleolithic provides evidence of ancestor worship, exclusive “elite” rituals, and fertility concerns all of which are consistent with increasingly complex societies with divergent forms of religious expression. The narratives that emerged from this period provided the foundation for the religions of first civilizations.

INTRODUCTION “I speak not now of your ordinary religious believer, who follows the conventional observances of his country…We must make search rather for the original experiences which were the pattern-setters to all this mass of suggested and imitated conduct. These experiences we can only find in individuals for whom religion exists not as a dull habit, but as an acute fever…” (William James, 1902/1961, p. 24-25).

The goal of this chapter is to embark on the very search prescribed by James over a century ago – the search for those “original experiences” that formed the basis for human religion. Unlike James’ search, though, this search will emphasize the evolutionary and biological basis of these experiences rather than their phenomenological content. What is it about the human brain that allows it to produce religious or mystical experiences? When did such experiences first emerge in the course of human evolution? Are (or were) Homo sapiens singular in their possession of these experiences? These are some of the motivating questions that drive the current chapter. Before the search can begin in earnest, however, we must try to define what we are looking for. What is the state of mind that qualifies as religious or mystical?

DEFINING CONSCIOUSNESS Consciousness as Selective Attention Religious or mystical experiences are typically associated with altered states of consciousness – that is, with conscious states that somehow depart from what is considered baseline. This, of course, only begs the question of defining baseline consciousness. As a start, I will use the definition for consciousness found in Farthing’s textbook on consciousness: “consciousness is the subjective state of being currently aware of something, either within oneself or outside oneself” (Farthing, 1992, p. 6). In this view then, consciousness is simply subjective awareness. Thus, a person dreaming is just as “conscious” as a person watching a tennis match. The only difference is that one is subjectively aware of an internal signal (the dream) while the other is aware of an external one (the tennis match). While this definition is adequate for some circumstances, it does not seem entirely complete.

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There seems to be an important difference in consciousness between the wakeful person and sleeping person that is lost when we restrict consciousness to simply subjective awareness.

Consciousness as General Arousal Another way of looking at consciousness is to describe an individual’s overall level of awareness or arousal. Martindale (1981), for example, has described a spectrum of consciousness moving from wakeful, externally-directed, task-oriented consciousness to autistic, internally-directed, dreaming consciousness. Waking consciousness, according to Martindale, is typically concerned with problem-solving based on external inputs. We read and attempt to comprehend. We listen and converse striving to understand and respond fittingly. We observe in order to recognize and react adaptively. Waking consciousness, however, may move to a more internally, but still realistically, directed form of problem solving which Martindale terms realistic fantasy. In realistic fantasy we engage in abstract problem-solving, visualizing different potential patterns and strategies that might be employed later in actuality. For example, one might mentally plan out the most efficient sequence of stops given that the kids must be picked up, the books must be returned, and the milk must be bought. Realistic fantasy gradually eases into autistic fantasy or daydreaming where the constrictions of reality are loosened or lost entirely (oh, to win the lottery!). Autistic fantasy deepens into hypnagogic states where vivid images and sounds may be experienced as one teeters on the brink of sleep. Finally, there is sleep itself, where the dream experience with its array of images, sounds, and events may be recalled later as narrative with varying degrees of coherence. While Martindale’s spectrum appears to capture much of the variance of our conscious lives, both Hobson (1999) and Lewis-Williams (2002) have pointed out that it is incomplete in that it fails to capture the full range of altered states associated with internally directed but non-sleep/non-dreaming states (e.g states resulting from meditation or other ritually induced practices). Hobson (1994; 1999) strives for a more complete model based on the interplay of three factors: cognitive activation, the dominate mode of brain neuromodulators and, the information source upon which the brain is directing attention. Each of these requires some explanation. Cognitive activation can be either high or low depending on the nature of one’s ongoing activity. Activities that require focused attention and analytical processing (such as conscious problem-solving) are characterized by high cognitive activation. As attentional focus lessens and the mind is allowed to wander, activation decreases. Neuromodulator mode refers to whether the aminergic system or the cholinergic system is dominant in the brain. Both the aminergic system (the source of such chemicals as serotonin, norepinephrine, and dopamine) and the cholinergic system (the source of acetylcholine) are highly active and roughly in balance during periods of wakeful consciousness. It appears that serotonin and norepinephrine are essential for the maintenance of a coherent thought stream. As the day wears on, however, the activity of both systems declines increasing one’s sense of physical and mental fatigue. At night, during rapid eye movement (REM) sleep and dreaming consciousness, cholinergic activity returns to roughly waking levels while aminergic activity remains very low, thus producing cholinergic predominance. The lack of serotonin and norepinephrine in the brain during REM helps to explain the often fragmented and incoherent nature of dreams. Finally,

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the information source refers to whether the brain’s processing resources are operating on internal (dreams, for example) or external (a tennis match) signals. The combination of these factors provides the underlying basis for the broad range of human conscious experiences. For example, wakeful problem-solving is typically characterized by high cognitive activation (focused attention), aminergic mode (coherent thought stream), and externally directed attention. If problem-solving should require internal visualization, then the first two factors would remain the same but attention would be directed internally rather than externally (this might be akin to Martindale’s realistic fantasy state). As visualization gives way to daydreams (autistic fantasy), cognitive activation is reduced and aminergic activity weakens. Dreams and hallucinations are characterized by high cognitive activation combined with cholinergic mode (incoherence), and internal focus.

Mystical Consciousness Somewhere between dreams and wakeful-problem solving lies the spectrum of altered states associated with meditation, ritual, and mystical experiences. These are typically associated with internal (though not always exclusively) information source, and intermediate levels of both cognitive activation and aminergic activity. These states are not characterized by the incoherence associated with dreams, but often violate the strict logic of typical of everyday sensory experiences. Lewis-Williams (2002 p. 124-125) attempts to capture these experiences by building a second pathway onto Martindale’s spectrum. While the hypnagogic state is typically a gateway to sleep states of consciousness, ritual manipulation of this state can usher consciousness down a different, distinct track. LewisWilliams calls this track “intensified conscious experiences.” The rituals initiating intensified conscious experiences often involve varying degrees of sensory deprivation (closing the eyes and focusing on a mantra), repetitive sensory or motor activation (rhythmic dancing or drumming), stressful or painful trials (rites of initiation or isolation), fasting, and sometimes the ingestion of psychotropic substances. The experiences of the intensified path share similarities with those of dreams, but are often more compelling and “real” for the person involved. These experiences begin with entoptic phenomena, move through a stage of construal, and ultimately produce vivid hallucinations. Let us take each of these separately. An individual begins down the path of the intensified spectrum typically by engaging in some ritualized mode of consciousness alteration. Simple relaxation strategies such as closing the eyes and monitoring breathing can produce a “toe in water” (so to speak) down the intensified path. As the ritualized activity deepens and attention turns progressively inward, the individual begins to “lose” himself (herself) in the rhythm of ritual, and the first stage of the intensified spectrum is encountered. In this stage, the person experiences seemingly random, simple visual forms such as geometric shapes, scattered dots, zigzagging lines, grids, curves, or just meandering lines (Asaad & Shapiro, 1986; Horowitz, 1964; Kluver, 1926; Knoll & Kugler, 1959). These visual patterns, called entoptic phenomena, are generated within the visual system itself and are experienced similarly regardless of one’s cultural or social background (Lewis-Williams & Dowson, 1988). The second stage is that of construal, where the subject attempts to make sense of the entoptic images by organizing them into more coherent and familiar patterns (Horowitz, 1964). Often the interpretation given to the experience is affected by the subject’s current

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disposition and cultural background. A lonely subject may experience curves or dots as the image of a familiar face. A thirsty subject may construe geometric images as water jugs or beer bottles (Guiness stout perhaps, if one is Irish!). In the final, deepest stage along the intensified track, sensory experience changes dramatically. It is this stage where the mystical or ecstatic state reaches its peak. The subject often claims to be at the center of a vortex or tunnel being drawn inexorably forward (Horowitz, 1975; Willis, 1994). The vortex or tunnel can be experienced as either ascending skyward or descending into limitless depths. Shamans often speak of entering the spirit world through a deep hole or by soaring up into the sky (Harner, 1982; p. 32; Vastokas, 1977; Vastokas & Vastokas, 1973; p. 53) Augmenting the vortex experience are the persistent construed images from stage 2, which have become even more vivid and powerful. Furthermore, these images often concatenate onto one another forming bizarre compounds or disturbing distortions such as a human face on an animal body or a person with bent limbs or twisted features. Adding to the compelling nature of the experience is an overwhelming sense of personal participation rather than just observation. In other words, people often claim that they are part of or are turning into the images they encounter. Hence, the shamanistic experience of uniting with the soul of an animal or inhabiting the animal’s spirit.

Mystical Consciousness and the Origins of Religion If William James is correct and all religion owes its beginnings to the experiences of altered states, then the focus of our search must be on those experiences that lie along LewisWilliam’s intensified track. It is this realm of conscious that produces mystical experiences and religious imagination. It is here that we are compelled to envision the supernatural. But are humans the only creatures capable of traveling down this particular road of consciousness? Evidence exists that the capacity for altered states is present in other species. Furthermore, the ability to manipulate consciousness though ritual also appears to be present in nonhuman animals. Nonhuman animals may not have religion, but the foundations for the religious experience are present in them. Indeed, it may have been the elaboration of these foundational elements during the course of human evolution that led to humanity’s current religious capacity.

STUDIES WITH NONHUMAN PRIMATES AND OTHER ANIMALS Altered States of Consciousness As any cat owner can attest, a cat on catnip acts stoned. Likewise, a pet rabbit laid on its back seems to fall into a trance state. These examples suggest (and experimental evidence confirms) that both psychotropic substances and locomotor actions can bring about altered states in some nonhuman animals. The rabbit example, in fact, is one of the more common instances of an animal altered state called the Totsell reflex or death-posture reflex. When captured by a predator, many animals will assume a near-cataleptic state, mimicking death. Predators will often drop an already dead animal and move on. Altered states in animals may

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also be associated with need to cope with environmental stress, starvation, or deprivation (Prince, 1982a). Hoskovec and Svorad (1969) provide evidence of hypnotizability in rats, demonstrating that a number of factors including age, degree of locomotor activity, and metabolism are associated with the degree to which a rat is hypnotizable. A wide range of animals are susceptible to hypnotic procedures that appear to induce altered states (Volgyesi, 1969). Additionally, many animals experience REM sleep, possibly with dreaming; and evidence also exists for the occurrence of hallucinations in many species (Cohen, 1972; Lewis-Williams, 2002, p. 190-191; Siegel & Jarvik, 1975; Volgyesi, 1969). All of this strongly indicates that altered states of one form or another are widespread across many animal species.

Ritual Ritual behavior is also common in many animal species, especially among our primate cousins. Rituals for establishing trust and building community are frequent among nonhuman primates. Male baboons engage in a stereotyped scrotum grasp which (apparently) serves as a trust-building signal (Watanabe & Smuts, 1999). Chimpanzees, bonobos, and spider monkeys live in fission-fusion societies where the larger community often breaks into a series of smaller foraging parties. When these parties encounter each other after a period of separation, members engage in ritualized “greeting” behaviors such as mutual embraces, kissing, group pant-hooting, and grooming (Goodall, 1986; van Roosmalen & Klein, 1988, p. 515). Among bonobos, sexual stimulation is often used to reduce tensions and allow food sharing even among members of different communities (de Waal & Lanting, 1997). These ritualized welcoming, trust-building and tension-reducing behaviors may induce a mental state conducive to social bonding that shares features in common with the ecstatic state of humans. Grooming, for example, is known to cause the release of endogenous opiates which act as a primary reinforcer contributing to social bonding (Keverne, Martinez & Tuite, 1989). The origins of similar human greeting and reintegration rituals are likely found in these nonhuman primate rituals.

Social Emotions A critical aspect of religion is its social nature (Durkheim, 1912/1965). The foundations of the social emotions integral to human religion are probably also present in nonhuman primates. De Waal (de Waal, 1996; de Waal & Berger, 2000) has documented evidence for empathy, pride, and a primitive sense of fairness in monkeys and apes, while Goodall (1986) has reported that chimpanzees occasionally engage in extended and emotive “rain dance” or “waterfall” displays. Guthrie (1993, p. 52) interprets these displays as a simian form of “anthropomorphizing,” where the chimp reacts to the thunder or waterfall as if it were another threatening ape. In this behavior he sees the primordial seeds of the pervasive human tendency toward anthropomorphizing nature, which for him forms the basis of religion. Though Guthrie’s interpretation is debatable, the vague reflection of ourselves that we see in our primate cousins surely is not. All of this suggests that the social foundations of religion

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and religious behavior were laid deep in the primate brain possibly prior to the onset of hominid evolution.

STAGE 1: GENERAL PRIMATE CONSCIOUSNESS The evidence reviewed thus far can be summarized as follows: (1) consciousness has been defined in a variety of ways by different researchers reflective of its various manifestations in humans, (2) the conscious states most relevant to religion are those occurring along the intensified track as defined by Lewis-Williams. (3) It appears that ritual manipulation is one of the main strategies for accessing the conscious states that lie along the intensified track. (4) Capacities for altered states of consciousness, ritual behavior, and the social emotions central to religion are present in many nonhuman species, especially our closest relatives, apes and monkeys. All of this strongly suggests that many of the necessary pieces for the formation of religious consciousness were in place at the outset of hominid evolution. The common ancestor of humans and chimpanzees and the earliest human ancestors, the australopiths, likely possessed a capacity for using ritual to bring about altered states of consciousness. These rituals, and the altered states they produced, very likely played a role in the enhancement of social bonds and maintenance of social stability within groups. Evidence from neuroscience is consistent with this. Evolutionarily older brain structures, such as those of the limbic system, have been implicated in both the social emotions integral to religion and to the experience of altered states of consciousness (Mandell, 1980; Ramachandran & Blakeslee, 1998, p. 177-179; Winkelman, 1997; 2002). Winkelman (1997; 2002) for example, attributes the altered state of consciousness associated with ritual to high-voltage, slowfrequency activity of the hippocampal-septal region acting as a “driver” synchronizing activity across the frontal lobe. What nonhuman primates and australopiths lack(ed) is (was) the ability to take voluntary control of ritual behavior and hone its efficacy in bringing about ecstatic altered states. This capacity is another form of consciousness known as mimetic consciousness. Mimetic consciousness appears to lie just beyond the range of nonhuman primate consciousness.

Mimetic Consciousness and the Origins of Ecstatic Ritual Evidence for rituals, altered states of consciousness, and ritually-induced altered states are all present in nonhuman animals. However, it appears that no animal compares to humans when it comes to voluntarily inducing ecstatic states though meditative practices or religious rituals. A key reason for this may be a particular form of consciousness that is either vanishing rare or entirely non-existent outside of Homo sapiens, that is: mimetic consciousness. Mimesis refers to the ability to represent and refine motor actions (Donald, 1999 p. 140-147). It is mimesis that allows an organism to intentionally recall a motor sequence and refine it through deliberate practice. Animals can develop motor skills, but there is little to no evidence that they can acquire or improve skills using deliberate practice.

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It is not uncommon for a human to spend countless hours bouncing or shooting a ball, skipping rope, or hitting a tennis ball against a wall, all the while adjusting motor actions and experimenting with different combinations of movements in order to increase their effectiveness. Though animals may repeat actions, they simply do not spontaneously rehearse and refine their movement patterns. As Merlin Donald succinctly puts it: “Baboons throw projectiles in a fight, but they don’t systematically practice and improve their throwing skill (Donald, 1993, p.152). If Donald is correct, then a key difference between human and animal ritual is the uniquely human capacity to voluntarily call to mind ritual acts and then deliberately practice and refine their efficacy. Over the course of hominid evolution, our ancestors took control of their rituals, and increasingly directed them toward the deliberate manipulation of conscious experience. They used mimetic consciousness to elaborate ritual, which in turn expanded conscious experience itself down the intensified path. One of the critical ways in which our ancestors elaborated ritual was to expand it community-wide.

Community Mimesis One form of ritual behavior common in humans, but nearly non-existent in other species is group-coordinated mimetic activity (Donald, 1991). Religious rituals among traditional societies often involve group dancing, chanting, and other rhythmically coordinated motor activities. McNeill (1995) has argued these sorts of community motor actions (including marching, group dance, drill team, etc.) bring about a euphoric state and “muscular bonding” among participants that can enhance social cohesion and cooperation. Indeed, some research has indicated that community rituals can facilitate the release of brain opiates that contribute to social bonding (Frecska & Kulcsar, 1989). It seems that this manner of community ritual is almost entirely restricted to humans. There is (to my knowledge) only one account of what might be considered rhythmicallycoordinated community motor activity among nonhuman primates. At his research station at Tenerife, on the Canary Islands, Wolfgang Kohler (1927, p. 314-316) reported that while playing, a group of chimpanzee began to: “march in an orderly fashion in a single file around and around the post…a rough approximate rhythm develop[ed] and they tend[ed] to keep time with one another” (Kohler, 1927, p. 315). Kohler remarked that nothing he had seen before from the chimps so strongly reminded him of the dancing of some primitive tribes. To some degree, however, it appears that the chimpanzees’ primitive dance benefited from emulating humans. Kohler goes on to describe how he could encourage their dance by stamping his foot rhythmically and how they typically halted their dance (with great disappointment) when his stamping ceased. It should not be surprising to see socially adept animals such as chimpanzees demonstrating species-atypical behaviors (such as mimetic group actions) when under the influence of human social conditions. Bjorklund and Rosenberg (2005) reviewed evidence showing that human encultured apes can produce cognitive/behavioral skills (such as deferred imitation) absent from their wild counterparts. Recent models of adaptation indicate that a key element of the adaptive process is the organism’s ability to adjust somatically to environmental conditions. Over time, genetic mutation may serve to channel or reset the range of somatic adaptability to new levels (West-Eberhard, 2003; Kirschner & Gerhart,

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2005). In other words, adaptation involves the organism’s ability to produce a range of phenotypic variability, which can then be selected at certain values by the environment and ultimately reset to “higher” values though mutation. Under conditions of humanenculturation, chimpanzees may have their range of phenotypic responses “pushed” in the direction of their foster species thereby exhibiting behaviors and capacities not seen in the wild. If so, this provides a potential model for the evolution of hominid consciousness. As the hominid social environment become increasingly complex and demanding, consciousness and the ritualized behaviors that affected consciousness were pushed to “higher” limits. A conscious capacity once at the very outer range of primate adaptability (such as mimetic group-coordinated activities) was, over time, pulled into normative range.

EARLY HOMINID “RELIGION” We will likely never know when the first religious idea was born, but a substantial number of researchers have concluded that the art, artifacts, and burial practices of the Upper Paleolithic reflect religious sentiments (Breuil, 1952/1979; Dickson, 1990; Dowson & Porr, 2001; Hayden, 2003; Leroi-Gourhan, 1982; Lewis-Williams, 2002; Lommel, 1967; Mithen, 1996; Winkelman, 2002; see Hamayon & Francfort, 2001 for a contrary view). Given that the Upper Paleolithic peoples were anatomically modern humans and that religion is a human universal, it seems safe to conclude that religion was present by at least the time of the Upper Paleolithic in Europe. A key question becomes whether religious consciousness existed prior to the Upper Paleolithic, and if so, what form did it take? A number of lines of evidence speak to the possible existence of ritual, symbolism, and spiritualism among our early hominid ancestors.

Red Ochre and Other Early "Symbols" Red ochre is a soft iron oxide that easily pigments other surfaces. Among huntergatherers, red ochre has little practical value but is used extensively in rituals and carries significant symbolic meaning (Power & Watts, 1996). Some have argued that red’s symbolic importance rises to the level of a universal human archetype for such things as blood, sex, life, and death (James, 1957; Marshak, 1981; Wreschner, 1980). The first indications of red ochre use date back to nearly one million years ago where its presence has been found at early Oldowan sites and South African caves (Leakey, 1971; Bednarik, 1994; Lorblancher, 1999). Red ochre is not uncommon at hominid sites dated between 200,000 – 100,000 years ago, and was apparently being purposely mined and transported to them (Knight, Power, & Watts, 1995; McBrearty & Brooks, 2000). Evidence that red pigmentation was added to artifacts to enhance their appearance and possibly their meaningfulness can be found in the form of a 100,000 year old mammoth-tooth plaque covered with red ochre unearthed in Tata, Hungary (Bednarik, 1995). Additionally, a red ochre cobble, carefully engraved with crosses and dated to 77,000 years old, was found in the Blombos cave of South Africa – a find that some have referred to as the oldest piece of

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"art" on record (Henshilwood & Sealy, 1997; Lewis-Williams, 2002, p. 98-99). The presence of red ochre in the archeological record coupled with the effort being expended for its acquisition suggest that it was a valued commodity despite its non-utilitarian nature. Apart from the presence of ochre, there are but a few, scattered examples of what might be symbolic artifacts dating from 100,000 years ago or more. A three-million-year-old jasper cobble in the form of a human face was uncovered from a site near Makapansgat, South Africa. The nearest source for this item was ten kilometers from the recovery site, leaving open the possibility that it was intentionally transported presumably by a hominid who was intrigue by its anthropomorphic quality (Dart, 1974). A similar anthropomorphized artifact was found at Berekhat Ram in the Golan Heights. This was a 233,000 year old human-figureshaped stone that showed evidence of intentional modification – possibly the earliest known example of sculpture (d'Errico & Nowell, 2000; Marshak, 1997). Finally, many items recovered from late Lower and Middle Paleolithic sites (from 300,000 to 35,000 years ago) contain what appear to be intentional zigzagging, parallel, or radiating markings that may represent the "entoptic" experiences of altered states of consciousness (Bednarik, 1995; Kluver, 1942; Horowitz, 1964).

Deep Cave Rituals A few Neanderthal deep cave sites provide possible evidence for ritual behavior. About a quarter of a kilometer deep in the Bruniquel Cave of southwestern France, Neanderthals apparently arranged broken stalagmites into two circles, one of which surrounded the remains of a fire (Rouzaud, Soulier, & Lignereaux, 1996). These remains have been dated to around 50,000 years old. Additionally, Hayden (2003, p. 108-115) has made a spirited case for bearcult rituals at the Neanderthal site of Regourdou cave in southwestern France. Remains of a bear skull, bones and other possibly intentionally arranged and manipulated materials dated to between 60,000-70,000 years old have been found here. Other deep cave sites associated with Neanderthals such as Galerie Schoepflin at Arcy-sur-Cure in France (Farizy, 1990; Baffier & Girard, 1998), Congnac and Grotta della Barura (Lorblancher, 1999) may also have been locations of ritual activities.

Cannibalism Among many hunter-gatherer societies eating the flesh, especially the brain, of another was (is) tantamount to ingesting his/her spirit (Hogg, 1966; Sanday, 1986). This practice applied not just to enemies, but also (and more importantly) to relatives and fellow tribe members. A family or fellow tribe member might be consumed so that his/her strength and skills would forever remain within the tribe. For example, among the Wari’ of South America it is considered far more respectful and compassionate to consume a loved one so that he or she is literally reincorporated into the tribe than to permit the remains to decay into the ground (Conklin, 2001). Homo erectus skulls unearthed from the Zhoukoudien site near Bejing suggest that cannibalism among hominids may date back as far as half a million years. Many of these skulls were apparently broken open from the bottom in a manner similar to practices

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employed by more recent cannibals, suggesting that extraction and consumption of the brain might have been the goal (Hayden, 2003, p. 96-97; Weidenreich, 1943). Even more intriguing is an erectus skull found in Bodo, Ethiopia dated to around 600,000 ya. This skull contains 25 stone-tool cut marks presumably incurred when the skin was removed (White, 1986). Facial skin removal would seem to have little practical purpose and therefore hints at possible symbolic or ritual significance. A skull fragment with evidence of defleshing was also uncovered at the roughly 100,000-year-old Klasies River site in South Africa (Klein & Edgar, 2002, p. 16; Singer & Wymer, 1982). Similar finds strongly indicative of cannibalism and possible ritual (i.e. multiple skulls with broken bases and/or cut marks) have been documented at Neanderthal sites in Kapina, Croatia and Abri Moula in southeastern France (DeFluer, Dutour, Valladas, & Vandermeersch, 1993; DeFluer, White, Valensi, Slimak & Cregut-Bonnoure, 1999). In many of these instances, cranial fracturing from natural processes or cannibalism resulting from nutritional stress cannot be ruled out (Arsuaga et al., 1997; Binford & Ho, 1985). Even so, the possibility remains that some of this cannibalism represents a spiritual sense that is hundreds of thousands of years old.

STAGE 2: MIMETIC CONSCIOUSNESS None of the evidence reviewed is conclusive regarding the presence of religion in preUpper Paleolithic times. However, taken in total, it strongly suggests some manner of behavior transcending utilitarian concerns – a proto-religion of sorts. But of what did this proto-religion consist? Donald (1991) argues that with the advent of Homo erectus (about 1.8 million years ago) a new form of consciousness emerged: mimetic consciousness. It was mimesis that allowed Homo erectus the ability to practice and refine motor movements such that they could create and culturally transmit a new form of tool industry – the Acheulean (which emerged about 1.4 mya). Emblematic of the Acheulean tool kit was the bifacial hand axe. The quality and symmetry of some Acheulean hand axes evidences motor skills and planning ability well beyond that of nonhuman primates or australopiths. Some have argued that such tool production would have required a mental template guiding the toolmaker’s actions (Gowlett, 1992; Wynn, 1985; 1996). Another significant advance in tool technologies appears to have occurred around 300,000 years ago when composite tools were added to the Acheulean kit. Composite tools are those constructed from a number of separate elements and appear to require another cognitive advance in terms of motor coordination, planning, and problem solving (Ambrose, 2001; Wynn, 1985; 1996). It is also around this time (around 300,000 years ago or the beginning of the Middle Paleolithic) that evidence of increasing group size and greater population densities are present (Dunbar, 1996, p. 114; McBrearty & Brooks, 2000). This evidence includes (but is not limited to): more numerous habitation sites (relative to the Lower Paleolithic era), habitation sites in previously unoccupied zones, and more specialized tools and cooperative hunting strategies leading to the exploitation of a wider range of food sources. Taken together, this evidence suggests the following: mimesis was very likely present with Homo erectus providing the basis for the Acheulean tool kit. Increasing populations pressures beginning with the Middle Paleolithic very likely provided the selective pressure

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that “pushed” mimesis to higher limits providing the basis for composite tools and groupwide rituals for social bonding. In order to maintain social cohesion in the face increasing group sizes with greater numbers of non-kin members, H. erectus most likely engaged in group-coordinated rituals such as group dance, marching, and other rhythmically coordinated actions. These rituals, however, probably did not include any visions of the supernatural. To understand why not, we need to look at the cognitive capacities of Neanderthals, whose demise marks the end of the Middle Paleolithic.

