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THE FUTURE OF Religion SECULARIZATION, REVIVAL AND CULT FORMATION Rodney §.tark and William Sims Bainbridge 19 S5_ University of California Press Berkeley Los Angeles London -·- . . 'i;~\~t-. 1 The Nature of Religion At least since the Enlightenment, most Western intellectuals have anticipated the death of religion as eagerly as ancient Israel awaited the messiah. Social scientists have particularly excelled in pre­ dicting the impending triumph of reason over "superstition." The most illustrious figures in sociology, 'anthropology, and psychology have unanimously expressed confidence that their children, or surely their grandchildren, would live to see the dawn of a new era in which, to para­ phrase Freud, the infantile illusions of religion would be outgrown.

But, as one generation has followed another, religion has persisted.

A third of Americans claim they are "born again" Christians, and 90 percent pray regularly. During the nationwide strikes in Poland, the workers did not raise the red flag, but the blue banner of Our Lady. The Soviet press angrily admits that 70 years of intensive education in athe­ ism and severe repression of religion are a resounding failure. Never­ theless, most intellectuaJs remain confident that religion lives on bor­ rowed time, and every sign of weakness in major religious organizations is diagnosed as terminal. All contrary indications, be they revivals of conventional religion or a lush growth of new religions, are dismissed as superficial. Fashionable opinion holds the tr~nd toward secularism to be rapid~nd inevitable. .

/:::-The argu ent developed in this book is very unfashionable. With /'" 'P Daniel Bell 971, 1980), we think the vision ofarelig~';lless future is· i . . We acknowler slows,_ but the domma~t rehgious organizations in any society are always becoming progres~Ively more worldly, which is to say, more secularized. The result of this trend has ever been the end of religion, but merely a shift in fortunes among . llreligions as faiths that have ~e~ome too worldly are supplanted by more vigorous and less worldly rehg10ns.

_ .. ; . .., In this book, we demonstrate that secularization is only one of three . fundamental and interrelated processes that constantly occur in all reli- ji, gious economies. T~~ proce~s of secularization is se~f-lim~tingan~ ~en: er.~~~J?.­ tionarfaith.

--··s~~ularization also stimulates religious innovation. Not only do . ~ worldly churches prompt new religious groups, which seek to revive ~~) ;~:::~~~.~m~~~.;~~;~:ri~~::7~~:~:~~.;rw~::~~1i~ ~ iliake any heaaway depends.on tne vigor of conventional religious orga­ nizations. When new faiths that are better adapted to current market ' demand spring up, older faiths are eclipsed. Thus did Christianity, Is­ lam, Buddhism, and the oth~r great world faiths wrest dominant mar­ l ket positions from older faiths. In the beginning,. all religions are obscure, tiny, deviant cult move­ ments. Caught at the right moment, jesus would have been found lead­ ing a handful of ragtag followers in a remote corner of the mighty Ro­ man Empire. How laughable it would have seemed to Roman intellectuals that this obscure cult could pose a threat to the great pagan temples. In similar fashion, Western intellectuals scorn contemporary cults. Yet, if major new faiths are aborning, they will not be found by consulting the directory of the National Council of Churches. Rather, ~ ~;~~}r~~;:~.:~~s:~!~~l~~;;;~~t;!.o.~~~::X:::io~~~;H:~~~J~~ -~~?~!.~(c£ Tiryakian, 1972; Yinger, 1977). . . ~ .. /{) ~ocial scientists have misread the future ofreligion, not only because ~-,._., .ltlieysO'fervently desire religion to disappear, but also because they have M' .. ·>·::·: .. ·. ~ :f' ... . ~a ·. _:: .. :·~·~{:\>·:· f· ' The Nature of Religion 3 failed to recognize the dynamic character of religious economies. To focus only on secularization is to fail to see how this process is part of a much larger and reciprocal structure. Having erroneously equated reli­ gion with a particular set of religious organizations, Western intellectu­ als have misread the secularization of these groups as the doom of reli­ gion in general. But it is foolish to look only at sunsets and never observe the dawn: the history of religion is not only a pattern of decline; it is [equally a portrait of birth and growth. \V~ __ argue_tll.c:!.Ull

Elsewhere (Stark, 1965b; Stark and Bainbridge, 1980) we have ar­ gued against lumping supernatural and naturalistic faiths under the common term religion-that to do so makes it needlessly difficult to explore co.nflicts between these contrary systems of thought or to iden-.

