**Section II. Empirical Research on Social Institutions and Deviance**

### **The Empirical Ties between Religious Motivation and Altruism in Foster Parents: Implications for Faith-Based Initiatives in Foster Care and Adoption**

### **Michael Howell-Moroney**

**Abstract:** Amidst a crisis shortage of foster homes in the child welfare system, a number of innovative faith-based collaborations aimed at recruiting foster parents have recently emerged. It has been suggested that these collaborations offer a unique opportunity to recruit committed and altruistic parents as caregivers, providing much needed capacity to an overloaded child welfare system. This paper uses data from the National Survey of Current and Former Foster Parents to examine the associations between religious motivations for fostering, altruism and various measures of foster home utilization and longevity. The empirical results demonstrate that religiously motivated foster parents are more likely to have altruistic reasons for fostering, and scored higher than the non-religiously motivated group on an index of altruism. A separate empirical analysis shows that the interaction of high levels of altruism and religious motivation is associated with higher foster home utilization. No association was found between religious altruism and the parent's expressed intent to continue providing foster care. The implications of these findings for current faith-based collaboration in the child welfare arena are discussed.

Reprinted from *Religions*. Cite as: Howell-Moroney, M. The Empirical Ties between Religious Motivation and Altruism in Foster Parents: Implications for Faith-Based Initiatives in Foster Care and Adoption. *Religions* **2014**, *5*, 720–737.

### **1. Introduction**

Occasionally, there are reasons why the State must step in to remove children from their biological parents or other caregivers. Reasons for bringing children into the foster care system range from abuse and neglect to cases where one or both parents is temporarily incapacitated by injury, or even the death of the parents. According to the most recently released data from the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services [1] there were about 398,000 children and youth in foster care in 2012. Moreover, 47% of all children in foster care reside in family foster homes, with another 28% residing in relative family foster homes, making relative and family foster homes the frontline providers of the foster care system [1]. In fact, family foster homes used to comprise a larger percentage of placements, but it has become increasingly difficult to recruit new families to serve as caregivers and to retain the families that are recruited [2–5].

Recruitment and training of foster families is an expensive and time consuming undertaking that puts pressure on already limited federal resources for child welfare [6]. Consequently finding effective means to recruit and retain foster families is a central policy priority for ensuring the future of the child welfare system. Orme and colleagues sum up the urgency of the issue well when they describe foster families as, "…a critical, national resource that is in short supply" ([7], p. 307).

One strategy that has been widely discussed as a best practice for recruiting foster parents is promotion of foster care in local faith-based congregations [8–12]. A report from the Urban Institute found that 32 states had some sort of targeted faith-based recruiting efforts in place to recruit adoptive and/or foster parents [13]. Some state welfare bureaucracies have begun to devote some of their resources toward efforts to partner with individual faith congregations (or consortiums) for the purpose of recruiting families to provide foster care. For example, the Texas Department of Family and Protective Services recently launched a program called Congregations Helping in Love and Dedication (CHILD).

Other collaborations with government have been initiated from the faith community side, where religious bodies or para-church organizations have approached child welfare officials to explore how they can become involved in recruiting and supporting foster families. A prime example of such an endogenous effort on the part of the faith community is Project 1.27 in Colorado, which was begun by a consortium of Christian churches that committed to providing adoptive homes for all of the children in the state foster care system for whom parental rights had been terminated. Project 1.27 has been replicated in Arizona and was the basis for a similar program in Arkansas as well. Other examples include the Dallas-Fort Worth Alliance of Adoption and Orphan Care Ministries in the Dallas Fort Worth area, a network of several faith-based congregations working cooperatively to encourage and support adoption and foster care. In Los Angeles, a similar interfaith consortium exists called Faith Communities for Families and Children [14].

Despite the growth of faith-based collaboration in the child welfare system, there is little *evidence-based* research to suggest whether they are successful. (In fact, there is very little research at all that deals with faith-based initiatives in child welfare.) This paper seeks to fill this gap by testing some empirical propositions that have implications for faith-based collaboration in the child welfare system.

This paper provides an empirical examination of the associations between religious motivation for fostering, altruism and various measures of foster family utilization and longevity using data from the National Survey of Current and Former Foster Parents (NSCFFP). After laying the groundwork for understanding the potential importance of the intersections between religiosity and altruism in the specific context of foster care, the next section describes the data from the NSCFFP. The following section presents empirical results examining the relationship between religious motivation and altruism. The paper then turns to an examination of the empirical relationships among religious motivation, altruism and substantive foster home outcomes. The paper then concludes with some insights, policy implications and recommendations for continued work.

### **2. Religiosity, Altruism and Fostering**

Scholars suggest that the parent's motivation for fostering is crucial because it has an impact on outcomes for foster parents and their foster children. In particular, there seems to be widespread agreement that altruistically-motivated foster parents are among the most desirable [15–21].

But what is it about altruistic motivation that makes it such an attractive trait for foster parents? There are several explanations that we find in the literature. Scholars assert that altruism is a desirable attribute for potential foster parents because it may result in greater commitment to, and hence, longevity in fostering [16,19]. Others propose that parents with altruistic motives are better able to cope with the inevitable difficulties that arise with foster children because their motivation is not solely contingent on circumstances [15].

Motivation theory has been used as a means to explain the importance of altruism. Researchers suggest that intrinsic rewards, such as those that accrue to those who act because they believe they are doing something of value, often will serve to motivate better than extrinsic rewards such as money or personal accolades.

"…parents who are internally motivated to care for children, whether out of a perceived responsibility to the larger society or their knowledge of the harm that could come to the child if they were to continue living with their families, are more likely to stay with the job of fostering."([19], p. 1140).

Other work echoes this idea of intrinsic motivation. A recent study found that foster parents who stuck with foster care were often motivated by the intrinsic rewards of foster care such as making a difference in a child's life or fulfilling an obligation to society [22]. There also is some empirical support linking altruism and to foster parent quality and satisfaction. One study found that parents with altruistic motivation for fostering were more likely to have received higher ratings by their social worker [16]. Other work found that possession of an altruistic motivation for fostering was associated with higher reported levels of foster parent satisfaction [17], though a recent study of foster parents in Belgium found no relationship between foster parent motives and the number of years spent fostering [23]. It is also important to note that though altruism is seen as a desirable trait for foster parents, it is not all-sufficient. Research reminds us that financial and community supports are also important things to provide to foster parents [24].