Neanderthals and Limits of Archaic Hominid Consciousness With the emergence of H. erectus, mimetic consciousness was present. Through the course of the Middle Paleolithic era (about 250,000 – 35, 000 ya) increased group size and complexity pushed mimetic consciousness beyond simple tool manufacture to sophisticated composite tools and group coordinated rituals. However, it is highly unlikely that any supernatural visions accompanied these advances. By 35,000 years ago, the last archaic hominid species, the Neanderthals, died out, leaving modern Homo sapiens as the last and only hominid species. The Neanderthals then provide our best measuring stick of the “upper limit” of archaic hominid consciousness. The assessment of Neanderthal cognitive capacities is rife with controversy. The Neanderthal brain was slightly larger than that of modern humans and some remains suggest highly intelligent behavior and possibly symbolic thinking (d’Errico, Zilhao, Julien, Baffier, & Pelegrin, 1998; Grayson & Delpech, 2003; Trinkhaus & Shipman, 1992). On the other hand, the wealth of differences in tools, grave goods, tailored clothing, built shelters, hunting technologies and artistic remains suggest important cognitive differences between Neanderthals and Homo sapiens (Chase & Dibble 1987; Gargett 1989; 1999; Hoffecker, 2002; Mellars, 1996, p. 366-391; Lieberman & Shea, 1994). Lewis-Williams (2002, p. 89-96) has recently reviewed the archeological evidence associated with the Chatelperronian Neanderthals who, for thousands of years, shared space in southwestern France and northern Spain with Homo sapiens. The Chatelperronians showed evidence of tool technologies, personal adornments, and some burial practices similar to their Cro-Magnon neighbors (which Lewis-William's attributes to Neanderthal borrowing). However, unlike their neighbors, the Chatelperronians showed no evidence of image-making, burials with elaborate grave goods, or sophisticated hunting strategies. For Lewis-Williams this marks a key cognitive difference in memory capacity and consciousness between the two populations. According to Lewis-Williams (2002, p. 89-96), Neanderthals, unlike their human counterparts, could not intentionally recall, cognitively restructure, and socially manipulate the images or experiences they had in altered states of consciousness. In other words, the images seen in dreams, hallucinations, and other forms of contemplation could not be recalled later and constructed into an alternative view of reality. This deeply abstract manner of concept formation was the mode of consciousness that supported image-making, elaborate burial rituals, and even more sophisticated hunting practices (numerous studies have shown that the anthropomorphizing practices of hunter-gatherers are as effective a means of predicting animal behavior as scientific models, see Gubser, 1965; Marks, 1976; Mithen, 1996, p. 168; Silberbauer, 1981). Thus, Neanderthals did not envision (and therefore create images of) a supernatural world

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The point of this discussion, however, is not to pronounce final judgment on the Neanderthal capacity for symbolic thinking or religious imagination. Instead, it is this: if these cognitive attributes are at least questionable in Neanderthals then it seems most prudent to conclude that, by and large, archaic hominid religion did not involve a conception of the supernatural.

Religion and Ritual without the Supernatural The cognitive context of archaic hominid religion therefore appears to be one where mimetic rituals of social bonding were present, but without an overarching supernatural framework. As ecological and social challenges grew over the course of the Middle Paleolithic, Neanderthals and other hominids faced the increasingly difficult challenge of maintaining group cohesion in the presence of larger groups with greater numbers of distantly related and non-related individuals. They would have met this challenge (in part at least) by engaging in community ritual that brought about an ecstatic mental state which in turn helped to promote social bonding (the archaic hominid clan that dances together, stays together). This proposal is similar to that of Hayden (1987; 2003, p. 31-34) who has argued that the original function of religion and religious rituals was to create reciprocal alliances between different groups as a buffer against resources shortages. Hundreds of thousands of years ago, those hominids who managed to create more socially cohesive groups and more reliable intergroup alliances may very well have had a distinct selective advantage over their more isolated, individualistic counterparts. Ecstatic rituals may have been a critical mechanism for constructing those groups. These ecstatic rituals need not have involved any supernatural elements. Instead, they might find their modern analogues in purely mimetic community activities such as coordinated group dance (square dancing, for example), marching, drill team, some team sports, participatory spectator events (rock concerts, football games, etc.) and possibly some fraternity/sorority rituals (Donald, 1991). As mentioned earlier, such rhythmic, groupcoordinated actions can bring about a euphoric state and a “muscular bonding” that serves to enhance group solidarity (McNeill, 1995). Physically and emotionally engaging groupcoordinated activities were the essence of archaic hominid, Middle Paleolithic religion. Evidence from psychology and neuroscience provides further support for this position. The psychological effects of group-based religious rituals and secular group-coordinated activities are the same. Both community religious rituals and secular group-coordinated activities can bring about deindividuation, or the loss of a sense of personal identity as one becomes enmeshed in the crowd (d’Aquili & Newberg, 1999, p. 95-103; Watson, 1973). Community-based rituals, whether secular or religious, encourage the release of brain opiates which promote social bonding (Frecska & Kulcsar, 1989; Prince, 1982b). Moreover, Levenson (2003) has found that activities that synchronize autonomic functions among individuals (whether secular or religious in nature) correlate positively with measures of empathy, thus providing a pathway for enhanced social bonding.

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STAGE 3: SUPERNATURAL CONSCIOUSNESS AND THE EMERGENCE OF HOMO SAPIENS Genetic and fossil evidence indicate that modern humans arose in Africa about 150,00 years ago (Cann, Stoneking, & Wilson, 1987; Ingman, Kaessmann, Paabo, & Gyllensten, 2000; Lewin, 1998, p. 385-411; Ruvolo, 1996). As to when human-like culture and behavior emerged, the situation is murkier. While evidence for sophisticated tools, hunting practices and symbolism seem to appear “suddenly” in the archeological record in Europe beginning about 40,000 years ago, evidence from Africa indicates a more gradual transition dating back to about 250,000 years ago (Klein & Edgar, 2002; McBrearty & Brooks, 2000; Mithen, 1996). The emergence of anatomically modern humans brought with it the modern human brain and its full range of conscious experience. Though archaic hominids experienced altered states, in all likelihood, it was only with the emergence of the Homo sapiens brain that the full range of experience along the intensified path was open. The intensified altered states of the Homo sapiens brain combined with its (most likely) unique capacities for remembering, manipulating, and interpreting the experiences of those states brought forth something new on the evolutionary landscape: the supernatural. Our ancestors, however, did not just envision the supernatural; they put it to adaptive use. It seems reasonable to assume that those of our ancestors most likely to pass along their supernatural visions were those who used them as a fitness-enhancing strategy. Thus, the ability to achieve and manipulate altered states may very well have been under selection pressure. Stage 3, therefore, marks not just the emergence of the supernatural but with it humanity’s earliest form of religion: shamanism (Halifax, 1982, p. 5; Winkelman, 1990; von Gernet, 1993). While attaching a precise definition to shamanism can spark controversy (see for example, Vitebsky, 2000), in the current context the term is meant to indicate the attainment of altered states of consciousness for the purpose of interacting with the spirit world for the benefit one’s community (Hultkranz, 1973; Townsend, 1997). In its incipient form, the adaptive benefit of shamanism would have been healing. McClenon (1997; 2002) has marshaled considerable evidence in support of the notion that shamanistic healing rituals were fitness enhancing in our ancestral past. Those of our ancestors who were most susceptible to the beneficial physical and psychological effects of shamanistic rituals had a selective advantage over others in surviving illness, overcoming debilitating emotional states, and enduring the rigors of childbirth. McClenon’s "ritual healing" theory is based in a number of converging lines of evidence. This evidence includes: 1. The universality (or near universality) of ritual healing practices across traditional societies. 2. The fact that ritual healing always involves hypnotic processes and altered states of consciousness. 3. The finding that ritual healing is often highly effective for a range of maladies where psychological factors are involved such as chronic pain, burns, bleeding, headaches, skin disorders, gastrointestinal disorders, and the discomforts and complications of childbirth.

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4. The evidence from comparative and archeological studies indicating the existence of ritual, altered states of consciousness, and care of the sick among our primate cousins and hominid ancestors. 5. The fact that the earliest medical texts (from Mesopotamian and Egyptian civilizations) closely connect healing with religious ritual. 6. The finding that anomalous events associated with ritual, such as “miraculous” healing, are effective in inducing supernatural beliefs. The connection between shamanism and the emergence of modern Homo sapiens also finds support in Upper Paleolithic cave art. Following in the tradition of Lommel (1967), a number of researchers have argued that Upper Paleolithic cave art reflects the experiences and rituals of early shamanism (Dowson & Porr, 1999; Eliade, 1972; Halifax 1982; Hayden 2003; Lewis-Williams 1982; 2002; Wilkelman, 2002). This strongly suggests that shamanism pre-dates the art since the depictions represent an already present system.

The Intentional Supernatural Religious healing rituals would appear to necessitate notions of supernatural agency – that is, an understanding of the supernatural as not just a reality, but as a reality that exerts willful causal force. As with humans, the spirits are mindful agents. They have needs, desires, and concerns that intersect with human needs, desires, and concerns. Thus, the supernatural and its spiritual forces must be accessed and directed by a prescribed, ritualized mode of encounter. To do otherwise is to chance offense. However, apart from the need for ritual, it seems unlikely that any deeper theological understanding of the supernatural would be required (at least not initially). Only minimal linguistic skills would be needed (if at all) to add to the persuasive impact of the healing rituals (“relax,” “heal,” etc.). Furthermore, both anecdotal accounts and experimental evidence indicate that specific ideologies are unnecessary to the physical and psychological affects of healing rituals (McClenon, 2002, pps. 10, 79-83). Among the !Kung huntergatherers, ritual healing is caused by a powerful, but mysterious spiritual energy call n/um (Katz, 1982, p. 34). N/um itself bears some resemblance to the very ancient and widespread notion of a pervasive but equally mysterious spiritual force called mana (Smart, 1976). Stage 3 then, necessarily entails the envisioning of an intentional supernatural world but not necessarily an extensive narrative understanding of that world. In the millennia between the emergence of modern humans and the Upper Paleolithic in Europe, ecstatic rituals for social bonding evolved into (but were not entirely supplanted by) shamanistic healing rituals. This was the religion that modern humans brought with them to Europe, which itself began to transform under the dynamic social and ecological conditions of the Upper Paleolithic.

Evidence Supporting Stage Three Anthropological and neuroscience evidence provides further support for the emergence of shamanistic healing in our ancestral past. First, shamanism has been shown to have direct

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individual fitness benefits. Though shamanistic practices vary widely across the globe, they always include some type of healing (both individual and community based). As reviewed above, these practices have been found effective for a range of maladies (McClenon, 2002; Winkelman, 1992). Furthermore, recent studies of meditation show positive health and immune system effects (Davidson et al., 2003; Orme-Johnson & Herron, 1997). Furthermore, though today the shaman is seen as a rare, gifted individual, there is reason to suspect that they were far more prevalent in the past. Among the !Kung, for example, it is estimated that half the men and a third of the women are (or were) shamans (Lewis-Williams, 1982). Among the Crow and Cheyenne of North America, spiritual visions were considered essential to success in hunting and warfare, so much so that those gifted with spiritual insight sometimes “sold” portions of their prowess to their less talented brethren (Lowie, 1963, p. 175). Another important line of supportive evidence pertains to the brain mechanisms involved in agency detection and supernatural agency attribution. Agency detection is an evolutionarily newer function with relatively newer brain structures involved. Baron-Cohen (1997; 1995, p. 91-95) for example, has reviewed studies using both brain damaged patients and neuroimaging of healthy subjects which implicate the orbital frontal cortex in theory of mind. Furthermore, it is questionable as to whether apes ascribe internal mental states as causal factors for other’s behavior (Byrne & Whiten, 1990; Gallup, 1970; 1982; Hare, Call, & Tomasello, 2001; Ponvinelli & Eddy, 1996; Ponvinelli & Prince, 1998). Human infants, however, seem predisposed to interpreting behavior in terms of intentional agents (Baldwin, Baird, Saylor, & Clark, 2001; Meltzoff, 1995). Furthermore, supernatural agency appears to require an ability to engage in second-order theory of mind reasoning (“I know that you know that I know”), something that emerges only in later childhood (seven year olds as opposed to five year olds, see Bering, 2004). The fact that infants and children can interpret actions and events in terms of agency indicates that linguistic and narrative skills are not essential to this capacity. Taken together, this evidence suggests that ascribing agency to other’s actions may be unique to humans, but it may not require linguistic or narrative abilities. All of this is consistent with the contention that the envisioning an intentional supernatural world would have emerged subsequent to mimetic rituals, but prior to the formation of religious narratives.

STAGE 4: NARRATIVE CONSCIOUSNESS Narrative, Episodic Memory and Language Endel Tulving (1983) has argued for a distinction between episodic and semantic memory. Semantic memory refers to one’s stored knowledge of facts, concepts, and general principles of how the world operates. Episodic memory is a temporally and contextually sensitive store of autobiographical experiences. It allows one to mentally travel back in time to past personal events and to project into the future. Evidence for episodic memory in animals is questionable, and falls short of human capabilities, thus suggesting that it may be unique to humans (Roberts, 2002; Tulving & Lepage, 2001).

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Episodic memory, in conjunction with language, allows humans the capacity to produce both personal and cultural narratives. Cultural narratives are collective stories that unite a community with a common history and value system. The personal narrative is a subjective, autobiographical story that unifies an individual’s life experiences and provides a stable, coherent sense of self that penetrates across time. This self-awareness, however, brings with it a somber companion – existential anxiety or the knowledge of inevitable self-suffering and death. To some, religion represents an adaptation to mollify this anxiety (e.g. Bloom, 1992; Feuerbach, 1843/1972; Geertz, 1966: Malinowski, 1922/1961). However, as Boyer (2001, p. 19-22) has pointed out, religious beliefs are often as anxiety provoking (eternal damnation, curses, demonic possession, etc.) as they are comforting, and a blissful afterlife is not always (and has not always been) a part of religious doctrine (e.g. the Greek concept of Hades or Jewish notion of Sheol). While religion and existential stress are intertwined, their relationship is complex and may have as much to do with the ambiguities surrounding death and dead bodies as with the straightforward need to assuage mortal fears (see Boyer, 2001 p. 222-228).

Religion and Social Complexity The narrative or mythic stage in the evolution of religious consciousness emerges from the interaction of two elements: human minds and complex societies. A number of researchers have discussed the close connection between population density, social complexity and cultural and religious evolution (e.g. Dickson, 1990, p. 84-92, 199-20; Hayden, 2003; Klein & Edgar, 2002, p. 166-7, 230-2, 237-40). Archeological evidence indicates that not only were Cro-Magnon Homo sapiens (in all likelihood) cognitively more sophisticated than their Neanderthal counterparts, but their communities were larger and socially more sophisticated as well (see review in Dickson, 1990, p. 84-92, 180-189). In Upper Paleolithic Europe, one of the important factors driving increasing populations and social complexity was resource abundance. Bone remains indicate that large game animals such as deer, horses, and mammoth were prevalent and tooth-wear studies confirm that Upper Paleolithic peoples were consuming large amounts of hunted meat (Butzer, 1971; p. 463, Dahlberg & Carbonell, 1961). Dickson (1990, p. 182) argues that in terms of resource availability and acquisition, Upper Paleolithic peoples were more analogous to the equestrian bison hunters of the American Plains or the medieval reindeer-hunting Saami (Lapps) of Scandinavia than pedestrian hunter-gathers such as the !Kung of southern Africa. Thus, Upper Paleolithic societies had moved from being generalized, egalitarian huntergatherers, to complex, transegalitarian ones (Hayden, 2003, p. 122-131; O'Shay & Zvelebil, 1984; Vanhaerena & d'Errico, 2005). Transegalitarian or complex hunter-gatherers typically use more sophisticated technologies for harvesting and storing seasonally abundant resources (e.g. nets or traps to catch large quantities of fish during spawning season). This leads to a more sedentary lifestyle with greater private ownership of resources and increasing social inequalities. As will be shown shortly, the move to a more transegalitarian society in Upper Paleolithic times brought with it more exclusive religious rituals and an increasing emphasis on the ancestors. Exclusive rituals and ancestor worship required the construction of coherent narrative – a religious mythos about how the supernatural world related to the earthly one.

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Social complexity, therefore, brought with it the fourth stage of religious consciousness: narrative formation.

Ancestor Worship and Narrative Formation As with shamanism, ancestor worship is a universal or near universal trait of traditional religions (Parrinder, 1976, p. 24; Harvey 2000; Lee & Daly 1999). The ancestors played a prominent role in Greco-Roman paganism and continue to be of central importance to Eastern religions such as Confusionism and Shinto (Ching 1993; Shelton 1998; Tsundona 1986). Importantly, ancestor worship also indicates the construction of a coherent, collective narrative that is essential to social cohesion and relevant to human existential concerns. The ancestors represent a continuity of existence that extends beyond earthly death and interconnects the supernatural and human worlds. The private ownership of resources present in transegalitarian societies includes the resource-rich territories (e.g. streams abundant with fish, certain migration routes, etc.) responsible for the entire community’s well-being and prosperity. Claims to these critical territories typically belong to certain families within the tribe by virtue of their ancestral lineage. These families form the “elite” strata of an increasingly differentiated society. For example, among the Tlingit of North America’s northwest coast, the anyeti or nobles of society are typically from clans who claim ownership to the fishing weirs (traps) in the most prized territories (Oberg, 1973). Social elites typically justify their privileged status through their filial link to powerful ancestors in the supernatural realm, whose benevolent proprietorship over resource-rich territories generously provides for the entire tribe. Special rituals and sacrifices open only to elites are necessary to intercede with and properly placate these powerful ancestors so that the entire tribe’s prosperity and security can be ensured (Woodward, 2000). This “divine justification” may have served an essential dual purpose in establishing and maintaining the elites’ privilege status within the community. Boehm (1999) points out how hunter-gatherer egalitarianism is aggressively enforced by coalitions that vigorously resist attempts at individual domination. Furthermore, Turner (1969) argues that community rituals often serve as a restraining force against high status individuals exploiting others within the group. By appealing to the supernatural, resource-holding elites cloaked their status in divine legitimacy. This divine legitimacy may have functioned as an effective counter-measure against aggressive egalitarianism while at the same time forcing elites to incur a degree of supernatural constraint and ritual control on their privileges – thus making their positions more palatable to lower-status community members. Mayan priests and kings, for example, were required to engaged in ritualized acts of brutal self-mutilation, puncturing their penises or tongues and tugging objects through the open wounds, as signals of their divine worthiness (Schele & Freidel, 1990). The divine ancestors fractured the community and held it together at the same time. To accomplish this would seem to require a compelling, unifying myth. The veneration of elite ancestors entails the construction of a conceptual framework for the supernatural, or put another way, a coherent theological narrative connecting the ancestors, the supernatural, and the earthly realm. Its elements would go something like this: (1) the supernatural world exists (a holdover from early shamanism), (2) the ancestors reside in the supernatural world after death, (3) the ancestors can affect conditions in their former

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earthly tribe, (4) the ancestors maintain a special relationship with their kin descendents in the tribe, (5) the ancestors must be placated with certain rituals and sacrifices by their kin descendents so as to maintain their good favor which is beneficial for both their direct kin and the tribe as a whole. From this skeletal framework, more elaborate stories and myths explaining why all this is true, how it originated in the history of the tribe and other important cultural lessons and “facts” can be constructed to create a compelling story passed on from generation to generation (the mythic stage in cultural evolution, see Donald, 1991). The full flowering of the narrative element in religion provides the cultural myth that sustains the tribe against social disintegration and buffers individuals against the inevitable travails of life.

The First Evidence of Ancestor Worship Evidence from the Upper Paleolithic is consistent with the notion of an elite social class increasingly concerned with ancestry and legacy. For example, elaborate burial sites such as Sungir (White, 1993), Dolni Vestonice (Klima, 1988) and Saint-Germain-la-Riviere (Vanheren & d’Errico, 2005) attest to the presence of an elite class whose members were laid to rest with great ceremony and lavish grave offerings. Among more recent complex huntergatherers, funeral rites of this character typically occur under the expectation that the deceased is soon to take his/her place as a powerful ancestor in the supernatural realm (Hayden, 2003, p. 239; Sandarupa, 1996). While the ancestors provided wealth, descendants were necessary to insured it. Thus, as might be expected, the Upper Paleolithic also provides evidence of an increasing concern with progeny and fertility. Nearly 200 “Venus” figurines – small artifacts carved in ivory, bone, or stone depicting naked, headless, female forms with exaggerated breasts, buttocks, and abdomen have been unearthed and dated to Upper Paleolithic times. Other sculptured, carved, and graphic depictions of naked females and female body parts as well as phallic symbols have also been found (Hayden, 2003, p. 154; Hutton, 1991; Soffer, 1985). Given the amount of effort and resources required to create these images, the likelihood that they simply represent “Stone Age pornography” seems remote. Instead, as numerous researchers have argued, they more likely reflect concerns over fertility and childbearing (Eliade, 1958; Wymer, 1982, see however Harding, 1976 and Rice, 1982 for alternative interpretations). Furthermore, the Upper Paleolithic marks the first time in history where a substantial number of females were buried with elaborate grave goods, indicating an elevation in their social status (Harrold, 1980). This would be expected if fertility and progeny were becoming increasingly valued.

Exclusive Rituals One of the unique and puzzling aspects of Upper Paleolithic parietal art is the fact that much of it is located in remote, isolated cave chambers. While many spectacular examples of cave art are in relatively open, accessible areas; it is, nevertheless, intriguing how frequently cave artists intentionally selected tiny, tight, difficult-to-reach recesses for their work. At various cave sites, some painted chambers can only be accessed after: a mile-long trek

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through frigid waters (Montespan Cave), a harrowing climb up a sheer rock face (Nerja cave in Spain), a 16 foot rope decent (the shaft at Lascaux), or a 200 meter climb after traversing a 450 meter passage (Salon Noir at Niaux cave in France). While the larger, more accessible cave sites were likely used for community-wide rituals, these remote sites were probably used for exclusive rituals and/or individual “vision quests.” (Hayden, 2003, p. 142-153; LewisWilliams, 2002, p. 228-267). Often these deep caves sites contain the footprints or handprints of adolescents and children (see Clottes, 1992). Owens and Hayden (1997) provide ethnographic evidence showing that among complex hunter-gatherers ecstatic rituals involving young people are often for the purpose of initiation into elite secret societies. These individual or exclusive rituals represent an important change in religion in the Upper Paleolithic.

Popular vs. Elite Religion Deep cave sites in combination with the evidence for elaborate burials and fertility concerns suggest that the Upper Paleolithic marks the emergence of something new in religion: exclusive rituals that existed alongside community-wide ones. Thus, Upper Paleolithic religion marks the beginning of a divergence of religion into a community-wide popular form and an exclusive ancestor-based elite form. This proposal is consistent with that of Dickson (1990, p. 199) who argues that the Upper Paleolithic ushered in a move from shamanistic cults to communal cults of greater social complexity. Hayden (2003, p. 209-211) as well has argued for a popular/elite distinction emerging in Upper Paleolithic religion. This division laid the groundwork for future ones characteristic of classic paganism such as: the high gods or state gods of the ruling classes versus the minor gods of the field and forest; exclusive temple-based rituals versus public feasts and festivals; state sponsored cults versus familial or domestic ones, and so forth. The highly mythologized and socially stratified religion that would characterize the first great civilizations was taking shape.

Evidence from Neuroscience Narrative formation and existential concerns are uniquely human attributes. Evidence to date appears to confirm this. Brain areas involved in linguistic abilities, episodic memory, and other related functions appear to be part of the executive brain of the frontal lobe where many of our “highest” abstract reasoning functions take place. For example, according to the HERA model of memory (Nyberg, Cabeza, & Tulving, 1996; Tulving, Kapur, Craik, Moscovitch, & Houle, 1994), the left prefrontal cortex is critical for the encoding of information into episodic memory, while the right prefrontal cortex is critical for retrieval from episodic memory. In discussing the role of the frontal lobes in episodic memory Tulving and Lepage (2000) state the following: The point is that the establishment, maintenance, and switching of these frontal sets require massive and presumably highly complex neuronal activity of a kind possible only for highly developed brains, such as that of humans and possibly other higher primates. This is

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where the story of episodic memory as a very recent evolutionary adaptation comes in. (p. 222)

The construction of a coherent personal narrative that integrates experience and accounts for our “sense of self” appears to be related to left hemisphere linguistic functions (Gazzinga, 1995; Ramachandran & Blakeslee, 1998, p. 134-137). Structures of the left hemisphere of the cerebral cortex involved in memory and language weave experiences together into a sensible story about the self, its actions and motivations. Gazzinga, Irvy and Mangun (1998, p. 543) refer to these functions as the “interpreter” – those aspects of the brain that collectively “make sense” of our actions and experiences. Using language as a vehicle for constructing a personal narrative and a coherent framework for integrating experience appears to be a uniquely human attribute. Language trained apes are far more utilitarian in their use of language. Kanzi, the most language-skilled ape to date, uses 96% of his linguistic utterances to make requests (Greenfield & Savage-Rumbaugh, 1991). Turning rituals into supernatural stories was the last decisive step in the evolution of religion from its primordial origins and the first step in the creation of “book” religions as we know them today.