tify the rather different capacities present in each. Now we are prepared to go much further. As Emile Durkheim (1915) correctly proclaimed, there can be no church of magic (see Chapter 2). We are prepared to assert that there can be no wholly naturalistic religion; that a religion lacking supernatural assumptions is no religion at all. Throughout this book, we demonstrate that the differences between supernatural and nonsupernatural (or naturalistic) systems are so profound that it makes no more sense to equate them than to equate totem poles and telephone poles. Indeed, i? Pa_rt V, w~ dei?onstrate that ~!"~is tic meaning sys- ~:~:~:~J~.~~-(~~-~~s~~%~~~l~~!~Bfik~=~1 elites. in. comrol ()frepressive state~,. ~c:t!!OO..t..mpplaut,meernaturalism. That is, naturalisticsystemsc~nno·t replace sup. ernatur~~ .. tic syst~~s 'In·{ the hearts of most human bemgs .. If they cannot funcno.n as rehg~ous, then they must not be religions. .. . Scrutiny of the immense literature on the proper definition of reli- ): J- 4 THEN ATURE OF RELIGION gion reveals two key problems. First, the definition must be generaL As Georg Simmel (1905: 359) pointed out long ago, we need "a definition which, without vagueness and yet with sufficient comprehensiveness, has told once for all what religion is in its essence, in that which is common alike to the religions of Christians and South Sea islanders, to Buddhism and Mexican idolatry." Clearly, it will not serve sociology to define religion as belief in Christ or even belief in a supreme being.

Many groups that obviously are religious do not even know the Christ story and worship an array of supernatural powers of whom no single god is superior to others. Yet the definition of religion must not be too broad. In our judgment, this is the pit into which many modern scholars have fallen. They propose definitions that easily accommodate the vast numbers of faiths we would like to include as religions, but their defini­ tions apply as easily to ideologies that seem better excluded. The first powerful proponent of an overbroad definition of religion was Emile Durkheim, who is considered one of the founders of modern sociology. In his classic work The Elementary Forms of the Religious Life (1915), Durkheim heaped scorn and ridicule on those eminent 19th­ century scholars who held that religions must possess some conception of the supernatural, or what the great anthropologist Sir E. B. Tylor called "Spiritual Beings." Durkheim scolded Tylor and others for fail­ ing to realize that Buddhism lacks all traces of supernatural belief, yet it must be counted as a religion. Later scholars recognized that Durkheim was simply wrong about Buddhism- that he mistook the "religious" views of a small group of philosophers and court intellectuals for popu­ lar Buddhism (Spiro, 1966).

Durkheim (1915: 273) noted that "there is no known society without a religion," and he (1915: 466) asserted that "religion has given birth to all that is essential in society." He also assumed that all healthy cultures are unitary, all members sharing a single creed. From this perspective, evidence that some philosophers in a Buddhist society were atheistic would imply that Buddhist societies were atheistic, and thus that there exist atheist religions. From this logic, it is a short step to abandon popu­ lar definitions of religion and to define it without reference to the su­ pernaturaL Of course, a definition derived in this way is a poor concep­ tual tool for measuring variations in religiosity and of little use for understanding such processes of change as secularization and revivaL Durkheim sought to explain the ubiquity of religion by asserting that it performs the essential function of representing the society to its . _members in the form of sacred symbols that support a moral code and a sense of tribal unity. But if a culture contains several different doctrines, ~ri~ cannot assume without good evidence that each doctrine serves ( I The Nature of Religion 5 these functions and deserves to be called a religion. In societies such as ours and that of classical India, there exist schools of thought, promul­ gated by professional scholars and intellectuals, that recast traditional religious ideas as philosophical systems having no reference to super­ natural deities. Far from representing the dominant religious thinking of their societies, these philosophical systems are the extreme in secu­ larization. Perhaps some members of the intellectual elite favor them, but they may have little impact on social behavior. As Berger ( 1967: 177) points out about Luckmann's ( 1967) too-inclu­ sive definition of religion, if one defines all "self-transcendent symbolic universes" as religions, then one immediately is forced to say how sci­ ence, for example, is "different from what has been called religion by everyone else ... which poses the definitional problem all over again." Or, as Swanson (1960) suggests, if members of the American Associa­ tion of Atheists, the Lutheran Church in America, and the Revolution­ ary Communist Youth Brigade are all defined as members of religious organizations, we lose the conceptual tools we need to explore the con­ stant and profound conflicts among them.