Clearly, altruism seems to be a desirable attribute for foster parents to possess, but how does altruism relate to religious motivation? Why would local religious congregations, in particular, be places of interest for recruiting foster families? Other scholarly work has found that pre-service motives for fostering, such as religious motivation, are important determinants for the eventual decision to become a foster parent [25]. However, the specific idea of religiosity and its association with altruistic motives for fostering, though supported in an older study in Australia [18], has not received much attention since. Given the many faith-based collaborations that are appearing in state child welfare systems across the country, a re-examination of the specific effects of religious beliefs on substantive fostering outcomes is certainly warranted.

### **3. Data**

This paper uses high quality survey data from the National Survey of Current and Former Foster Parents. Commissioned in 1990 by the U.S. Department of Health and Human Service, the National Survey of Current and Former Foster Parents (NSCFFP) is the only nationally representative study of current and former foster parents. Before getting into the details of the dataset, it must be acknowledged that these are older data. Scholars have noted that there have been some shifts in the demographic composition of the foster parent population since the 1990s, so that is an explicit limitation in using this database. On the other hand, these are the only nationally representative data of current and former foster parents, so for the purposes of this study, these data are the best we have available for the research questions posed here.

The actual surveying was carried out in 1991 using a complex multi-stage stratified sample design. In the first stage, states were stratified according to high, medium or low foster payment status and sampled according to child population. Nine states were selected at the first stage. Then counties within the states were stratified by unemployment rate and urbanicity and clustered. From this set of counties, sixteen were selected. In order to make this sample nationally representative, posterior weights were calculated and provided with the NCSFFP [26].

Even when the weights are employed to make the sample nationally representative, the multi-stage stratification design creates clustering and other design effects, which are not taken into account with conventional statistical algorithms. Ignoring these design effects in the calculation of standard errors used in a variety of statistical tests will produce erroneous results. In most cases, employing conventional standard errors (based on the simple random sampling assumption) will tend to underestimate the true variance of a given parameter. The NCSFFP provides jackknife replicate weights which are used to produce accurate standard errors.

This paper uses the Current Foster Parent data file for the analysis. The total unweighted sample for the Current Foster Parent data is 1056 cases. However, because the primary subjects of interest for this paper are family-based foster parents, the analysis is limited to currently licensed, family-based and kinship foster homes, so group homes are excluded from the analysis. After eliminating these, the remaining unweighted sample is 901 cases, although, depending upon the particular empirical application, additional cases were unusable due to missing data on one or more relevant variables.

### **4. Religious Motivation and Altruism**

This section of the paper addresses the first proposition, that religiously motivated foster parents possess a higher incidence of altruism. The NCSFFP provides a menu of 27 possible reasons for fostering, one of which is "religious beliefs". Respondents were able to mark off any (or all) of the 27 reasons if they were pertinent to their own decision to become foster parents. Therefore, many of those that chose religious beliefs as a reason chose other reasons as well. The weighted percentage of respondents that listed religious beliefs as a motivation for fostering is about 13%.

The potential association between religiosity and altruism lends itself to a number of potentially empirically verifiable propositions Do people that foster for religious reasons score more highly on other altruistic motivations for fostering? And, on the flipside, do people that foster for religious reasons also foster for non-altruistic reasons as well? We begin with a straightforward approach, examining the differences in proportions in other reasons for fostering between foster parents who were religiously motivated and those that were not.

As mentioned earlier, the NSCFFP allowed respondents to check off up to 27 different reasons for fostering. Table 1 contains the percentages of respondents that selected each of the other 26 motivations for fostering, stratified by religious motivation. Simple *t* tests were performed to detect any differences between religiously and non-religiously motivated foster parents.

There are eight motivations where there are statistically significant differences between the groups. A cursory glance at the table reveals that not all of the motivations appear to be altruistic. To fix ideas, the discussion groups the eight motivations where there were statistically significant differences according to their degree of altruism.

There are two motives that stand out as clearly non-altruistic. Notably, the motivations, *child to help with business*/*chores*, and *wanted to increase family income* were all chosen more frequently by persons with religious motivation. And these differences were statistically significant. This suggests that not all religiously motivated foster parents possess solely altruistic motivations for providing foster care. This is important, for it suggests that there may be a more concentrated core of persons that possess *both* religious motivation and mostly altruistic motives.


**Table 1.** Reasons for Fostering by Religious Motivation.

Note: *t* tests use jackknife standard errors to account for multistage cluster sample design; \*\*\* Two tailed *p* < 0.01 \*\**p* < 0.05 \* *p* < 0.1; + One-tailed *p* < 0.1.

**150**

The second group of motivations where there are statistically significant differences is somewhat indeterminate in terms of being truly altruistic. Four of the motivations for fostering seem to fit in this "nebulous" category: *wanted certain type of child, wanted to be loved by a child, had child who died,* and *was abused*/*neglected myself.* For all of these motivations, the statistical evidence is weaker, as all only attain one-tailed significance at the 10 percent level.

Arguably *wanted certain type of* child could be altruistic (if a parents desired a special needs child) or it could be less so if the parent was unwilling to take children unless they had few special needs. While we cannot be sure exactly how altruistic this motivation is, the results show that religiously motivated foster parents are more likely to want a special type of child. Interestingly, religiously motivated foster parents are *less* likely to list *wanted to be loved by a child* as a reason for fostering. Certainly the rationale for why this is so calls for speculation, but perhaps religiously motivated families are less driven by loneliness as a reason for fostering. Moreover, while it would be difficult to make an unequivocal statement that the desire to be loved by a child is non-altruistic, it certainly is less altruistic than other possible motivations. Religiously motivated parents were also more likely to foster because they *had a child who died* or were *abused or neglected myself.* Again, these are not clearly altruistic or non-altruistic, but in both cases religiously motivated parents were more likely to choose these as reasons.

The two reasons for fostering where we see the most significant statistical difference, seem to also be those most clearly altruistic in nature. Just over 79% of religiously motivated foster parents chose the first motivation, *to give a home to a child who would've been in an institution*, which is 14% more than parents who were not religiously motivated. The second motivation, *wanted to help community*/*society*, also was chosen more frequently by the religiously motivated group, with 83.56% choosing this reason as opposed to only 51.72% of the non-religiously motivated group. The group differences on these last two items are the highest both in absolute magnitude, and in terms of statistical significance, lending support to the proposition that religiously motivated persons will possess altruistic motives for fostering in greater numbers.