SUMMARY The Scenario Five million to about 2 million years ago. The common ancestor of chimpanzees and humans was a social animal with a capacity to engage in ritual and to experience altered states of consciousness. Furthermore, this common ancestor more than likely used rituals and their attendant altered states as a means of social bonding. The oldest species along the hominid branch, the australopiths, had similar capacities. Evidence for this can be found in the fact that altered states such as the Totsell reflex, REM sleep, and hypnotic states have been documented in numerous nonhuman species. Ritual behavior is present in many nonhuman species, especially primates where rituals of trust-building, welcoming, social bonding are common. These rituals can bring about altered states that enhance social cooperation. Furthermore, evolutionarily older brain structures, such those of the limbic system are integral to the emotions that facilitate social bonding and to the experience of altered states of consciousness. About 2 million years ago. The capacity for mimetic consciousness emerges with the arrival of Homo erectus. Erectus could voluntarily represent and refine motor routines through deliberate practice and in doing created the Acheulean hand axe (about 1.4 million years ago). Evidence for this can be found in the fact that hand axe construction appears to be outside of both ape and australopith capabilities. Furthermore, H. erectus was the first hominid species to expand globally which indicates intellectual and social skills far greater than their predecessors. About 300,000 years ago: Group mimesis. Population pressures beginning with the Middle Paleolithic provide the selective force for the further enhancement of mimesis resulting in group-coordinated rituals such as group dance, chanting, marching and other rhythmically regulated activities. These activities provide a mechanism for maintaining group cohesion in the face of larger groups with increasing numbers of non-kin members. These

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rituals did not include any overarching supernatural framework. Evidence for this can be found in the emergence of composite tools, larger home bases, a wider exploitation of food sources and other indicators of larger more cooperative social groups emerging at this time. About 150,000 years ago: Supernatural consciousness. With the emergence of anatomically modern Homo sapiens the full range of conscious experience, including the complete spectrum of intensified states, was available. The modern human brain with its increased working memory capacity and concept formation abilities could take the experiences of altered states and interpret them in an entirely novel way: as evidence of an intentional supernatural realm. With this realization came humanity’s oldest form of religion: shamanism. Shamanism’s initial function was fitness-enhancing. It primarily involved healing rituals where the spiritual power of ritually induced altered states was harnessed as an effective means of coping with a range of maladies including chronic pain, bleeding, gastrointestinal disorders and the complications of childbirth. Thus, the ability to achieve, ritualistically manipulate, and benefit from altered states was under direct selection pressure. Evidence for this can be found in the efficacy of shamanistic rituals for some types of healing; cave paintings and other artifacts suggesting shamanistic rituals; and in the fact that evolutionarily newer brain structures such as the orbital frontal cortex are implicated in the attribution of agency. About 35,000 years ago: Narrative consciousness. As human groups moved from egalitarian to transegalitarian with increasing complexity and social stratification, maintaining social cohesion once again became a critical issue. Social elites claimed divine legitimacy for their privileged status by appealing to ancestors in the supernatural realm. These powerful ancestors formed a critical link between the human and divine worlds. They became exchange partners in a reciprocal relationship involving rituals of honor and sacrifice on the part of humans in return for benevolence, guardianship, and prosperity from the spirits. Explaining the nature of this relationship in a way that strengthened the human community in spite of obvious social inequalities required a compelling religious myth. Ancestor worship necessitates a religious narrative that interconnects the human and divine worlds and deals effectively with human concerns about life, death, and suffering. The ancestors represent a fracturing of both society and religion into elite and popular divisions – divisions that remain to this day. Evidence for this comes from the elaborate burial sites indicating ancestor worship, deep cave sites indicating exclusive rituals, and artifacts depicting concerns over fertility and progeny. Furthermore, the brain structures implicated in narrative formation and episodic memory are among the most evolutionarily recent and very likely form the basis for unique capacities in humans.

THE SEARCH FOR THE ORIGINAL EXPERIENCES James’ “original experiences” are those found along the intensified path of consciousness. This path is neither trivial nor superfluous. Instead, it is ancient and adaptive. It is present in many species as a coping mechanism for stress and deprivation. In our primate cousins, this path can be accessed through rituals that enhance social bonding. Over the course of hominid evolution, this path deepened and its adaptive relevance expanded.

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Mimesis provided voluntary access to the path, and this voluntary control allowed rituals to expand community-wide. Rhythmically coordinated community rituals helped to ensure social cohesion among expanding and relatively heterogeneous hominid groups. The enhanced memory and conceptual capacities of Homo sapiens allowed the experiences of this path to be interpreted in a new and extraordinary way: as a supernatural world alive with intentionality and desire. This world’s will could be directed in adaptive ways to heal community and individual suffering. Finally, the experiences of the intensified path could be built into compelling and socially unifying stories about powerful ancestors and their continuing concern for their earthly descendants. The Jamesian search has led us down the path of intensified conscious states – states that sequentially over the course of evolution were: voluntarily accessed, intentionally animated and therapeutically directed, and religiously mythologized.

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West-Eberhard, M. J. (2003). Developmental plasticity and evolution. Oxford: Oxford University Press. White, R. (1993). Technological and social dimensions of “Aurignacian Age” body ornaments across Europe. In H. Knecht, A. Pike-Tay, and R. White (Eds.), Before Lascaux (pp. 277-99). Boca Raton, FL: CRC Press. White, T. D. (1986). Cut marks on the Bodo Cranium: A case of prehistoric defleshing. American Journal of Physical Anthropology, 69, 503-509. Willis, R. (1994). New shamanism. Anthropology Today, 10, 16-18. Winkelman, M. (2002). Shamanism and cognitive evolution. Cambridge Archaeological Journal, 12, 71-101. Winkelman, M. (1997). Altered states of consciousness and religious behavior. In S. Glazier (Ed.), Anthropology of religion. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press. Winkelman, M. (1990). Shamans and other “magico-religious” healers: A cross-cultural study of their origins, nature, and social transformations. Ethos, 18, 308-352. Woodward, M. R. (2000). Gifts for the sky people: Animal sacrifice, head hunting and power among the Naga of Burma and Assam. In G. Harvey (Ed.), Indigenous religions (pp. 219229). London: Cassell. Wreschner, E. E. (1980). Red ochre and human evolution: A case for discussion. Current Anthropology, 21, 631-644. Wymer, J. (1982). The Paleolithic Age. London: Croom Helm. Wynn, T. (1996). The evolution of tools and symbolic behavior. In A.J. Locke & C.R. Peters (Eds.), Handbook of human symbolic evolution (pp. 263-287). Oxford: Clarendon Press. Wynn, T. (1985). Piaget, stone tools and the evolution of human intelligence. World Archaeology, 17, 32-43.

In: Religion and Psychology: New Research Editor: Joan C. Upton

ISBN: 1-60021-672-2 © 2008 Nova Science Publishers, Inc.

Chapter 9

RELIGION AS ADAPTATION: THE ROLE OF TIME PREFERENCE Robert F. Mulligan Western Carolina University Cullowhee, NC, USA

ABSTRACT This paper argues that religion confers survival benefits on societies and individuals because it allows a general lowering of time preference. Time preference is one of the most basic economic concepts and a fundamental category of human action. Theories of interest, term structure, and opportunity cost all depend on time preference, which is also the basis for capital budgeting in modern finance. This paper establishes how and why the emergence of religious belief supported a reduction of time preference, allowing for employment of capital in time-consuming roundabout means of production. The economic concept of time preference explains why belief in God conferred survival value as we evolved, and why it no longer does so. Time preference is the desire to enjoy immediate gratification. Though considered a universal determinant of human action, it has been observed to vary greatly in intensity across individuals. For example, time preference is especially high in children who lack experience and maturity, and in individuals with low life expectancy. Time preference is also high for criminals, and the general lowering of time preference both facilitates and is facilitated by the development of civilization and the increase in complexity of social relationships. The essence of low time preference is planning for the future, a willingness to delay gratification, and patience to wait for future benefits. Once religious belief emerged among our distant ancestors, to be transmitted as a successful adaptation, it must have contributed to the reproductive success of the believers. Primitive humans experienced an appalling life expectancy. Homo sapiens evolved in an environment where infant mortality approached 100% and life expectancy for those surviving infancy was certainly below 20 years. Our remote ancestors had little reason not to consume all their seed corn at once, and deistic belief mitigated their natural tendency to enjoy whatever gratification they could immediately control. Religious belief enhanced the survival prospects of both individuals and communities by conditioning

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1. INTRODUCTION The Austrian school's subjectivity and methodological individualism provide a distinctive view of time preference. The seminal writings on time preference are cited by Hoppe (2001:1): Jevons (1965), Mises (1949: chs. 18 & 19), Böhm-Bawerk (1959), Strigl (2001), Fetter (1902, 1914a, 1914b, 1914c, 1977), and Rothbard (1963). "What restricts the amount of saving and investment is time preference" (Mises 1949:483, 491). Kirzner (1996:6) distinguishes interest from a productivity return, because interest depends on time preference rather than on productivity. The more impatient an individual is for want-satisfaction, the higher their time preference, and the more they consume out of current income, meaning they save less and have less available for investment. For each individual, the division of real income into consumption and saving is determined by their subjective time preference. People with high time preference consume more of the income or output immediately, while those with low time preference save more. The income saved by low-time-preference individuals raises the community's wealth, acts as a reserve against unforeseeable catastrophes such as famines, clearly offering obvious survival benefits, and can be used for investment which permanently increases the community's wealth and productivity. If an individual's time preference were zero, all the individual's income would be saved and available for investment. If an individual's time preference were infinite, no income would be saved. Mises defines the rate of time preference, which he also calls originary interest, as the ratio between the present values of present and future goods: “Originary interest is the ratio of the value assigned to want-satisfaction in the immediate future and the value assigned to want-satisfaction in remote periods of the future. It manifests itself in the market economy in the discount of future goods as against present goods. It is a ratio of commodity prices, not a price in itself. There prevails a tendency toward the equalization of this ratio for all commodities. In the imaginary construction of the evenly rotating economy the rate of originary interest is the same for all commodities (1949:526).”

Time preference varies significantly across individuals. It is generally thought to be highest for the extremely young and the extremely old, but much lower for the middle-aged. Children have high time preference because of their limited experience and cognitive development (Mischel 1958, 1961a, 1961b, 1961c; Mischel, Shoda, and Rodriguez 1989; Hoppe 2001:4.) Time preference is also thought to be especially high for the poor (Banfield 1974, 1977), criminals (Wilson and Herrnstein 1985), and for borrowers. A person just informed of a terminal illness, leaving them with a suddenly lowered life expectancy, would naturally experience an abrupt increase in time preference. This is the Ikiru effect, from Akira Kurosawa's (1910-1998) 1952 film from an original script by

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Kurosawa, Shinobu Hashimoto, and Hideo Oguni. In Ikiru, ("to live,") Takashi Shimura (1905-1982) delivers his lifetime performance as municipal bureaucrat Kanji Watanabe. When he first learns he has terminal stomach cancer, he embarks on an extravagant but ultimately unsatisfying round of conspicuous consumption. Shimura's character finds personal redemption through seeing a stalled urban renewal project to fruition. For some, this increase in time preference accompanies an increase in interest in religion. Increasing peoples' time preference leads to more impulsive and short-sighted decisionmaking and weakens community cohesion. This paper will examine the extent to which the emergence of religion among our distant ancestors contributed to enhancing their sociability and improved their reproductive and survival opportunities. The remainder of this paper is organized as follows: Section 2. "Religion as a Sociobiological Adaptation," introduces the debate among sociobiologists, theologians, and philosophers over whether religion confers evolutionary advantages; Section 3. "Benfits of Minimally Inconsistent Narratives," explores how religious belief may minimize information processing burdens and facilitate social consensus; Section 4. "Religious Practice versus Religious Belief," clarifies the difference between these two related concepts; Section 5. "Group Cohesion," discusses how communal rituals could enhance survivability of the social group; Section 6. "Subjectivity of Time Preference," introduces the economic concept of time preference; Section 7. "Monotheism as a Beneficial Adaptation," argues that belief in one god contributes to social coordination of preferences, including time preference; Section 8. "The General Rate of Time Preference," explains the arbitrage process which leads to one time preference rate which dominates a social group; Section 9. "High versus Low Time Preference," develops the implications high or low time preference has for individuals and groups; Section 10. "High Time Preference and Persistent Poverty," explores why high time preference is particularly damaging; Section 11. "Unresolved Problems," acknowledges some particularly vexing issues which remain and suggests some areas for future research; and finally, Section 12. "Conclusion," presents some concluding comments.

2. RELIGION AS A SOCIOBIOLOGICAL ADAPTATION The anthropological study of religion searches for objective benefits which enhanced our ancestors' survival and reproductive opportunities (Atran 1990, 2002). The extreme contrasting view of Dawkins (2006) and others (Harris 2004; Dennett 2006) is that religion evolved only as a byproduct of other, actually desirable adaptations, and like the appendix serves no useful purpose. Byproduct theory (Boyer 1994, 2001; Barrett 2004; Bloom 2004) views religion as a nonfunctional "spandrel" (Gould and Lewontin 1979), something which evolved as a consequence of other features which provided adaptational advantages, but provides none itself. Atran's argument for religion as an evolutionary adaptation which survived in society because it enhanced our ancestors' survival opportunities is two-pronged: first, religion shared by a community allows individuals to rapidly construct "minimally counterintuitive narratives" (Atran and Norenzayan 2004a, 2004b; Norenzayan and Atran 2004; Norenzayan et al 2006) to explain and respond to observed phenomenon; and second, communal religious observances increase the degree of group cohesion, which in turn promotes the development

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of society and social cooperation. This second hypothesis interfaces intimately with constitutional political economy. Inspired chiefly by Hayek (1952, 1960, 1973, 1976, 1979), this literature searches for evidence of spontaneously emergent institutions, behaviors, and cooperative arrangements (Atcheson 1988; Benson 1991, 1992, 1994, 1999; Ellickson 1991; Bailey 1992). The economic study of spontaneous order is chiefly associated with Hayek, though the emergence of undesigned orders, institutions, and cooperative arrangements had been noted earlier by Hale (1713), Mandeville (1729), Hume (1739, 1777, 1779), Smith (1759, 1776), and Ferguson (1767) (Ratnapala 2001). Menger (1871, 1883:156-158; 1892) proposed the development of commodity money by participants in primitive barter economies as a spontaneous order and Mises (1912), with the regression theorem, explained how fiat money evolves from commodity money. Polanyi (1941, 1945, 1948, 1951) exerted strong influence on Hayek (Jacobs 1999). It becomes inevitable to consider religious belief and other cultural manifestations as evolutionary adaptations as soon as we realize that not all religious beliefs are equally adaptive, that is, not all offer the same increased survival and reproductive opportunities. However, Altran's argument is largely independent of the specific content of religious belief, which varied across social groups in primitive times as it does today. In the absence of religious belief, our ancestors would have faced the far greater burden of constructing correct naturalistic explanations on very short notice. One requires a sophisticated knowledge of natural science before this naturalistic strategy could even begin to work, and in primitive times the risks in the short term were too great, of being devoured by predators, of being killed by other humans, or merely dying of exposure to the elements. Furthermore, in many cases community acceptance of a naturalistic hypothesis might be ultimately unavoidable, but could generally not be realized without fatal delay. Atran-Nourenzayan "minimally counterintuitive narratives" suggested by the community's religious tradition benefited individuals directly in guiding immediate responses to an extremely harsh environment, and served to coordinate the community's reaction as well, in an efficient manner which conserved energy, time, and resources, allowed the social group to respond quickly when called for, and facilitated group acceptance of psychologically satisfying explanations stemming from the group's cultural tradition. Furthermore, the cognitive burden imposed by simultaneously constructing naturalistic and supernaturalistic narratives better enabled us to survive in the long run by supporting evolution of a more sophisticated and powerful brain. Supernatural belief seems to be evoked naturally as a response to the inevitability and ubiquity of death in primitive times (Norenzayan and Hansen 2006) which is perhaps too painful and final to be dealt with otherwise. Darwin (1871) noted the nearly universal belief in supernatural agents and de Unamuno (1921) suggested belief in consciousness after death was an essential feature of consciousness itself, which is inherently unable to conceive of its own absence. Boyer (2001) argues to the contrary, that such unconfirmable beliefs as in God or an afterlife cannot contribute to an organism's survival ability. Some early brain adaptations which clearly had survival value were a belief in agency, causal reasoning, and theory of mind. Belief in agency enables us to detect and avoid predators, but we habitually overinvoke our awareness of agents both animate and inanimate. When someone is startled by leaves rustled by the wind, they may waste some energy, which is costly to the organism, but the same timely reaction to leaves rustled by a crouching predator can save the organism's life and allow for transmission of the adaptation through the

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species' genes. Heider and Simmel (1944; Heider 1958) established that humans instinctively impute agency even to inanimate objects, to the point where it appears to be a fundamental aspect of human behavior, explanation, and language. Religion imputes agency to supernatural entities, which may or may not exist. Many are invisible and imperceptible, though primitive humans often worshiped inanimate natural or artificial objects, such as idols. Causal reasoning results in our constructing narratives, sometimes subconsciously, to explain and make sense out of our experience. More importantly, narratives serve to integrate our experience. Religion partially automates this process, and shared beliefs would seem to naturally minimize competition among potential alternative narratives within a social group, conserving energy in social intercourse and allowing communities to reach consensus more rapidly and efficiently. Constructing narratives involving long-lived or immortal supernatural entities automatically influences individuals with high time preference to at least conceive of the possibility of extending their own time horizon and lowering their time preferences to better accord with those of the deities they worship and propitiate. Theory of mind allows us to understand the actions and intentions of others, to predict how others will act in response to a given situation, and to influence and respond to the behavior of others. Very young children have not yet formed a theory of mind, and cannot understand how others can possess false beliefs. Theory of mind enables us to form expectations of how deities and spirits in which we believe will act in response to external events and our own contemplated actions, including sacrifice and transgression, and enables us to have insight into what may propitiate these entities, whether they actually exist or not. Our ability to get in the mind of possibly non-existent long-lived supernatural agents shows us the way to transition from the high time preference of primitive barbarism, to the lower time preference of primitive agriculture and beyond. James (1902) saw religion as fostering stronger emotional ties among individuals and strengthening the bonds of community. In his view, religion greatly increases individual loyalty to the group of fellow believers, who confirmed their bonds of community in communal rituals. If this is the case, then the survivability of the strengthened community and the enhanced survivability of the individuals in it would both be enhanced by religious belief. Iannaccone and Makowsky (2007) conducted a series of simulations which demonstrated beneficial clustering of religious groups allows for faster growth because it makes it easier, in terms of lowered transaction cost, for individuals with similar religious beliefs to engage in exchange, intercourse, or other social interaction. Interaction with people of different religions imposes higher transaction costs because both parties do not share a common belief, and may have drastically different ethical standards and behavioral patterns. The information burden which must be overcome before social interaction can proceed prevents some interaction, and makes other interaction more costly. One faces less uncertainty about social partners' past experience and future behavior because one shares the ritualistic practices of the religion with them. Less predictability makes exchange outside one's religious group more costly. For a species with low life expectancy, which ours certainly was in primitive times, deistic belief imposes lowered time preference, that is, more patience and willingness to save and invest. Even worship of the local deities of the early bronze age improved temporal continuity and focused social energy. More sophisticated religious practices probably accompanied the transition to agriculture between the middle and late stone ages. Barbaric hunter-gatherers of the middle stone age would likely pray for good weather and bountiful

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hunting, focusing their energies in the immediate future. There was no reason for primitive hunters not to consume their prey in its entirety, because there was no means of preserving any surplus. Once a people engages in agriculture, as started to happen during the late stone age, their attention starts to lengthen to extend from one harvest cycle to the next. An agricultural society might benefit by reserving more of their product as seed corn, and religious practice might implement this time preference by reserving part of the harvest for sacrifice to the community's local deity or as religious alms. The priestly class would store the surplus grain for their own use, for use as seed corn in the future, or against the possibility of famine. The more foresightful the behavior of individuals in a community, and the longer their time-horizon, the more resources are saved instead of being immediately consumed. Saving output allows for time-consuming, capital-using, roundabout means-of-production, which are more productive and lift a community above subsistence. Once a community saves some of its output or income, its wealth is virtually guaranteed to grow more rapidly than groups which save less. Religious belief spread because social groups which engaged in it also engaged in lower-time-preference behavior, outcompeting groups without the religious beliefs necessary to coordinate a general lowering of time preference. This explains how religious belief removes the incentive to consume the community's seed corn immediately. The survival benefit of religious belief is mostly lost once life expectancy lengthens to the point where, as in modern society, it results in lowered time preference even in the absence of religious belief. Agriculture necessitated the development of astronomy under priestly sponsorship among the Babylonians, Assyrians, and Chaldeans. Any flaws in calendar astronomy are cumulative, and after a mere century under a flawed calendar, a farmer looking up at the sky at noon on the longest day of the year, will be struck by the fact that not only will it be nighttime, it will be snowing (Beckmann 1971). Religious beliefs in such a society would be difficult to maintain in the light of conflicting natural evidence. By the end of the copper stone age, the priestly class was entrusted with the calendar, astrological divination, and the scheduling of ritual feasts they presided over, all compelling them to develop the science of astronomy. Since religion contributes to lowering time preference, and lowered time preference necessarily improves the social group's survival opportunities, it should be clear that religion is a highly successful evolutionary adaptation. It is possible that some religions developed which promoted high time preference, but if so, these would have been selected out.

3. EVOLUTIONARY BENEFITS OF MINIMALLY INCONSISTENT NARRATIVES Religion suggests minimally inconsistent narratives for the social group to utilize as explanations, and which guide the cultural inheritance over time. In order for the narrativegenerating capacity of religious belief to contribute to group survival, it must improve survivability better than alternatives. Wilson (2002) argues that religious practice imposes costs on participating individuals, including alms, energy, sacrifice, and acceptance of false or unverifiable beliefs. However, for successful religious groups, the benefit to individuals need only outweigh the cost. Some religions do not pass this test, or in a changing environment do not continue to pass this test, and are abandoned, or the group which follows the religion

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becomes extinct, outcompeted by a group with a religion more successfully adaptive to prevailing conditions. One plausible reason why religion evolved, especially in light of the extraordinary time and energy devoted to elaborate and sophisticated rituals, architecture, hierarchical institutions, cultural artifacts, etc., is that in primitive social groups, the time and energy devoted to elaborate rituals and sacrifices were more than outweighed by the incessant savings of time and energy offered by recurrent group adoption of simple, consistent, "minimally counterintuitive narratives" dictated by the community's religious tradition. Even when these explanatory narratives diverged from factual reality, they always had the immediate advantage that they were nearly certain to be accepted without question throughout the social group and that they were likely to meet individuals' most urgent psychological needs. Thus, the community's energy will not be wasted debating the meaning of events it experiences, and the whole society can agree rapidly and almost costlessly on the appropriate response to a given event. Sosis (2004) emphasizes the cultural content of religious practice and argues that specific elements of belief have to have a certain internal consistency to work together for the individual. One's religious faith acts as a kind of aesthetic cultural framework against which additional beliefs must be evaluated. Aesthetically dissonant or culturally incompatible hypotheses are likely to be rejected, even if factually true. The adaptational benefit here would be to shield the individual from the agnostic's staggering burden of having to justify all beliefs about the external environment as they arise. The content of primitive religious beliefs evolves spontaneously like property rights (Bailey 1992) and other cooperative arrangements (Benson 1991, 1999). These spontaneously evolved institutions are thought to survive only if they enhance the survival opportunities of the societies in which they emerge, and if they confer competitive advantage over other institutional arrangements. A social group with less competitive institutions and religious beliefs may adopt those of its faster-growing neighbors, may merge with them, or may be outcompeted to extinction. In each case, the less adaptive institutions are always evolutionary dead ends. In the absence of a spontaneously emergent cultural tradition, such as a social group's religious belief, which allows for the generation of minimally inconsistent narratives, members of the social group would have had to devote far more time and energy to constructing these narratives, and because narrative construction occurs cooperatively in a social context, further time and energy would then need to be devoted to discussion and persuasion aimed at attaining the assent of others in the social group. Religious belief seemingly automates this extraordinarily cumbersome and expensive process. Agents thus freed from the burden of constructing their own narratives and achieving consensus, would necessarily have more time and energy to devote to long-range planning and speculative foresight, and ceteris paribus, would necessarily have lower time preference.