How can we distinguish between religions and other ideological sys­ tems? In our judgment, the answer was correctly given by the 19th­ century founders of the social scientific study of religion, those men whose position Durkheim attempted to bury: religions involve some con- \~;7(.,'-fi ~ ception of a supernatural being, world, or force, and the notion that the supk-- · natural is active, that events and conditions here on earth are influenced by the) supernatural. Or, as Sir James G. Frazer (1922: 58) put it, "religion con- sists of two elements ... a belief in powers higher than man and an) attempt to propitiate or please them." EXPANDING THE DEFINITION OF RELIGION Our studies of religious movements are based on an effort to test empir­ ically our deductive theory of religion. Our basic theory leads us to a definition that attempts to isolate the fundamental features of how reli­ gion serves human needs. We shall sketch the logical chain by which our definition arises, and we gave a more formal statement in one ofour technical essays (Stark and Bainbridge, 1980). )Y~_l>._~g!n..w.ith ~-l!l~.~~~ne axi~m ~oui: h~an behaVior: If.umans seek what they perceme to be reWiif1IS and try to avoid what they percetve to be costs. In various forms, this is one of the oldest and .still most central propositions about human behavior. It is the stcirtingpoint for micro­ economics, learning psychology, and sociological theories (Homans, 6 THE NATURE OF RELIGION 1950, 1961). However, when we inspect more closely this human ten­ dency to seek rewards, we see two important points: 1. In all societies, many rewards are scarce and unequally distrib­ uted. Substantial proportions of any population have far less of some rewards than they would like to have and less of these rewards than some other people actually possess. Scarcity, both absolute and relative, is a social universal.

2. Some intensely desired rewards seem not to be available at all. For example, no one can demonstrate whether there is life after death, but everyone can see that immortality cannot be gained in the here and now, in the natural world available to our senses. But the simple unavailability of the reward of eternal life has not caused people to cease wanting it. To the contrary, it is probably the single most urgent human desire.

Noting the strong desires for rewards that are available to many, as well as those that seem not to be directly available to anyone, we can recognize another characteristic human action: the creation and ex­ change of compensators. People may experience rewards, but they can ./· only have faith in compensators. A compensator is the belief that a reward -·- · will be obtained in the dis~ant future or in some other context which cannot be immediately verifred. · · · . . .. We do not use the word compensator in any pejorative sense. By it we simply mean to recognize that, when highly desired rewards seem un­ ay(l,ilabk .. .through direct means, persons tend to develop explanations

When we examine human desires, we see that people often seek re­ wards of such magnitude and apparent unavailability that o.nly.b:y.~'l!:!'_ting th§. J!~tertfe of an .a.r:tive syper~{lty_r:_a,l can credible compens.at.ors..be.cr.eated. For example, since time immemorial, humans have desired to know the meaning of existence. Why are we here? What is the purpose of life?

Where will it all end? Moreover, people have not just wanted answers to these questions; they have desired particular kinds of answers- that life have meaning. But for life to have a great design, for there to be intention behind history, one must posit the existence of a designer or intender of such power, duration, and scale as to be outside or beyond the natural world of our senses. Similarly, for humans to survive death, it is, at least thus far in history, necessary to posit supernatural agencies. Indeed, to .accept that earthly suffering gains meaning as prelude to everlasting glory is to embrace the supernatural. Archeological evidence that our rude Neanderthal ancestors buried their dead with elaborate ceremony and with food and possessions to be used in the next world suggests that such concerns typify humans far back into prehistory.

Although in our more technical essays we are able to derive this line of reasoning from our theory, surely the point can stand on its owri merit: ~Q!!l:~.f9...!!!!!!~~-~~~an desires are so beyond direct, this-worldly . S