Looking beyond simple exploratory analysis of all reasons for fostering, another approach sheds some additional light on the question of altruism. Among the 27 reasons for fostering there are several which seem clearly to be altruistic in nature. Specifically, *Wanted to provide love to a child*, *Wanted to provide good home to a child*, *To give a home to a child who would've been in an institution*, *Wanted to help a child with special problems* and *Wanted to do something for the community*/*society* all stand out as altruistic. A simple additive index of altruism can be constructed by adding each of these items into a single scale of altruism.

Before proceeding into analysis of the differences in the index, a natural question arises regarding the validity of combining these items into a single index; that is, do all of these reasons for fostering truly reflect a single dimension (*i.e.*, altruism)? We can employ a principal components analysis to investigate this. If the individual items that comprise the scale are multidimensional, a principal components analysis would result in the scale items loading on more than one factor. On the other hand, if all items load on a single factor, we have reason to believe that the scale items are related to a single underlying factor. Table 2 presents the principal component analysis results. A common rule of thumb in principal components analysis is to only retain factors that have an Eigenvalue greater than or equal to one, and to discard factors that do not meet this threshold [27]; the actual statistical analysis resulted in only one factor with an Eigenvalue greater than one. This confirms that this subset of reasons for fostering is uni-dimensional. Moreover, each of the reasons for fostering in the index has a positive factor loading on this single dimension, showing that they are positively associated with altruism.

Now that we have confirmation of the validity of the additive altruism index using these measures, we can proceed to analyzing how index scores differ by religious motivation. Table 3 compares the values of the additive altruism scale by religious motivation. There are definitely differences between the groups. A much larger relative proportions of non-religiously motivated persons fell on levels two and three of the scale. In contrast, a much larger relative proportion of religiously motivated persons are at levels four and five of the scale. A simple chi square test confirms the basic difference between the groups, yielding a design-adjusted test statistic of 4.23, with a *p* value of 0.01.<sup>1</sup> Moreover, the mean score on the index for religiously motivated foster parents is larger (4.24) as compared to parents without religious motivation (3.69). And the difference of means is statistically significant (*p* = 0.000).


**Table 2.** Principal Components Analysis of Altruistic Reasons for Fostering.


**Table 3.** Altruism Scale by Religious Motivation.

Note: Each cell contains weighted cell counts, and within-column percentages in parenthesis below; Design-based chi square = 4.23, *p* = 0.01.

<sup>1</sup> Though the chi square test confirms a difference between groups, statistically it cannot evidence a clear direction of association. Other measures of association such as the Gamma statistic can show such directional association, but unfortunately, the survey data analysis module in STATA does not offer these other measures of association. A simple alternative is to employ ordered logit regression which is appropriate for an additive index. The independent variable is the presence of religious motivation for fostering, coded as a dummy variable equal to one if religious motivation is present. The coefficient on the religious variable is positive (0.891) and statistically significant (*p* = 0.001), suggesting that religious motivation is positively associated with the altruism index.

In sum, the empirical investigation in this section demonstrates that there are differences in motivation between religiously motivated foster parents and their non-religiously motivated counterparts. Surprisingly, religiously motivated parents were more likely to choose two clear non-altruistic motivations (*child to help with business*/*chores,* and *wanted to increase family income*). However, the largest and most significant differences in motivation were found in two fairly non-ambiguous altruistic motives: *to give a home to a child who would've been in an institution* and *wanted to help community*/*society*. In both cases, religiously motivate foster parents were more likely to choose these as reasons for fostering. Moreover, religiously motivated persons had higher scores on the altruism index confirming that religious motivation is positively associated with altruism Taken together, these findings indicate that religiously motivated foster parents are, on average, more likely to possess altruistic motives for fostering. However, this comes with a caveat because there were some religiously motivated parents that had relatively higher incidences of non-altruistic motives as well. This suggests that religious motivation is not *always*  coincident with altruism, a finding which turns out to be important when we employ religious motivation for fostering as an independent variable in empirical models.

### **5. Religious Motivation, Altruism and the Foster Home Outcomes**

Knowledge of the association between religious beliefs and other altruistic motivations for fostering is useful, but do religious motivations for fostering translate into actual differences in substantive measures of foster parent utilization and longevity? We now turn to an examination of the relationship between religious motivation, altruism and some measures of foster home utilization and continuation.

Before going into the results themselves, it is necessary to explain how the effects of religious beliefs are modeled empirically here. In running preliminary exploratory models, it was somewhat of a surprise to find that religious beliefs *alone* almost never made a difference. This confirms the findings of earlier work using the NSCFFP, which failed to find any significant relationships between religious motivation for fostering and a variety of foster parent capacity outcomes [20]. Thinking back to the altruism results of the previous section, it became clear why religious motivation alone did not produce any significant result: not all religiously motivated people are altruistic, even though they are, on average, *more* altruistic than persons that are not religiously motivated.

Allport's classic work on the psychology of religion speaks of "mature religion" [28], a concept that has been further distilled and is commonly called *intrinsic religiosity* [29]. Intrinsic religious motivation is seen as more of an end in itself, reflective of a faith that permeates life and is not instrumental. In contrast, *extrinsic religiosity* has been described as one that, "serves an instrumental purpose, providing comfort or social reward, and is compartmentalized in the life of an individual, used as a means toward other ends" ([30], p. 430).2 Research shows that extrinsic

<sup>2</sup> This paper does not even attempt to capture the rich literature on intrinsic and extrinsic motivation. And it should be readily acknowledged the intrinsic-extrinsic conceptualization has been the subject of numerous methodological discussions since Allport's original work was introduced (See [29] for an excellent synopsis). Rather, the

*versus* intrinsic religious motivations matter for attitudes and behavior. In particular, those that possess an intrinsic religiosity have been shown to have a higher level of religious commitment and to have less prejudice. Scholars have also shown that people with extrinsic religious motivation are more prejudiced and are not altruistic [29].

The concept of intrinsic *versus* extrinsic religiosity provides a very useful framework to guide the empirical work in this study. That research shows that not all people with religious belief are altruistic; especially those that possess an intense extrinsic religiosity. This is consistent with the earlier section of this paper, which showed that some people with religious motivation for fostering had some decidedly non-altruistic reasons for so doing.

The concept of intrinsic religiosity can be aptly characterized as a religiosity that is coincident with less selfish motivations. Using the NSCFFP data, what variables could be used to best identify the group that possesses a more altruistic religious motivation? Most of the studies on intrinsic/extrinsic religiosity employ an array of attitudinal questions, but the NSCFFP survey did not focus on religious motivation in detail, it simply allowed respondents to check off "religious beliefs" as one of many possible motivations for fostering. One approach for identifying the subgroup that possesses more of an altruistic religious motivation would be to construct some sort of measure that more clearly demarcates them from the larger group of persons who may be religiously motivated, but are not necessarily altruistic. This is done by means of an *interaction*  term of religious motivation and altruism.