4. RELIGIOUS PRACTICE VERSUS RELIGIOUS BELIEF The investigator has to distinguish religious belief from religious practice and ritual. Belief may not actually be coerced and can only flourish in a liberal society recognizing the sovereignty of the individual conscience (Mises 1957:337-340). Belief cannot be observed directly, but only inferred from literary sources, including scriptural texts, theological texts

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such as commentaries, and secular literature, or from architectural relics, and other archeological remains. Religious practice is revealed much more directly from the same evidence than actual belief. Except for rare first-hand accounts of beliefs of specific authors, evidence of belief generally has to be evaluated as prescriptive rather than descriptive, while the same artifacts provide descriptive evidence of religious practice. The evolution of ritual practice is imposed from above as an adjunct to governmental authority. Often the ruler is himself a deity like Pharaoh or the Roman emperor, or is high priest of the state religion, or is closely associated with, though separate from, the priestly class. Human sacrifice is a particularly problematic practice. The story of Abraham and Isaac becomes understandable as a narrative of the transition beyond human sacrifice. Human sacrifice is described in the bible as a practice of pagan cults and neighboring peoples (Deuteronomy 12:31, 18:10–13; 2 Kings 21:6; Ezekiel 20:26-31; 23:37). Judaism evolved from primitive fertility cults, some of which practiced human sacrifice (Davies 1956). Judith 5:7 relates that Abraham abandoned the numerous gods of his fathers to worship the universal God Jehovah. Apart from the moral indignation it evokes, human sacrifice is a particularly expensive religious practice, and it is not surprising that religions prohibiting it would have an evolutionary advantage. Once it was abandoned, it becomes understandable for an oral tradition to develop in which Jehovah commands human sacrifice as a demonstration of unconditional obedience, but rejects the human sacrifice once it is offered. Faced with a history of making human sacrifice, but having abandoned the practice in the relatively recent past as too expensive and morally repugnant, the priestly class would likely construct a narrative in which the deity rejected that kind of sacrifice. Given this hypothesized origin, the fact that Jehovah misleads Abraham with regard to his intentions, becomes understandable and acceptable in light of the moral instruction He provided the patriarch.

5. GROUP COHESION Once primates began to live in social groups, natural selection began to balance the benefits of cooperative defense, hunting, and child-rearing behaviors against the cost of intragroup competition. Brain size and social group size tend to have evolved together (Dunbar 1996). The larger brain confers evolutionary advantages on the species, and is necessary to handle the volume, complexity, and sophistication of social interactions which increase geometrically with the size of the social group. The larger the social group, the greater the percentage of brain weight devoted to the neocortex or neomammalian brain. Macaque monkeys, who interact in social groups of approximately twenty, have neocortexes which account for 50% of their brain weight. More advanced, intelligent, and social than macaques, chimpanzees live in groups of approximately fifty, and have neocortexes which account for approximately 65% of the brain. In humans the neocortex accounts for 80% of brain weight and includes the language centers. Hauser (2006) concludes that primates are evolutionarily hard-wired to adopt and practice rules of morality. Although the content of these rules can vary across human societies, survival and reproductive benefits of primate's receptiveness of morality point to an evolutionary cause. De Waal (2006) observes a number of moralizing behaviors in primates:

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empathy, reciprocity, social hierarchy, and peacemaking. Empathy is displayed by the comforting of the psychologically distressed or physically injured. It is so commonly observed among primates as to constitute the norm. Occasionally empathy has been observed in other species, but normally does not extend outside the social group except in primates. It has been observed in other mammals, but seems fairly exceptional except for primates. Reciprocity, exhibited by non-human primates most strikingly in mutual grooming, suggests observance of the Golden Rule. Social hierarchy is observed most strongly in primate societies where the dominant breeding males and females are related to most other members of the social group. Primates' observance of social hierarchy contributes predictability of behavior within the group, and its violation is typically punished, in extreme cases by banishment. Peacemaking has been observed through reconciliation among males who have fought each other, and through females distracting, discouraging, and disarming males to prevent them from inflicting more serious injury when they fight. These social behaviors comprise a "stylized morality" which forms a foundation for human morality and religion (de Waal 1982, 1996, 1997, 2005). These are cooperative behaviors which serve group interests by minimizing harm to individuals in the group. In addition to making cooperative behavior easier to facilitate, social interaction allows for development of other evolutionary adaptations like language and abstract reasoning abilities. An emerging school of literary criticism, literary Darwinism (Carroll 2004; Gottschall and Carroll 2005) posits first that language skills and narrative conceptualizations are evolutionary adaptations which provided survival and reproductive advantages, and second that literature appeals to readers by offering them survival and reproductive advantages, either through enhanced information-processing ability or by providing examples of successful reproductive strategies. This would explain why most adult literature has always dealt with romantic relationships. Literary Darwinism is chiefly inspired by biologists such as J.B.S. Haldane (1932), Desmond Morris (1967), and especially Edward O. Wilson (1975, 1978, 1998). Apparently religious belief helps maximize the benefits of social cohesion while minimizing the destructive aspects of group life. Individuals living in groups are observed to engage in deception, politicking, coalition formation, and various other activities which are generally discouraged by religion. Although the argument is made that primates' needs to engage in and overcome these negative behaviors forced us to develop larger brains, religion seems to act as a brake against unbridled wantonness. Sosis and Ruffle (2003) found that religious kibbutzim in Israel were more cohesive and survived external stresses better than their secular counterparts. If the degree of social cohesion confers a survival benefit on groups, the puzzle is why these groups have not continued to completely dominate human society (Sosis 2004). It may be that the solution to this puzzle is the observation that religious groups have in fact dominated human history, and that the secular character of modern society is merely a short-term aberration.

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6. SUBJECTIVITY OF TIME PREFERENCE The time preference of one individual can influence the time preference of others (Rothbard 1963: 147-159, 1977; Hoppe 1989, 1993, 2001:6-7). As low time preference individuals save and effect capital accumulation, making the structure of production more productive and roundabout, the marginal utility of present goods tends to fall relative to future goods. This tends to lower everyone's time preference ceteris paribus, though there will always be a range of high and low time preferences within the social group. In addition, as capital accumulates through the saving of low-time-preference individuals, the relative scarcity of labor increases, and ceteris paribus, wage rates rise. The higher wage rate tends to raise the supply of present goods and lower the time preference of previous nonsavers. As wealth and income increase, life expectancy rises, increasing the marginal utility of future goods over present goods, further lowering individual time preference, ceteris paribus. Individual time preference can exhibit magnitude inconsistency, much like risk preference. Risk preference is magnitude-inconsistent if an individual is more or less riskaverse for small values or larger ones (Arrow and Fisher 1974), and time preference can be inconsistent over different magnitudes, and also over the dimension of different time periods. After arbitrage, however, a social group will have a general rate of time preference, and any inconsistency at the individual level will be minimized, if not eliminated completely. Religion can also influence time preference rates in a society. Religious practices such as veneration of the dead and ancestor worship, apart from serving individuals' psychological needs, generally lower believers' time preferences by directing their actions toward gratification outside the immediate present, and even outside their current temporal life. If religious belief includes afterlife rewards for particular modes of behavior during life, it provides a powerful mechanism not only for extending the individual's time horizon, lowering their time preference, but also for coordinating the subjective preferences of otherwise disparate individuals. Among several competing societies with religious beliefs, the one imposing the most socially beneficial and cohesive behavioral rules on the individual would have an adaptational advantage over the others. Normally the most adaptive behavioral rules would be those minimizing harm to others in the society, often through formal prohibition in the form of a divinely-ordained moral code. For the priestly class which administers a religion, as for the temporal ruler, the time horizon will be longer, that is they will have lower time preference themselves and impose a lower time preference on the community, the more secure against competitive threats, is their monopoly on wealth extraction from the productive members of the community. The priestly class could both enhance the wealth-creating potential of the community, and maximize their security against internal and external threats, such as from new religions, by suppressing social innovation, which introduced uncertainty, and by extracting a relatively low portion of the community's wealth. In contrast, an insecure ruler with a short time horizon will try to transfer wealth rapidly from subjects. The archetypal contrast is between the secure English King Henry II and his far less secure son John (Mulligan 2004:49-57). A priestly hierarchy anticipating possible overthrow would behave similarly. Rulers, like priestly classes, face strong incentives to protect their own income, and their citizens' persons, productive activity, and property (Holcombe 1994:8-9).

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If the ruler's time preference impacts the governed (Hoppe 2001:15-39; see also Rothbard 1977:172-184 and Hoppe 1989:ch. 9), this must also be true for the religious practices of primitive societies. Religious beliefs in immortal, or at least long-lived, gods would focus the community away from immediate self-gratification toward longer time horizons. Belief in spirit survival, life-after-death, reincarnation, and ancestor worship would justify decisions based on a time horizon longer than adult life expectancy, which in primitive times was pathetically brief. It is interesting to speculate that the antediluvian macrobian lifespan of Adam (Genesis 5:5) and Methuselah (Genesis 5:27) may have originated as an artifact of the initiation of lower time preference beliefs among a people with relatively low life expectancy and high time preference.

7. MONOTHEISM AS A BENEFICIAL ADAPTATION Though not clearly related to time preference per se, monotheism seems to have been a highly effective evolutionary adaptation which emerged much later. Monotheism seems to offer the advantage of a single explanation for many phenomena. In addition, although there were places where Jehovah was not worshiped, to the ancient Hebrews there was no place He was not absolutely sovereign. This feature, which characterizes many of the world's great religions, has tremendous benefits for traders who travel far and wide. Many primitive deities seem to have been associated with particular places, times, and specific objects. They may have been thought to possess superhuman and supernatural powers, but they could be escaped by distance. Even gods associated with the heavens were only found in particular planets, constellations, winds, or other meteorological phenomena. Apollo could be counted on to return with the dawn, but he did not govern the night sky, and his sister Artemis only hunted when the moon was visible. The Philistine deity Baal, worshiped by Queen Jezebel (2 Kings 10:21), died at the end of every spring, to be born again following the harvest. One of the earliest monotheistic religions was the Pharaoh Akhenaten's worship of the Aton, which Freud (1939) suggested as the origin of Judaism. Abraham's spontaneous discovery of monotheism (Genesis 15:17) seems to have occurred during the middle bronze age, predating Akhenaten by several centuries. The advanced ancient civilizations each had a sophisticated and intricate pantheon of gods which presumably evolved over millennia from time immemorial. These pantheons are no longer worshipped, but continue to be celebrated as a profoundly valuable cultural inheritance. Each god of these pantheons had its own specific attributes and preferences, and some would contribute more to lowering time preference among believers than others. A certain amount of unproductive arbitrage among followers of different cults would still be present among followers of pantheistic religion. Monotheism automatically offers a higher level of coordination among individuals' time-preference. As an example for the relative lack of coordination of preferences implicit in a pantheistic religion, it is only necessary to consider the Greeks. The Olympian gods gave mixed signals at best. This may have expressed the bewildering variety of natural phenomena facing the Greeks in ancient times. In the Iliad, Apollo smites the Greeks with a plague in book 1, taking the side of the Trojans in retribution for the abduction by the Greeks of one of his priestesses. In book 3, Aphrodite also assists the Trojans by rescuing Paris after he is defeated in combat

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by Menelaus. Later, in book 5, Aphrodite and Ares are wounded by the Greek warrior Diomedes, counseled in battle by Athena and Hera. A nephew of Hercules and grand-nephew of Zeus, Diomedes is deified when finally killed in battle. Hercules and Diomedes are the only mortals ever to wound any of the gods. In book 8, the gods abandon both sides, disgusted by the violence the mortals inflict on one another, suggesting, not surprisingly, that the immortals enjoy lower time preference than mortals. Poseidon encourages the Greeks in book 13, and Aphrodite switches sides when she helps beautify Hera in preparation for Hera's seduction of Zeus in book 14, known as the deception of Zeus. Hera distracts Zeus through this seduction to provide the Greeks an opportunity to attack Troy. Since the gods war among themselves in the Iliad, attempting to propitiate them would be a tricky task for any mortal, something even Odysseus never attempted. Apollo, profoundly virtuous and Christ-like in the Alcestis of Euripides, assumes human form and gains greater empathy for mortals through his experience. It is striking that in the Alcestis, he becomes the only immortal in the Olympic pantheon who grows in moral stature. He directed the establishment of colonies in Asia Minor, including Troy, which explains why he protects the Trojans in the Iliad, and also in Magna Graecia, consisting of Sicily and southern Italy. Apollo is the god of the sun, of wisdom, music, literature, and healing. As king of the muses he grants inspiration and he gives prophecy through the Delphic oracle. But he is also the bringer of plagues, which makes him somewhat similar to Jehovah. Unlike Jehovah, the Olympian gods possess human weaknesses and appetites. They are simultaneously easier for us to identify with and rather appalling role-models, often exhibiting irresponsibility, moral incontinence, and other high-time preference behaviors, which seems puzzling in light of their immortality. Apollo seemed to have inherited a constitutional weakness for romantic infidelity from his father Zeus, in marked contrast to his exceptionally chaste twin sister Artemis. Apollo was not particularly attracted to other immortals, but he had a marked carnal weakness for beautiful young mortals of both genders. Occasionally deceptive with his lovers, he was often highly vindictive in response to rejection, such as with Daphne, Castalia, Cassandra, and Coronis. Even when he meant no harm, mortals he loved often suffered hideously and fatally as a result. The Greek myths often present moral instruction in the form of cautionary narratives, but in them, the gods are as morally flawed as any mortal. And Apollo is one of the least objectionable among the Olympians. Asclepius, son of Apollo and ancient god of medicine, was the most-worshiped deity in the ancient Greek world. His character was unimpeachable. Zeus slew him for resurrecting the dead with his healing arts, but revived him as a constellation in response to human intercession. It was in retaliation for the death of Asclepius that Apollo slew the Cyclopes who fashioned thunderbolts for Zeus. Zeus punished Apollo by making him serve Admetus in the guise of a mortal shepherd, setting the stage for the Alcestis. Interestingly, the desire for healing addresses particularly immediate needs, and is consistent with very high time preference, as described by the Ikiru effect. Panacea, daughter of Asclepius and goddess of the cure, would normally only be propitiated in thanksgiving for a successful cure. Her cult was subsidiary to those of Asclepius and Apollo.

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8. THE GENERAL RATE OF TIME PREFERENCE The time preference rate predominating in any community is reached through arbitrage among many individuals, high-time-preference borrowers and low-time-preference lenders. Lenders compete to offer borrowers lower interest rates while borrowers compete to offer lenders higher interest rates, resulting in the substitution of an objective, observable, exchange-value-determined, market interest rate, for the subjective, unobservable, individual, rate of time preference. The prevalence of a market rate of interest must be counted among the other spontaneously-evolved institutions Menger (1883:155-159) cites. Clark (2007) argues that saving and investment exceeded a critical threshold only about 1800 in England, and in his view, the reason this happened was that the English population, after centuries of natural selection, finally became sufficiently dominated by the numerous offspring of the wealthy. This population segment inherited less wealth because of population growth, but inherited their ancestors' low time preference. This enabled them to save rather than consume the social surplus immediately, and their willingness to invest in capitalintensive production technologies enabled the explosion of wealth which was the Industrial Revolution. Prior to this time, poverty was endemic everywhere because as Malthus (1798) observed, any growth in wealth was rapidly outpaced by growth in population. Clark's hypothesis requires time preference to be heritable, and it remains unclear whether it can be. Many preferences can be taught, but that is diametrically opposite to genetic transmission. Differences in general time preference across countries or societies can be partially attributed to demographic differences. American time preference is generally higher than in Japan. To a large extent this difference can be explained by the older median population in Japan. Exceptionally poor countries which have realized high savings rates have experienced phenomenal economic growth, particularly Korea and postwar Japan. Poor countries which have not protected private property have low savings rates and stagnant or even retrogressive economies. If savings are invariably confiscated, there can be no benefit from delaying gratification. In effect, the economic growth rates of modern national economies can be considered analogous to proxies for evolutionary adaptiveness of social groups in primitive times, including religious belief and general time preference. Although time preference appears to originate within the organism, external factors can change or influence time preference. Hoppe (2001:3-5) notes time preference is determined by "external, biological, personal, and social or institutional" factors. Such external factors as property-right security, physical security generally, and observed behavior of others in the community, affect individuals’ time preference. Lower time preference, a willingness to delay gratification, is generally associated with greater predictability in the external environment, which can come either from objective changes in the external environment, or from the individual gaining knowledge and experience – that is, time preference can be influenced by both internal and external factors. This observation argues for the superiority of common law and other spontaneously evolved institutions, which change slowly and incrementally, over positive legislation, which can change abruptly (Rizzo 1985; Mulligan 2004, 2005). The continuity of customary law and institutions, including religion, is preferable from this perspective to the flexibility of positive law and revolutionary change. This explains why religious believers normally resist innovation.

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Production requires time (Menger 1871:68), and only lower time-preference individuals with a willingness to invest the time required can improve technological productivity and increase a society's wealth. Cash flow and subsistence considerations ensure that a person with zero income and savings would display higher time preference, that is, a greater desire or impatience for immediate gratification, than the same person with above-subsistence resources, and that the person’s time preference would fall as resources rise farther above subsistence. Thus, time preference was higher in primitive societies, and fell as civilization progresses. Only as individuals came to value and recognize property rights, could they exercise entrepreneurial awareness for and implement more productive, roundabout, capitalusing production methods. Owning property and lowering time preference interact in a virtuous circle. Those with lower time preference are likely to acquire property through saving and investment, and those with property experience more intensively the potential benefits of saving and deferring gratification, thus being influenced to lower their time preference still further.

9. HIGH VERSUS LOW TIME PREFERENCE Böhm-Bawerk suggested the cultural level of a nation is mirrored by its overall time preference, which he saw as inversely proportional to a people's intelligence and moral strength (Schumpeter 1951:182). Banfield (1974:61-62) considers time preference the principal underlying distinction between upper and lower classes. The upper class possesses property and low time preference, which results in higher economic productivity, educational attainment, and the amassing of greater wealth. The lower class has little or no property and high time preference, resulting in lower economic productivity, educational attainment, and wealth accumulation. Differences in time preference also account for a higher incidence of criminality among the lower class. Criminals have high time preference and prefer the immediate reward of a crime even at the risk of a delayed and uncertain punishment. Time preference also illuminates class mobility. High time preference upper-class individuals are likely to squander their wealth on immediate gratification and thereby descend into the lower class, whereas low time preference lower-class individuals are likely, through thrift and industry, to delay gratification, accumulate wealth, and rise to the upper class. Social mobility can impact a social group systematically if its general rate of time preference changes, and religious belief would have generally lowered time preferences for the groups which adopted it. Though crime is only one of many high time preference behaviors, others including risktaking, incivility, insensitivity, unreliability, untrustworthyness, rebellious behavior, selfdestructive behavior, sexual libertinism, certain eating disorders, and extreme sports, (quite a mixed bag, many of which include some kinds of criminalized behavior as extremes), the systematic relationship between criminality per se and high time preference is well documented (Banfield 1974:140-141, 1977; Wilson and Herrnstein 1985:49-56; Hoppe 2001:31, note 31). Most, if not all, of these high-time-preference behaviors, are generally discouraged by most major religions. The progress of civilization is a process of capital accumulation and the substitution of voluntary exchange for coercion and violence (Elias 1968; Hoppe 2001:6). Hoppe (2001:7)

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likens the lowering of social time preference which accompanies the transition from barbarism to civilization to the lowering of individual time preference which accompanies the transition from childhood to adulthood. Actual or supposed social degeneration can lead to individuals raising their time preference, a phenomenon which can be compared to the transition from adulthood to old age, the Ikiru effect. A perception of social degeneration can become a self-fulfilling prophecy, if individuals adopt an attitude of "après nous le déluge," attempting to consume all resources immediately. Festinger, Reicken, and Schachter (1956) studied millenarian and messianic cults which predicted the imminent end of the world. Cult members exhibited typical high-time-preference behaviors as long as they could maintain belief in the cults' central prophecies in the face of repeated disconfirmation. This demonstrates that religion can impose high time preference on believers as well as low time preference. Unfortunately for these groups, since high time preference impairs a group's survival opportunities, such religions fail to spread widely. A religion preaching a moral code of living in the moment would tend to increase time preference among its followers. Thus reputation and repeated-deal arrangements would be less valuable, social sanctions such as ostracism less effective, and acceptance and implementation of moral norms less pervasive, lowering social cohesion. In this insecure environment, "crimes" such as vigilantism, unlicensed gun possession, and construction of unlicensed castles, would often be "undertaken to exercise social control (Ellickson 1991:213; Acheson 1988; de Soto 1989)." When the community fails to provide acceptable levels of security, individuals will take matters into their own hands.

10. HIGH TIME PREFERENCE AND PERSISTENT POVERTY The liberal order generally lowers individual time preferences by providing individuals the opportunity to discover and exploit roundabout means of production, which cannot be relied on in the absence of secure rights to own, use, dispose of, and transfer, land, capital, and one's own labor services, including embodied entrepreneurial talent and human capital. Lack of secure and transferable property rights prevents third-world nations from accumulating wealth and productive capital (de Soto 1989). This incidentally compels them to persist in the high-time-preference state which predated civilization, even though these societies are often deeply religious. The cause of this may be laid at the feet of the developed world, whose development lending activities are hostile toward private property, entrepreneurial innovation, and low time preference: "expropriation is the right of any country (World Bank 1976:13)." This forces third-world entrepreneurs to exhibit high-timepreference behavior and extract whatever wealth they can immediately, because otherwise they may lose everything. This attitude toward individual rights, that they are privileges granted by, and only exercised at the sufferance of the government, is highly suggestive of the droit administratif. A.V. Dicey (1885:213-267) suggests the tradition of French and continental administrative law or droit administratif is fundamentally opposed to the Anglo-American concept of the rule of law. Government does not enjoy a privileged position under the rule of law, but does under droit administratif. An extreme view would be that under droit administratif, the government is above the law. Dicey notes droit administratif possesses many advantages,

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especially from the point of view of administrative efficiency. These advantages accrue, however, to the governing classes rather than to the governed. Though not necessarily an atavistic survival, the principle of the government being above the law points back to an origin in theocratic government where religious freedom was not tolerated. This now secular legal philosophy is especially compatible with that of development planning, which assumes that the international development lenders' staffs of technocrats are better able to direct the third world's economic progress than the uncoordinated activity of those nations' citizens. The possibility is not conceived of, that the international technocrats and the developing nations' citizens might have different preferences, including different time preferences. Because Anglo-American common law is not a planned order, it is fundamentally at a variance, not only with the philosophy of legal positivism (Rizzo 1985), but also with the imperatives of development planning or central economic planning. Positive legislation may change overnight, and necessarily imposes high-time preference. In contrast, customary law, because it can only evolve slowly and incrementally, imposes low time preference along with greater predictability of behavior. This advantage is invariant to any shortcomings in the content of customary law, and is merely a property of the fact that the mode of changing the law limits the speed and degree of change. The well-known problem of the commons can be described as a failure of institutional structure which imposes higher time preference on individuals. The free or below-cost provision of a public good, in this case grazing land, results in individual users making more intensive use of the low-cost public good. The fact that such highly intensive use causes perceptible degradation and shortening of the expected useful life of the public good, leads users to try and extract as much value added as possible, resulting in even more rapid and complete destruction of the public resource. Artificially imposing higher time preferences creates incentives for collectively undesirable behavior (Smith 1988:86-87). The free rider problem results when provision of public goods is substituted for established customary security of property rights (Hardin and Baden 1977; Olsen 1993; Hoppe 2001:17). Similarly, in the transition economies of the former Soviet Union, where state-owned property has been privatized but the government has imposed a moratorium on the transfer of ownership, owners attempt to extract value by using the resource so intensively they degrade its value. Since they cannot sell the property anyway, there is no incentive to preserve the resource for possible future sale, and the only incentive is to maximize the immediate yield. This tendency is aggravated by the significant possibility of future nationalization. In the Ukraine, agricultural land is being abandoned as the crop yield falls and owners are unable and unwilling to invest in improvements and complementary capital equipment (Krasnozhon 2005). Overwork of agricultural land in the short run results in soil exhaustion, abandonment to nature, and in extreme cases, total loss of topsoil. Religious beliefs and rituals would influence individuals to make better, lower-timepreference use of common property and any resources for which rights of disposal and transfer were not well-defined. In primitive times, this would have included a far greater sphere than after the emergence of law and property rights. In effect, religious ostracism would dissuade individuals from overgrazing a common pasture or degrading other common resources. Such societies would have possessed a clear adaptational advantage over those who had not implemented any mechanism for limiting the overuse and degradation of common resources. The need for, and advantage from, such institutions, increased

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exponentially during the transition from the hunter-gatherer cultures of the middle stone age to the agricultural societies of the new stone age, starting approximately 11,000-8,500 B.C.

11. UNRESOLVED PROBLEMS The literature on religion as an evolutionary adaptation has two contradictory explanations. One strand argues that religion provides an adaptive benefit because it minimizes the information processing burden on the individual and leaves us free to utilize our brain capacity for other, more beneficial uses. This strand of research emphasizes the benefits of religion in offering an expectation of uniform behavior in the community group through "minimally inconsistent narratives." Such uniformity of behavior should have improved group cohesion. Weber (1905) and Tawney (1926) believed that particular religious beliefs, through validating and encouraging economically beneficial behavior at the individual level, contributed to the success of the social group. These desirable behaviors improved group cohesion and the predictability of individual behavior, making it easier for individuals to coordinate their plans. A contrasting research stream argues that religion enables us to form larger social groups, which imposes a greater information processing burden on the individual, and promotes development of a larger neocortex. One argument is that the cognitive burden imposed by requiring the simultaneous construction of naturalistic and supernaturalistic narratives better enabled us to survive in the long run by supporting evolution of a more sophisticated and powerful brain. It should be clear that both accounts cannot be simultaneously true, unless additional explanations can be marshaled, and this unresolved conflict in the evolution of religion literature is both a major difficulty and a fruitful area for further research. A possible resolution is to distinguish short-run from long-run costs and benefits. It seems arguable that religious belief saves energy, time, and uncertainty in the short run, facilitating immediate responses and rapidly-formed social consensus. Here the benefit is chiefly in the short run. Any conflict between religious belief and empirical evidence can often be overlooked until it becomes critical and generates sufficient cognitive dissonance. When conflicts between religion and reality had to be resolved in the longer run, the information processing burden imposed by particularly abstract theological reasoning, and perhaps more importantly by discussion, argument, and debate within the social group, may well have contributed to enlargement of the neocortex, as well as improving the efficiency of its utilization. Clearly, more evidence needs to be found which can be applied to either confirming or disconfirming this hypothesis. It appears especially unlikely that this longer-term reasoning could have been engaged in by people with notably high time preference. High-time-preference individuals live in the moment and do not characteristically deliberate or philosophize. In contrast, low-timepreference individuals can still be alert to immediate threats like predators. Religious belief, and fundamental cognitive categorizations like belief in agency for inanimate objects, would enable low-time-preference individuals to respond immediately. It may well have been that religion allowed the low-time-preference individuals to survive, flourish, and reproduce. They are the group which engaged in theological deliberation and debate, but this could have been possible only after immediate threats had been addressed. The low-time-preference savers are

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the group which makes the more intensive use of the available neocortex, and in whom it likely evolved. They are the ones with the comparative advantage in entrepreneurial planning.