Systems of thought that reject the supernaturallac_k all means to credi­ blf promise such rewards as eternal life in any fashion. Similarl~~~~~­ ralistic philosophies can argue t~~t -~ta~ments Sll<:h. ~s "What is. the meanin!fofTife?'''or-''Whafis the purpose of the universe?" are mean­ )ingless utterances. But they cannot provide answers to these questions ~n the terms in which they are asked. k ~'"'}This profound difference in compensator-generating capacity is why ?' we have chosen to define religions.J!§_f!ym_g,__?t_organiza#ons primar.ily.en­ gaged i~p:r.oJJ#i.ng.gene_ral_comp.ens._qto.rs_basc_d on,_ sypern(1}11:..r_q:.l_ a:ssy-:rf1:ptiory. ottrintention is ~oi_solate those sys tern~ <?f t_h<>l~gl!t that have theca pa.c­ -Ii:Y ~~-J~a:rw-irhhllmmdes1I:esorma:;affiumscope, ~ntensity, and ~carcity fn;nn tllose systems lackingsuch a capacity. The fact that this definition parallel!; whatthe _t~I'rriJ~ligion has always meant in everyday speech js proba~ly 11_0t accidental. Social scientists are not uniquely qualified to rec-ognize fundamental features of human societies. Indeed, we suspect that only by letting his social scientific rhetoric obscure real life could Durkheim have failed to notice that religions are a unique source of maximum compensators. This was clear in that atheistic versions of Buddhist philosophy failed to attract any substantial mass following de­ spite being sponsored by powerful and eloquent intellectuals. These theoretical considerations lead to many dramatic conclusions we shall explore in later chapters. Consider but one of these, which is the major theme pursued in Part V: Moy~rnents lacking sup~rllc:lt_ti.f'_al __ ~§­ s~ptiom_cannoUJ..Ic~fully CO_E!-_Eet~,_oyer the longrun, in genera~­ ing mass commitment when confronte.Q_Q}:.}:QQ_~~m~ms.Jh!!t a.<:c:;t!.pJth.~ s~ern_~l. To be more specific: 5_Q_lo~A§.h~IJ!'!!l~.PC:r~i~U!l_<:!~~~!:_~S ii.Ota'i're~tly_s.atis_fiabl~ 1_!_he even!t!.~ fa.~<:: of "~_!::doru.Yp.IT~-~tm:_:~I::a.~S.ii~P­ f' .. \~. ~l(t ~n Chapter 2, we elaborate this definition of religious movements · L ~,Jr ·. to recognize several different varieties. j;i ,._~'tl 1!1 v.l ~~ t The Nature of Religion 9 DIMENSIONS OF RELIGious CoMMITMENT Thus far in defining religion, we have focused on the unique capacity of supernatural belief systems to provide people with compensators for scarce or wholly unavailable rewards. Another way to examine rel_igio_n is to observe how people express their religiousness;· now they manifest ·their commitment to religious organizations: Cliari--es Y Glock.{Tg!J9, 1962) made -the first iinportanCattempt-to distinguish the variety of ways people can be religious. Glock wanted to resolve a dispute between those who thought a major religious revival had occurred in the United States after World War II because rates of church membership and at­ tendance rose rapidly and those who lamented the loss of faith they believed had taken place during this same time. Glock recognized that people often mean different things by a term such as religiousness and that these different modes may vary independently.

Glock began by asking university students to write answers to the question, "When someone is described as a religious person, what do you assume about them?" In attempting to classify the many answers he received, Glock found that five distinct dimensions (or modes) of reli­ gious expression were invoked. He used these five dimensions to point out that it was possible both for religious participation to increase and for religious belief to decrease- hence that those debating about a reli­ gious revival were talking past one another (Glock, 1959). In later work, Stark and Glock ( 1968) further refined and measured these five dimensions. Although religious organizations differ in the emphasis they place on various aspects of religious commitment, all ex­ pect members to display some commitment in each of these ways: belief, E!actice, e~~:.i~~~· k_~o~e, and CQJlse.quen_!:~~· -- 1. The belief dimension of commitment consists of the expectation that the religious person will accept certain doctrines as true. . 2. The practice dimension includes acts of worship and devotion di- ! rected toward the supernatural. Two important subtypes exist here. Rit- i ual practices refer to formal ceremonies, rites, and sacred activities- l such things as baptism, attending worship services, and taking 1 communion. Dev?tion~l practi~es are i~formal, of~en spontaneous, and frequently done m pnvate. Btble readmg and pnvate prayer are com- mon examples. ' 3. The experience dimension takes into account that individuals often believe they have achieved direct, subjective contact with the supernatu- ral. Often these are no more than intense but diffuse feelings of special awareness of divine existence -the "born again'' experience, for exam- 10 THE NATURE OF RELIGION pie. But sometimes, too, people experience what they define as direct communication with the supernatural; they may even gain new revela­ tions of divine intention and meaning. 4. The knowledge dimension indicates that people are expected to \know and understand central elements of their religious culture- in the case of Christians, who preached the Sermon on the Mount or the hame of the town in which Jesus was born.

