By Paul Freston ~
It is dangerous to make predictions, especially about the future. And even more so, about the future of religion, whose historical trajectory has had a tendency not only to unmask its in-house prophets (numerous in the calmest of times, and ubiquitous in moments like the present), but also to upend its academic prognosticators, who are by no means exempt from the wishful thinking they see so clearly in those they study.
It is safer to echo Zhou Enlai’s supposed comment on the impact of the French Revolution: “too early to say.” There are still too many imponderables in the evolution of the pandemic. And in any case, we are presumably talking about at least two futures: one of partially lifted restrictions and constant fear of, to use a religious term, backsliding. And another after a vaccine is in general use.
But, of course, needs must. So here go some disconnected thoughts regarding:
1) the religious dimensions of individual reactions to the crisis;
2) the diversity of responses and interpretations put forward by religious leaders and institutions;
3) the longer-term implications for religious institutions; and
4) the religious dimensions of some possible political and even geopolitical lessons that might be drawn in a post-pandemic settling of accounts.
In all these topics, we need to remember that the world is larger than the developed West, that different contexts are experiencing the pandemic quite differently, and that religion’s role in individual lives and social fabric may not be at all the same.
Take individual reactions. This might be considered the first truly global pandemic to affect the post-Christian West. Hence it is probable that fewer people in the developed West will turn to religious institutions for solace than in preceding centuries. Elsewhere higher levels of pre-existing religiosity may lead to a contrasting outcome. In times of crisis, the vast majority of people turn to what they know; relatively few discover a lack they were unaware of.
As for the diversity of responses of religious institutions to the crisis, notwithstanding sensationalist headlines, one actually (and predictably) finds everything from the most sane and humanitarian and altruistic to the most head-in-the-sand and navel-gazing and self-absorbed. Nothing new there in the history of religions. I have been struck by the parallelism between the spectrum of responses from Brazilian evangelicals (as collated from one day’s news on one in-house webpage Gospel Prime, 3 April) and the reactions of “Islamist extremists” (as an article in The Guardian,“Opportunity or Threat?” 16 April, styles them).
The Brazilian evangelical reactions include: claims that churches are an “essential service” and should be allowed to hold meetings; requests for the president to declare a national day of prayer and fasting; prophecies regarding God’s purpose for the country; fake news items regarding closures of churches; attacks on the media which only wants to “frighten” us; an attack on the former left-wing president and her supposed cosy relationship to China; various accounts of social services being provided by churches; and concerns over the mental health effects of isolation. As to the intellectual labours to attribute significance to the pandemic, some promise “protection” (it won’t hit us), others prefer an “unmasking” (it shows the weakness of such-and-such a theology, or economic system, or lifestyle), and still others go further and essay a theodicy (it is God’s judgement on such-and-such a group).
The Islamist reactions are a virtual mirror image of the evangelical, except perhaps lacking the more “spiritual warfare” ones, replaced by an actual call to arms. The chaos should be exploited to launch new attacks; the virus is a punishment for the atheism and immorality of the “Crusader nations”; we will be fine because Islam itself is an “anti-virus”; it is an opportunity to spread the correct theology; social distancing measures that have closed mosques are an assault on the faith; the virus is a consequence of obscenity and moral corruption in Muslim countries; Muslims will not be spared the disease, so sensible health guidelines are recommended; we should assist humanitarian organizations and cooperate with local authorities; we are organizing public health teams to distribute protective equipment and teach communities regarding precautions.
In general, in Brazil,readings of “divine purpose” in the pandemic have followed entirely predictable patterns, which means the pandemic itself has as yet provoked little serious theological reflection, serving rather as an occasion to trot out ready-made accusations against such-and-such segment of society or such-and-such an inadequate theology.