12. CONCLUSION Though time preference is necessarily subjective, it should be influenced by objective external factors such as a culture's religious ritual and social interaction. Societies varied in their general attitudes to saving, investment, and consumption, and in primitive times, the major impetus coordinating individual time preference was religious practice. Religious belief confers survival benefits on societies and individuals which adopt it to the extent it allows a general lowering of time preference. Although religious belief can be arbitrary in the sense that it is not subject to naturalistic justification, religious practice enhances the survival and reproductive opportunities of the societies that it serves to shepherd through adverse selection. Only the most adaptive religious practices survive and contribute to the ongoing evolution of a cultural tradition. The emergence of religion and morality supported a reduction of time preference, allowing for employment of capital in timeconsuming roundabout means of production. Although belief in God conferred survival value as we evolved, it no longer does so. Human longevity has expanded to the point where our time horizon is relatively long and our time preference is relatively low by historical standards. The general lowering of time preference both facilitates and is facilitated by the development of civilization and an increasing complexity of social relationships. The essence of low time preference is planning for the future, a willingness to delay gratification, and patience to wait for future benefits. Once religious belief emerged among our distant ancestors, to be transmitted as a successful adaptation, it must have contributed to the reproductive success of the believers. Primitive humans experienced an appallingly low life expectancy, and many early religions were fertility cults. The more primitive fertility cults focused on human reproduction, but as agriculture developed at the start of the new stone age, fertility cults emerged which focused on agricultural activities such as the timing of planting and harvesting. Our remote ancestors had little reason to conserve resources for the future because their future was much more uncertain and dangerous than ours. Religion successfully mitigated their natural tendency to enjoy whatever gratification they could immediately control. Successfully adaptive religious beliefs enhanced the survival and reproductive prospects of both individuals and communities by conditioning them to engage in longer-range planning through such beliefs as life-afterdeath, spirit survival, and reincarnation. Religious practices which did not confer survival benefits, if adopted, clearly would have disadvantaged communities which may have died out as a result. The tremendous and costly application of resources to non-productive activities such as human sacrifice or pyramid building likely contributed either to the abandonment of those practices or extinction of the culture. The Egyptian pyramids were built during the third, fourth, and fifth dynasties, conventionally dated from approximately 2700-2400 B.C., and Egyptian culture and religion continued to flourish without building more pyramids for nearly three thousand years before pantheistic religion was supplanted in Egypt by forcible conversion to Christianity, and nearly four thousand years before forcible conversion to Islam.

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Sociobiologists studying the problem of religion as an evolutionary adaptation are hardpressed to point to survival benefits it necessarily offers today, and many question whether it ever necessarily provided any evolutionary benefit. Researchers arguing for the adaptive benefits of religious belief cite such characteristics as group cohesion, the facilitation of ready explanations, and impacts on cognitive burden. Some feel religion benefits a species by lowering the cognitive burden through simple, intuitive, though usually objectively false or unverifiable, explanations. Others feel religion imposes a dual burden of simultaneous acceptance of two explanations, a naturalistic one and a religious one, for every event, but this added burden is beneficial because it contributes to the evolution of a more powerful brain. It is clear that the examination of time preference helps sort out the issues of whether religion offers adaptive benefits, why it does so, and whether the benefits continue. Religious beliefs need not lower time preference and therefore confer adaptive benefits, though those beliefs most familiar to us, such as after-death-survival, spirit-survival, immortality of the gods, and reincarnation, obviously act to lower time preference. We have little cultural memory of religious practices which may have increased time preference, if any ever existed anywhere, perhaps because societies with such practices were adaptationally disadvantaged. Natural selection was hard on beliefs which encouraged high time preference. The survival benefit of religious belief is mostly lost once life expectancy lengthens to the point where, in and of itself, it results in lowered time preference and more responsible, more forwardlooking behavior from the majority of agents in the community.

REFERENCES Acheson, J.M. 1988. The Lobster Gangs of Maine. Hanover, New Hampshire: University Press of New England. Arrow, Kenneth J.; Fisher, Anthony C. 1974. "Environmental Preservation, Uncertainty, and Irreversibility." Quarterly Journal of Economics 88(1): 312-319. Atran, Scott. 1990. Cognitive Foundations of Natural History: Towards an Anthropology of Science. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press; Paris: Editions de la Maison des sciences de l'homme. Atran, Scott. 2002. In Gods We Trust : the Evolutionary Landscape of Religion. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press. Atran, Scott; Norenzayan, Ara. 2004a. "Religion's Evolutionary Landscape: Counterintuition, Commitment, Compassion, Communion." Behavioral and Brain Sciences 27: 713-770. Atran, Scott; Norenzayan, Ara. 2004b. "Why Minds Create Gods: Devotion, Deception, Death, and Arational Decision Making." Behavioral and Brain Sciences 27: 713-770. Bailey, M.J. 1992. "Approximate Optimality of Aboriginal Property Rights." Journal of Law and Economics 35: 183-198. Banfield, Eric. 1974. The Unheavenly City Revisited. Boston: Little, Brown, and Company. Banfield, Eric. 1977. "Present-orientedness and Crime." In Barnett, Randy E.; Hagel, John (eds.) Assessing the Criminal: Restitution, Retribution, and the Legal Process. Cambridge MA: Ballinger. Barrett, Justin. 2004. Why would Anyone Believe in God? Lanham, Maryland: AltaMira. Beckmann, Petr. 1971. A History of Pi. Colorado Springs: Golem Press.

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Benson, Bruce L. 1991. "An Evolutionary Contractarian View of Primitive Law: the Institutions and Incentives Arising Under Customary American Indian Law." Review of Austrian Economics 5: 65-89. Benson, Bruce L. 1992. "The Development of Criminal Law and Its Enforcement: Public Interest or Political Transfers." Journal des Economistes et des Etudes Humaines 3: 79108. Benson, Bruce L. 1994. "Are Public Goods Really Common Pools: Considerations of the Evolution of Policing and Highways in England." Economic Inquiry 32: 249-271. Benson, Bruce L. 1999. "An Economic Theory of the Evolution of Government and the Emergence of the State." Review of Austrian Economics 12(2): 131-160. Bloom, Paul. 2004. Descartes' Baby: How the Science of Child Development Explains What Makes Us Human. New York: Basic Books. Böhm-Bawerk, Eugen von. [1884-1921] 1959. Capital and Interest, Kapital und Kapitalzins. South Holland, Illinois: Libertarian Press. Boyer, Pascal. 1994. The Naturalness of Religious Ideas: a Cognitive Theory of Religion. Berkeley: University of California Press. Boyer, Pascal. 2001. Religion Explained: the Evolutionary Origins of Religious Thought. New York: Basic Books. Carroll, Joseph. 2004. A Literary Darwinism: Evolution, Human Nature, and Literature. New York: Routledge. Clark, Gregory. 2007. A Farewell to Alms: a Brief Economic History of the World. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Darwin, Charles. 1871. The Descent of Man, and Selection in Relation to Sex. London: John Murray. Davies, (Rev.) A. Powell. 1956. The Ten Commandments. New York: New American Library. de Soto, Hernando. 1989. The Other Path: the Invisible Revolution in the Third World. New York: Perennial Library. Dawkins, Richard. 2006. The God Delusion. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Dennett, Daniel C. 2006. Breaking the Spell: Religion as a Natural Phenomenon. New York: Viking. de Waal, Frans B.M. 1982. Chimpanzee Politics : Power and Sex among Apes. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. de Waal, Frans B.M. 1996. Good Natured: the Origins of Right and Wrong in Humans and Other Animals. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. de Waal, Frans B.M. 1997. Bonobo: the Forgotten Ape. Berkeley: University of California Press. de Waal, Frans B.M. 2005. Our Inner Ape. New York: Riverhead Books. de Waal, Frans B.M. 2006. Primates and Philosophers: How Morality Evolved. Princeton: Princeton University Press. de Unamuno, Miguel. [1921] 1972. The Tragic Sense of Life in Men and Nations (trans. Kerrigan, Anthony.) Princeton: Princeton University Press. Dicey, Albert Venn. [1885] 1915. An Introduction to the Study of the Law of the Constitution (new 8th ed.) Indianapolis: Liberty Classics. Dunbar, Robin Ian MacDonald. 1996. Grooming, Gossip, and the Evolution of Language. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.

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Mischel, Walter. 1961a. "Preference for Delayed Reinforcement and Social Responsibility." Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology 62: 1-15. Mischel, Walter. 1961b. "Delay of Gratification, Need for Achievement, and Acquiescience in Another Culture." Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology 62: 543-552. Mischel, Walter. 1961c. "Father-absence and Delay of Gratification: Cross-cultural Comparisons." Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology 63: 116-124. Mischel, Walter; Metzner, R. 1962. “Preference for Delayed Reward as a Function of Age, Intelligence, and Length of Delay Interval." Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology 64: 425-431. Mischel, Walter; Shoda, Y.; Rodriguez, M. L. 1989. "Delay of Gratification in Children." Science 244: 933-938. Mises, Ludwig von. [1949] 1998. Human Action: a Treatise on Economics (5th ed.) Auburn: Ludwig von Mises Institute. Mises, Ludwig von. [1957] 1969. Theory and History: an Interpretation of Social and Economic Evolution. New Haven: Yale University Press. Reprint, New Rochelle, New York: Arlington House. Morris, Desmond. 1967. The Naked Ape. London: Jonathan Cape. Mulligan, Robert F. 2004. "Spontaneously Evolved Social Order versus Positive Legislation in English Constitutional History." Review of Austrian Economics 17(1): 41-65. Mulligan, Robert F. 2005. "The Common Law Character of English Charters: Spontaneous Order in the Constitutions of Clarendon (1164)." Constitutional Political Economy 16(3): 285-311. Norenzayan, Ara; Atran, Scott. 2004. "Cognitive and Emotional Processes in the Cultural Transmission of Natural and Nonnatural Beliefs. In Schaller, M.; Crandall, C. (eds.) The Psychological Foundations of Culture (pp 149-169). Hillsdale, New Jersey: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Norenzayan, Ara; Hansen, I. G. 2006. "Belief in Supernatural Agents in the Face of Death." Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin 32: 174-187. Norenzayan, Ara; Atran, Scott; Faulkner, J.; Schaller, M. 2006. "Memory and mystery: The cultural selection of minimally counterintuitive narratives." Cognitive Science 30: 531553. Olson, Mancur. 1993. "Dictatorship, Democracy, and Development." American Political Science Review 87(3): 567-576. Pipes, Richard. 1999. Property and Freedom. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. Polanyi, Michael. 1941. "The Growth of Thought in Society." Economica 8(33): 428-456. Polanyi, Michael. 1945. "The Planning of Science." Political Quarterly 16(4): 316-28. Polanyi, Michael. 1948. "Planning and Spontaneous Order." Manchester School of Economic and Social Studies 16: 237-268. Polanyi, Michael. 1951. The Logic of Liberty: Reflections and Rejoinders. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Ratnapala, Suri. 2001. "Eighteenth-century Evolutionary Thought and its Relevance in the Age of Legislation." Constitutional Political Economy 12: 51-75. Rizzo, Mario J. 1985. "Rules versus Cost-benefit Analysis in the Common Law." Cato Journal 4: 865-884. Rothbard, Murray N. [2004] 1963. Man, Economy, and State (2d ed.) Auburn: Ludwig von Mises Institute.

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In: Religion and Psychology: New Research Editor: Joan C. Upton

ISBN: 1-60021-672-2 © 2008 Nova Science Publishers, Inc.

Chapter 10

WHAT THE SPIRITUAL AND RELIGIOUS TRADITIONS OFFER PSYCHOLOGISTS Thomas G. Plante

*

Santa Clara University, Santa Clara, CA, USA

ABSTRACT There has been a remarkable amount of popular and professional interest in the relationship between spirituality, religion, psychology, and health in recent years. Contemporary interest in spirituality and religion is popular among not only the general population but also among many psychology professionals as well. While most people believe in God and consider themselves to be spiritual, religious, or both, most psychologists do not and have no training in religion and spirituality. Psychologists can learn much from the spiritual and religious traditions that offer principles and tools that are productive to use even if one does not share the same religious or spiritual interests. The purpose of this brief commentary is to offer thirteen spiritual and religious tools common among all of the major religious and spiritual traditions that can be utilized by contemporary professional psychologists in clinical practice and elsewhere in their professional work to enhance their already high quality professional services that they provide. In addition to the thirteen tools, relevant ethical issues are briefly discussed as well.

Keywords: Spirituality, Religion, Psychology, Integration, Psychotherapy In recent years, the field of psychology has appeared to have rediscovered spirituality and religion. There has been an outpouring of psychology and religion integration books, articles, *

Thomas G. Plante, Ph.D., ABPP is professor of psychology at Santa Clara University, adjunct clinical associate professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Stanford University School of Medicine, and in private practice in Menlo Park, California. He has authored a dozen books including, Spiritual Practices in Psychotherapy: Thirteen Tools for Enhancing Psychological Health. Address correspondence to Thomas G. Plante, Psychology Department, Alumni Science Hall, Room 203, Santa Clara University, Santa Clara, CA. 95053-0333; Email: [email protected]; Telephone: 408-554-4471.

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workshops, and conferences of late. For example, the American Psychological Association offered no published books on these topics only a decade ago and now have a dozen published books available with more forthcoming. This is contrasted by the many years of psychology and religion working in parallel universes that intersected only very infrequently. Gallup and other national polls and surveys suggest that approximately 95% of Americans believe in God, 40% attend religious services on a weekly basis or more, and more than 85% of the population is affiliated with some religious tradition and denomination (e.g., Gallup, 2002; Gallup & Lindsay, 1999). Thus, spirituality and religion appear to be an important and central part of life for many people in our society. However, most psychologists are not affiliated with a religious tradition and only a third report that religion or spirituality is important to them (Delaney, Miller, & Bisono, 2007). Furthermore, most have very little if any training on spirituality and religion and how they may impact their work as psychologists (Russell & Yarhouse, 2006). This is starting to change as it should. In my careful review of the spiritual and religious traditions, there appears to be many spiritual and religious tools that could be better understood and employed by psychologists in their professional work regardless of the particular faith tradition (or lack of faith tradition) of either their clients or themselves. The purpose of this commentary is to briefly introduce thirteen spiritual and religious tools that unfold from the commonalities of the major religious and spiritual traditions that can be incorporated into professional psychological services. More details regarding these tools are published elsewhere which the reader may wish to review (Plante, 2008; Plante, in press). This brief chapter is primarily suited for psychologists and other mental health professionals who provide professional services to the general public in various treatment and consultation environments.

THIRTEEN SPIRITUAL AND RELIGIOUS TOOLS FOR PSYCHOLOGISTS Meditation Research has demonstrated that their are many mental and physical health benefits from regular meditative contemplative practices (Kabat-Zinn, 2003; Shapiro & Walsh, 2007). Mindfulness meditation is a good example of using a religiously based practice from the Buddhist tradition that can be adapted and secularized for contemporary psychotherapeutic environments. While mindfulness meditation has had the most acceptance among health care professionals relative to other meditative and contemplative techniques steeped in religious traditions, other meditative practices can be embraced and incorporated into our work with success and similar therapeutic results (Plante & Thoresen, 2007; Walsh, 1999). Benefits of regular meditative practice include stress reduction, acceptance of self and others, as well as improved coping and enhanced interpersonal relationships. Many physical benefits such as lower blood pressure and tempered stress reactivity are also probable for those who meditate in an ongoing manner (Kabit-Zinn, 2003; Shapiro & Walsh, 2007).

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Prayer Research from a variety of quality studies suggests that there are both mental and physical health benefits of engaging in regular prayer activities. Prayer is defined in a variety of ways but is generally considered to be an ongoing communication with the divine or sacred. All of the religious faith traditions encourage and support prayer but they may differ greatly in style, technique, and practice. Some of the specific mental health benefits of prayer engagement have included enhanced psychological functioning, well-being and meaning, and stress reduction (Masters, 2007).

Vocation, Meaning, Purpose, and Calling in Life Spirituality and religious engagement provide direction and opportunities to develop and nurture an enhanced sense of meaning, purpose, calling, and vocation in one’s life. All of the religious and spiritual traditions offer thoughtful guidelines to concerns about how someone should manage their life with often detailed directions and strategies for obtaining more meaning and purpose.

Acceptance of Self and Others (Even with Faults) Religious and spiritual traditions provide wise counsel regarding the benefits of accepting ourselves and others even with faults and imperfections. The traditions offer various strategies for redemption, forgiveness, reconciliation, and acceptance from others and also from the divine. Certainly much of the work of psychologists in psychotherapy highlight the notion that it can be very useful to accept what we can’t change and change what we can to enhance the quality and well being of ourselves and others. The often quoted and well known “serenity prayer” well articulates what so much of psychotherapy tries to accomplish. It states: “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.”

Ethical Values and Behaviors The religious and spiritual traditions have spent hundreds and even thousands of years fine tuning many time-tested guidelines and principles for ethical living. Living more ethically, even without religious or spiritual guidance, is likely to have psychological, relationship, community, and other benefits (Plante, 2004). Curiously, the primary ethical principles endorsed for psychologists are articulated in the ethics code (American Psychological Association, 2002) overlap with many of the very same ethical guidelines offered and supported by the various religious and spiritual traditions. These include guiding principles and values such as respect, responsibility, integrity, competence, and concern for others (RRICC, Plante, 2004). For example, both the professional ethics codes and religious and spiritual traditions encourages people to be concerned about and help improve the welfare

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of others (and especially those in greatest need), to be honest and maintain integrity in all that we do and say, and to be respectful to everyone and to life. How we apply these principles to our day-to-day decisions can be challenging and debatable but the principles themselves are embraced by the spiritual and religious traditions as well as the professional psychological associations and community.

Being Part of Something Larger and Greater than Oneself The religious and spiritual traditions contribute to a sense of being part of something larger than ourselves. Religion and spirituality offers a path to help place life and our many challenges in a better and bigger perspective. These traditions offer wisdom and advice on issues and concerns that happened long before us as well as those that might be important long after our passing. Additionally, being and feeling part of something bigger and perhaps more important than ourselves can greatly assist in better coping and managing the many stressful challenges and transitions in our lives.

Forgiveness, Gratitude, Love, Kindness, and Compassion The religious and spiritual traditions, at their very best, encourage people to be forgiving, grateful, loving, kind, and compassionate. For example, many research studies have demonstrated the positive mental, physical, and community health benefits of forgiveness (Koenig et al., 2001). Forgiveness is a productive foil to anger, hostility, and bitterness. Studies have found that those who tend to be more grateful often sleep better, are more optimistic, more energetic, and maintain higher quality and more satisfying interpersonal relationships (e.g., Emmons & McCullough, 2003). Additionally, all of the major religious and spiritual traditions encourage and support love, kindness, and compassion (Armstrong, 2006) also having many mental, physical, community, and relational benefits (Snyder & Lopez, 2007). Treating others as you wish to be treated, popularly referred to as the “golden rule,” is supported and emphasized in all of the major religious and spiritual traditions (Armstrong, 2006).

Volunteerism and Charity The religious traditions universally encourage and support charitable works and volunteerism attempting to help those in great need and try to make the world a better place for everyone. Remarkably, research suggests that two-hours per week or more of volunteer activities is associated with mental and physical health benefits and actually reduces mortality risks over time as much as 40% (Oman & Thoresen, 2003). The religious traditions generally offer an effective organizational structure to nurture productive community engagement that most often emphasize helping those in greatest need such as the poor and marginalized of society. Furthermore, ongoing volunteerism usually provides the volunteer with an enhanced sense of meaning, purpose, and calling that can often help keep their own troubles and stressors in better perspective.

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Ritual and Community Support Research over many years and in many ways has consistently found that mental and physical health benefits can be secured from social support. Religious and spiritual practices, services, rituals, and other activities provide ongoing community social networking opportunities shared with others who maintain similar values, beliefs, perspectives, and traditions. Regular religious service attendance, bible or other scripture studies, and many holiday celebrations within family and faith communities all provide organized and ongoing opportunities for social connection, networking, and support.

Social Justice The religious and spiritual wisdom traditions all support social justice ideas and activities to make the world a more humane and just place. Furthermore, social justice activities and engagement helps people to be less focused on themselves. It is often hard to feel overly stressed and caught up by our own daily hassles and challenges when confronted with the serious and often fatal challenges of poverty, oppression, violence, and disease experienced by the majority of the world’s population.

Spiritual Models Religious and spiritual models provide followers with excellent exemplars to imitate (Oman & Thoresen, 2003, 2007). The recent highly popular question, “What would Jesus Do?” is a perfect example. Ancient religious models such as Jesus, Buddha, and Mohammad, as well as many of the more contemporary religious and spiritual models such as Gandhi, Mother Teresa, the Dali Lama, Martin Luther King, and even family and friends can act as a template or model for how to live and act in a better way. Research has indicated that observational learning is a very powerful method to acquire new skills and behaviors (Bandura, 1986). Having spiritual and religious role models can be a highly productive way to help motivate and inspire others to “go and do likewise” (Luke 10:37).

Bibliotherapy Psychologists and other health care professionals have used bibliotherapy to help others for decades. They have encouraged their clients to read various self-help and other books to augment their treatment and enhance their lives. Many of these materials are also used for psycho-educational purposes such as learning more about a particular diagnosis and treatment options. These books are also frequently used to increase client motivation or provide inspiration. The religious and spiritual traditions also usually encourage their members to read sacred scripture such as the Bible as well as other sacred readings and commentaries on sacred texts to improve their faith, spirituality, and lives in general.

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Sacredness of Life The religious and spiritual traditions all nurture and support the notion that life is sacred and that the divine lives within all of us. This concept that we are all very important, sacred, and perhaps a “child of God” have many important implications and ramifications for how we perceive ourselves as well as interact with others. The religious faith communities and traditions instruct and underscore that if we are in fact sacred, then everyone must be treated with a great deal of respect, kindness, love, and compassion. Psychologists and other professionals can then use this perspective of sacredness in their psychotherapeutic work. They can encourage their clients to find more ways to enhance their self worth as well as their interpersonal relationships.

ETHICAL ISSUES There are several very important ethical issues that should be outlined when considering the integration of spiritual and religious tools into psychological work. First, it is important for all psychologists to only practice within their area of professional competence. While a clinician who may be spiritual, religious or both might want to integrate these interests and their beliefs into their professional work, it would be inappropriate and unethical to practice outside of one’s area of training and expertise or to promote their particular spiritual and religious beliefs and traditions onto their clients. Second, professionals must avoid any potentially exploitive dual relationships most especially when their clients are members of their own religious congregations. Client referrals generally emerge from people that are known through similar activities and organizations including fellow congregants in faith communities. In these circumstances, potential dual relationships and conflicts of interest can quickly unfold. Finally, professionals must avoid any potential bias by supporting one faith tradition or belief system over another. Psychologists, like anyone else, perhaps maintain particular positive or negative impressions about various religious and spiritual traditions and communities. They must be aware and respectful of the diversity of beliefs and practices even within each religious and religious tradition. Psychologists must closely follow and adhere to their ethics code (American Psychological Association, 2002) and get appropriate ongoing consultation and training as needed.

CONCLUSION While psychology as an independent academic and professional discipline and profession has been conducting research, practice, consultation, and teaching for over 100 years, the great religious and spiritual communities and traditions have thoughtfully reflected upon and offered many helpful suggestions on life and living for thousands of years. Rather than ignore what these important traditions offer, professional psychology should embrace them in a manner that makes sense for high quality, contemporary, and ethical professional practice. In doing so, psychology may well benefit from the thirteen spiritual and religious tools common

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in all of the major spiritual and religious traditions that can be applied to their professional work regardless of the beliefs and practices of their clients or themselves.

REFERENCES American Psychological Association (2002). Ethical principles of psychologists and code of conduct. American Psychologist, 57, 1060-1073. Armstrong, K. (2006). The great transformation: The beginning of our religious traditions. New York: Anchor Books. Bandura, A. (1986). Social foundations of thought and action. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall. Delaney, H. D., Miller, W. R., & Bisono, A. M. (2007). Religiosity and spirituality among psychologists: A survey of clinicians members of the American Psychological Association. Professional Psychology: Research and Practice, 38, 538-546. Emmons, R.A., & McCullough, M.E. (2003). Counting blessings versus burdens: Experimental studies of gratitude and subjective well-being. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 84, 377-389. Gallup, G. H., Jr., (2002). The Gallup poll: Public opinion 2001. Wilmington, DE: Scholarly Resources. Gallup, G., Jr., & Lindsay, D.M. (1999). Surveying the religious landscape: Trends in U.S. beliefs. Harrisburg, PA: Morehouse. Kabat-Zinn, J. (2003). Mindfulness-based interventions in context: Past, present, and future. Clinical Psychology: Research and Practice, 10, 144-156. Koenig, H. G., McCullough, M. E., & Larson, D. B. (2001). Handbook of religion and health. New York: Oxford. Masters, K.S. (2007). Prayer and Health. In T. G. Plante & C. E. Thoresen (Eds), Spirit, science and health: How the spiritual mind fuels the body (pp. 11-24). Westport, CT: Praeger/Greenwood. Oman, D. & Thoresen, C.E. (2003). Spiritual modeling: A key to spiritual and religious growth? The International Journal for the Psychology of Religion, 13, 149-165. Oman, D.& Thoresen, C.E. (2007). How does one learn to be spiritual? The neglected role of spiritual modeling in health. In T. G. Plante & C. E. Thoresen (Eds), Spirit, science and health: How the spiritual mind fuels physical wellness (pp. 39-56). Westport, CT: Praeger/Greenwood. Plante, T.G. (2004). Do the right thing: Living ethically in an unethical world. Oakland, CA: New Harbinger. Plante, T. G. (2008). What do the spiritual and religious traditions offer the practicing psychologist? Pastoral Psychology, 56, 429-444. Plante, T. G. Spiritual practices in psychotherapy: Thirteen tools for enhancing psychological health. Washington, DC: American Psychological Association, in press. Plante, T. G., & Thoresen, C. E. (Eds.) (2007). Spirit, science and health: How the spiritual mind fuels physical wellness. Westport, CT: Praeger/Greenwood.