5. Consequences refer to religious actions in everyday life. All reli­ gions direct people to behave in certain ways (to tell the truth, to give alms to the poor) and not to behave in certain other ways (not to drink or fornicate). ' Research has found that, empirically, there is much independence among these different dimensions of religious commitment. People who are high on one are not necessarily high on any others (Stark and Glock, 1968). Initially, the recognition that there may be multiple dimensions of religion alerted sociologists of religion to base their research on many measures of religious commitment, rather than on only one. And, in­ deed, it often turned out that very contradictory findings were pro­ duced when results using one dimension were compared with results based on another. The clearest example is rese<~:z:fh explor_~llg ~h<;: rc;:la­ tionship between religic::>!IS c.omniitment and socia..l c'as.s. .. .. , .... , -·.~,·~~ . .-.,~- _.,.......__ .. Social Class and Modes of Faith For a long time, sociologists of religion took it for granted that a primary function of religion was to comfort the poor for their relative deprivations. In so doing, they echoed not only Marx's condemnation of religion as nothing but "an opium of the people" but also St. Paul's belief that religion has greatest appeal to the "weak things of the world." Then, with the development of empirical social research in the 1940s, a series of investigators found the lower classes noticeably absent from church (cf. Stark, 1964). It is the wealthy, not the poor, who are most likely to be found in the pews on Sunday morning. This discovery threatened a m~or sociological proposition, for if the poor get the most out of religion, they must be doing so without benefit of clergy. Then several of Glock's students salvaged this sociological proposi­ tion by noting that rich and poor tend to express their religion in differ­ ent ways or along different dimensions (Demerath, 1965; Stark, 1964, 1972). Thus, for example, lower-class people are more likely than upper-class people to pray in private, to believe in the doctrines of their faith; and to have intense religious experiences. But the upper Classes ··• display greater religious commitment when it comes to church member- :~ The Nature of Religion 11 ship, church attendance, and all other aspects of the ritual dimension (Stark, 1972).

Although Glock's initial five dimensions made it easy to spot these contrary tendencies, his scheme did not lend itself very well to isolating and explaining them. The data strongly hint that different social classes get different things from religion. But how can these be identified? Part of the answer can be found in our discussion of compensators earlier in this chapter. We noted that religion offers compensators for scarce rewards- those for which some people experience relative dep­ rivation. Religion also offers compensators for rewards that seem not to exist at all in this world. In terms of these rewards, all humans, rich and poor alike, are potentially deprived. But religious organizations provide more than compensators. Any organization that provides a stage for human action and interaction will provide numerous direct rewards. As we explore in length in Chapter 14, religious movements deal not only in compensators, in intangibles, but also in very tangible, direct re­ wards. Thus, people can gain a variety of rewards from religious com­ mitment. They can earn a living from religion. Religions offer human companionship, status as an upright person of good character (Weber, 1946: 303-305 ), leisure and recreational activity, opportunities for marriage, courtship, and business contacts- a whole host of things peo­ ple value .

