You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘fundamentalism’ tag.
Ironically enough, the belief systems most susceptible to self-destruction are those most coherent, self-consistent, and easily-defensible. The vulnerability of such systems arises from a fundamental part of human psychology. Because such belief systems appear to their adherents to be problem-free, all-explanatory, and equally convincing in all their components, any actual objective weakness in their explanations potentially poses a threat to their entire validity. When one’s ideas hang together perfectly and without need for re-examination or self-doubt, a challenge to any component belief can domino into every other aspect of the system. The sense of certainty and psychological security fostered by coherency puts all aspects of a worldview at risk when any part of it is challenged.
Consider Christian fundamentalism. This religious system comes packaged with extensive apologetics that render it almost entirely self-consistent and apparently coherent. Fundamentalism offers an answer to every challenge. But though Christian fundamentalism does contain some ideas that are meaningful and true, its contains many significant flaws that represent neither the true message of Jesus nor the nature of broader reality. Awareness of these flaws does more than cause an adherent to change specific beliefs; rather, such awareness can challenge the entire coherency of the fundamentalist system and by implication cause the former adherent to reject all aspects of his or her religion, both the good and the bad.
Thus, because virtually every human belief system is flawed in some way, the very coherency of such a system can in the end lead to the rejection of all its components, regardless of their individual merit — a sort of “guilt by association” of beliefs. Anecdotal evidence for this claim is found in the many stories of Christian fundamentalists who eventually become atheists, rather than, say, moderate or liberal Christians, after they are forced to recognize the error of some component of their fundamentalism.
What we need most then in our worldviews is not total coherency and self-consistency, with the resultant false security of certainty. Rather, we should be willing to let paradox, mystery, and doubt break into our faith, lending us humility and the willingness to not have it all figured out at once. The willingness to accept uncertainty or even apparent contradiction will give our faith a different sort of coherence, a fluid coherence that allows our ideas to adapt to our changing experiences of God and of people. When we accept paradox as a means to the end of truth, our religious worldviews will be more mature, more resilient, and more effective as methodologies for understanding and knowing God.
Fundamentalism is not a particular set of beliefs; rather, fundamentalism is an attitude towards whatever beliefs one ascribes to. It is the arrogance that arises when one (often unconsciously) dismisses the relevancy or worth of other people over differences of opinion; it is the self-assurance of infallibity of belief that leads to the assumption that any opposing idea or methodology is an a priori falsehood.
This attitude prevails commonly in certain sects of all major religions. In the United States, it is exhibited in the culture that approves of the deaths of abortion-doctors or in the groups that oppose evolution not just as scientifically unsound but as a conspiratorial, satanic lie. In the Middle East, religious fundamentalism appears in organizations like Al Qaeda or among those who support the state of Israel as having a God-given right to attack other peoples.
But fundamentalism is not limited to religious conservatism; religious liberals are just as capable of exhibiting intolerance for opposing ideas. And fundamentalism is not limited to the category of religion, either. In my review of Robert Jensen’s All My Bones Shake, I described his discussion of multiple fundamentalisms: religious, nationalistic, technological, and economic. Nationalistic fundamentalism is evident in statements like “America is the greatest country that has ever existed on the face of the earth!”, a sentiment that exudes the arrogance of supposed absolute superiority, just like religious fundamentalism. Technological fundamentalism, as Jensen describes, similarly fits the paradigm of arrogance in its assurance that new human ingenuity will always solve whatever problems were created by old human ingenuity. And economic fundamentalism similarly demonstrates blind hubris, in, for example, the claim that no matter what, markets are always the answer.
Defining fundamentalism as arrogance and assurance of superiority thus allows us to recognize a fundamentalistic mindset that is broader than the merely religious. Sadly, this worldview often is evident even in those who viciously critique a particular (usually religious) variety of fundamentalism. For example, in his otherwise excellent documentary Religulous, Bill Maher exhibits exactly the same hubris he ascribes to the religious, particularly when he condemns even religious moderates as aiders and abetters of extremism. Instead of restricting his critique to extremism, he expansively attacks all forms of faith, revealing a de facto agnostic fundamentalism that is just as potent (and dangerous!) as the religious variety. Richard Dawkins & co. have marked out the equivalent territory in the domain of atheism, demonstrating an atheistic fundamentalism that is also dangerous . Of course, most of the people of faith that I know are remarkably reasonable and kind people, as are the vast majority of the atheists and agnostics that I count among my friends. But just as religious extremists give a bad name to all people of faith, atheist and agnostic fundamentalists (ie, those who are utterly self-assured of the superiority of agnosticism or of atheism to all other methodologies and systems of belief) reflect badly on their moderate counterparts, and thus the extremists of both “sides” imperil an already complicated dialogue.
Thus, the key to avoiding dangerous fundamentalism is not to abandon our opinions or back down from our convictions; it is to discard our arrogance and recognize the value of all people, especially those with whom we disagree. Our beliefs will not be dangerous as long as we hold them humbly, seeking to gain from our differences with others rather than triumph over those who disagree. Fundamentalism is not a problem of the existence of truth but a problem of humility in claiming truth. This is not an easy problem to fix, and I know that I exhibit the arrogance of fundamentalism as much as any one else (perhaps even in this very essay!). It is all too easy to fall into the trap of hypocrisy as we attempt to address these issues, and I hope that my friends and readers will hold me accountable to a standard of humility in all that I do.