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Russell, S. R., & Yarhouse, M. A. (2006). Religion/Spirituality within APA-accredited psychology predoctoral internships. Professional Psychology: Research and Practice, 37, 430-436. Shapiro, S.L., & Walsh, R. (2007). Meditation: Exploring the farther reaches. In T. G. Plante & C. E. Thoresen (Eds), Spirit, science and health: How the spiritual mind fuels the body (pp. 57-71). Westport, CT: Praeger/Greenwood. Snyder, C.R., & Lopez, S.J. (2007). Positive psychology: The scientific and practical explorations of human strengths. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Walsh, R. (1999). Essential spirituality: The seven central practices. New York: Wiley & Sons.

INDEX A abdomen, 177 abduction, 199 aboriginal, 207 abortion, 67 abusive, 40, 41 academic, 112, 116, 218 access, 18, 33, 116, 128, 181 accidental, 113 accomplices, 109 accounting, 30, 32, 139 acculturation, 182 acetylcholine, 161 achievement, 64 acquired immunodeficiency syndrome (AIDS), AIDS, vii, 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 18, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 27, 32, 35, 36, 37, 43, 44, 46 activation, 161, 162 activism, 117 acute, 160 adaptability, 166, 167 adaptation, x, 24, 166, 175, 179, 189, 191, 192, 194, 199, 205, 206, 207 adjustment, 5, 7, 8, 22, 142 administration, 109, 114, 115, 123 administrative, 113, 203 administrative efficiency, 204 adolescents, 20, 44, 142, 178 adult, 22, 29, 37, 40, 41, 52, 58, 70, 142, 197, 199 adult population, 70 adult stem cells, 52, 58 adulthood, 138, 203 adults, vii, viii, 2, 4, 6, 20, 23, 27, 32, 52, 130, 149, 181 advertisements, 12 advertising, 152

affect, 176 Africa, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 118, 119, 123, 124, 125, 167, 168, 169, 172, 175, 184, 187 African American, ix, 8, 10, 13, 17, 25, 32, 37, 127, 128, 129, 130, 131, 135, 140, 141, 142, 143, 144 African Americans, ix, 8, 17, 127, 128, 129, 130, 135, 140, 141, 142, 143, 144 African National Congress, 115 afternoon, 108 age, 11, 13, 14, 37, 50, 52, 57, 112, 120, 131, 164, 184, 193, 194, 199, 203, 205, 206 agent, 111 agents, xi, 111, 173, 174, 190, 192, 193, 207 aggression, 130 aging, 21, 48, 49, 50, 52, 56, 57, 58, 60, 142 aging process, 49 agrarian, 87 agricultural, 194, 204, 205, 206 agriculture, 193, 206 aid, 6, 41, 59, 110, 178 aiding, 141 air, 133 al Qaeda, 109 Alabama, 149 Alaskan Native, 10 alcohol, 29, 137 alienation, 5 allies, 111, 121, 123 alpha, 11, 12, 14 altered state, ix, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163, 165, 168, 170, 172, 173, 179, 180 alternative, 4, 17, 21, 69, 93, 121, 129, 170, 177, 193 alternative medicine, 4 alternatives, 69, 194 alters, 147 altruism, 5 Amazonian, 182 ambiguity, 151 American Indian, 208

222

Index

American Psychological Association (APA), 214, 215, 218, 219, 220 amnesia, 40 anger, 12, 36, 110, 121, 216 Angola, 113 anhedonia, 16 animals, 2, 40, 163, 165, 166, 174, 175, 186, 187 annihilation, 121 anomalous, 173 antagonists, 67 anthropological, x, 159, 191 anti-American, 110 antibiotics, 28 anxiety, 6, 12, 16, 21, 29, 31, 34, 35, 38, 39, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 175 apartheid, 112, 113, 114, 115 appendix, 191 application, 206 appraisals, 145 Arab countries, 118 Arab world, 109, 121 Arabs, 111, 112, 114 arbitrage, 191, 198, 199, 201 archeology, 186 archetype, 167 Argentina, 114 argument, 42, 113, 149, 191, 192, 197, 205 Arizona, 157, 182 Arizona State University, 157 arousal, 161 arrest, 28 arson, 4 artificial, 48, 193 Artificial Intelligence (AI), 48, 53 artistic, 170 Asia, 156, 200 Asian, 10, 118, 146, 150, 153, 155, 157, 158 Asian American, 153 Asian Americans, 153 Asian countries, 155 Assam, 188 assault, 149 assessment, 13, 30, 45, 48, 54, 170 associations, vii, 1, 5, 7, 8, 9, 34 assumptions, 13, 43 astronomy, 194 asymmetry, 187 Atlantic, 125 atoms, 49 atrocities, 114 atrophy, 50 attachment, 22, 69, 153 attacks, 32, 108, 117, 121

attention, 9, 35, 41, 48, 87, 111, 112, 161, 162, 194 attitudes, 64, 206 attribution, 24, 174, 180 attribution theory, 24 atypical, 166 audio, 131 auditory hallucinations, 37 Australia, 105 authoritative, 152 authority, 64, 146, 147, 157, 196 autonomic, 171, 185 availability, 35, 175 avoidance, 34, 122 avoidance behavior, 34 awareness, 3, 39, 160, 161, 175, 183, 186, 187, 192, 202

B backwaters, 116 bacterial, 50 baggage, 151 barriers, 35 barter, 192 batteries, 39 beer, 163 behavior, ix, x, xi, 4, 9, 12, 16, 21, 34, 43, 55, 106, 139, 145, 146, 147, 149, 150, 153, 154, 155, 157, 159, 164, 165, 166, 168, 169, 170, 172, 174, 179, 181, 185, 186, 187, 188, 190, 193, 194, 197, 198, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205, 207 behavioral sciences, 3, 213 Beijing, 152, 181 Belgium, viii, 63, 65, 70, 71, 72, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 84, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 101, 102, 104 beliefs, vii, xi, 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 9, 12, 14, 16, 17, 18, 19, 21, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 55, 64, 68, 72, 142, 147, 148, 173, 181, 190, 192, 193, 194, 195, 196, 198, 199, 204, 205, 206, 207, 217, 218, 219 benefits, x, 4, 8, 24, 35, 37, 38, 43, 129, 159, 174, 189, 190, 191, 196, 197, 199, 202, 205, 206, 207, 214, 215, 216, 217 benevolence, 180 bereavement, 23 bias, 218 bible, 196, 217 Bible, ix, 29, 127, 128, 131, 132, 133, 134, 135, 136, 138, 140, 141, 148, 150, 155, 217 bioethics, 60 biological, x, 9, 22, 49, 53, 55, 59, 155, 159, 160, 201 biologically, 49

Index birds, 133 birth, 56, 157 bison, 175 black, 142, 143 Black Church, ix, 127, 128, 129, 130, 134, 135, 137, 141 Blacks, 129, 130 blame, 4 blasphemy, 150 bleeding, 172, 180 blocks, 14 blood, 22, 29, 32, 33, 45, 50, 57, 167, 214 blood pressure, 22, 29, 45, 214 blood transfusion, 32 blood transfusions, 32 boats, 148 body, 163, 177, 188 body fat, 34 body fluid, 32 bonding, x, 159, 164, 166, 170, 171, 173, 179, 180, 183 bonds, 129, 165, 193 bone, 52, 177 bone marrow, 52 borderline, 22 borderline personality disorder, 22 borrowers, 190, 201 borrowing, 170 Boston, 1, 21, 23, 184, 207, 208, 210 bounds, 58 boys, 136 brain, 32, 160, 161, 165, 166, 168, 169, 170, 171, 172, 174, 178, 179, 180, 182, 184, 185, 186, 187, 192, 196, 205, 207 brain damage, 174 brain structure, 165, 174, 179, 180 breast, 4, 23, 24, 29, 32 breast cancer, 4, 23, 24, 29 breast carcinoma, 24 breast milk, 32 breastfeeding, 32 breathing, 4, 162 breeding, 197 bribes, 151 Britain, viii, 63, 64, 65, 67, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 75, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 88, 89, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 102, 103, 104, 106, 110, 112, 113, 114, 120 British, 78, 79, 85, 105, 110, 111, 112, 114, 152, 156, 184 brothers, 110, 114 brutality, 115 Buddha, 217 Buddhism, 7, 146, 156

223

Buddhist, 146, 214 Buenos Aires, 59, 60, 61 buffer, vii, 3, 27, 38, 129, 171 buildings, 146 Burma, 188 burning, 51, 146 burns, 172 Bush administration, 109, 123

C California, 12, 49, 107, 145, 153, 158, 182, 208, 213 campaigns, 64, 66 cancer, 4, 7, 19, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 29, 34, 46, 49, 50, 191 cancer treatment, 49 cancers, 32 candidates, 119, 120, 148 capacity, x, 7, 129, 160, 163, 165, 166, 167, 170, 171, 174, 175, 179, 180, 194, 205 capital, x, 113, 157, 189, 194, 198, 201, 202, 203, 204, 206 capital accumulation, 157, 198, 202 capitalism, ix, 112, 122, 145, 146, 147, 154, 155, 157, 158, 210, 212 cardiac surgery, 23 cardiopulmonary, 28 cardiovascular, 4 caregivers, 6, 34 caregiving, 23 cargo, 112 case study, 143 cast, 121, 129 casting, 148 catastrophes, 190 category b, 86 category d, 13 catholic, 60 Catholic, vii, ix, 2, 10, 13, 15, 16, 17, 42, 51, 64, 67, 72, 91, 92, 93, 100, 101, 103, 107, 108, 109, 112, 116, 117, 118, 120, 122, 147, 148, 150 Catholic Church, 67, 91, 92, 93, 109, 112, 116, 118, 150 Catholic school, 118 Catholics, 17, 72, 74, 83, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 100, 101, 118, 122, 150 Caucasian, 10, 15, 38 causal beliefs, 181 causal interpretation, 153 causal reasoning, 192 causation, 9 cave, 167, 168, 173, 177, 178, 180, 181, 182, 185 CD4, 4, 5, 11, 17, 20, 32, 33

224

Index

CDA, 81, 85, 90, 91, 93, 94, 103 CDC, 20, 32, 33, 44 cell, 4, 20, 51, 52, 60 censorship, 115 centralized, 128 cerebral cortex, 179 cerebral hemisphere, 183 cerebrospinal fluid, 184 certainty, 53 changing environment, 194 channels, 128, 137 chaos, 40 charitable, 216 Charles Darwin, 2 chemical, 49 chemical reactions, 49 chemicals, 29, 161 chemistry, 184 Cheyenne, 174 Chicago, 144, 157, 182, 187, 209, 211, 212 child abuse, 28 childbearing, 177 childbirth, 32, 172, 180 childhood, 38, 45, 144, 174, 203 childrearing, 132 children, x, 30, 37, 38, 40, 44, 114, 129, 130, 132, 134, 135, 136, 137, 138, 139, 141, 142, 143, 149, 174, 178, 181, 186, 189, 193 chimpanzee, 166 chimpanzees, 164 China, ix, 145, 146, 151, 152, 153, 154, 155, 156, 157, 158, 187 Chinese, ix, 145, 146, 147, 151, 152, 153, 154, 155, 156, 157, 158, 182 cholinergic, 161, 162 Christianity, ix, 40, 56, 107, 108, 109, 111, 112, 114, 117, 121, 148, 206 Christians, 55, 68, 69, 73, 87, 103, 114, 119, 120, 121, 122, 123 chronic, vii, 12, 21, 22, 23, 27, 34, 36, 172, 180 chronic illness, vii, 22, 23, 27, 36 chronic pain, 12, 22, 172, 180 chronic stress, 21 chronically ill, 2, 5, 7, 24, 31, 35 CIA, 109 citizens, 122, 132, 149, 198, 204 civil society, ix, 107 civil war, 120 classes, 135, 137, 151, 178, 198, 202, 204 classification, 20, 65 classified, 78, 105 cleavage, 64, 65, 66, 67, 71, 77, 78, 82, 83, 84, 85, 87, 88, 92, 95, 96, 99, 100, 101, 105

cleavages, 99 clients, 37, 54, 58, 140, 214, 217, 218, 219 clinical, vii, xi, 2, 3, 12, 18, 22, 23, 28, 43, 52, 54, 58, 140, 181, 213 clinical psychology, 54 clinical trials, 12, 52, 58 clinician, 140, 218 clinicians, 140, 219 clinics, 12 clone, 52 cloned embryos, 51, 52 cloning, 48, 52, 58, 59, 60, 61 close relationships, 30 clothing, 128, 170 clouds, 183 clustering, 193 coalitions, 176 coastal areas, 112, 114 cocaine, 43 cocaine use, 43 codes, 215 coding, 13, 131 coercion, 202 co-existence, 147 cognition, 16, 181 cognitive, 7, 9, 16, 18, 19, 31, 161, 162, 166, 169, 170, 171, 182, 183, 188, 190, 192, 205, 207 cognitive biases, 16 cognitive capacities, 170 cognitive development, 31, 190 cognitive dissonance, 205 cognitive perspective, 7 coherence, 30, 161 cohesion, x, 106, 110, 159, 166, 170, 171, 176, 179, 180, 181, 191, 197, 203, 205, 207 Cold War, 110, 115, 121 collaboration, 36 colonial, 112, 149 colonialism, 110 colonization, 114 Colorado, 207 combat, 199 commercial, 108, 113, 124 commodities, 190 commodity, 168, 190, 192 common law, 201, 204 Common Market, 119 commons, 204 communication, 123, 147, 215 communism, 113 Communist Party, 82, 83, 84, 102 communities, xi, 5, 7, 8, 19, 45, 64, 67, 73, 92, 143, 144, 151, 152, 164, 175, 189, 193, 206, 217, 218

Index community, xi, 5, 7, 12, 24, 30, 33, 38, 45, 64, 68, 69, 108, 118, 119, 122, 128, 130, 136, 141, 143, 144, 149, 153, 155, 164, 166, 171, 172, 174, 175, 176, 178, 180, 181, 190, 191, 192, 193, 194, 195, 198, 199, 201, 203, 205, 207, 215, 216, 217 community support, 5 comparative advantage, 206 compassion, 216, 218 competence, 42, 215, 218 competition, 193, 196 competitive advantage, 195 competitiveness, 114 complement, 154 complementary, 4, 204 complexity, x, 170, 175, 176, 178, 180, 189, 196, 206 compliance, 33 complications, 172, 180 components, 2, 6, 8, 25, 50, 67, 82, 103 composite, 151, 169, 170, 180 compounds, 163 compulsion, 153, 154 computer, 53, 59 computer science, 53 computers, 108, 121 computing, 110 conception, 171 conceptualization, 9 conceptualizations, 197 conditioning, xi, 189, 206 condom, 33 conduct, 160 confession, 72, 117 confessions, 72, 74, 91, 92, 93, 101 confidentiality, 37 conflict, ix, 42, 64, 67, 93, 94, 107, 113, 114, 130, 147, 154, 155, 205 confrontation, 120 Confucianism, 151, 154, 158 Confucius, 151 confusion, 12 Congress, 112, 114, 117 conscious experiences, 162 consciousness, ix, 56, 117, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169, 170, 172, 173, 175, 176, 179, 180, 183, 184, 185, 188, 192 consensus, 57, 114, 131, 191, 193, 195, 205 consent, 13 consilience, 212 consolidation, 49 conspiracy, 39, 115 Constitution, 118, 208, 209 constitutional, 112, 119, 192, 200

225

constraints, 131 construction, x, 32, 49, 116, 160, 175, 176, 179, 187, 190, 195, 203, 205 consumption, 169, 190, 191, 206 contingency, 106 continuing, 50, 64, 149, 181 continuity, 176, 193, 201 contracts, 122 control, xi, 4, 5, 8, 22, 28, 33, 36, 37, 38, 39, 109, 115, 120, 139, 146, 165, 166, 176, 181, 189, 203, 206 control group, 28 controlled, 35, 43, 49 conversion, 111, 112, 206 conviction, 148, 149 cooling, 48 coordinated motor activities, 166 coordination, 191, 199 oping, 21, 23, 27, 31, 36, 44, 124, 180 coping strategies, 4, 32, 36 coping strategy, 3, 16, 41 copper, 194 corn, xi, 113, 189, 194 correlation, viii, 36, 63, 65, 66, 67, 75, 76, 79, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 88, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99 correlation coefficient, 88, 92 correlations, 14, 29, 68, 75, 76, 96, 98 corruption, 110, 116, 122, 123, 124 cortex, 174, 178, 179, 180 cortisol, 4, 22, 36 cost-effective, 146 costs, 35, 193, 194, 205 counsel, 215 counseling, viii, 21, 24, 27, 37, 38, 39, 54, 137 counterbalance, 65, 83, 87, 94, 101 coupling, 150 covariate, 75, 76 coverage, 109 crack, 152 CRC, 188 crime, 202 crimes, 203 criminality, 202 criminals, x, 189, 190 criticism, 113, 117, 197 Croatia, 169 cross-cultural, 187, 188 cross-sectional, 16, 18 cross-validation, 18 croup, 57 cryopreservation, 49 cryopreserved, 48, 58

226

Index

Cuba, 109 cultivation, 154 cultural, 2, 17, 37, 42, 125, 129, 130, 142, 147, 155, 157, 162, 163, 175, 177, 183, 192, 194, 195, 199, 202, 206, 207, 211 cultural artifacts, 195 cultural influence, 155 Cultural Revolution, 152 culture, 57, 60, 105, 121, 132, 146, 147, 149, 153, 157, 172, 184, 206 curing, 51 curiosity, 2 cyberspace, 53, 55, 59 cystic fibrosis, 45

D Darwinism, 197, 208 data analysis, 105 data base, 83 data set, viii, 63, 64, 65, 69 database, 65, 182 dating, 168, 172 death, viii, xi, 2, 3, 7, 8, 17, 20, 21, 23, 24, 36, 47, 48, 49, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 121, 133, 139, 151, 163, 167, 175, 176, 180, 186, 190, 192, 199, 200, 206, 207 deaths, 53 decay, 48, 168 deception, 182, 197, 200 decisions, 6, 199, 216 Declaration of Independence, 112 decomposition, 67 defense, 196 definition, 20, 53, 57, 160, 172, 184 deformation, 49 degenerate, 122 degradation, 204 degrading, 204 degree, vii, 27, 34, 38, 41, 42, 50, 66, 68, 72, 77, 79, 95, 96, 97, 99, 100, 101, 109, 164, 166, 176, 191, 197, 204 deindividuation, 171, 187 dementia, 32 democracy, viii, 106, 107, 109, 121, 123, 124 democratic elections, 115 Democratic Party, 103 democratization, 117 democrats, 66, 77, 100, 101 Democrats, 78, 82, 84, 86, 87, 93, 97, 100, 101, 102, 103, 121 demographic, vii, 1, 9, 10, 13, 14, 15, 16, 33, 131, 201

demographic characteristics, vii, 1, 9, 16 demographic factors, 9 denial, 34, 39, 59, 116 Denmark, viii, 63, 65, 67, 70, 71, 72, 75, 77, 78, 80, 81, 86, 87, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 102, 103, 104 density, 175 Department of Health and Human Services, 44 dependent variable, 13, 15, 71, 75 depressed, 35, 38, 95 depression, 6, 7, 12, 16, 18, 22, 24, 29, 33, 34, 35, 36, 38, 56, 129 depressive symptomatology, 24 depressive symptoms, 8, 38, 40 deprivation, 162, 164, 180, 182 dermatologic, 34 desire, ix, x, 6, 28, 58, 107, 148, 154, 181, 189, 200, 202 desires, 59, 173 destruction, 51, 110, 121, 122, 204 detainees, 109 detection, 174 detention, 112, 115 developing nations, 204 deviation, 14, 96 diabetes, 19, 52 diagnostic, 33 diagnostic criteria, 33 dichotomy, 95 dictatorship, 115, 119 diet, 114 differentiation, 13 digestion, 50 direct measure, 68 disability, 3 disabled, 10 disappointment, 166 disaster, 150 discipline, 54, 146, 218 discomfort, 8 discourse, 155 discretionary, 155 discrimination, 34, 50 discriminatory, 118 disease progression, 4, 17, 18, 22, 45 diseases, 18, 34, 50, 51, 52 dislocations, 150 disorder, viii, 27, 40 disposition, 163 distortions, 163 distraction, 17, 41 distress, vii, 1, 7, 8, 9, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 22, 24, 27, 37, 39, 41 distribution, 34, 66, 69, 71, 82

Index divergence, 178 diversity, 218 division, 65, 66, 69, 76, 96, 97, 99, 100, 178, 190 divorce, 38 DNA, 50, 52, 182 doctors, 28, 152 dogs, 40 dominance, ix, 107 donations, 137 donor, 113 dopamine, 161 dream, 60, 160, 161 dreaming, 160, 161, 164 drinking, 129 drought, 117 drug abuse, 44 drug dependence, 43 drug use, 33, 34, 37, 43 drugs, 35, 50 DSM-IV, 13, 21 dualism, 53 dualistic, 56 duration, 118

E earth, 53, 57, 133, 148 eating, 16, 168, 202 eating disorders, 202 ecological, 171, 173 economic, ix, x, 33, 35, 66, 112, 113, 116, 117, 119, 122, 127, 137, 146, 150, 151, 155, 185, 186, 189, 191, 192, 201, 202, 204 economic activity, 113, 116 economic development, 113 economic empowerment, 137 economic growth, 201 economic growth rate, 201 economic incentives, 112 economic resources, 116 economic sociology, 146 economically disadvantaged, 34 economies, 192, 201, 204 economy, 117, 122, 155, 186, 190, 192 ecstasy, 184 education, 10, 11, 30, 38, 43, 106, 114, 116, 124, 130, 131, 137, 140, 141, 210 educational attainment, 202 educational institutions, 114 educational programs, 118, 141 educational system, 116 educators, 141 efficacy, 20, 165, 166, 180

227

egalitarian, 175, 180, 181 egalitarianism, 176 egg, 51, 52 Egypt, 114, 116, 118, 206 Egyptian, 173, 206 elaboration, 163 elderly, 4, 20, 22, 23, 29 elders, 41 election, 117, 119 electives, 30 eligibility criteria, 13 embryonic stem cells, 51, 52, 58 embryos, 49, 51, 52 emergence, x, 159, 170, 172, 173, 178, 180, 183 emission, 187 emotion, 6, 34, 41, 185 emotional, 3, 5, 7, 8, 9, 16, 17, 22, 29, 30, 31, 33, 34, 35, 128, 130, 155, 172, 193 emotional disorder, 33 emotional distress, 8, 9 emotional state, 29, 172 emotional well-being, 30 emotions, 164, 165, 179 empathy, 17, 164, 171, 197, 200 employment, x, 11, 114, 189, 206 empowerment, 4, 16, 36 encephalopathy, 32 encoding, 178, 186, 187 encouragement, 16 enculturation, 167 endogenous, 164 endorphins, 186 enemy combatan, 125 enemy combatants, 125 energy, 16, 29, 36, 173, 184, 192, 193, 194, 195, 205 engagement, 17, 215, 216, 217 England, 67, 88, 111, 147, 153, 156, 157, 201, 207, 208, 209 English, 103, 114, 116, 125, 148, 150, 158, 198, 201, 211 enlargement, 205 enslavement, 114 enterprise, 124, 149, 150, 153, 158 entertainment, 151 entrepreneurial, 155, 202, 203, 206 entrepreneurs, 48, 153, 203 environment, xi, 9, 130, 155, 167, 189, 192, 194, 195, 201, 203 environmental, 9, 164, 166 environmental conditions, 166 environmental factors, 9 environmental influences, 9 epidemic, 33

228

Index

episodic, 174, 178, 179, 180, 187 episodic memory, 174, 178, 179, 180, 187 equality, 115 equating, 152 equipment, 204 erosion, 93 estates, 113 estrangement, 5 ethical, viii, xi, 3, 47, 51, 60, 154, 193, 213, 215, 218 ethical issues, xi, 51, 213, 218 ethical principles, 215 ethical standards, 193 ethicists, 51 ethics, 51, 52, 154, 215, 218 Ethiopia, 169 ethnic background, 10 ethnic groups, 110 ethnicity, vii, 2, 9, 11, 13, 14, 45, 46, 111, 124 EU, 65 Europe, 105, 106, 117, 167, 172, 173, 175, 182, 188 European, v, vii, viii, 2, 10, 16, 17, 63, 64, 65, 67, 68, 106, 110, 185 European Americans, 17 European Commission, 65 European Community, 65 euthanasia, 60 evaporation, 99 evening, 153 evidence, x, 2, 4, 121, 123, 141, 155, 159, 163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169, 170, 172, 173, 174, 175, 177, 178, 180, 182, 183, 192, 194, 196, 205 evil, 41, 148 evolution, x, 159, 160, 163, 165, 166, 167, 175, 177, 179, 180, 181, 182, 183, 185, 187, 188, 192, 196, 205, 206, 207 evolutionary, x, 159, 160, 172, 179, 181, 191, 192, 194, 195, 196, 197, 199, 201, 205, 207 excitement, 50, 152 exclusion, 13, 41 excuse, 109 exercise, 202, 203 expectation, 177 expenditures, 152, 186 expertise, 48, 218 exploitation, 169, 180 exposure, 32, 192 external environment, 195, 201 extinction, 60, 195, 206 extraction, 169, 198 extremism, 108, 122 eye, 48, 154, 161 eye movement, 161 eyes, 34, 139, 162