While analyzing what people can get out of religion, we must realize that this can be influenced greatly by their Pf!1!!_l!_T. w~_~se this term rather broadly to mean a superior ability to win rewards in sodal ex:: changes ba~~clQ!l aJl the ~alents and resources that allo~ S()m~ people to proHtmc::>r~than others in social int~!"Ci.c~!Q...J?.S (cf. Blau, 1964). Because po~~r.Jn~~gS.~:fie-ablilty-~q~-gaf~re~Cir<:l~. it is especially critical in the case ofsca.rce reward.s. It follows that the powerful will tend to monopo­ lize the rewa.rds avaiiable from religion,ju~t as they tend to monopolize those from all other sources. Our theory leads to the deduction that people will prefer rewards over compensators and that they will seek the form~r whenever possible. TJ¥!..!!!.~-~~Ci!_ tJl~~~rivil~ged people will have. le_s_s_ need and desire for those C9J!lP.~!l_!~tors-;t~jglQ'n offers for rewards thatare-onlfsca~t;:~.-:Privlieged people will ~eed-in g<;:tting. the ~carce. rew~!.~.J.b~t.MelY.es. Persons.whcnaa··-u1e means to get the rewards must content t_hemselves wit~_<:oll!E..e.nsat~rs for:these re~a:rds. Such compensat~r~jvJl!JilV.~~llieir~ID-~~~tility amon~.~- j)(i'or Ci!ld p()~ej"less. But we also can see that power is irrelevant in the case of rewards that seem not to exist at all. Neither rich nor poor can gain eternal life in this world. All have equal need of compensators foi •. this desire. pl:>:~· n of rc::ligiq1Js <:92!?-_~itmc:_~!..!_C:~~-~ gious coll)pensators capable ofl?in.4ing po'\Ve_rfuland p()~et:Ie_ss_':ll_i~e._to re.IIgious organizations. These three dimensions consolidate Glock's important recognition that religious commitment is not a unidimensional phenomenon. They also have affinity with Gordon W. Ail port's ( 1960: 33) distinction be­ tween extrinsic and intrinsic types of religious faith. Ail port characterized ~~ic faith as .~.utilitar.ian, ... self~s_J:le~~ ~x:i~t~J:l.<:t! without enslaving hiiT1 to his limited co.n~eptSina:egocentrk ne.~d.~ .... It is the polar opposite of the utilitarian, self-centered, extrinsic view." Ignoring AIIport's contempt for those who accept the invitation of religion to "take it to the Lord in prayer" and his attempt to define lib­ eral Protestantism as indicative ofbetter mental health, we may glimpse affinities between the extrinsic type and our otherworldly dimension. Th~ . .i_l).gtnsic type is mg~~J1~-~v.Uy.we~ghted.on...the..universaLand .th.e worldlY. dfmen-sions: .... ... B~th-Gf~~k~-~d Allport arrived at their dimensions of religious com­ mitment inductively, as summaries of empirical data. This approach is valid if one's scientific purpose is the systematic description of how a particular culture conceptualizes religious experience, that is, if one is working as an ethnographer. Today a number of statistical tools, such as factor analysis, are used to reduce the opinions of numerous respon­ dents to a single cognitive structure (c£ King, 1967). But when such studies are replicated on different populations, they tend to give differ­ ent results. In so doing, they may accurately chart cultural differences in the nature of religion and in how it is conceptualized. Done properly, this line of research permits sensitive intercultural comparisons, thus adding to the tools available for systematic ethnology. We derived our conceptual sch~e from..a.fru:m_al theory rather than fl/o "i"' t~royg_lj_dJ.SulTaiion. o.DJie_fQJ~ ideat..,of ~H!X-!~!lgl~ y 1-V<-- designed ~~-'!11_9!>_$ctiv~ analytic tool for understanding all varieties of { ~The trouble with inductive conceptual schemes is that an mft:- nite number of alternatives can be found, and there is no way to choose among them. ~~e hypq!h,ese§...: tatements that assert a relationshi link!!!gJwo or.mor.e __ cQr:tc_epts), mere definitions can e nelt er true nor -·~·--- ~--- . :I 14 THEN ATURE OF RELIGION false. Each notes a distinction someone has made and simply gives it a name. But if we want to develop scientific explanations, the test of the cof.t~ep~s is their utility, for effective theorizing. Concepts that are not lnco;porated into theories may or may not be useful for theorizing; there is no way to tell. Because our conceptualization derives from a theory of religion, it is fruitful to the extent that the theory is successful. __... In later chapters, we show that these three dimensions of religious commitment serve as an essential starting point for a theory of churc:;h and sect movements. They tell ust to expect an "interna] coiitraaiction" ~ithi~- ~~~;~Iigi~~s--organizations'- the presence of groups with a con­ flict of interest over whom the organization is to serve and how. Some will want emphasis on the otherworldly dimension. Some will want rna­ ; jor emphasis on the worldly dimension. These two dimensions tend to •. be incompatible and one can be emphasized only at the cost of de- emphasizing the other. Thus, the seeds of internal conflict and for the transformation of religious organizations are inherent in the composi­ tion of religious organiz~tions. Our dimensions efficiently identify this conflict; we see the correspondence between our definition of religion and our analysis of individual religious commitment. AN ASIDE ON FAITH Readers must not let our use of the term compensator in our definition of religion cause them to assume we therefore imply that religion is false. As will be clear in many subsequent chapters, it is impossible to demon­ strate that the most general compensators are false. Science is com­ pletely helpless in the face of claims made on behalf of a being, world, or force beyond the natural world (c£ Dodd, 1961). We may send cameras through the far reaches of space to photograph the rings of Saturn and the moons of jupiter, butthey cannot be sentto reveal the face of God or the topography of heaven. Religion, in its purest forms, lies beyond the reach of all science and surely is not vulnerable to the definitions of two social scientists. It is not our intent to suggest anything about the truth of religion. We seek only to discover its visible aspects- the social forms it takes in the world we all can see. We leave its invisible aspects to others to comprehend or dispute. That we must discuss in Chapter 8 that some people who found religions are rascals gives us no ability to pass upon the authenticity of the private religious visions of other religious found­ ers. I..b.ethrust of this -book -is that..religipn.wilLprosper.and .endure n.o I)l.a.tt.er..~h.at.social s~ieJ1tist_s, ~r_ ~ny others, have to say about faith. • .' • --···--or , -···A.,~-.·• •-·-h •• ....-.. ••.-·-••,. •• . • ,. , . , . -· •. • • ~ . '.> f. The Nature of Religion 15 PLAN OF THE BooK The next chapter continues the definitional task already begun. In it, we distinguish two primary forms of deviant religious movements: sects and cults. First, we see how these can be distinguished from religious institu­ tions or churches. Then we see why it is vital to distinguish one form of deviant religious group from another. Finally, we distinguish between cults that are fully developed religious movements and other cult groups and activities that represent magic, not religion. In the remainder of the book, we use these distinctions, and we show that they are very sensitive to empirical nuances. They often permit us to make sense of what otherwise might appear to be only odd blips and glitches in the data. In order to understand religious movements, we must examine the interplay between them and their environments. For example, one can­ not discuss religious deviance without knowledge of the conventional standards against which this deviance is judged. One cannot fully un­ derstand religious deviance unless one knows the extent to which the coercive powers of the state are used against re.ligious nonconformity. Is the state repressive or permissive of novel religions? But even where religious freedom is greatest, new religions must find a niche in the religious economy in order to survive. Thus, Part I examines !herel~­ gious economy of the United States a11d C(ln?da. In Chapter 3,weexam­ ~ne the diversity offai_ihs making_ lip thereligiol,l~ sp~c~ru~a.n_c!ci_eriion­ strate the utility_ofthe p.otiop qf tension with. t!:t~_envi~<>.lll'!!t:llt ~~_orcier t~__e.hll~W~lrray_Q.f_C::~qt_p~~ing.fai!hs. Chapter 4 is dey_Qt~9-.J9 __ i~p~~~!l_t r~_gLo.':!_~l __ Yl.l and serves.as.a preface tQ later ~baptersthatexamine where and wh,en se~t~ anq .C:I,_ll!s !h.!"!ye. ·· In Part II, we take up sects. Chapter 5 explains why religious organi­ zations tend to move into low tension with their environments. We then see how low tension religious groups are unable to provide as effica­ cious compensators for scarcity as high tension groups readily offer. This permits us to see the conditions under which religious schisms de­ velop- ~E~-~~is!!.latic gro~_ps that leav~

