Swimming the Sacred River

Human culture is full of woo. Basically, woo describes ideas about the nature of reality that are irrational and that often run counter to critical thinking and scientific understanding. Woo is resistant to logic, dismissive of mainstream empiricism, and swims in a fuzzy stew of quasi-theories and unjustified assumptions. Woo is essentially a belief in magic.

Magic, in the context of woo, is a power or process that can subvert, bypass, or operate contrary to the laws of nature as understood by modern science. Woo magic can take on many forms, ranging from the mythological (e.g. guardian angels, ghosts) to the pseudo-medical (e.g. homeopathy, chiropracty). It can be external (such as in astrology) or internal (including the belief in souls or that thought alone can manipulate the physical universe). Whatever form it takes, in all cases woo magic involves some force interacting with the material universe in a way that cannot be explained by physics (although some woo theorists will try to use physics to justify their beliefs; quantum mechanics is their favorite go-to model).

A great deal of woo magic is described using models that might be impressive in scope and complexity, but they always turn out to be operationally vague or resistant to critical examination (for instance, the ability to create and test predictions). Definitions are fuzzy, causal explanations are obscure or missing altogether, and areas of ignorance are too often treated as fact. This is all dealt with by accepting a very different measure of evidence—subjective experience and anecdotal accounts are given priority over objective, transparent, replicable research. But make no mistake—if any such research were to one day support any given brand of woo, its advocates would accept it loudly and with pride.

While woo is certainly plentiful in organized religions (especially the granddaddy of woo—belief in a personal god), it has a quality that allows people to feel autonomous. Woo is not dependent on dogma or cultural traditions, so anyone can adopt their own unique form of woo (which generally falls within the realm of New Age). In many cases, woosters attach themselves to a guru or two—such as Deepok Chopra, Rhonda Byrne, or Ken Wilbur—or to an organization of some kind—such as the Esalen Institute, a pseudoscience center, or one of the many occult-based orders. But because woo is not grounded in reality or logic, woosters can mix and match woo-elements to create any stew of woo that catches their fancy.

It must be stated that there are things that might resemble woo but aren’t. There is a long list of accepted scientific theories that were once on the woo list, such as plate tectonics. As another example, the therapeutic practice of mindfulness, which originated from yoga, was long considered to be woo in the field of psychology, but is now accepted as a mainstream treatment that is demonstratively effective. The difference between woo and not-yet-mainstream science is not always clear, but it is possible to look at the underlying assumptions for clues: while plate tectonics has been well established as fact, the idea would have originally been pure woo if it was assumed that the plates floated on whipped cream and were pulled around by gnomes. The point here is that just because an hypothesis about what we observe might be based on woo doesn’t mean that something isn’t really going on, so be careful not to assign the label of woo prematurely.

One of the unfortunate misunderstandings of woo is the false notion that it includes emotional states. It doesn’t. Positive or profound feelings grounded in experience are not woo. The delight that comes from connectivity, art, meditation, discovery, or play is not woo. Such emotional experiences might not be your thing but that doesn’t make it woo. If someone says, “I just sat watching the stars for hours and was overcome by a deep sense of peace, like I was connected to the entire universe,” is not woo. But it would be if that person then goes on to say, “…and that made me appreciate that I must have a special destiny in this cosmos that God created.”

Despite the irrational nature of woo, one possible reason for its ubiquity is its ability to bestow a sense of specialness. Woo can give color and sparkle to an otherwise mundane life; for many, a world without woo is not a world worth living in. It is not clear why so many people, including very intelligent folks, feel this way and are therefore susceptible to woo. It probably comes down to the same things that formal religion thrives upon—existential anxiety, the need for a sense of agency and purpose, and the drive to be connected in a meaningful way to something larger than one’s own self. Woo allows one to (apparently) bypass the unending frustrations of reality by imagining access to control and insight not easily attainable in every-day life, which can lead to increased health, power, happiness, and personal worth.

Compared to science and other formal disciplines, woo “logic” is relatively easy to grasp, and this becomes ever more true as our knowledge of the world grows ever more complex and strange. This is perhaps woo’s essential allure—its ability to provide a sense of understanding without the need for empirical or intellectual rigor. But the cost is substantial. Woo inhibits curiosity and critical thinking; it dulls the majesty and splendor of the natural world as it really is; it promotes social factions that manifest pointless yet frequently damaging in/out rules; it is a standard required for political service so that public servants either lie about their worldview or (much more often) actually allow their irrational beliefs to influence their decisions. This is why our world would be, on the whole, a better place without woo.

The cosmos really is an exhilarating, magnificent, beautiful place. True, understanding it to the degree that science currently allows, even on a lay level, takes substantial effort. But doing so is incredibly liberating. It honestly is. Letting go of woo means peeling away the gauze that blurs interpretations of events. It means losing fear of divine judgment or supernatural threats. It means that one can adopt ethical guidelines that are rational and pro-social. It opens the eyes to the wonder of reality in a way that woo cannot.

