Why Religion Still Appeals to So Many
People will sometimes endure incredible obstacles to practice their faith. Why is religious engagement so important to people all over the world—and what might be gained from it?
“God is dead,” philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche proclaimed in 1882. “We have killed him!” His words have echoed through the decades. Time magazine featured them in a notorious 1966 cover story titled “Is God Dead?” Others followed: God is a “delusion,” according to Richard Dawkins in 2006, and “is not great,” per Christopher Hitchens in 2007.
Nietzsche’s original point was not (as many have assumed) that God does not exist, but rather that humans had destroyed the conditions that make it possible to believe in Him. Science, societal progress and Enlightenment thought seemed to have rendered New Testament imagery and symbolism irrelevant and unnecessary. And, Nietzsche continued, “he remains dead,” hammering what perhaps felt like the final nail in the divine coffin.
It was not as conclusive a full stop as it may have seemed, however. Nearly a century and a half has passed since Nietzsche wrote these words, and still religious belief remains a part of many people’s lives. A 2023 report found that in places such as Iran, the Philippines and Poland, more than 90 percent profess belief in a god. Even in openly secular countries such as Germany (57 percent), Sweden (35 percent) and France (51 percent), many people continue to believe. Such statistics would, you might think, have baffled Nietzsche.
“There are two possible tragedies in life: to have lived life as if God existed when this turned out to be but a pipe dream; conversely, if in fact God really does exist, it would be tragic to have lived life in ignorance of such a truth.”
On the other hand, it’s also unquestionably true that, in many places, belief in God is declining. The conditions that Nietzsche cited seem to have had their influence. When Time published their 1966 article, 97 percent of Americans believed a god existed; today that figure is 82 percent. Other countries have seen a more dramatic decline. Nietzsche’s words were especially prophetic about his own birthplace, eastern Germany, where by 2008 only 7.8 percent believed unreservedly in a god.
It might be tempting to feel that religion is experiencing an inexorable downward slope to eventual extinction. Indeed, Nietzsche alluded to this when writing (with a nod to Plato), “God is dead:—but as the human race is constituted, there will perhaps be caves for millenniums yet, in which people will show his shadow.” Secularization theory holds that religion declines in relation to improvements in education and science, a view that appears to be exemplified in many Western countries. Yet secularization’s impact varies hugely, having had much less influence in some cultures, while appreciation for both science and religion coexists comfortably for many. If Nietzsche’s contention is true—that the conditions for belief in a god ceased to exist over a century ago—then why do people still believe?
Religious devotion is often more than a privately held theoretical perspective. It usually requires doing something. In past centuries, belief leading to regular religious practice, such as church attendance, was expected; it was the path of least resistance. Nowadays, in many cultures, the opposite is true. It often requires significant determination to put religion into practice.
The Tenacity of Belief
Over the course of history, people have preserved their faith despite great challenges, sometimes including torture or even death. You might think of Jews in the Warsaw Ghetto, Muslims in Bosnia-Herzegovina or Christians in North Korea. Those targeted by the Inquisitions stand as earlier examples, perhaps the worst manifestation being the Spanish Inquisition; and going even further back, the Bible describes how Daniel and his friends Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego resisted governmental threats to their religious practice. Today there are many worldwide who are persecuted for belief, and yet religion persists. This kind of dedication begs the question: What is happening here? If religious belief really is no longer tenable in an educated, science-based society, why do people continue in it? How can it make sense to tenaciously hold on to something if it’s outdated? Is secularization theory missing something? Does religion offer something that secularism does not?
“The friendship networks fostered by religious communities create an asset . . . [called] ‘social capital’—which not only makes people happier by giving them a sense of purpose and belonging, but also makes it easier for them to find jobs and build wealth.”
Antagonism toward religion is, in most cases, more passive than aggressive and is sometimes a product of the way adherents have tried to force their beliefs on others. But there have been occasions in history when that animosity has been unprovoked and unrestrained, and where people have retained their beliefs in the face of singular hostility.