As to the longer-term implications for religious institutions, epidemics and other such catastrophes were often times of church growth in early centuries, whether through higher Christian survival rates or through the attractiveness of the altruism shown. In contrast, Western evaluations of the current crisis seem often to stress the opposite outcome: people now look to government and medical science to save them; and the older demographic of congregations will mean not only higher mortality but also a longer period of isolation and a decline in participation, social capital and funding, with economic contraction mirrored by religious contraction. But while it is true that ironically, the world over, a situation that might lead to at least a temporary increase in demand for religious services cannot be met by conventional means such as meetings, we should not extrapolate globally from the conditions of the developed West. In much of the world, much less can be expected from government, especially lower down the social scale. And religious institutions may disproportionately recruit from the younger and middle-aged rather than the elderly.
Nevertheless, the crisis is a particular challenge to forms of religiosity that rely above all on what Durkheim called “effervescent assemblies.” They will either be hampered for some time to come, or will insist on restarting and run the risk of being seen as indifferent to public health. One might say that the virus preys on collective prayer; and techniques of “virtual effervescence” have yet to be perfected, if indeed they ever can be. The result, in Latin America and elsewhere, may be a shaking-up of the religious field, with some older providers disadvantaged and some new ones appearing.
A man protesting the COVID-19 lockdown in California. [photo credit: Shutterstock]
Lastly, with regard to religious dimensions of larger political lessons that might eventually be drawn from the crisis, we can start with the fact that overcoming the virus is a global public good of the “weakest link” type. This makes potentially key actors out of religious communities and leaders, with their ubiquity, their grassroots penetration where government and the internet are shaky at best, their high-tech and low-tech media savviness, their theodicies, their pastoral and motivational capacity, and their ability to teach and model behavioural transformations.
In much of the Global South, they above all others understand the daily dramas of existence and are able (when they want and when so guided!) to “translate” sophisticated technical analyses and instructions into the language of the people, enriching them with sacred and emotional force. This potential—admittedly subject to all sorts of deviations and limitations—tends to be very little appreciated by those responsible for combatting such crises; but their probable and ever more frequent recurrence counsels more foresight and preparation in this area.
Some of the most frequent macro-interpretations of the effects of the pandemic have religious implications or parallels. Waning prestige of the neoliberal model and existing consumer culture will weaken their parallel manifestations in religious garb. The reality-shock of the pandemic may lead to renewed appreciation of science, expertise and academic knowledge, weakening both religious and non-religious anti-intellectualisms. Populist political leadership has run up against hard facts and shown its deadly limitations. The US and UK (as I write, first and second globally in fatalities) and Brazil (leading the southern hemisphere and currently the fastest-evolving hot spot) have all, in various ways, exemplified traits of populist governance. While none of their leaders are particularly religious, two of them have been heavily supported by evangelicals and various types of conservative Catholics, and this could still prove a time-bomb for the public image of those religious currents.
In a sense, what unites all the above examples (neoliberalism, anti-intellectualism, populism) is the concept of “faith”: in the market, in “common sense”, and in political messiahs. But are the predictions of their weakening sound, or are they academic and political wishful thinking? The sociology of religion on failed prophecy suggests there is more resilience to expectations around complex historical phenomena, for which the meaning of events is rarely as perspicuous as all that. News bubbles (such as some I am following in Brazil) are already hard at work devising alternative readings which maintain the basic premise of the “faith”. And the economic effect of the crisis, whatever policies are followed, threatens to be so dramatic in countries without the means (e.g. Brazil) or the political will (e.g. the US) to provide an adequate social safety net, that it may exacerbate culture wars and an embattled stance in some religious communities.
One thing we can be fairly sure of already is that there will be a significant loss of US global prestige and leadership. This, of course, has been coming for some time, but the current administration and especially the pandemic have accelerated the process. This has implications not only for American religious exporting, but also for its more diffuse attractiveness as an influence on religious life around the world, the global capacity of the US image as a nation to confer positive associations on certain religious currents. Not that American decline in this respect will be replaced by China; rather, we may see something of a vacuum, a world in which a mismatch between hard and soft power predominates to an unusual degree.
Paul Freston holds the CIGI Chair in Religion and Politics in Global Context at the Balsillie School of International Affairs and Wilfrid Laurier University.