Chapter 6 moves up to the present and exammes the first large, quan­ tified set or data on American-born sect movements. How .ma~y are there? Where are they? How big are they? How many are growmg. What are the most common varieties? Chapter 7 introduces and. tests a frag- t four theory of religious movements. What rp.echamsms account men o h 'd ·r· h c the transformation of sects into churches? The c apter 1 enu 1es t e 10r · · d forces that cause the social class composition of sects to nse over time an shows how this reduces their tension with the outside world. . Part III is devoted to cults. Chapter 8 is conceptual and theoretical.

In it, we identify three ;;;odels of cult formatio?- how new ~eligions are created. First, we examine the process by which people beheve they nave received'~ new religious insight and how they are able to sh~re their conviction with others. Then we examine how people create ne~ r:eligions in much the same way as th~y might start any ~ommer~ial v~n­ ty.r.e. Finally, we examine the dyna,rp.1c processes.by whtch certan~ sm~ll groups'()f people evolve_.a. n~_\V.n~ljgious do_ctrin.e .ar:t.d ~ome_ to. b~ie.ve _m iC~·slroW'tliat"tnese three models summarize a huge, but disorgan­ ized, literature on religious innovation and that they differ from one another only in their emphasis on common elements.

Chapter 9 does for cults what Chapter 6 does for sects. Based on 501 contemporary cult movements, it establishes basic facts. Where do cults flourish? What kinds of cults are forming now as compared with the past? Is cult formation becoming more frequent? Chapter 10 poses sim­ ilar questions, but about groups that are not (or are not yet) fully devel­ oped cult movements- groups we identify as client and audience cults. In Chapter 11, we examine cult membership in the 1920s. Here we chart in detail the rise of some of the most successful American cult movements and demonstrate that there is nothing new about the for­ mation of new religions. In chapters 12 and 13, we analyze two highly successful and very recent cult movements. Chapter 12 shows how Scientology is able to get thousands of members to agree that they have achieved "clear" status despite their inability to perform the superhuman mental feats claimed to be easy for clears. In Chapter 13, we chart the extraordinary rise and the precipitous fall of Transcendental Meditation, a cult movement that in the mid-1970s was initiating tens of thousands of Americans a month. We explain why the flow of new members suddenly dried up and how ·. this radically changed the movement. · .. · .. ·.· : Part IV is concerned with recruitment to sects and cults. How do ·. ___ .. . .. • '. -·. .I The Nature of Religion 17 deviant movements attract new members? Chapter 14 sums up current knowledge on this subject and considers data on several religious move­ ments, showing the importance of interpersonal bonds for the recruit­ ment process. Chapter 15 carries this network approach to recruitment farther and explores the salience of religious and occult beliefs for pairs of close friends. In Chapter 16, we consider the impact of the arithmetic of conversion for the career of cults and cult leaders. We discover that, unless they achieve truly phenomenal rates of growth, cult founders and their initial circle of followers are likely to lose heart after 20 or 30 years of effort. We see that cults are more easily started in larger societies but are more likely to succeed in small ones.