The experience of believers in Russia a century ago is a particularly notable example. Having taken power in 1917, the Bolsheviks endeavored to eradicate religion from the newly founded Soviet state. They had a clear ideological vision of the future, and it did not include belief in God.
Karl Marx’s famous aphorism that religion is “the opium of the people” was influential here, though in fact he wrote little on religion and the phrase came from his early, less mature writings. In general, Marx’s view was that religion was a consoler, a comfort to immature humanity, and that—as society progressed—it would eventually shed that support. (In this sense, his perspective prefigured Nietzsche’s observation as well as more modern materialist ideas.)
The Bolsheviks adopted this approach and expanded on it. In the key early text The ABC of Communism, Nikolai Buharin and Evgenii Preobrazhensky wrote that religion was “a childish notion which finds no confirmation in practical life.” Belief, in their view, persisted because the “predatory class” found it profitable to “maintain the people’s childish belief.” It was a tool of power for oppressors and a comfort blanket for the immature. In this they echoed Marx, who wrote that “religion is the self-consciousness and self-esteem of man who has either not yet found himself or has already lost himself again.”
The Bolsheviks knew that they faced a problem, though. The Russian nation was highly religious. The Russian Orthodox Church was the country’s most prominent organization, boasting in 1917 over 40,000 churches and 100 million followers (the Soviet Union’s total population at the time has been estimated at around 136 million). Alongside them, Buddhists, Baptists, Jews, Mennonites, Muslims and Seventh Day Adventists, among many others, also observed their faiths across the nation, both publicly and privately.
Ambition, however, was not lacking among early Bolshevik leaders, and what they set out to do was astonishing. They aimed to turn old Holy Russia into modern, science-based atheistic Soviet Russia. It’s an objective that has only rarely been attempted elsewhere, on a much more limited scale; for instance, in Mexico, Albania and Cambodia. The newly formed Soviet Union was a vast country, both in population and area, with long-established customs and culture. Yet if Nietzsche was right and the conditions that allowed belief in a god had disappeared, then surely the task would not be insurmountable.
They began by arresting key leaders, banning religious meetings, and destroying churches and other religious symbols. They repealed legislation protecting the church and seized ecclesiastical property. In 1922 Patriarch Tikhon, head of the Orthodox Church, was arrested. Within two decades, more than 88 percent of parish churches were dismantled and 90 percent of parish priests imprisoned or exiled.
The new state had physically and symbolically subjugated the nation’s most significant religious body, yet it didn’t seem to change people’s minds. As historian Daniel Peris notes, the regime would need to shift their campaign: “Religion remained a popular force. The previous policy was acknowledged implicitly to have failed.” More than that, “popular religion outside the bounds of the Orthodox Church appeared resurgent.”
“Religion provides people with a meaning system that helps them navigate through and understand an infinitely complex and uncertain world. It meets the fundamental need to comprehend the deepest problems of existence.”
The Bolsheviks then changed tack, placing greater emphasis on education and propaganda. They established anti-religious newspapers, hired men to act as local campaigners and wrote persuasive editorials. These endeavors then crystalized into a government organization that bore the rather grandiose title “The League of the Godless” (which later became “The League of the Militant Godless”). Peris describes it as “a voluntary association of individuals seeking to combat the influence of religion in all its forms and to promote ‘scientific materialism.’” They used popular media—radio, cinema, the press—to persuade and reeducate the people. They arranged events and gave lectures. They promoted science and atheism as the way to modernity. Yet Peris points out that “Bolshevik planners were unaware of or ignored the fact that despite the loud debates about science and religion in the previous century, the spread of technology and science had had little direct impact on secularization.” The Bolsheviks ridiculed miracles as scientifically impossible and highlighted perceived contradictions in the Bible. It was a concerted, though piecemeal, nationwide campaign that lasted a number of years.
In 1937, the Soviet government conducted a nationwide census, which included, for the first time, a question about religious belief. The census was intended to be a barometer of Bolshevik success, two decades after their ascension to power. The Soviet premier, Josef Stalin, had sidelined (or was in the process of sidelining) many of his main rivals; the year 1937 is nowadays notorious for a series of show trials, executions and deportations designed to consolidate his position. Stalin’s hold on power felt incontestable.