The empirical setup for modeling the interaction of religious motivation and altruism requires a bit of explication. To begin, define three dummy variables: the first equal to one if the person fostered because of religious beliefs; the second equal to one if the respondent had a "perfect" altruism score (*i.e.*, selected all five altruistic reasons for fostering); and the third, a dummy variable that is the product of the other two. In other words, the third dummy variable is equal to one if the respondent had religious reasons for fostering *and* a perfect altruism score. Referring back to the altruism index in Table 2, this would be all of the cases with religious motivation and an altruism score equal to 5 in the bottom right hand cell.

The choice of the altruism score equal to 5 is not an arbitrary one. The results from Table 3 show that the *average* score for the religiously motivated group was 4.24. If it really does take an especially high level of commitment to be a successful foster parent, then it makes sense that we would want to isolate the marginal effects for the group with the highest level of commitment. That is, we would want to identify people with an above average altruism score, which in this case would be a perfect score of 5 (*i.e.*, 5 > 4.25). Moreover, Table 2 shows that over 50 percent of the religiously motivated group had an altruism score of five, so this subgroup is not a minority of religiously motivated foster parents.

Use of three separate dummy variables facilitates a nuanced understanding as to how different sources of motivation for fostering operate. In the equation below we can see this more clearly. The coefficient on the dummy variable for religious motivation (α) measures the marginal effect of religious beliefs and the coefficient on altruism (β) measures the marginal effect of altruism*.*

intrinsic-extrinsic framework is introduced here as a means for explaining the varied underlying motivations for religiosity and their attendant outcomes as manifest in actual behavior.

Finally, the coefficient on the interaction term (δ) measures the marginal effect of being *both* religious and altruistic. For our purposes, this is the most interesting parameter because it will indicate the effect for the smaller group of foster parents who are religiously motivated and highly altruistic.

### ሻ݉ݏ݅ݑݎݐ݈ܣ ∗ ݏݑܴ݈݁݅݃݅ሺߜ ሻ݉ݏ݅ݑݎݐ݈ܣሺߚ ሻݏݑܴ݈݁݅݃݅ሺߙ ൌ ሻܧܶሺ ݐ݂݂݁ܿܧ ݈ܽݐܶ

Consider some outcome measure, say, the number of foster children in the home. From an empirical standpoint, if it is true that religious altruists will have "better" foster parenting outcomes, we would expect δ to be positive. Furthermore, the total effect (which is the sum of the marginal effects, (α + β + δ) should also be positive, indicating a difference between those that are religious altruists and those that are neither religiously motivated, nor as altruistic.

The empirical analyses report the baseline results, using just the dummy variables described above alongside results that use a more extensive set of control variables used in other applied work [17,31–34]. The results are reported in this way so that we may see how robust the underlying relationships are with the central variables of interest (*i.e.*, religious motivation, altruism and their interaction). The control variables include the year the family began to foster, the mother's age and age squared (to account for eventual dropping out due to aging)3 , dummy variables for mother's race, family income (modeled as a vector of dummy variables)4 , marital status, urbanicity and the generosity of the state's foster payment levels (This last variable mirrors the three payment strata of high, medium and low used in the initial sampling design; low payment states are used as the excluded base case).

Before proceeding to the empirical results, there is one further matter that requires an explanation. As already noted in the previous discussion of the NSCFFP data, the design employed a complex, multi-stage cluster sample. When analyzing such data, traditional statistical methods break down, because they do not take weighting, design and clustering effects into account. The statistical software (STATA) has a series of commands that have been modified especially for complex survey data. Because of the uniqueness of complex survey data, traditional measures of goodness of fit employed with nonlinear models, such as the pseudo-r square, cannot be calculated [35]. However, a modified version of the F statistic can still be computed, providing a test of the null hypothesis that all coefficients in the mode are jointly zero. So, while no pseudo r-squared statistics can be computed (and hence be reported) the modified F statistic is provided in lieu of more traditional goodness of fit measures.

<sup>3</sup> Father's age could also be used as in [17]. Use of father's age as a regressor comes at a price because it significantly reduce the effective sample size by 170 unweighted observations. Further, because single female headed households would have missing values, using father's age eliminates them from the sample as well. In auxiliary regressions where I used father's age, the coefficients were largely analogous.

<sup>4</sup> The NSCFFP does not have continuous data for income, but reports income as an ordinal variable across several income intervals.

### *5.1. Empirical Results for Utilization Measures*

The first outcomes are basic measures of foster home utilization: the probability that a foster child is currently placed in the home and the total number of foster children currently placed in the home. Given that all parents in this sample are licensed foster parents, they are all *potential* foster homes, but not all homes had a foster child residing in them at the time of the interview. To the extent that there is normally an imbalance of children needing foster homes to available homes, this is a crucial utilization measure. If motivations do have an effect, then religious altruists might be more likely to be actively fostering by having a child in their home.

Table 4 compares the baseline results and those with the control variables for the first utilization measure, the probability that a foster child is currently residing in the home. Both of these models were estimated using logistic regression. The F statistic measuring global goodness of fit is only significant for the full model with controls though many of the individual coefficients are statistically significant.


**Table 4.** Logistic Regression Results for Presence of Foster Child in Home.

Note: Table reports coefficients with jackknife standard errors in parenthesis below; \*\*\* Two tailed *p* < 0.01 \*\**p* < 0.05 \* *p* < 0.1; + One-tailed *p* < 0.1.

In both models, the marginal effect of religious motivation is negative, as is the marginal effect for altruism. However, the marginal effect of being both religious *and* altruistic has a statistically significant and positive association with the probability that a foster child is currently in the home (δ is just over 1.7 in both models). To find the total effect for religious altruists, the individual coefficients must be summed. This linear combination of coefficients is reported at the bottom of the table. The linear combination is positive in each case, showing that religious altruists have a higher probability of having a foster child in their homes Using the estimate for the full model with controls of 0.682, this translates into an odds ratio of about 1.98 to 1 (*i.e.*, e0.682 = 1.98), meaning that the odds for religious altruists having a child in their home are nearly twice those for the base case (non-religiously motivated persons without a perfect altruism score). These results suggest that religious altruists are allowing their homes to be occupied by foster children on a more frequent basis. Of course, this result may also be picking up the effects social worker selectivity; that is, some social workers may attempt to place foster children in the homes of religious altruists first before trying other homes.