Chapter 17 shows that the recent rise of occult beliefs and move­ ments does not stem from the rise of new kinds of"consciousness," but from weakness in the conventional religions. It provides further sup­ port for our claim that no secular meaning system can provide such general explanations about life that it replaces religion. Chapter 18 ex­ amines the best currently available information on who joins cults, con­ cluding that, under present conditions, cults can have great success re­ cruiting persons who are fully normal. Part V brings all these themes together. In the chapters making up this section, we explain how secularization -the weakening of many major church organizations- prompts religious innovation. Weargl1~ .. tb.atthe future is not to be a time of no religion; but that it may be a.time of new religiQ.I)~. That is, sec_ts and c1,1_lts aris!:!jn..t.he vac~,I_llms_<:;.:reatedJ.lY- we~~ churches. Chapter 19 examines how this process works, first using data ~11 coll'temporary cults, sects, and churches and then data from the 1920s. Chapter 20 shifts to Canada and again discovers that cults flourish where the churches are weak, even in a very different religious economy from that of the United States. Chapter 21 places our theory at risk in a social environment where many social scientists would predict it would fail. But once again, in Europe, our propositions are fully supported. In Chapter 22, we return to issues raised in this chapter- the inability of naturalistic faiths to supplant supernatural faiths. In Chapter 22, our focus is not upon weak, secularized churches or upon ephemeral alleged consciousness reformations, but upon powerful political movements and officially atheistic states. We demonstrate why political radicals are so sus­ ceptible to joining cults and sects and why political movements frequently are transformed into fully developed religious movements. Finally, we examine officially atheistic totalitarian states to discover why they fail in their efforts to root out religion. Put another way, we explore the meaning of the aphorism that trying to drive out religion is like driving in a nail­ the harder you hit, the deeper in it goes. 18 THEN ATURE OF RELIGION This book is unified by a consistent, social sci~ntific theor~ based on concepts outlined in this chapter and developed 1~ the followmg pages.

Alongside the empirical and traditional theoretical ~ork repr~sented by this book, we have been refining a for~al, systematic, d~ductive th~­ ory of religion. We wrote the first techmcal paper sketchmg the rudi­ ments of such a theory five years ago (Stark and Bainbridg~, 1980), and we have recently returned to that more abstract work ~Ith ren_ewed clarity after confronting the vast troves of data we descnbe and ~~~er­ pret here. The result of our eff~rt~ to buil~ a general theory of rehgw? requires book length treatm~nt m Its ?wn nght. All our work shows reli­ gion to be the direct expressiOn of umversal ~um~n n~~ds, and th~s the future is bright for both religion and the social scientific study of It. _, 2 OJ Churches, Sects, and Cults Many new religious bodies are created by schisms- they break off from other religious organizations. Such new religions commonly are called sects. Many other new religious bodies do not arise through schisms; they represent religious innovation. Someone has a novel reli­ gious insight and recruits others to the faith. These new religions are also often called sects, but a theory that explains why schismatic reli­ gious groups occur may have nothing to say about religious innovation.

Is it then only a partial theory of sect formation? Or shall we distinguish among religious groups on the basis of their origins? If so, what names should we employ for this distinction? And what of the many "quasi religions," such as astrology, yoga, and the like? Are they religious movements? How shall we identify them? These questions are not merely academic; they must be settled before coherent discussion, let alone research, is possible. UN-IDEAL TYPES The conceptual literature on churches and sects is dominated by typol­ ogies. Indeed, the literature refers not to churches and sects, but to the "church-sect typology." Sad to say, the kind of types sociologists usually A briefer and somewhat different version of this chapter was published as Rodney Stark and William Sims Bainbridge, "Of Churches, Sects, and Cults," Journal for the Scien­ tifiC Study oj Religion, 1979, 18:2, pp. 117-133. 19