F fabric, 151 facilitators, 119 failure, 34, 35, 121, 150, 154, 204 fairness, 164 fairy tale, 154 faith, viii, 4, 6, 17, 24, 27, 28, 30, 31, 32, 37, 38, 39, 41, 42, 54, 55, 58, 59, 121, 128, 129, 130, 132, 134, 135, 136, 138, 139, 140, 141, 142, 149, 154, 195, 214, 215, 217, 218 false, 33, 193, 194, 207 false belief, 193 familial, 17, 31, 133, 178 family, 11, 16, 35, 37, 39, 40, 41, 65, 77, 78, 122, 128, 129, 131, 133, 134, 135, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141, 142, 143, 168, 217 family conflict, 37 family life, 131, 141, 142 family members, 141 family relationships, 142 family support, 129 family therapy, 142 famine, 194 farming, 113 fasting, 162 fat, 151 fatherhood, 142 fatigue, 12, 161 faults, 215 FBI, 109 FDP, 81, 83, 90, 92, 97, 103 fear, viii, 4, 7, 8, 31, 36, 40, 47, 52, 53, 55, 56, 57, 59, 122 fears, 16, 55, 175, 185 February, 61, 124, 157 feelings, 4, 8, 16, 41, 69 feet, 139, 203 females, 17, 177, 197 fertility, x, 160, 177, 178, 180, 196, 206 fertilization, 51 fetus, 51 fever, 160 Feynman, 49 FICA, 30, 45 fidelity, 57 Filipino, 10 film, 190 finance, x, 189 fine tuning, 215 fire, 148, 168 fish, 175, 176 fishing, 176

Index fission, 164 fitness, 172, 174, 180 flexibility, 201 flow, 202 fluctuations, 92 fluid, 32, 184 focusing, 16, 31, 38, 39, 108, 137, 162, 194 folklore, 156 food, 128, 164, 169, 180 football, 171 foreign affairs, 115 foreign nation, 109 foreign nationals, 109 foreign policy, 112, 113, 118 foreigners, 123 forgiveness, 5, 38, 215, 216 fortitude, 40 fossil, 172 framing, 141 France, viii, 63, 65, 70, 71, 72, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104, 105, 106, 168, 169, 170, 178, 182, 183 freedom, 109, 114, 116, 117, 204 freedoms, 116 Freud, 199, 209 friendship, 41 frontal cortex, 174, 180 frontal lobe, 165, 178 frontal lobes, 178 frustration, 16 fuel, 40

G Gallup, 2, 21, 174, 183, 214, 219 Gallup Poll, 2, 21, 219 gambling, ix, 145, 146, 147, 148, 149, 150, 151, 152, 153, 154, 155, 156, 157, 158 games, 146, 150, 151, 152, 171 gastrointestinal, 172, 180 gay men, 4, 24, 44 gender, 9, 13, 14, 18, 77 gene, 50, 52, 58, 59 gene expression, 52 gene therapy, 50, 58, 59 general election, ix, 107, 117, 119, 122 generation, 112, 136, 177, 195 genes, 50, 193 genetic, 50, 166, 201 genetic information, 50 genetics, 48, 50, 55, 58 genome, 61, 184 genomic, 50

229

geography, 158 Georgia, 27 Germany, viii, 63, 64, 65, 69, 70, 71, 72, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 81, 82, 83, 88, 90, 92, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104, 105, 106 Gibbs, 8, 21 gift, 7, 56, 137, 138, 139 gifted, 174 gifts, 137, 138 girls, 136, 138 goal-directed, 6 goals, 35, 115, 142 God, viii, ix, x, xi, 2, 4, 5, 8, 12, 28, 36, 38, 44, 56, 57, 58, 107, 108, 127, 131, 132, 133, 134, 135, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141, 148, 149, 150, 154, 156, 157, 185, 189, 192, 196, 206, 207, 208, 210, 213, 214, 215, 218 gold standard, 52 gonorrhea, 44 gossip, 183 government, 109, 114, 115, 116, 117, 120, 122, 123, 152, 158, 203, 204 government policy, 116 grain, 151, 194 grammatical development, 183 grants, 200 grapes, 149 gravity, 33 grazing, 204 Great Britain, 113, 114 greed, 150 Greeks, 199 grids, 162 grief, 182 group identity, 128 group interests, 197 group membership, 13 group size, x, 159, 169, 170, 196 group therapy, 20 grouping, 66 groups, viii, 7, 11, 16, 28, 33, 34, 36, 51, 63, 68, 72, 75, 77, 78, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 93, 94, 102, 110, 115, 137, 152, 153, 165, 171, 179, 180, 181, 191, 192, 193, 194, 195, 196, 197, 201, 202, 203, 205 growth, vii, 1, 5, 6, 9, 12, 14, 17, 20, 50, 54, 108, 193, 201, 219 growth factor, 50 growth rate, 201 guidance, 20, 129, 132, 135, 141, 215 guidelines, 134, 215 guiding principles, 215 guilt, 35, 38, 41

230

Index

Guinea, 113

H HAART, 33 habitat, 186 habitation, 169 hallucinations, 37, 162, 164, 170, 184, 185, 187 handling, 7, 130 hands, 8, 122, 203 hanging, 150 happiness, 133 harm, 38, 197, 198, 200 harmful, 28, 41, 129 Harvard, 142, 157, 181, 182, 183, 184, 186, 187, 208, 209, 210, 212 harvest, 194, 199 harvesting, 175, 206 hate, 7 Hawaii, 150 head, 134, 188 Head Start, 130 healing, x, 21, 28, 137, 159, 172, 173, 180, 184, 185, 200 health, vii, x, xi, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 12, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 44, 45, 46, 48, 114, 116, 137, 142, 143, 144, 159, 174, 213, 214, 216, 217, 219, 220 health care, vii, 3, 18, 33, 34, 35, 44, 116, 214, 217 health care professionals, 3, 35, 214, 217 health care system, 35 health problems, 37 health status, 35 healthcare, 17, 30, 35 hearing, 37 heart, 32, 39, 52, 57, 58, 113, 119, 139, 150, 157 Hebrew, 57 hegemony, 119 helplessness, 33 hemisphere, 110, 179 heroin, 43 heterodoxy, 154 heterogeneous, 181 high risk, 32 high school, 153 higher quality, 216 high-risk, 33 hip, 149 hippocampal, 165 Hispanic, 10, 13

HIV/AIDS, v, vii, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 27, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 43, 44, 45, 46, 117 HIV infection, 10, 11, 17, 20, 22, 24, 32, 33, 35, 43 holistic, 30 holistic approach, 30 Holland, 208 homes, 131 hominids, 168, 171, 172 Hong Kong, 154, 156, 157 hopelessness, 6, 33 horizon, 56, 193, 194, 198, 199, 206 hormone, 36 horse, 147 horses, 147, 175 hospital, 29 hospital stays, 29 hospitalization, 29 hospitalizations, 35 hospitalized, 22, 23 hospitals, 12, 114 host, 53 hostility, 12, 40, 130, 216 household, 11, 14, 134 household income, 11, 14 human, viii, x, 2, 8, 9, 30, 32, 40, 45, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 64, 113, 115, 146, 151, 155, 160, 162, 163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 170, 172, 173, 174, 175, 176, 178, 179, 180, 181, 182, 183, 184, 185, 186, 188, 189, 193, 196, 197, 200, 203, 206, 220 human behavior, 55, 155, 185, 193 human brain, 160, 172, 180 human capital, 203 human cognition, 181 human development, 2 human embryonic stem cells, 52 human genome, 61 Human Genome Project, 50 human rights, 115 human values, 64 humane, 60, 217 humanity, 53, 56, 163, 172, 180 humans, x, 58, 148, 163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 170, 172, 173, 174, 175, 178, 179, 180, 184, 185, 189, 192, 193, 196, 206 Hungary, 167 hunter-gatherers, 167, 170, 173, 175, 177, 178, 186, 193 hunting, 169, 170, 172, 174, 175, 188, 194, 196 husband, 37, 38, 40, 134, 138 hybrid, 59

Index hyperbolic, 152 hypertrophy, 183 hypnagogic state, 161, 162 hypnosis, 7, 22, 24, 184 hypnotic, 164, 172, 179 hypothesis, 9, 66, 150, 153, 192, 201, 205

I id, 108, 113, 171 idealism, 120 identification, 17, 18, 31, 108, 109 identity, 42, 124, 130, 135, 171 ideology, 113 idiosyncratic, 119 IGF, 50 IGF-1, 50 Iliad, 199, 200 Illinois, 185, 208 illusion, 60, 181 imagery, 147, 182, 184 images, 31, 161, 162, 163, 170, 177 imagination, 2, 163, 171 imitation, 166 immediate gratification, x, 189, 202 immortal, 53, 59, 193, 199, 200 immortality, 53, 57, 59, 60, 200, 207 immune function, 4, 7, 22, 182 immune system, 25, 29, 32, 36, 50, 174 immunity, 18 immunodeficiency, 36 implementation, 6, 109, 203 imprisonment, 150 impulsive, 191 impulsivity, 33 in vitro, 51 incentive, 194, 204 incentives, 198, 204 incidence, 202 inclusion, 13 income, 9, 11, 13, 155, 190, 194, 198, 202 incumbents, 109, 115 incurable, 58 independence, 109, 110 independent variable, 13, 71 India, 55, 157 Indian, 118, 153, 208 Indiana, 1 Indians, 185, 186 indicators, 5, 7, 180 indices, 130 Indigenous, 184, 187, 188 indirect measure, 68

231

individual rights, 203 individualism, 190 Indonesia, 186 inducer, 4 industry, 169, 202 inequality, 116, 187 inertia, 12 infancy, xi, 189 infant mortality, xi, 189 infants, 136, 174, 181 infection, 34 infections, 32 inferences, 86, 153 infinite, 60, 190 inflation, 116 influence, 166 information processing, 184, 191, 205 informed consent, 12, 131 infrastructure, 108 ingestion, 162 inheritance, 194, 199 inherited, 147, 200, 201 initiation, 162, 178, 199 injury, 31, 32, 197 innovation, 120, 198, 201, 203 insects, 49 insight, 39, 115, 140, 154, 174, 193 inspiration, 36, 200, 217 institutions, 3, 37, 128, 129, 192, 195, 201, 204 instruction, 132, 196, 200 insulin, 52 intangible, 31 integration, 35, 68, 73, 91, 213, 218 integrity, 215 intelligence, 188, 202 intensity, x, 29, 149, 189 intentionality, 181 intentions, 186, 193, 196 interaction, 41, 111, 128, 175, 193, 197, 206 interactions, 8, 196 interest rates, 201 interference, 109, 114 interleukin, 22 interleukin-6, 22 internal consistency, 11, 12, 195 international, 43, 50, 51, 110, 117, 123, 157, 204 international law, 51 interpersonal relations, 16, 39, 214, 216, 218 interpersonal relationships, 16, 39, 214, 216, 218 interpretation, 39, 42, 54, 56, 93, 138, 153, 157, 162, 164, 182, 185 interval, 75 intervention, 23, 31, 34, 38, 147

232

Index

interview, 4, 6, 12, 30, 44, 132, 134 interviews, ix, 4, 6, 127, 130, 131 intimacy, 37 intravenous, 33 intrinsic, 5 invasive, 39 investigations, 210 investment, 114, 190, 201, 202, 206 Iraq, 120, 122, 123 Ireland, viii, 63, 65, 69, 70, 71, 72, 75, 77, 78, 79, 81, 87, 96, 97, 98, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104 iron, 167 Islam, ix, 56, 107, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 116, 117, 118, 119, 120, 121, 124, 206 Islamic, 108, 116, 118, 119, 120, 121, 122, 123 island, 112 isolation, 8, 162 Israel, 113, 116, 121, 197, 210 Italian population, 82 Italy, viii, 63, 65, 69, 70, 71, 72, 75, 76, 77, 78, 81, 82, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 102, 103, 104, 105, 200 ivory, 111, 177

J Japan, 201 Japanese, 49, 152, 187 Judaism, 56, 196, 199 judgment, 33, 55, 56, 148, 150, 171 judiciary, 115 jurisdiction, 140 jurisdictions, 150 justice, 42, 125, 217 justification, 176, 206

K Katrina, 127, 138, 139 Kenya, 108, 109 kidnapping, 152 kidneys, 32 killing, 108, 122 knowledge, 166, 174, 175 Korea, 201 Kuwait, 116, 118

L labor, 66, 110, 182, 198, 203 Labour Party, 85, 87, 88, 93, 94, 102 land, 56, 112, 117, 121, 203, 204

language, 17, 53, 109, 111, 114, 124, 125, 175, 179, 183, 193, 196, 197 language barrier, 17 language development, 183 language skills, 197 Latino, 10, 13 laundry, 150 law, 49, 51, 58, 118, 120, 123, 125, 134, 149, 153, 201, 203, 204 laws, 120, 122, 150 lead, 6, 17, 32, 33, 35, 55, 56, 135, 146, 203 leadership, 115, 120, 122 learning, 217 left hemisphere, 179 legislation, 150, 155, 201, 204 leisure, 158 lenders, 201, 204 lending, 203 lens, 133 leprosy, 34 lesbian, 11 liberal, 60, 67, 78, 95, 97, 99, 100, 101, 119, 195, 203 Liberal Party, 86, 88, 91 liberalisation, 67 liberation, 109, 113 Libertarian, 208 Libya, 118 licensing, 149 life expectancy, x, xi, 189, 190, 193, 194, 198, 199, 206, 207 life experiences, 6, 17, 41, 175 life satisfaction, 3, 5, 129 life span, viii, 33, 47, 48, 50, 55, 58, 59, 149 life stressors, 16 life-after-death, xi, 60, 190, 199, 206 lifespan, 48, 199 lifestyle, 175 lifestyles, 29 life-threatening, 2, 7, 19, 20, 30, 32, 33 lifetime, 191 likelihood, 18, 30, 34, 36, 53, 150, 151, 172, 175, 177 limbic system, 165, 179 limitation, 16 limitations, 18 linguistic, 120, 124, 173, 174, 178, 179 linguistically, 111 linguistics, 124 linkage, 121, 129 links, vii, 2, 111, 143 liquid nitrogen, 48 listening, 11

Index literacy, 45, 114 literature, vii, ix, 1, 5, 8, 12, 18, 32, 33, 34, 45, 100, 113, 128, 145, 150, 155, 158, 192, 196, 197, 200, 205 loans, 137 local authorities, 123 local government, 111 location, 123 locomotor activity, 164 locus, 39 London, 60, 105, 106, 114, 124, 125, 142, 156, 157, 158, 182, 183, 184, 185, 186, 187, 188, 208, 209, 210, 211 loneliness, 8, 29, 35 longevity, vii, 29, 129, 206 longitudinal study, 6, 23, 66, 106 long-term, 4, 20, 29, 37, 137 Los Angeles, 182 loss of control, viii, 47, 55 losses, 123 lotteries, 147, 148, 149, 150, 152, 156, 157 Louisiana, 159 love, 58, 122, 133, 134, 135, 136, 139, 216, 218 low-income, vii, 1 loyalty, 193 lupus, 37 Luxembourg, 65 lying, 42, 150

M Macau, 154, 157 machinery, 110, 115 machines, 49, 53, 59 Maine, 207 mainstream, 78, 85 maintenance, ix, 6, 107, 110, 124, 161, 165, 178 maladaptive, 35, 41 Malaysia, 118, 151 males, 197 malignancy, 50 mammals, 185, 197 management, 7, 33, 43 manipulation, 162, 165, 166 man-made, 49 manufacturing, 49 mapping, 50 marginal distribution, 77 marginal utility, 198 marital status, 11, 13, 14 market, 156, 157, 190, 201 market economy, 190 markets, 114

233

marriage, 37, 38, 40, 41, 133, 140, 141, 142, 143, 153 marriages, 143 Mars, 167, 168 Maryland, 207 mass, 160 Massachusetts, 1, 210, 212 mastery, 36 materialism, 148 measurement, 21, 44, 75 measures, vii, 1, 3, 12, 13, 68, 75, 77, 79, 85, 92, 99, 109, 171 meat, 175 mechanical, 59 media, 48, 109, 114, 115, 123, 124 median, 201 mediators, 19 medical care, 35, 116, 186 medical school, 30 medical services, 35 medication, 13, 14, 33, 37 medications, 12, 14, 33, 50 medicine, 2, 19, 21, 30, 38, 43, 44, 51, 60, 114, 200 meditation, 4, 5, 8, 17, 161, 162, 174, 182, 214 membership, 13, 114 memory, 170, 174, 175, 178, 179, 180, 181, 187, 207 memory capacity, 170, 180 men, viii, 4, 6, 9, 10, 12, 17, 19, 21, 22, 33, 38, 39, 45, 47, 54, 123, 131, 132, 135, 146, 148, 174 mental disorder, vii, 27 mental health, 4, 12, 20, 32, 35, 36, 37, 44, 129, 130, 143, 214, 215 mental health professionals, 214 mental illness, 33, 35, 41 mental state, x, 159, 164, 171, 174 mental states, x, 159, 174 mentoring, 135 meta-analysis, 141 metabolism, 164 metaphors, 53 metastatic, 4, 24 meteorological, 199 methodological individualism, 190 mice, 50 Middle East, 113, 116, 118, 185 Middle Kingdom, 151 middle-aged, 135, 190 migration, 154, 176 military, 115, 156 milk, 161 mimesis, x, 159, 165, 169, 179 mimicking, 163 Minnesota, 52

234

Index

minorities, 17, 18, 32 minority, ix, 17, 34, 72, 74, 107, 114, 115, 117, 124, 128 mirror, 70 misconceptions, 109 misleading, 54, 77 missiles, 108 missions, 156 MIT, 105, 181, 183 mobility, 202 mode, 161, 162, 170, 173 modeling, 219 models, 24, 40, 129, 135, 136, 137, 166, 170, 200, 217 moderating factors, 19 modern society, 2, 51, 194, 197 modernity, 142 modulation, 183 molecules, 49 money, 118, 124, 150, 151, 153, 192 monitoring, 162 monkeys, 164, 165, 182, 187, 196 monograph, 154 monopoly, 155, 198 mood, 12, 16, 23, 38 mood disorder, 16 moral code, 198, 203 morality, 64, 67, 196, 206 moratorium, 204 morbidity, 18, 19 morning, 157 mortality, xi, 4, 6, 7, 18, 22, 23, 29, 35, 142, 189, 216 mortality rate, 4 mortality risk, 216 motherhood, 186 mothers, 129, 130, 131, 135, 136, 139, 142, 143 motivation, 33, 35, 55, 59, 217 motives, 154 motor actions, 165, 166 motor activity, 166 motor coordination, 169 motor skills, 165, 169 mouth, 152, 187 movement, 48, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 59, 66, 123, 161, 166 Mozambique, 110, 111, 112, 113, 114, 124 MSI, 79, 81, 103 MSNBC.com, 60 mucous membrane, 32 multicultural, 45 multidimensional, 3, 5, 9, 24 multiple regression, 13

multiple regression analyses, 13 multiple regression analysis, 13 multivariate, 13, 25 multivariate statistics, 25 murder, 51, 150 muscle, 34, 39, 52 muscle cells, 52 music, 200 Muslim, ix, 10, 107, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 114, 116, 117, 118, 119, 120, 121, 122, 123, 124, 143, 146 Muslims, 55, 108, 109, 110, 111, 114, 118, 119, 120, 121, 122, 123, 124, 153 mutation, 166 mystical experiences, 160, 162, 163

N nanomedicine, 49 nanometer, 49 nanometer scale, 49 nanotechnology, 48, 49, 55, 58 narcissism, 39 narcissistic, 39 narratives, x, 139, 160, 174, 175, 191, 192, 193, 194, 195, 200, 205, 211 nation, 73, 149, 202 national, 65, 78, 99, 100, 109, 124, 125, 127, 129, 152, 201, 214 National Academy of Sciences, 187 national economies, 201 National Party, 102 nationalization, 204 Native American, 40, 56 natural, xi, 49, 54, 56, 57, 58, 77, 93, 101, 154, 169, 189, 192, 193, 194, 196, 199, 201, 206 natural science, 192 natural selection, 196, 201 negative coping, 129 negative life events, 39 negative relation, 149 neocortex, 196, 205, 206 nerve, 49 Netherlands, viii, 63, 64, 65, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 81, 84, 85, 88, 90, 93, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 101, 102, 103, 105, 106 network, 109 networking, 217 neural network, 53 neural networks, 53 neuroimaging, 174 neuroscience, 165, 171, 173, 183 Nevada, 149

Index New England, 148, 207 New Jersey, 20, 210, 211 New World, 115 New York, 3, 21, 22, 23, 24, 43, 44, 45, 59, 60, 105, 106, 123, 124, 125, 142, 143, 156, 157, 158, 181, 182, 183, 184, 185, 186, 187, 207, 208, 209, 210, 211, 212, 219, 220 New York Times, 157 Nielsen, 42, 54 Nigeria, 108, 118 nominal data, 106 non-biological, 49 non-human, 197 non-human primates, 197 non-infectious, 34 non-Muslims, 116, 120 non-profit, 12 nonsmokers, 29 norepinephrine, 161 norms, 51, 64, 203 North America, 24, 174, 176 North Carolina, 189 Northern Ireland, 65 nuclear, 52, 68 nursing, 23

O obedience, 134, 196 observational learning, 217 observations, 151 observed behavior, 201 occupational, 153 odds ratio, 77 oil, ix, 107, 109, 116, 117, 120 old age, 56, 57, 58, 203 older adults, 22, 24, 45 Oman, 4, 23, 216, 217, 219 oncology, 20, 22, 24, 25, 29 online, 49, 124 opiates, 164, 166, 171 opium, 146, 152, 155, 156 Opium War, 145, 156 opposition, 67, 112, 115, 117, 119, 123, 148, 156 opposition parties, 117, 123 oppression, 217 optimism, 49, 50 oral, 33, 196 oral tradition, 196 organ, 56 organism, 165, 166, 192, 201 organization, viii, 12, 47, 108, 119, 127, 134, 186 organizations, 54, 115, 116, 137, 218

235

organized crime, 152 orientation, 13, 67 orthodox, 121, 128 outliers, 13 outreach programs, 128 ovarian, 29 ovarian cancer, 29 overgrazing, 204 ownership, 175, 176, 204 oxide, 167

P Pacific, 148, 185 pain, vii, 1, 7, 9, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 18, 19, 21, 22, 23, 24, 29, 31, 36, 45, 172, 180 pain management, 7 Pakistani, 118 Palestine, 120 palliative, 25 palliative care, 25 pandemic, 32 paper, ix, x, 13, 20, 49, 53, 106, 107, 118, 127, 128, 130, 140, 145, 159, 189, 191 paradoxical, 64 parental involvement, 144 parental support, 129 parent-child, 64, 128, 130, 131, 134, 135, 136, 138 parenthood, 138 parenting, 128, 129, 130, 131, 132, 133, 135, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141, 143 parents, ix, 41, 127, 129, 130, 131, 132, 133, 134, 135, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141, 149 Paris, 181, 185, 199, 207 Parliament, 118 party system, 64, 65, 67, 76, 77, 79, 82, 83, 87, 88, 106 passenger, 108 passive, 64, 83 pastoral, 38, 116, 117 pasture, 204 pathology, 41 patient care, 43 patients, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 18, 20, 21, 23, 25, 28, 29, 30, 31, 33, 35, 37, 42, 43, 48, 49, 174 PCF, 80, 82, 102 PCR, 81 PD, 102 PDI, 71, 73, 74, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 84, 85, 87, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 95, 96, 99, 104, 105 PDIs, 79 Pearl River Delta, 154 pedestrian, 175