The second measure of utilization is the number of foster children currently in the home. The results for this measure are contained in Table 5. These were estimated using negative binomial regression, which is often used with count data when there are no negative values of the dependent variable.5


**Table 5.** Negative Binomial Regression Results for Number of Foster Children in Home.

Note: Table reports coefficients with jackknife standard errors in parenthesis below; \*\*\* Two tailed *p* < 0.01 \*\* *p* < 0.05 \* *p* < 0.1; + One-tailed *p* < 0.1.

The results closely resemble those in Table 4: the individual effects of religious reasons for fostering and altruism are negative, but the marginal effect of the interactive term (δ) is positive and statistically significant, again underlining the importance of the two working in tandem. The overall effect for religious altruists (as computed with the linear combination of coefficients, (α + β + δ) is again positive and statistically significant; the baseline model result is 0.32 and the full model returns a value of 0.317. In a negative binomial regression the coefficients can be interpreted as the proportional change in the count for a change in the regressor [36]. This can be made even more interpretable by multiplying the coefficient by 100 to get the percentage change. Here the interpretation is that religious altruists are expected to have about 32% (*i.e.*, 0.317 \*100) more children in their homes.

In sum, the results for the first set of models show that religious altruists are more likely to have at least one foster child residing in their homes. They also have a greater number of foster children.

<sup>5</sup> Negative binomial models are preferred over Poisson models when over-dispersion is present in the data. The estimates of the dispersion parameter in the negative binomial regression evidenced the presence of slight over-dispersion. Accordingly, negative binomial regression was used. (The dispersion parameter, ln alpha, was equal to −1.47 in the full model, corresponding to a slight dispersion of 0.23).

This certainly has practical implications given the shortage of family foster homes. It appears that households with religious and altruistic motivations maintain a higher level of utilization.

### *5.2. Empirical Results for Intent to Continue Fostering*

If it is true that religious altruism leads to greater fostering utilization, it also stands to reasons that religious altruists would be more likely to *continue* fostering. The NSCFFP asked all of the current foster parents the question, "Thinking ahead, over the next three years, do you intend to continue as a foster parent?" The response was coded as a dummy variable, equal to one if the answer was yes and zero if no. Therefore a positive regression coefficient would indicate an increase in the probability of continuing as a foster parent and a negative coefficient would indicate an increase in the probability of quitting.

Table 6 reports logistic regression results where the dependent variable is the respondent's stated intent to continue fostering in the next three years. The sample size is slightly smaller (659 *versus* 729) for these regressions because of missing data on the dependent variable. The F statistics for both regressions are very small, suggesting an overall poor fit.


**Table 6.** Logistic Regression Results for Intent to Continue Fostering.

Note: Table reports coefficients with jackknife standard errors in parenthesis below; \*\*\* Two tailed *p* < 0.01 \*\* *p* < 0.05 \* *p* < 0.1; + One-tailed *p* < 0.1.

It appears that religious motivation and/or altruism make little difference on intent to continue fostering. There is no statistically significant effect with any of the marginal components or even their linear combination. Of course, intent is not same as an actual decision to quit, so these findings are not definitive. But they certainly show that religious altruists did not have discernibly more expressed motivation to continue as foster parents.

To summarize, the results from the empirical analysis are somewhat mixed. They indicate that homes of religious altruists are more likely to be utilized at a higher rate among all eligible foster parents. Religious altruists are more likely to have a foster child in their home and to have a larger number of foster children. But there was no statistically significant difference between religious altruists and others in terms of their expressed intent to continue fostering, a finding which fails to confirm the hypothesis that religiously motivated foster parents would have greater longevity as caregivers.

### **6. Conclusions**

This paper has examined the empirical linkages between religious motivation, altruism and fostering. In a time where faith-based collaboration in child welfare systems is on the rise, understanding how and why religious motivations translate into substantive outcomes for foster homes is increasingly important for practitioners in child welfare. The research findings do have some important implications for child welfare practice.

First, though it is clear that religiously motivated parents are more likely to be altruistic, not all parents in this group are altruistic. This finding accords with the literature on extrinsic *versus* intrinsic religious motivation. It also implies that not all faith communities would be ready to engage in long-term child welfare partnerships. Accordingly, care must be taken when selecting faith communities to serve as collaborative partners and in the selection of individual foster caregivers. Perhaps appropriate pilot testing or other incremental steps could be taken by officials on the government side to assure that particular faith communities are indeed ready to serve as faithful long-term partners. In addition, social workers will need to pay close attention to prospective foster parents' motivations for fostering and not merely assume that because religious motivation is present that this equates to altruism.

Second, the association between religious altruism and foster home utilization is a very important one for social work practice. In a time of dwindling resources and greater need for foster families, finding parents in this religious altruist group could be a real boost to the operating capacity of the foster care system.

Third, the lack of association found between religious altruism and intent to continue fostering suggests that motivation by itself may not be sufficient to uphold foster parents over the long haul. This obviates the need for study of other auxiliary systems of support and nurture for foster parents to keep them motivated to serve as caregivers. It could be that some faith communities do, in fact, provide some of those needed supports. More study of the other ways in which faith communities work to support and aid foster parents could yield some interesting insights here.

There are also many questions that this research leaves unanswered and limitations which must be acknowledged. First, what does a religious motivation for fostering really amount to? The NSCFFP only provides the broadest of descriptions. "Religious beliefs" is a fairly sweeping and ambiguous umbrella term that leaves much to be explored—perhaps some religious motivations are different from others. Also, though it is certainly reasonable to propose that we would be more likely to find religiously motivated people in places of worship, we cannot infer much about the types of congregations in which religiously motivated foster parents are found. Are there certain religions or denominations where it is more likely that this group would be found? These questions merit further data collection and investigation.

Second, the NSCFFP represents the only nationally representative foster parent data that we have available, and while the data are high in quality they are more than 20 years old. This calls for more data collection by the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services (or others). The findings might change with newer data. The findings here, though significant, undoubtedly will need further validation by scholars elsewhere using different data.

