The Role of Religion in History
by George Walsh
The Role of Religion in History (New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishers, 1998) is George Walsh's first book. It is not a comprehensive account of religion and its role in human history. No one book could do justice to such a vast topic.
Instead, this is an introductory book, consisting of two sets of lectures directed to an Objectivist audience (though accessible to a broader one), transcribed and edited for publication. Part I, "Rise of the Two Major Forms of Religion," originally bore the title "The Role of Religion in Human History." It consists of four lectures: "Introduction: The Nature of Religion and Primitive Religions," "Religions of the Indian Tradition," "Judaism and Christianity," and "Islam." Part II, "Ethos of the Judeo-Christian Tradition," also consists of four lectures, "Judaism and Its World Outlook," "Christianity and Its World Outlook," "The Ethical, Political, and Economic Teaching of the Judeo-Christian Tradition," and "The Sexual Ethics of the Judeo-Christian Tradition." The style of these lectures is lucid and witty, with occasional flashes of wicked humor.
Because of its non-comprehensive and introductory nature, and because it bears many marks of its original lecture format, the primary value of The Role of Religion in History is not as a contribution to scholarship, but as a record of Walsh's lectures.
It will find its primary audience among Walsh's many students and admirers. I was present when the first set of lectures was delivered at Wagner College, and as I read his words, I could hear Walsh's gentle voice again in my head.
I hope that Professor Walsh will consider publishing a companion volume comprising transcriptions of his lectures on the Enlightenment, Rousseau, and Marx as well as his essays on Kant, Marcuse, and Rawls.
Walsh as Objectivist and Epicurean
Walsh describes his approach to religious phenomena as follows: "The outlook governing this work is naturalistic and seeks to interpret religious phenomena in the light of Objectivism."
This is the first book attempting an interpretation of the nature of religion from an Objectivist viewpoint. (Nathaniel Branden and Leonard Peikoff have dealt with these matters primarily in lectures. George H. Smith's Atheism: The Case Against God may be written from a broadly Objectivist viewpoint, but it does not deal with the nature of religion as such.)
Ayn Rand's name and ideas appear six times in the text (three of these references are not mentioned in the Index). Walsh makes use of two Objectivist concepts in his analysis of religion. On several occasions, Walsh describes the underlying premise of magic and religion as "the primacy of consciousness." He also states that Rand was correct to claim that the basic ethical ideal of Judaism and Christianity is self-sacrifice as she defined it: the giving up of a greater good for a lesser one. (And he compares the ancient Indus Valley civilization to the dystopia in Anthem.)
In spite of his occasional references to Objectivism, Walsh's naturalistic account of the origins, nature, and eventual obsolescence of religious phenomena strikes me as essentially Epicurean. Epicurus formulated his critique of religion in Athens in the fourth century B.C.; its most famous statement is to be found in Lucretius's De Rerum Natura, from the first century B.C. (For an excellent discussion of the Epicurean critique of religion and its modern successors, see Leo Strauss, Spinoza's Critique of Religion.)
Walsh defines religion as "a system of beliefs and practices resting on the assumption that events within the world are subject to some supernatural power or powers, such that human needs, either physical or psychological, can be satisfied by entering into relations with such powers." There are two kinds of these supernatural powers: personal and impersonal. Because of limitations of space, it is not possible to discuss the many interesting and insightful claims that Walsh makes about particular religions, so I will focus on his more general characterizations of religion as such. Walsh claims that there are twelve distinctive religious "institutions" (sets of beliefs and practices): (1) the belief in impersonal, pervasive supernatural powers; (2) animism, the belief in spiritual beings, ranging from gods to the shades of the dead; (3) worship and veneration; (4) taboos, which are differentiated from moral prohibitions; (5) purification rites; (6) sacrifice; (7) the cult of the dead; (8) totemism; (9) magic, which comes in five varieties: imitative, contagious, sympathetic, shamanic, and popular; (10) divination; (11) ritual; and (12) myth.
The fountainhead
Since religion is found only among men and is found in all cultures, it is reasonable to ask: What is the basis of religion in human nature? It is Walsh's answer to this question that places him in the Epicurean tradition: religion is a form of primitive science and technology, developed by human beings out of fear in the face of unknown phenomena. Religion is a primitive science, because it offers an explanation for frightening phenomena by positing impersonal supernatural forces or projecting human-like minds and human-like intentions onto natural phenomena, thus giving rise to the ideas of gods and spirits. Religion is a primitive technology, because it offers the possibility of controlling these phenomena either by mastering these impersonal energies or by persuading or compelling gods and spirits to arrange events in our favor.
Walsh also agrees with the Epicurean account of the end of religion. Since religion is merely bad science and technology and science and technology can be progressively improved, the ancient Epicureans pointed to the possibility that religion would eventually wither away as men found more reliable tools for pursuing well-being. Walsh clearly approves of this view: "As [man's] control and confidence advance, religion retreats, but tends to come back again whenever certainty and confidence retreat."
Walsh particularly castigates the Judeo-Christian tradition for opposing capitalism and freer, modern sexual mores, both of which he regards as significant sources of human well-being. His discussion of Christian sexual morals is particularly scathing. (The "Stop! Sin!" flowchart for determining when one can have sex on page 176 is alone worth the price of the whole book.) According to Walsh, Christian sexual morals are a combination of two influences. The first is the Jewish model of sexuality as having a purely reproductive function. (Walsh does not mention the prominent role of Aristotelian functional biology in Christian defenses of this position.) The second factor is the view that sexual pleasure is something evil, impure, or degrading. This view is derived from Platonism, Stoicism, and Manicheanism.
It should be noted, however, that the condemnation of sexual pleasure, and of physical existence in general, as evil, is considered by orthodox Christianity to be a heresy, for it denies the presence of God in the material world. It is, of course, true that Christians to this day find this heresy almost irresistible. But it does contradict a third element of Christian sexual morals not mentioned by Walsh: the sacramental character of sexual love implied by St. Paul's claim that Christ is the bridegroom and the church his bride, not to mention the fact that Christ himself, like the rest of us, came into the world "between urine and feces," to use Augustine's words. Marriage and begetting can't be all that bad if all three persons of the trinity are involved in them!
Dead end?
Walsh's hope for the eventual obsolescence of religion does, however, recognize that the mastery of nature has its limits: "there are certain things which escape our control: death is one of these. And we remain finite in our knowledge of many of our powers. The most advanced physicist, the most sophisticated statistician or seismologist, cannot predict when an earthquake may wipe out his institute and reduce him to a paraplegic. The facing of these unavoidable slings and arrows is the supreme philosophical test for the individual."
This sober assessment of the human condition raises several questions. First, how precisely can philosophy help one deal with these problems? Second, are all human beings capable of taking up this philosophical stance—or is atheism not for everyone? Third, if man is inclined to seek supernatural solace and salvation because of such ineradicable phenomena as death, ignorance, and lack of control over nature, then is not the hope that we will cease trying to rise above nature in fact the hope that we will rise above our own nature?
–DO– |
