Everybody’s looking for something. I think the Eurhythmics sang that. People look for the love of their lives, devote themselves to religion, become activists for a political ideology, and are spiritual seekers because they’re looking for something.
But what is this something? No one can quite put their finger on it.
Some people even think this something would appear if only everyone else would adopt their ideology. And when others don’t, they lash out in anger. And so religion and politics descend into authoritarianism.
Religion’s epitaph has been written many times, each one premature and disconnected from reality. There’s never been a culture without religion, and atheists are a minority even in the most secular societies.
This calls for an evolutionary explanation that isn’t dismissive or partisan. The title of Daniel Dennett’s book Breaking the Spell implies an ideological quest to diminish religion. Still, he’s right about religion being a natural phenomenon which should be studied as such.
Dennett focuses on agenticity (also called theory of mind or intentional stance): we automatically assume, even as toddlers, that other people have thoughts, intentions, beliefs, etc. But we overgeneralize. Little children often think their teddy bears can think and feel. Even as adults we might describe a computer as being stupid, as if a computer could think.
The earliest religions were animistic—the forces of nature were thought to act intentionally. The sun and moon were deities. So it’s not much of a stretch from there to the assumption that invisible agents such as spirits and gods exist, and that whatever animated someone in life must continue after death.
But this doesn’t explain why religion is such a pervasive group endeavor. Evolution typically focuses on the individual, but individuals don’t exist in isolation—we survive in groups. So it makes sense that evolution selected for behaviors that enable individuals to be effective group members. (This is not group evolution, but rather individuals who cooperate with others being more likely to survive.)
Religion often creates the cohesion groups need, as well as addressing the uniquely human search for meaning. Jonathan Haidt, in his book The Righteous Mind, quotes a World War II veteran who said that at first he thought marching exercises were stupid, but he understood its purpose once his unit began to function almost like a single organism with each person forgetting his individuality.
In battle you forget about yourself, but once the bullets stop flying you’re an individual again. Transcendence is short lived because it serves a specific function—that of binding the individual to the whole by temporarily leaving the self behind. But for mundane tasks, which is most of what we do, we need to act as individuals.
The transcendence of self that soldiers experience in combat is not unlike the transcendence of self the Zen master experiences in meditation (but less riskier). In the evolutionary environment, humans had to deal not only with conflicts with outside groups, but more often they had to function as a hunting team. This was much harder than sport hunting today. Weapons were primitive, there were predators like lions to contend with, and failure meant starvation. Subsuming the self to the interests of the whole can be necessary for group coherence with nonviolent tasks as well.
In other words, civilization can’t happen without the ability to focus on something greater than ourselves—and religion helps us do this. Haidt points out that many anthropologists view religion not primarily as belief in supernatural agents, but rather as primarily about community and ritual.
Ritualistic behavior is also a human universal, and synchronized movement—whether it’s marching soldiers or a religious ritual—seems to play an essential role in binding a group together. The wave at a baseball game does the same thing.
That complex civilizations are impossible without cooperation is no small observation. Haidt notes that you never see two chimpanzees carrying a log together. Chimps don’t cooperate at such a high level. But humans cooperate to the point where we’ve gone to the moon.
As such, Haidt (though an atheist) disagrees with Dennett’s claim that religion is an evolutionary byproduct of other traits, much like alcoholism’s (partially) genetic basis.
Haidt claims that religion evolved because it serves to cohere a group of people.
In sum, religion is about what happens between individuals and groups, and these individuals include invisible agents born from a pervasive human cognitive error (overgeneralized agenticity).
To this end, Haidt notes that, “Religion cannot be studied in lone individuals any more than hivishness can be studies in lone bees” (p. 248). Thus, religion can only be understood in the context of community.
Further, Nicholas Wade, in The Faith Instinct, claims that morality—the need to sometimes subordinate one’s self-interest to the greater needs of society—also evolved in humans to enable us to function in groups. As such, it makes sense that religion took on morality as its special project. Supernatural agents often are the enforcers of morality, thus tying agenticity and group cohesion together.
I think another reason religion evolved is that our intelligence leads us to wonder why we exist at all, and so people everywhere seem to need a comprehensive worldview that explains why we’re here and where we’re going. Typically, this worldview is communicated as a story or myth. A shared worldview conveys meaning, and this is essential for a species that can ask the question, Why?
But free riders are a big problem groups face. The most conservative religions today seem to be the most successful, which baffles secularists and religious progressives. Economist Laurence Iannaccone notes that conservative groups demand a high membership price—adhering to a strict moral code, distinctive dress, rejection by mainstream society, etc. In return they receive the benefits of group membership. Free riders don’t like the price, so they drift away.
None of this shows that God doesn’t exist, but neither does it prove God does exist. But what if God does exist? The modesty that comes with uncertainty causes us to recognize a few things:
For starters, there’s no way to know, so belief is an opinion and we can’t blame atheists for disagreeing. Even if there is some higher power, there’s no reason to assume this is God rather than an impersonal principle, a Goddess, or multiple deities.
And now that we know just how vast the universe is, it seems unlikely that God created all this just for us, or that God is even a person. If horses had gods they would look like horses, as they saying goes.
Then there’s the problem of ideas that are logically incoherent, such as the trinity or evil and the existence of an all-powerful, perfectly good God. And we must recognize that science trumps religion regarding the natural world. But if science someday is able to show that multiple universes are most likely the case, then God’s fate may be sealed because the statistical improbability of our universe would disappear. On the other hand, if the multiverse is ruled out then the improbability of our universe would bolster the argument in favor of a creator or creators.
So while rumors of religion’s demise are greatly exaggerated, religion is struggling to adapt to the modern world. If history is any guide, however, religion will eventually succeed. The specifics aren’t yet clear, but typically the process is organic and grassroots rather than by design or decree.