Third, the measures of foster home utilization employed in this research are, at best, an imperfect measure of foster home quality. It could be argued that just because some foster parents are more likely to take in one or more foster children, their motive are not necessarily altruistic. Social worker selectivity might also be at work here: perhaps they send children to certain households because they are less of a hassle for them, for example. Moreover having multiple foster children in a home might arguably decrease the quality of care available to each child (though the care received still might be better than the alternative). And so, while the data do establish a relationship between religious altruism and utilization, the ultimate question of the linkage between religious motivation and foster home quality remains unanswered.6

This initial empirical look at faith, altruism and fostering reveals many other intriguing questions in need of further research. For example, how do outcomes with recent faith-based initiatives in the area of child welfare square with the more general empirical associations found here? This calls for in-depth fieldwork on a more national scale. What is motivating local faith congregation members to provide foster care and/or adoption? Are their motives altruistic or not? Are these programs seeing success in terms of greater foster parent capacity and longevity? To conclude, this paper points to some interesting connections between religious motivation, altruism and fostering. Using a nationally representative sample of foster parents, this research provides some initial evidence that foster homes with parents that possess religious and altruistic motives provide a higher level of utilization as caregivers. As interest in foster care and adoption continues to mount from faith-based circles, the findings here suggest that such efforts may bear some fruit. These results point to the promise of further investigation into specific faith-based child welfare initiatives around the country in an attempt to understand if they do offer some unique and innovative potential for the foster care system.

### **Conflicts of Interest**

The authors declare no conflict of interest.

### **References**


<sup>6</sup> I am indebted to an anonymous reviewer for providing this insight.


### **Understanding Personal Change in a Women's Faith-Based Transitional Center**

### **Kent R. Kerley**, **Heith Copes, Alana J. Linn, Lauren Eason, Minh H. Nguyen and Ariana Mishay Stone**

**Abstract:** An impressive research literature has emerged that identifies linkages between religion and a wide range of attitudes, behaviors, and life events. We contribute to this literature by exploring how women undergoing difficult life circumstances—such as incarceration, drug and alcohol addiction, domestic violence, unemployment, and homelessness—use faith to cope with and change these circumstances. To address this issue we analyze semi-structured interviews with 40 residents of a faith-based transitional center for women in the Southern United States. The residents outline a narrative of change in which they distinguish between the "old self" and "new self." The narratives also specify the role of religiosity in facilitating change, the creation of a faith-based identity, and the strategies used for maintaining change. We conclude with implications for faith-based treatment programs, local pastors and religious congregants involved in social outreach ministry, sociology of religion scholars, and policy makers.

Reprinted from *Religions*. Cite as: Kerley, K.R.; Copes, H.; Linn, A.J.; Eason, L.; Nguyen, M.H.; Stone, A.M. Understanding Personal Change in a Women's Faith-Based Transitional Center. *Religions* **2011**, *2*, 184–197.

### **Introduction**

An impressive research literature has emerged that identifies linkages between religion and a wide range of attitudes, behaviors, and life events. This research suggests that *religiosity*—a cognitive and behavioral commitment to organized religion—may operate as a social force for reducing negative behaviors and for increasing positive behaviors. Many investigators have found that religiosity and religious participation are significantly associated with: interpersonal friendliness, psychological and physical well-being, reductions in criminal and deviant behaviors, marital satisfaction, participation in politics and political movements, and volunteering in community organizations [1-9].

This literature on the attitudinal and behavioral outcomes of those with high levels of religiosity in many ways assumes a neutral starting point in life (*i.e.*, non-traumatic or difficult life situations) for members of the general public. Less is known, however, about the role of religiosity in decidedly less sanguine situations. For individuals who find themselves in extreme circumstances, less is known about the role of religiosity in helping them cope with and change these situations. Such information could provide valuable insights into how better to design and implement faith-based rehabilitation programs. Our aim in this study is to determine how women in a faith-based rehabilitation center experience change, what they attribute this change to, and how they intend to maintain this change as they leave the center. More specifically, the key research question is: how do women undergoing difficult life circumstances—including incarceration, drug and alcohol addiction, domestic violence, unemployment, and homelessness—articulate and maintain faith-based changes in their identity?

Two promising areas of inquiry inform the study of religion as a psychological coping mechanism for a myriad of life circumstances. Over the past two decades many investigators have examined religious coping methods and their implications for health and well-being. They have found that individuals and families often use religion to cope with many health issues, including asthma, cancer, cystic fibrosis, dementia, and surgery [10-16]. Overall, individuals with higher levels of religiosity and religious participation may exhibit greater problem-solving and stress management skills than less or non-religious individuals [17].

An alternative approach to understanding the relationship between religion and difficult life circumstances is to view religion as a social psychological tool for interpreting situations and making sense of one's life and self. The majority of this work is derived from ethnographies or qualitative interviews with individuals from evangelical Protestant backgrounds [18]. Among these religious adherents, there is a focus on having a conversion experience or singular moment of commitment to faith that is "accompanied by substantial changes in attitudes, thoughts, and self-understandings" [22]. This conversion is often conceived of as a "religious epiphany" or as being "born again" [19-21]. Indeed, religious epiphanies often create a shift in how the "saved" individuals define their past and current selves. Religious converts routinely construct a "prosocial narrative identity" that can account for why their prior actions are not true reflections of their core selves and why their present and future actions have new meaning and significance [18,22-24]. The narrative identity integrates disparate and shameful life events into a coherent, empowering whole, which provides converts with hope and a vision for the future. This new outlook is thought to be instrumental in the successful abstinence from drugs and crime and in the promotion of prosocial behaviors.

In terms of the juxtaposition between past and present, reinterpretation of the past among religious converts gives more meaning to the present and often allows them to cope more effectively with a variety of difficult life circumstances, including incarceration, drug and alcohol addiction, domestic violence, unemployment, and homelessness [23,25,26]. Moreover, religious conversions allow people to portray themselves as being in control of their current and future life directions, regardless of their past. Although they may still excuse their past behavior as being due to uncontrollable sources, their new self-discovery becomes empowering and allows them to uncover a "true self" or "new self" [22].

Although the religious epiphany is seen as a life-changing event, it is only the beginning and not the end of a spiritual journey [22,23,25]. New religious converts are typically counseled by religious leaders to get involved in religious activities to "keep their minds right" [18]. New converts are taught that no matter how bad their lives were prior to conversion, they now have the opportunity to create positive changes in their lives. Thus, research on religious inmates highlights the importance of conversion in creating a new sense of self to cope with prison life [22,24,25].