It would have seemed an inopportune time to defy his government’s purpose, most particularly in regard to religion. Yet that is exactly what many did. Not only had threats and propaganda failed to persuade the majority to relinquish religious belief, but over half the population (56 percent) were courageous enough to confirm that failure by openly professing their faith in the census. It was a huge embarrassment to Stalin’s government. They punished census officials and suppressed the results. A second, replacement census was conducted two years later, this time excluding the question on religious belief. Many religious people saw the second census as a direct threat to their belief and boycotted it entirely—avoiding government officials, hiding, or pretending not to speak the local language. As one farmer noted, “I’m not of the soviet state, but of the orthodox.” Another declared: “We’re not giving any information about ourselves. . . . We don’t need a census, but a priest and a church.”
It’s hard to overstate just what a risk these people were taking to defend their religious practices. Obstruction of the census could attract a severe sentence, including imprisonment in a Siberian labor camp. Simply stating that they believed in a god was defiance of the government. And yet millions did so. It was clear that many valued their religion highly, even above their own life.
Why did people hold so tenaciously to their beliefs? Was it really worth risking their lives? What did they find in their religion that was so valuable?
There are no easy answers to these questions from a materialist perspective. Hitchens infamously subtitled his book How Religion Poisons Everything, and with that view it’s hard to see why a person would hold on to religion even at the best of times. Yet, over recent years, people have been coming around to the idea that religion might, in some ways, be good for us. A number of studies have highlighted different aspects of this on both the individual and the societal level. These benefits, though not fully understood, might help highlight why religion maintains appeal for so many.
Why We Persist
Several studies have found that religious belief can have health benefits, on both physical and mental planes. The Mayo Clinic writes that “a large and growing number of studies have shown a direct relationship between religious involvement and spirituality and positive health outcomes, including mortality, physical illnesses, mental illness, HRQOL [health-related quality of life], and coping with illness (including terminal illness). Studies also suggest that addressing the spiritual needs of patients may facilitate recovery from illness.”
A 1999 study of 21,000 adults published in the journal Demography found that those who never went to church nearly doubled their risk of dying over the following eight years compared with those who attended more than once a week. The study’s authors attributed the decreased risk for the churchgoing group to health habits, increased social ties and behavioral factors connected with religious attendance. For example, compassion, forgiveness and gratitude—three characteristics fundamental to religious teaching—are thought to be associated with reduced stress and higher resilience. These findings echo ancient biblical wisdom, which attested that good behavior, humility and godly reverence would bring “health to your flesh, and strength to your bones.”
Religion also offers social benefits, through cooperation and community bonding. A 2019 international Pew study found that frequency of church attendance and degree of personal religiosity increased not only people’s engagement with their local community but also their sense of life satisfaction and number of close friends. Again, such findings support long-held biblical teachings that encourage interpersonal support and multifaceted cooperative communities.
These benefits may be compelling reasons for retaining one’s religion in the face of threats.
Other factors also contribute to the tenacity of religion in the human psyche, of course. Having established oneself within such a community, it can be difficult to disengage, even in cases where it seems wise to do so. People often report that once they’ve given up their church community, it’s hard to find other centers for their social life where the level of engagement is comparable.
“Many people, having lost the scaffolding of organized religion, seem to have found no alternative method to build a sense of community.”
There’s no doubt that natural inertia or stubbornness can also play a role in our reluctance to disengage. It’s hard to relinquish something that’s part of our identity and culture. This was almost certainly a factor in Russian resistance to Bolshevik atheism. Something culturally ingrained for centuries cannot be eradicated in a few decades.
Other motivators for religion are rather more negative. Religious leaders, and others acting in the name of religion, have over the centuries coerced followers, sometimes perpetrating crime, abuse and mass murder in the process. Religion can in some cases encourage fanaticism, isolation or irrational personal expectations, all of which can lead—and have led—to tragedy. The temptation to use religion for these self-serving ends can be strong.