I would like to offer an addendum to my outline of varieties of naturalists in my last post. Although I do not believe in any gods, I do not like the term atheist because it sets me up in opposition to theism. In other words, theism is the ground against which I am pushing when using that term. As a naturalist, I do not see myself in opposition to theism because I consider that hypothesis to have failed; it makes as much sense to call a chemist a nonalchemist. Rather, theists are in opposition to naturalism, the de facto standard for objectively understanding reality. Within this context, I categorize people into four main groups.

Naturalists (including religious naturalists) come in two primary flavors: literal and poetic. Literal naturalists articulate their understanding of nature using literal terms (eg. “Creativity is an amazing universal process”). A poetic naturalist might apply an extra layer of symbol on top of the more literal understanding (e.g. “God is my name for the universal process of creativity”). Both are naturalists insofar as they affirm the four basic principles of naturalism:

(1) only the matter/energy world of nature is real
(2) nothing outside nature is necessary to account for its origin or ontological ground (a theoretical multiverse is included within the definition of nature)
(3) nature as a whole can be understood without appeal to any kind of intelligence or purposive agent
(4) all natural events are caused by other natural events in accordance with universal physical laws

Of course, these two categories don’t have hard boundaries. A literalist might not use the word God to describe nature, but she could certainly look to other symbols when expressing sublime concepts or transcendent experiences. These words are just general descriptions—there is no need to apply the literalist or poetic label to any given naturalist. Making the distinction is simply a way of helping us understand that a person who employs traditional religious language can still be a genuine naturalist.

A close cousin to naturalism is paranaturalism. The prefix para- is being used here to denote two meanings, beyond and beside. As such, a paranaturalist might affirm the basic story of the Epic of Evolution, or large chunks of it, but also accepts constructs that are not supported by evidence (e.g. “God is the source of creativity”). For example, someone who believes that consciousness arises from an immaterial soul or that magic ritual can cause change at a distance does not accept naturalist principle #4. Another paranaturalist might think that the “Universe” has a plan for him or that human evolution was guided, both violating principle #3. Or another might deny principle #1 by believing that she can consciously visit astral planes or that spirits reside in a nearby dimension. A deist is a paranaturalist because of #1-3. They might all agree with a great deal of what science has to say about nature, but they aren’t naturalists, religious or otherwise.

The final category is antinaturalism, which explicitly denies most or all of the four naturalist principles. An antinaturalist doesn’t have to be a stereotypical Evangelical Christian; it is anyone who understands the world in a way fundamentally opposed to naturalism. An antinaturalist can even be an atheist in the strict sense of disbelief in a god (Scientology qualifies here).

Antinaturalism is a more useful construct than supernaturalism because it references more than specific non-naturalist beliefs. Antinaturalism dictates how the world is interpreted, how behavior is guided, and how meaning is constructed. As such, it is a fully-formed worldview.

The difference between a paranaturalist and an antinaturalist is often one of degree, since both accept constructs that violate naturalism. Perhaps one useful difference is that paranaturalists generally want their non-naturalistic beliefs to be natural. Paranaturalists often look to pseudoscience for validation of their beliefs; they might give credence to, say, parapsychology, paranormal investigation (i.e. ghost hunting), or Ufology. Intelligent Design advocates might fall somewhere in the middle—they believe that their hypothesis is scientifically valid, but the underlying precepts are clearly non-natural. Antinaturalists, on the other hand, reject the method of science altogether. They will outright deny even the most validated of scientific theories—such as natural selection, basic astrophysics, or even geology—when they contradict their religious beliefs.

To summarize, there are two brands of naturalists—literal and poetic—and two kinds of anaturalists—paranaturalists and antinaturalists. The difference between the naturalist and anaturalist categories is based on fidelity to the basic principles of naturalism. The difference between the two in each category is not so straightforward and will frequently be a matter of degree. But by adopting such terms, we can begin to reframe the conversation away from theism as the standard to naturalism being the standard. This is long past due.

There are two perspectives regarding religious naturalism. One is that religious naturalism is a label applied to a range of general ideas and beliefs. In other words, people write about ideas and beliefs and it is possible for an observer to fit them into a category called “religious naturalism.” This can be and is done retroactively; for instance, we can call Spinoza a religious naturalist thinker. We can call this perspective academic religious naturalism (ARN). ARN does not have any strong commitment to religious naturalist principles, it is simply a useful descriptor of a cohesive range of ideas and beliefs, many of which might not have any connection to or even awareness of religious naturalism as a category of thought.

Now we are seeing a new mode of religious naturalism, one that is bound up in human experience and not just abstract conceptions. We can call this mode movement religious naturalism (MRN). MRN emerges from commitment to religious naturalist ideals and establishes social affiliation among committed adherents. MRN is already off to a good start—there are multiple religious naturalist communities, both virtual and real space. And RN now has a Statement of principles.

ARN and MRN are dynamically related but are not the same thing; they have different tasks, goals, and structures. They also have different requirements for success. ARN requires things like intellectual rigor and critical openness (to borrow from Stone), whereas MRN requires social engagement and commitment to clear ideals. Someone coming from the perspective of ARN might be put out by the idea of commitment to ideals, whereas one coming from MRN might be frustrated with the cautious, tentative aspects of ARN.