Despite people's best intentions, however, religious conversions may become less salient over time and fail to foster prosocial behavior, especially in institutional contexts such as jails or prisons. It is not uncommon for people to have an epiphany but then to eventually "backslide" and

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return to the "old self" [25]. Kerley and Copes [18] examined this issue among male inmates active in faith-based prison programs. They found that the social support mechanisms of religion were important for allowing inmates to remain focused and to live "righteously" in the prison context. Specifically, they described four themes in the inmate narratives: (1) connecting with positive others while avoiding negative others, (2) practicing religion in a group context, (3) sharing religious faith and content with others, and (4) using "quiet time" to reflect and to chart courses of action.

Building on the work of Kerley and Copes [18], the present study explores how women undergoing difficult life circumstances experience change due to their newfound religious faith. Specifically, we analyze in-depth interviews with 40 residents of a faith-based transitional center to identify the changes they have undergone since arriving at the center, the characteristics of the center they think helped bring about these changes, and their plans for maintaining these pro-social changes once they leave the facility. Doing so will provide insights into how religion can be used in institutional settings such as prisons, halfway houses, and treatment centers.

### **Research Methods**

To achieve our study goals, we conducted 40 in-depth interviews at a faith-based transitional facility for women in the Southeastern United States (hereafter referred to as The Center). In operation since 2002, The Center is an outgrowth of the work of a local parishioner who started with a small scripture study group in a women's prison. The parishioner then worked with the state department of corrections to create a transition program for inmates who were within one year of release. The Center now serves nearly 400 women and children. In addition to inmates still under state supervision, The Center also houses women who are there voluntarily because of drug or alcohol problems, domestic abuse victimization, and economic disadvantage.

We worked with staff members at the facility to recruit participants. Specifically, we asked staff members to make announcements during regular religious services and to post notices that volunteers were sought who were willing to discuss their experiences at the facility. Our only stipulations in recruitment were that volunteers should be at least 19 years old (the minimum age for adult status in the state) and have resided at the facility for at least two months. In compliance with Institutional Review Board guidelines, we informed all participants that the interviews would be conducted with a researcher not affiliated with the prison or state department of corrections, would be completely voluntary and confidential, and would not result in any special rewards for participating or punishments for declining participation.

We scheduled interviews with volunteers over the course of several weeks during the summer and fall months of 2010. All participants received oral and written summaries of the research project and were then asked to sign a consent form. We interviewed a total of 40 residents at The Center. The purpose of the semi-structured interviews was to investigate how women undergoing difficult life circumstances (including incarceration, drug and alcohol addiction, domestic violence, unemployment, and homelessness) articulate and maintain faith-based identities that allow them to reinterpret their past lives, give meaning to their current lives, and offer hope for the future. Each interview began with a discussion of the events leading to their admission to The Center. Interviewees were then asked to describe the religious and educational programs at The Center and how they were able to adjust to the facility. In particular they were asked about how they had changed since admission to The Center and whether the religious programs played a part in that change. Interviewees were then asked to describe the current and previous difficult situations they encountered and whether religion helped them to cope with these situations. Each interview ended with a discussion of the future for each resident. Interviewees were asked about their prospects for the future and what role their faith and The Center would play in accomplishing their goals and avoiding further negative situations.

The interviews were semi-structured to avoid imposing artificial concepts and categories on residents, thereby letting participants speak freely using their own terminology. The interviews lasted between 30 and 75 minutes and were audio-recorded with permission of each participant. Trained personnel transcribed all interviews, replacing identifying information (e.g., names) with aliases. Volunteers received \$20 upon completion of the interview. This amount was chosen because it was enough to encourage cooperation, but not enough to coerce participation. It is also consistent with previous remunerations in similar types of research [26].

To ensure inter-rater reliability, all investigators read each transcript to identify common themes. The team then convened to determine the overarching themes that had been identified by all. Initially the relevant, predetermined research issues were broadly coded into "nodes" or categories. This broad coding scheme left a great deal of scope for a more detailed analysis directed toward establishing "within issue" variations from one concept to the next. We carried out this analysis by reading the text for each category and, for each one, creating sub-categories that captured distinctions recognized by the participants themselves as important.

The median age of those interviewed was 30.5 and ages ranged from 19 to 66. The racial composition was 82.5 percent White and 17.5 percent African American, which is consistent with the racial make-up of The Center. Nearly half of the interviewees had not yet completed a high school degree, and almost 60 percent worked full or part time prior to admission to The Center. On average interviewees reported approximately two felony arrests and one felony conviction. Among those arrests, nearly 60 percent were for drug offenses, about 20 percent were for property offenses, and only about 10 percent were for violent offenses. One quarter of interviewees were currently or previously incarcerated. About 80 percent of interviewees had been physically abused as children or adults, and about 60 percent had been sexually abused. Finally, for religious background, half of the interviewees attended church once per week or more as youths. Of those who attended church, nearly all were affiliated with a Protestant congregation, and about 75 percent attended a Baptist congregation. All but four interviewees reported a conversion or "born again" experience at some point in their lives. This level of exposure to and participation in evangelical Christian religion among interviewees was consistent with the religious background of all residents of The Center.

### **Making Claims of Change**

Consistent with the work of Kerley and Copes [18] and Maruna *et al.* [22], we found that residents tended to redefine their past and current lives in terms of when they entered The Center. Most women offered a chronological narrative where coming to the Center was the start of a new period in their lives. It was here that their "clock was reset" or that their "time started over." Throughout the narratives, participants made clear distinctions between the "old self" and the "new self."

Although the articulation of this change and its manifestations varied widely, there appeared to be unanimity in residents' claims that they made important changes in their lives. For the majority of them, the most important change they experienced while at The Center was an increase in self-respect and self-worth. This was the case especially for women who had been in prison. As Ellen noted, "The Center has helped me in so many ways. I feel like I am no longer just a piece of trash. No matter what anybody says to me I know that I am a woman of God now, and nobody can take that away from me." Beulah said that besides the physical bondage of prison, "I was in bondage within myself. I really hated life. I didn't feel worthy. I felt like I'll never amount to much of anything." Then asked whether this view of self had changed since coming to the facility, she replied, "Oh yeah, I've definitely overcome that. I love me!" Many residents claimed that The Center's concept of creating "women of God" gave them much-needed self-worth and empowerment to take control over their circumstances.

Some of the women claimed that they did not care about themselves or others before they began their treatment at the facility. Avita noted, "I've been here over a year and it's taken five relapses and getting kicked out for me to realize that I need to change. So I guess in the last two months I feel myself changing, because I just recently came back." When asked how she knew she had changed given this history of relapse, Avita explained:

I can feel my heart softening. I'm not as quick to mouth off at someone. 'Cause I had a really bad attitude. I didn't care. I thought the world hated me and I hated the world, so I would just go off on people and it was one of my downfalls. If someone would look at me wrong I would say something. And now it just rolls off my back like water.