236

Index

pediatric, 45 peer, 114 peers, 35 Pennsylvania, 51, 60 percentile, 12 perception, 54, 110, 203 perceptions, 25, 29, 33, 34, 41, 110 performance, 191 permit, 123, 150, 168 personal, 3, 6, 7, 9, 31, 34, 39, 42, 45, 51, 53, 112, 121, 130, 133, 134, 136, 141, 150, 157, 163, 170, 171, 174, 175, 179, 191 personal benefit, 130 personal control, 6 personal identity, 171 personal relations, 39 personal relationship, 39 personality, 39, 41, 53, 54, 59, 185 personality disorder, 39 personhood, 51 persuasion, 195 PET, 186 pharmaceutical, 50 pharmaceutical industry, 50 pharmaceuticals, 49 phenotypic, 167 Philadelphia, 46, 47 philosophers, viii, 47, 48, 191 philosophical, viii, 47, 151 philosophy, 3, 53, 204 physical health, vii, 2, 4, 24, 28, 29, 36, 44, 214, 215, 216, 217 physical well-being, 5, 19 physicalism, 54 physicians, 2, 11, 30 physics, 53 physiological, 4, 31, 56 physiology, 49, 183 pigments, 167 plague, vii, 27, 52, 199 planets, 199 planning, x, xi, 169, 189, 190, 195, 204, 206 plaque, 167 plasticity, 181, 188 Plato, 30 plausibility, 184 play, viii, ix, 3, 6, 18, 29, 31, 36, 41, 64, 107, 110, 134, 145, 147, 149, 152, 155 pleasure, 155 PLP, 102 plurality, 149 pneumonia, 28 polarization, 109

police, 115, 152 political, viii, 63, 64, 66, 67, 87, 88, 105, 106, 107, 110, 112, 113, 114, 115, 116, 117, 118, 119, 120, 121, 125, 155, 158, 192 political parties, viii, 63, 66, 105, 106, 117, 119 political power, 119 politics, ix, 87, 105, 107, 108, 115, 116, 117, 119, 120, 123, 124, 125, 156, 157 POMS, 12, 14 pools, 152 poor, 18, 33, 39, 116, 144, 190, 201, 216 population, vii, xi, 4, 8, 12, 17, 18, 27, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 44, 45, 66, 71, 77, 79, 82, 83, 85, 86, 87, 100, 112, 115, 116, 117, 119, 120, 128, 141, 150, 153, 155, 169, 175, 201, 213, 214, 217 population density, 175 population growth, 201 pornography, 152, 177 Portugal, 112 positive correlation, 150 positive mental health, 36 positive reinforcement, 8 positive relation, 28, 29, 130, 150 positive relationship, 28, 29, 130, 150 positivism, 204 Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, 40 postponement, 122 posture, 163 poverty, 124, 150, 201, 217 power, viii, 2, 5, 8, 17, 32, 52, 56, 107, 113, 115, 117, 119, 120, 123, 124, 138, 148, 152, 154, 157, 180, 188 powers, 2, 109, 148, 154, 199 PPI, 103 pragmatic, 39 prayer, 4, 5, 8, 17, 20, 28, 29, 31, 36, 37, 38, 44, 116, 128, 129, 133, 139, 215 predators, 192, 205 predictability, 193, 197, 201, 204, 205 prediction, 50 predictors, 9, 20 preference, x, xi, 189, 190, 191, 193, 194, 195, 198, 199, 200, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205, 206, 207 prefrontal cortex, 178 prejudice, 34 preparation, 200 preparedness, 110 present value, 190 presidency, ix, 107, 118, 119 president, ix, 107, 111, 117, 118, 121 pressure, 35, 113, 114, 117, 169, 172, 180 pressure groups, 117 prevention, 45

Index preventive, 18, 50 PRI, 81, 103 prices, 190 primary care, 43 primate, x, 159, 164, 165, 167, 173, 180, 196 primates, x, 50, 159, 163, 164, 165, 166, 169, 178, 179, 182, 183, 187, 196, 197, 208 private, 5, 43, 109, 114, 128, 149, 175, 176, 201, 203, 213 private ownership, 175, 176 private practice, 213 private property, 201, 203 privatization, 124 proactive, 116 problem solving, 36, 161, 162, 169 problem-focused coping, 6 problem-solving, 23, 161, 162 procedures, 48, 49, 164 production, x, 51, 169, 189, 194, 198, 201, 202, 203, 206 productivity, 190, 202 profession, 218 Profile of Mood States (POMS), 12, 14, 23 progeny, 177, 180 prognosis, 33, 35 program, viii, 27, 37, 38, 39, 111, 118, 135 programming, 137 projectiles, 166 promote, 7, 19, 56, 57, 116, 171, 218 propaganda, 122 property, 77, 108, 122, 123, 195, 198, 201, 202, 203, 204 property rights, 195, 202, 203, 204 prosperity, 176, 180 prostitution, 34, 152, 155 protection, 51, 152 Protestant ethic, ix, 145, 158 Protestants, 72, 74, 88, 89, 90, 92, 93, 101, 150, 157 PSI, 81, 102 PSP, 102 psyche, 41, 114 psychiatric diagnosis, 33, 38, 40 psychiatric disorder, 33, 43 psychiatric disorders, 33, 43 psychiatric illness, 35 psychiatry, 46, 213 psychobiology, 185 psychological, vii, viii, ix, 2, 3, 6, 8, 9, 16, 17, 19, 20, 24, 27, 28, 30, 34, 35, 36, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 45, 47, 48, 59, 129, 144, 145, 171, 172, 173, 186, 195, 198, 214, 215, 218, 219 psychological association, 216 psychological distress, vii, 17, 20, 27, 34, 38, 41, 42

237

psychological health, 219 psychological problems, 38 psychological stress, 36 psychological well-being, 2, 36 psychologist, 219 psychologists, xi, 37, 213, 214, 215, 218, 219 psychology, vii, viii, xi, 21, 23, 24, 37, 43, 44, 45, 47, 54, 55, 57, 143, 154, 171, 183, 213, 218, 220 psychosis, 37 psychosocial, vii, 1, 2, 4, 7, 9, 15, 16, 18, 19, 20, 22, 32 psychosocial factors, 9, 20, 32 psychosocial functioning, vii, 1 psychosocial variables, 15, 19 pychosomatic, 23, 24, 39, 45, 182 psychotherapeutic, 214, 218 psychotherapy, viii, 12, 27, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 215, 219 psychotic, 38 public, ix, 33, 34, 45, 46, 51, 66, 107, 109, 114, 117, 118, 120, 149, 178, 204, 214 public education, 33 public funding, 51 public goods, 204 public health, 45, 46 Puerto Rican, 3, 24, 45 pulmonary edema, 28 punishment, 7, 35, 41, 54, 141, 151, 154, 202

Q qualitative research, 134 quality of life, 6, 8, 12, 19, 29, 35, 44, 57 questioning, 38, 123 questionnaires, 13, 18

R race, 147 radar, 108 radical, viii, 47, 48, 49, 52, 58, 59, 67, 77, 79, 84, 85, 86, 95, 99, 100, 155 radio, 109, 118 radio station, 109, 118 rain, 164, 196 random, 39, 162 range, xi, 29, 52, 64, 161, 162, 164, 165, 166, 167, 169, 172, 174, 180, 185, 190, 195, 198, 206 rat, 164 rationality, 154 rats, 164 raw material, 110

238

Index

raw materials, 110 reactivity, 214 reading, 133 real income, 190 reality, 3, 8, 24, 44, 48, 50, 56, 57, 58, 111, 120, 123, 139, 142, 161, 170, 173, 195, 205 reasoning, 2, 53, 69, 174, 178, 192, 193, 197, 205 recall, 165, 170 reciprocity, 197 recognition, 183 reconciliation, 197, 215 reconstruction, 158 recovery, 28, 38, 41, 42, 168 reduction, x, 35, 42, 118, 189, 206, 214, 215 reflection, 17, 139, 164 refuge, 56 regional, 115 regression, 13, 14, 15, 18, 192 regression analysis, 14, 15 regressions, 14, 75, 76 regular, 17, 29, 86, 109, 214, 215 regulation, 60 regulations, 51 reincarnation, xi, 190, 199, 206, 207 rejection, 5, 35, 52, 200 relationship, xi, 5, 8, 9, 10, 17, 22, 30, 36, 38, 40, 41, 54, 68, 69, 79, 88, 93, 94, 96, 97, 116, 121, 123, 136, 138, 139, 142, 146, 149, 154, 156, 175, 177, 180, 184, 202, 213, 215 relationships, x, 8, 14, 18, 30, 39, 128, 130, 131, 135, 137, 143, 184, 189, 197, 206, 218 relatives, 165, 168 relaxation, 162 relevance, 60, 180 reliability, 12, 131 religions, viii, ix, x, 28, 47, 58, 59, 107, 118, 120, 155, 160, 176, 179, 182, 184, 186, 187, 188, 193, 194, 196, 198, 199, 202, 203, 206 religiosity, viii, 41, 63, 64, 65, 66, 68, 71, 72, 75, 76, 77, 79, 83, 84, 85, 86, 88, 92, 93, 94, 95, 97, 99, 100, 101, 106, 129, 130, 140, 141, 142, 143, 149, 157 religious belief, x, xi, 5, 28, 35, 37, 42, 54, 64, 68, 140, 175, 189, 190, 191, 192, 193, 194, 195, 197, 198, 201, 202, 205, 206, 207, 218 religious beliefs, 5, 28, 35, 37, 42, 54, 64, 68, 140, 175, 192, 193, 194, 195, 198, 205, 206, 218 religious doctrines, ix, 145, 147 religious groups, 5, 29, 56, 193, 194, 197 religious observances, 191 religious traditions, xi, 213, 214, 216, 219 religiousness, vii, 4, 9, 20, 21, 22, 23, 36, 37, 61, 130, 143

REM, 161, 164, 179, 182 remembering, 172 remission, 29 renal, 32 renal failure, 32 repair, 49, 52 reproduction, 206 Republican, 83, 92, 103 Republican Party, 83, 92, 103 reputation, 155, 203 research, vii, viii, ix, x, 1, 2, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 12, 13, 17, 18, 19, 21, 22, 23, 28, 29, 31, 32, 36, 42, 45, 49, 50, 51, 52, 54, 55, 58, 60, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 75, 127, 130, 140, 141, 143, 150, 155, 156, 159, 166, 191, 205, 216, 218 researchers, 2, 6, 7, 42, 49, 64, 165, 167, 173, 175, 177 resentment, 119 residuals, 13 resilience, 141 resistance, 24, 100, 120 resolution, 205 resource availability, 175 resources, 2, 3, 16, 31, 33, 35, 43, 49, 57, 60, 109, 120, 121, 130, 141, 146, 162, 171, 175, 176, 177, 192, 194, 202, 203, 204, 206 retaliate, 122 retaliation, 118, 122, 200 retention, 117 retired, 152 retribution, 199 retrieval, 178, 186, 187 retrovirus, 32 returns, 46, 161 revenue, 152, 155, 157 revolutionary, 103, 151, 201 rewards, 198 Reynolds, 77, 106 rhetoric, 109 rhythm, 162, 166 rice, 153 risk, 23, 24, 28, 29, 33, 35, 36, 42, 43, 45, 198, 202 risk behaviors, 35 risk factors, 23 risks, 147, 192 risk-taking, 36, 202 roadmap, 133, 134 robbery, 152, 155 rolling, 49 romantic relationship, 197 routines, 179 routing, 120 Royal Society, 209

Index RPR, 80, 82, 83, 103 rule of law, 203 rural, 144, 151, 152 rural areas, 151 Russia, 186 Russian, 187

S sacred, ix, 3, 31, 43, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141, 145, 147, 148, 215, 217, 218 sacrifice, 139, 180, 184, 188, 193, 194, 196, 206 safety, 50 salary, 110 sample, vii, 1, 4, 7, 8, 10, 13, 17, 18, 24, 45, 127, 131 sanctions, 112, 148, 203 satisfaction, 190 Saudi Arabia, 109, 116 savings, 195, 201, 202 savings rate, 201 scandal, 187 Scandinavia, 78, 106, 175 scarcity, 198 scheduling, 39, 194 school, 37, 54, 114, 116, 118, 136, 137, 190, 197 science, viii, 47, 49, 50, 51, 53, 54, 59, 156, 158, 192, 194, 219, 220 scientific, vii, viii, 1, 5, 28, 39, 42, 47, 48, 54, 58, 59, 60, 61, 170, 220 scientific method, 42 scientists, viii, 2, 28, 47, 48, 50, 51, 52, 187 scores, 12, 14, 73, 77, 78, 79, 82, 84, 85, 86, 87, 93, 97, 151 scrotum, 164 search, 5, 21, 31, 39, 116, 125, 134, 160, 163, 181 searches, 191, 192 searching, 128, 139 Seattle, 156, 185, 186 secret, 178 Secretary General, 119 secular, ix, 8, 64, 65, 66, 67, 77, 82, 85, 87, 88, 93, 94, 95, 100, 145, 154, 171, 196, 197, 204 secularization, 149 security, 33, 109, 115, 122, 123, 128, 176, 198, 201, 203, 204 sedentary, 175 sedentary lifestyle, 175 seed, xi, 189, 194 seeds, 164 self, 175, 176, 179, 183, 186, 215 self worth, 218 self-awareness, 175 self-care, 35

239

self-destructive behavior, 202 self-esteem, 3, 29, 36 self-help, 217 self-mutilation, 176 self-recognition, 183 self-report, vii, 1, 3, 11, 12, 18 semantic, 174 semantic memory, 174 semen, 32 Senegal, 125 sensory experience, 162, 163 separation, 2, 30, 49, 119, 164 September 11, 108 series, 111, 164, 193 serotonin, 161 services, xi, 3, 4, 5, 22, 35, 55, 68, 69, 72, 129, 137, 149, 150, 203, 213, 214, 217 SES, 131 settlements, 111 sex, 20, 33, 36, 37, 38, 45, 167, 186 sexual activity, 32 sexual behavior, 29, 33 sexual contact, 40 sexual orientation, 9, 11, 13, 14 sexually transmitted disease, 34 SGP, 103 shamanism, x, 159, 172, 173, 176, 180, 182, 183, 184, 188 shame, vii, 27, 34, 38, 41, 44, 122, 139 Shanghai, 152, 153, 156, 157, 158 shape, 133, 178 shaping, viii, 64, 107 shares, 164, 193 sharing, 16, 32, 41, 164 shores, 111 short period, 37 short run, 204, 205 short-term, 197 signals, 162, 176, 199 signs, 41, 77, 118, 185 simulations, 193 singular, 145, 156, 160 sites, 3, 155, 167, 168, 169, 177, 178, 180 skeletal muscle, 50 skilled labor, 114 skills, 7, 16, 44, 141, 165, 166, 168, 169, 173, 174, 179, 197, 217 skin, 169, 172, 187 skin disorders, 172 slave trade, 112 slavery, 56, 112, 152 slaves, 112 sleep, 36, 137, 161, 162, 164, 179, 182, 216

240

Index

sleep deprivation, 182 Smithsonian, 184 Smithsonian Institution, 184 smokers, 29 smuggling, 152 SNP, 102 sociability, 191 social, vii, ix, x, 1, 2, 3, 7, 8, 9, 11, 13, 14, 16, 17, 18, 19, 22, 23, 24, 30, 33, 34, 35, 36, 38, 40, 43, 44, 64, 66, 75, 77, 79, 96, 100, 101, 106, 114, 122, 127, 128, 129, 130, 135, 137, 142, 143, 145, 147, 150, 151, 154, 156, 157, 158, 159, 162, 164, 165, 166, 167, 170, 171, 173, 175, 176, 177, 178, 179, 180, 181, 185, 186, 187, 188, 189, 191, 192, 193, 194, 195, 196, 197, 198, 201, 202, 203, 205, 206, 217 social assistance, 128 social behavior, 197 social change, 142 social class, ix, 64, 66, 127, 151, 177 Social cognitive theory, 19 social cohesion, x, 159, 166, 170, 176, 180, 181, 197, 203 social consensus, 191, 205 social context, 185, 195 social control, ix, 145, 203 Social Democrat, 65, 79, 86, 102, 103 social environment, 167 social factors, 9 social group, 180, 191, 192, 193, 194, 195, 196, 197, 198, 201, 202, 205 social hierarchy, 197 social inequalities, 175, 180 social institutions, 128 social isolation, 16, 35 social justice, 217 social life, 147, 158 social network, 217 social order, 154 social participation, 23 social relations, x, 64, 189, 206 social relationships, x, 189, 206 social sciences, 106 social services, 114 social skills, 179 social status, 177 social support, vii, 1, 7, 8, 9, 11, 13, 14, 16, 18, 19, 22, 24, 30, 36, 38, 40, 44, 129, 130, 135, 143, 217 social support network, 8 social withdrawal, 35 socialist, 65, 66, 77, 79, 82, 85, 86, 87, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 101, 102 socialization, 130

socially, 17, 34, 166, 170, 171, 175, 178, 181, 198 society, ix, 17, 34, 60, 111, 116, 130, 138, 145, 149, 153, 156, 158, 175, 176, 180, 182, 191, 194, 195, 197, 198, 202, 214, 216 socioeconomic, 130 socioeconomic status, 130 sociological, viii, 2, 8, 47, 156 sociology, 156 soil, 38, 204 solidarity, 113, 171 somatic cell, 52 sounds, 161 South Africa, 112, 113, 114, 115, 118, 167, 168, 169, 182, 184, 187 South America, 168 sovereignty, 195 Soviet Union, 115, 204 Spain, 170, 178, 181 spatial, 131 spawning, 175 specialists, 39 species, 163, 164, 165, 166, 170, 179, 180, 193, 196, 197, 207 specter, 118 spectroscopy, 185 spectrum, 88, 161, 162, 180 speculation, ix, 107 speech, 111, 116, 117 speed, 58, 204 sperm, 51, 148 spinal cord, 52 spirit survival, xi, 190, 199, 206 spiritual, vii, xi, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 12, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 22, 23, 24, 25, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 45, 46, 58, 116, 128, 132, 135, 137, 138, 139, 140, 142, 169, 173, 174, 180, 213, 214, 215, 216, 217, 218, 219, 220 spiritual care, 25 spirituality, vii, xi, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 12, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 36, 37, 38, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 140, 141, 142, 213, 216, 217, 219, 220 sponsor, 148 sports, 148, 171, 202 stability, ix, x, 70, 72, 77, 83, 98, 100, 107, 159, 165 stages, 4, 6, 18, 21, 29, 49, 52, 56, 57 standards, 34, 193, 206 starvation, 164 state-owned, 204 statistical analysis, 156 statistics, 13, 33, 77 stem cell, 51, 52, 60 stem cell lines, 52

Index stem cell research, 51, 52, 58, 59 stem cell therapy, 55 stem cells, 48, 51, 52, 58 stigma, vii, 27, 34, 35, 43, 44, 46 stigmatization, 34 stigmatized, 34, 53 stomach, 191 strain, 118 strains, 106 strategic, 113 strategies, 12, 32, 35, 142, 161, 162, 165, 169, 170, 186, 197, 215 stratification, 180 streams, 176 strength, viii, 3, 17, 23, 56, 63, 65, 66, 75, 76, 77, 79, 82, 83, 85, 87, 92, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 134, 135, 168, 202 stress, 6, 22, 31, 37, 39, 109, 130, 164, 169, 175, 180, 184, 214, 215 stressful life events, 22, 24, 31 stressors, vii, 17, 25, 27, 31, 42, 216 strictures, ix, 145, 155 stroke, 20 students, 55, 116, 118, 153 subjective, 3, 7, 17, 29, 30, 36, 142, 160, 175, 190, 198, 201, 206, 219 subjective experience, 7 subjective well-being, 3, 219 subjectivity, 190 subsistence, 194, 202 substance abuse, 33, 129 substance use, 38 substances, 162, 163 substitution, 201, 202 Sudan, 109, 118, 120, 123 suffering, 7, 17, 30, 32, 175, 180, 181 suicide, 57, 60, 129 summer, 50, 108, 118 superiority, 119, 201 supernatural, 163, 170, 171, 172, 173, 174, 175, 176, 177, 179, 180, 181, 192, 193, 199 supply, 148, 198 suppression, 123 surgery, 114 surplus, 194, 201 surprise, 114 surveillance, 20 survivability, 191, 193, 194 survival, x, xi, 4, 22, 28, 29, 36, 54, 124, 143, 149, 189, 190, 191, 192, 194, 195, 196, 197, 199, 203, 204, 206, 207 survival value, x, 189, 192, 206 surviving, xi, 172, 189

241

survivors, 4, 20, 29, 148 susceptibility, 32, 50 suspects, 109, 110, 123 sweat, 185 switching, 178 symbiotic, 123 symbolic, 167, 168, 169, 170, 171, 185, 188 symbols, 177 symmetry, 169, 187 sympathetic, 115 sympathy, 120 symptom, 37 symptoms, 20, 33, 34, 35, 37, 39, 40, 41 syndrome, 32 systematic, 202 systems, 16, 19, 49, 106, 129, 161

T T cell, 10, 11, 17, 32 T cells, 32 takeover, 117 talent, 203 Tang dynasty, 151 Tanzania, 108, 111, 124 Taoism, 151, 154, 158 targets, 109, 110 tea, 113 teachers, 118, 152 teaching, 57, 112, 129, 134, 136, 218 team sports, 171 technological, viii, 47, 58, 59, 115, 202 technology, 49, 50, 52, 53, 58, 59, 115 teens, 49 telephone, 37, 149, 150 television, 109 temperament, 31 temperature, 48 temporal, 116, 128, 193, 198 tendon, 52 Tennessee, 212 tension, x, 12, 39, 108, 159, 164 terminal illness, 5, 190 terminally ill, 4, 23 territory, 108, 116 terrorism, vii, 108 terrorist, 124 terrorists, 109, 123 testimony, 120 Texas, 150, 156, 182 theft, 150, 155 theology, 53, 58, 109, 128, 154 theoretical, 48, 68

242

Index

theory, ix, 9, 18, 19, 44, 45, 127, 131, 158, 172, 174, 183, 184, 187, 191, 192, 193 therapeutic, 38, 40, 42, 43, 44, 48, 52, 58, 59, 60, 214 therapists, 37, 39, 40, 42, 140, 142 therapy, 4, 21, 24, 37, 38, 39, 40, 42, 43, 45, 50, 51, 59, 140, 142 thinking, 59, 119, 170, 171 Third World, 208 Thomson, 125 threat, 2, 5, 114, 124 threatened, 122 threatening, 19, 164 threats, 198, 205 threshold, 201 time periods, 86, 198 time preferences, 193, 198, 202, 203, 204 timing, 206 tissue, 49, 52 tobacco, 29, 113, 147 tolerance, 29, 114, 122 Tonga, 110 Tony Blair, 121 tourism, 156 trade, 111, 112, 114 trading, 111 tradition, viii, 40, 47, 56, 57, 58, 125, 173, 186, 187, 192, 195, 196, 203, 206, 214, 218 traffic, 108 trainees, 37 training, xi, 25, 37, 38, 213, 214, 218 traits, 154, 155 trans, 156, 158, 208, 210, 212 transaction costs, 193 transcendence, 45, 185 transfer, 52, 198, 203, 204 transformation, 219 transformations, 188 transgression, 193 transition, viii, 107, 115, 117, 124, 125, 172, 183, 193, 196, 203, 204, 205 transition economies, 204 transitions, 216 transmission, 34, 35, 36, 115, 192, 201 transplant, 52 traps, 175, 176 trauma, 40 travel, 174, 199 trend, 33, 35, 70, 88 trial, 20, 43, 109, 123 tribes, 56, 166 trust, 6, 138, 139, 164, 179 tumor, 52

Turkey, 109 typology, 73

U ubiquitous, 146, 154 Uganda, 120 UK, 181 Ukraine, 204, 210 uncertainty, 8, 53, 59, 124, 193, 198, 205 uniform, 205 uniformity, 205 United Arab Emirates, 116 United Kingdom, 210 United Nations, 32, 112 United States, ix, 20, 28, 30, 32, 43, 44, 48, 108, 109, 113, 121, 123, 145, 148, 149, 152, 156 univariate, 13, 71 universality, 172 universe, 39 universities, 111, 118 unresolved conflict, 205 urban, 87, 142, 152, 157, 191 urban areas, 152 urban renewal, 191 users, 204 Utah, 150 uterus, 52

V vacuum, 41 vaginal, 32 validity, 12 values, 5, 6, 19, 21, 64, 77, 79, 106, 114, 115, 120, 167, 190, 198, 215, 217 vandalism, 110 variability, 30, 167 variable, 13, 14, 65, 68, 69, 71, 75, 77, 82, 83, 93, 94, 95, 96, 99, 100 variables, 5, 7, 9, 13, 14, 15, 18, 66, 77, 143 variance, 14, 15, 36, 75, 161, 204 variation, 65, 94, 184 venue, 141, 151 Venus, 177, 183 Vice President, 120 village, 152 violence, 29, 122, 123, 124, 130, 200, 202, 217 viral, 5, 20, 33 Virginia, 147 virus, 33 viruses, 50

Index visible, 34, 111, 116, 118, 199 vision, 53, 178, 184 visual, 162, 184 visual system, 162 visualization, 162 vocabulary, 125 voice, 149 volunteerism, 216 vortex, 163 voters, 66, 67, 79, 82, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 92, 93, 95, 99, 100, 120, 149 voting, 64, 65, 66, 67, 75, 84, 85, 86, 93, 94, 101, 105, 106, 117

W wage rate, 198 waking, 161 Wall Street Journal, 60 war, ix, 48, 50, 52, 59, 60, 107, 108, 109, 110, 114, 120, 121, 123, 125, 152, 200 war on terror, ix, 107, 108, 109, 110, 120, 125 warfare, 174 Washington, 24, 44, 47, 109, 125, 156, 184, 185, 186, 187, 212, 219 waste, 192 water, 162, 163 weakness, ix, 127, 200 wealth, 112, 133, 146, 155, 170, 177, 190, 194, 198, 201, 202, 203 wear, 175 welfare, 152, 215 well-being, 2, 4, 5, 7, 8, 20, 22, 23, 24, 44, 45, 129, 176, 215 wellness, 43, 219 Western countries, 113, 118

243

western culture, ix, 145 Western Europe, 106, 156, 182 Wikipedia, 49 wind, 192 winning, 151, 152, 157 wisdom, viii, 47, 64, 132, 200, 215, 216, 217 withdrawal, 35, 56 women, vii, 1, 3, 4, 6, 9, 10, 12, 17, 19, 20, 21, 23, 24, 25, 29, 33, 37, 38, 43, 44, 67, 130, 131, 132, 135, 136, 153, 174 words, 163, 167, 170 work, 177 work ethic, 64 workers, 39, 152 working conditions, 110 working memory, 180 World Bank, 203, 212 World Health Organization (WHO), 32 World War II, 67, 117 writing, 53, 116, 122, 145, 150, 154

X Xia dynasty, 151

Y yield, 204

Z Zimbabwe, 113