But the two can work together when members understand that each has an important role to play. There will always be new ideas and beliefs, especially with the existence of an energetic movement, so ARN will have no end of examination and analysis. As new ideas are explored and put through the ARN intellectual wringer, MRN can absorb them into the committed movement, making it more robust and mature. If done well, the two perspectives support each other.

For MRN, it is a serious mistake to soften a commitment to naturalist ideals in an attempt to artificially wrap it around a larger constituency. While this might broaden the constituency, it will result in an anemic affiliation. A better strategy is to establish a firm commitment to well-defined ideals and then to (a) try to inspire those on the fringe to enter into the fold, and (b) partner with aligned movements when there is a shared aim and enough overlap to allow for committed action.

While commitment is good, intractability is not. Flexibility is also required for success. Fortunately, that flexibility is inherent in religious naturalism, due to both its humanistic roots and to the scientific humility that emerges from the awareness of our ignorance. Science changes the landscape of our worldview nearly every day, and we should extend that condition to the movement as a whole. This is why we want various branches off the central religious naturalist trunk, so that variety of thought and practice will lead to overall health in the movement.

There are two brands of religious naturalists: literal and poetic. The literal RN calls things by their proper name, so that love=love, beauty=beauty, and so on. A poetic RN chooses to use “god-language” to describe religiously-salient feelings or things, so that love=god, beauty=god, and so on. A poetic RN remains naturalistic as long as the language remains metaphorical; once it becomes explanatory (e.g. God is the source of beauty), she is no longer naturalistic.

Now then, there is also a group of people who can be called near-naturalists. Any given near-naturalist can choose to affiliate with religious naturalism, especially in the poetic neighborhoods, if she finds it meaningful and fulfilling. But that does not require MRN to then abandon its philosophical commitment to naturalism; rather, it is the task of the near-naturalist to come to terms with being a religious naturalist while holding on to supernatural constructs. Every movement has a set of soft adherents around the edges; changing the boundaries of the movement to fully include them will only result in a new set of soft adherents even further away from core principles, making the movement ever more insubstantial.

Academic religious naturalism is well-established; movement religious naturalism is not, and it will continue that way as long as it remains uncommitted to a central set of principles that is clear, accessible, and inspirational. This won’t happen on its own—it will take religious naturalists deciding to do it. And yes, people will get cut out because religious naturalism isn’t a wastebasket for any naturalistic-sounding beliefs, it’s a container for genuinely naturalistic views. Rather than appearing to grow by adopting people outside core religious naturalist principles, MRN should actually grow by inspiring people to join its ranks by the use of persuasion and good modeling. If we can show that a naturalistic orientation can provide a substrate for a fulfilling, meaningful spiritual life, then it will continue growing into a robust movement.

The following statement has been written as a declaration of the fundamental principles of Religious Naturalism. It is currently residing on its own page, which includes the following text and where people can sign their endorsement. You are also invited to sign...

Religious naturalism is the name given to a general set of ideas and beliefs that combine religious/spiritual elements with a scientific, non-supernatural understanding of nature. For most of its history, religious naturalism has resided quietly in the academic halls of theology and philosophy, and not always under that name. This collection of ideas started to take on new life when biologist Ursula Goodenough published The Sacred Depths of Nature in 1998, a wonderful book juxtaposing science and spirituality. This book pushed religious naturalism out of academia and made it accessible to a general audience.

Since that time, we have seen websites and communities adopt religious naturalism explicitly. And yet, even with its rich intellectual history, religious naturalism suffers from a conceptual vagueness. For any movement to mature, it must have a clear understanding of its core commitment, the banner under which its advocates rally. This is the purpose of A Minimal Statement of Religious Naturalism.

The Statement is not a creed nor a test of membership. It is a concise reflection of a broad collection of ideas, perspectives, and ethical stances that has been given the academic label “religious naturalism.” To speak metaphorically, this statement is intended to reflect the trunk of the religious naturalist tree, with many possible branches growing from it.

The Statement is not the only possible articulation of religious naturalism, nor is it in any way perfect; no such statement could be. The goal is to have a conceptual starting point, a place where we can build the religious naturalist movement.

You are invited to endorse A Minimal Statement on Religious Naturalism with your virtual signature. Signing proclaims endorsement of the statement as being a good enough representation of religious naturalism; it does not require being in perfect agreement with it. A signature does not imply that the signatory could not concurrently affirm different articulations of religious naturalism or some other set of ideas. The statement is not affiliated with any organization or group, and so signing it does not imply endorsement of any group or affiliation with other signatories except as fellow supporters of the statement. Signing does not imply membership in any organization and will not result in such, not even an email list.

This is an opportunity to come together as religious naturalists to establish a foundation for our beliefs and our movement. The world is changing rapidly and now more than ever we need new ways of fulfilling our spiritual needs, ways that looks to science for knowledge, to reason and compassion for solving problems, and to each other for making life meaningful, fulfilling, and joyous.

As a reminder, the signatures live on the Statement page, not here…