The Bolshevik idea that religion was a potent tool for control of the people by what they called the predatory class was not wrong (though the Bolshevik desire for societal control even without religion could hardly be described as minimal). Religion can also prove an obstructive barrier against health or new knowledge—in refusing sensible medical treatment, for instance, or retaining understandings that are no longer tenable, such as ideas of a flat Earth. It should be noted, though, that religion’s role in opposing science has often been widely overstated.
Maybe We’re Just Wired That Way
There’s another cause for religion’s tenacity, which is only beginning to come to light. It seems that humans may be predisposed to religion. Researchers in the field of neurotheology work to find whether there’s a neurological basis for religious experience. Indeed, changes in the brain can be seen before and after meditation, as well as during other religious practice and experience.
Neuroscientist Andrew Newburg doesn’t consider himself particularly religious, but as he puts it, “if you contemplate God long enough, something happens in the brain. Neural functioning begins to change. Different circuits become activated, while others become deactivated. New dendrites are formed, new synaptic connections are made, and the brain becomes more sensitive to subtle realms of experience.” It’s as though we have a drive toward “self-transcendence,” or union with something larger than ourselves. This “god-shaped hole” in our neuropsychology, as some call it, seems to allow for—and even invite—nonmaterial realities and explanations. It appears this propensity is a common human characteristic. We settle on divine explanations more readily than we might presume.
While neuroscience can’t answer the question of whether God exists, Newburg says, “it can tell us how God—as an image, feeling, thought, or fact—is interpreted, reacted to, and turned into a perception that feels meaningful and real.” Seen in this light, you might say that we are built for nonmaterialist thought.
It might perhaps point to what a Hebrew sage called “eternity in the human heart”—a sense within us that is predisposed to the nonmaterial. It’s difficult to identify or measure, but it is undeniable that even in this secular age our desire to believe what is not strictly rational seems undimmed. Further, it’s worth considering that nonmaterial perspectives can be valuable to us, most particularly in a materially unstable world.
With all this in mind, it’s perhaps not surprising that the Bolshevik attempt to eradicate religion was ultimately a failure. By the end of World War II, as historian Paul B. Anderson explains, “the Militant Godless movement was closed down, churches were reopened in many areas, priests came out of hiding, theological schools were reopened, and liturgical books were published by the Orthodox church publishing house.” The Soviet Union continued to promote atheism, and certainly religious devotion waned over the latter half of the 20th century, but this likely had more to do with cultural and technological changes that spread worldwide than to any Bolshevik-inspired endeavor.
The fall of communism in 1991 actually heralded a rise in belief in the new Russian nation. The Russian Federation quickly set about rebuilding churches, including the visually stunning Cathedral of Christ the Savior, the original of which had been destroyed by Stalin’s government. Today, 78 percent of Russians claim belief in a god.
Russia’s experience is a demonstration that religion is unlikely to go away. It will present and re-present itself in different shapes and forms, for good and for bad. This is in keeping with what has gone before. Its future footprint, like its historical footprint, is likely to be mixed at best. Christianity in particular, in its many iterations—including that of Russian Orthodoxy—has been castigated for its unhappy human legacy, rightly in many cases, thanks to its rampant misinterpretation and misuse of biblical principles over the centuries. Blame for this can be laid at the feet of religion, if “religion” in this case is humanity’s misapplication of biblical principles; but it is much harder to blame the principles themselves.
These principles, in their intended context and shorn of their historic baggage, offer just the sort of benefits on physical, mental, individual and societal planes that research has identified. They promote good mental health and resilience, helpful communication, positive individual identities, strong integrated communities, and civic stability. These are areas in which religion has been shown to be beneficial.
But physical benefits alone aren’t enough to explain why people have historically put their life on the line for religious faith. If, as evidence suggests, we as humans are not only naturally inclined to religion but are driven to find purpose and meaning in something larger than ourselves, it may be that we’re reaching for a spiritual connection—something that’s not inherent in the human heart and mind. That missing piece is important enough that some have actually been willing to die for it.