Robert Jensen (not to be confused with Robert Jenson) is a journalism professor at the University of Texas in Austin. His most recent book, All My Bones Shake, is a departure from his previous works: it is a book of political theology, whereas most of his previous works have been on more secular topics. He writes now explicitly as a layperson rather than an expert, bringing a fresh perspective to divisive and complicated issues.
Subtitled “Seeking a Progressive Path to the Prophetic Voice”, All My Bones Shake presents a new approach to the integration of faith and public life. Jensen has a unique perspective, having been an outsider to the Church for much of his life. The book is very thought-provoking, containing a diversity of valuable insights and intriguing analysis. Much could be discussed in a review of the book, but I want to focus primarily on two aspects: Jensen’s unconventional theology, and his fascinating analysis of fundamentalism.
1. The Nature of Jensen’s Personal Faith
Jensen is a member of St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church in Austin, Texas. He joined the church after being asked to preach on social justice issues (despite identifying as an atheist at the time). He found the liturgical recitation of the Lord’s prayer to be incredibly moving, and he writes that he left the church that day “not with a new set of beliefs but with a new experience” (29). Soon thereafter, he decided to join St. Andrew’s. He didn’t believe in God, but in a very real sense he believed in the Church and embraced the principles of Christ’s message. He no longer describes himself as an atheist, though he still doesn’t believe in God in the traditional sense.
On God, Jensen writes: “I believe God is a name we give to the mystery of the world that is beyond our capacity to understand.” He writes also that “Christ offered a way into that mystery that still has meaning today” (47). This is clearly a less-than-traditional approach to the divine, and frankly I am not sure what to make of it. The idea of “‘God’-as-name-for-mystery” is intriguing, if not convincing, and I pray that for Jensen it reveals God’s reality in a way that he can understand and relate to.
I disagree with several major aspects of Jensen’s theology: his rejection of the physical Resurrection, his depersonalization of God, and his emphasis on finding the internal strength to struggle rather than falling on God’s provision in faith. But I find his willingness to engage the truth of Jesus Christ compelling, even if it has led him to conclusions that I do not share. He seems genuinely to be striving to follow Christ, whether or not he believes all of what others might consider to be the “right ideas” about him. This is admirable.
2. Jensen’s Analysis of Fundamentalism
Jensen sees fundamentalism as one of the primary forces for evil in the world. But he doesn’t just stop at the traditional analysis of “fundamentalism = religious loony”. Instead, Jensen diagnoses four distinct types of fundamentalism: religious, nationalistic, economic, and technological. Recognizing that religious fundamentalism has already been well critiqued and analyzed, Jensen largely passes over it in his discussion.
His treatment of “nationalistic fundamentalism” focuses, as it inevitably must, on America. In Chomskyan style, Jensen strips away the emperor’s clothes of benevolent intervention, recognizing the inherent imperialism and oppression that lie beneath much of united states foreign policy. Rightly criticizing the “pathological hyperpatriotism that tends to suppress internal dissent” and that is often obligatory for well-behaved u.s. citizens, Jensen advocates instead that we “celebrate out connections to real people in our lives while also declaring a commitment to universal principles that are not rooted in any particular nation-state” (109-10). A compelling vision indeed, and one that is much needed in America today.
The third variety of fundamentalism criticized is economic or market fundamentalism, wherein “the naturalness of capitalism is now taken to be beyond question” and corporate capitalism is viewed as “the only sane and rational way to organize an economy in the contemporary world” (112). Indeed, the “widening gap between rich and poor” attests to the failure of capitalism to provide prosperity for more than the very few; this has been well-documented in other texts, and is a subject that I have only recently become interested in (and in regards to which my formerly libertarian views have been radically shifting).
The final fundamentalism Jensen addresses is technological fundamentalism. He describes this as the belief that “the increasing use of evermore sophisticated high-energy, advanced technology is always a good thing and that any problems caused by the unintended consequences of such technology eventually can be remedied by more technology” (116). Pointing to widespread ecological degradation of the last century, he argues that faith in technology to solve our problems will inevitably lead to further destruction. This is the section about which I am most uncertain; I have always been of the opinion that technological and scientific advancement eventually bring about widespread benefits. I especially am uncomfortable with his dismissal of the worth of the space program, and his idea that humanity has “no business” exploring “the atom and the cell” (118). Nevertheless, Jensen makes valid and thought-provoking criticism of humanistic hubris and technological arrogance, and his ideas certainly merit further discussion.
Concluding thoughts
Though the book as a whole is organized around an entirely different set of themes, the twin pillars of unique theology and anti-fundamentalism are key to his overall vision. Jensen offers a way of approaching religious concepts that engages them with the goals of truth-seeking and justice-action. These twin purposes must be central to our theological and spiritual lives, even though we may differ on many details (as Jensen and I do).
There is much more to the book than what I have written about. All of it is intriguing; much of it is controversial; none of it is conventional. I would highly recommend it to anyone who is willing to consider his ideas thoughtfully, as challenging to American Christian orthodoxy as they are.