Similarly, Ursula summarized her ongoing change by noting that "I was hateful. I hated everyone and I can't say I'm completely over it, because I've only been here three months. But now I walk around smiling and talking to everybody. It's definitely softened my heart I guess you could say."

Beyond mere claims of change, it is important to explore the types of change described by residents. We found significant variation in the narratives concerning the type of change experienced. We categorized these changes as (1) spiritual, (2) emotional, and (3) social/behavioral. All interviewees claimed at least one of these types of change, and the large majority reported at least two. We begin with change linked to the faith-based mission of the facility.

### *Spiritual Change*

One of the primary goals observed at the facility was challenging residents to become women of God. Although spiritual conversion, especially among evangelical Protestant adherents, typically is treated as a singular or epiphanous moment [27], most residents noted that their spiritual change was a gradual process. Failen's account of gradual spiritual change is illustrative:

God works on you from the inside out. He doesn't do like an extreme makeover on you, you know what I am saying? Let's color your hair and put on some makeup and some new clothes and you are straight, it doesn't work like that. He is going to take you and try to work on you with your dirt on the inside—get all them skeletons out of your closet.

Hartley claimed that her change was linked to adopting a different view of a higher power. Instead of viewing God as distant and uncaring, she shifted to "believing that there's not nothing He can't do. You putting your all to Him, waking up every day praising God that you're here for another day."

In some cases residents admitted that because of their difficult circumstances, they had either abandoned their faith or believed that a higher power had abandoned them. This was the case particularly for victims of domestic violence. Patricia noted that "I never thought I would have faith again I really didn't. … Now it's like I have this awesome relationship with God." Moreover, nearly all of the women interviewed claimed that this newfound spiritual change was what allowed their growth and fostered their improvement in self-worth and self-respect. It was the foundation upon which all other pro-social change was built.

### *Emotional Change*

Despite the faith-based nature of The Center, residents seemed to understand the comprehensive nature of the facility and how changes other than spiritual ones were an important part of the experience. Many interviewees explained how they were better able to manage their emotions during their treatment at The Center. Delia contended that: "You have to have love, patience, and humility, and that's something you have to have in everything you do." Although these attributes may have a spiritual root, residents came to view them as important apart from their faith. Keira provides the best in-depth summary of the broader changes she experienced while at the facility:

I know I have a purpose in life now. Before, I thought I wasn't worth anything anymore. Basically, just lost my drive in life. … I was still a parent that was there but I wasn't the parent I wanted to be. You understand what I'm saying? I had dealt with a lot of health issues too and struggled with that. So now just with getting my medication and stuff corrected, and getting my relationship with God back in order. My relationship with my family has never been better. You know, all around just everything is better.

Others claimed that The Center helped them to adopt a different perspective that prioritized God and others, which helped them overcome their struggles due to their own selfishness. Candice summarized the issue this way:

Well, for me, I knew about everything, but I was only living for me and my addiction. Once I opened myself up in here with what they were trying to drill in me with every class that I took was that if I didn't change my heart then it didn't matter because I wasn't going to be able to keep my sobriety unless I become a different person. So I started praying to God and eventually it was like I had a real relationship with him. Once that happened I just felt like a different person, I know that I'm not the same person I was when I got here.

### *Social/Behavioral Change*

As we asked residents about the constituent elements of being women of God, we observed that they were taught both inward and outward manifestations. Beyond the spiritual and emotional changes that are internal, residents claimed important external changes in broad areas such as interpersonal relationships, lifestyle preferences, recreation, and attire. Some women noted change in their overall appearance, attire, and preferences. Quincy noted that "when I think of a woman of God I think of [the difference between] secular music and praise and worship music. I think of cursing and not cursing. I think of carrying yourself not trashy. You know, [being] respectful."

Many residents noted a significant improvement in the way they interacted with others. Anya stated that that "now I respect anybody I talk to, because they respect me as well. You got to give respect to get respect. And just before, I would just not even talk to anybody, and if I did I was snappy with them, and just rude. And I see how wrong that was." Lucy recalled a recent telephone conversation where her change in interaction style was evident: "I called my lil' girl's father the other day and I was like, 'hello, hey how are you doing,' and he was like, 'um are you alright?' I was like, 'yeah!' And I said, 'why you say that?' [And he said,] 'because you not hollerin', screamin,' and cursin.'"

Others observed not only changes in the quality of their interpersonal relationships, but also in the quantity. Felicity, for example, claimed to seek out more conversations with others, especially with those whom she knew were also dealing with difficult issues. She claimed that "My outlook on everybody else's life and what they've gone through, it's just changed. I'm not so stuck up anymore. I'll talk to people because you realize people just need someone to talk to sometimes."

### **Identifying the Center's Role in Their Change**

### *Religious Emphasis*

When asked how The Center played a role in their changes, residents routinely attributed it to the faith-based courses, chapel services, and small-group scripture studies. This is not surprising given the overarching emphasis on religious change at the facility. Keira claimed that the facility taught her the primacy of a relationship with a higher power. She noted that "The Center is who helped me to understand how important it is for my relationship with God. And how to be a healthy functioning, living adult." Carrie added that the programs "help me keep my connection with God. It keeps me on my toes. That and reading my Bible and studying the Word."

The majority of residents described the faith-based approach of the facility as saturation. Roberta explained life in the facility in this way: "[This place] helped me, yeah, because all they talk about is a spiritual program and all you hear when you walk around the hall is Christian music all the time. And the classes [are] spiritual and the people that come talk to us and the people that do the classes, they talk to you and break it down to you." Lydia reports a similar experience at the facility:

Always you learning about the Bible, you know, you always learning about the Bible. You can walk around and you gonna learn about the Bible, but then you're learning about yourself and other people and how to treat people. And you learning how to be a successful person after [you leave] this place and they tell you little things in that the Bible that, you know, correspond with your life.

### *Resources*

Although The Center identifies itself principally as a faith-based treatment center, it was clear from the narratives that there are numerous secular resources emphasized as well. Residents are required to enroll in educational and vocational courses while at The Center. These courses were offered by licensed instructors and topics included: GED preparation, accounting, computers, life skills, child care, and drug treatment. For residents there on a voluntary basis, failure to attend a minimum number of courses could mean being asked to leave the facility. While completing their coursework, residents were linked with local businesses and required to work at least on a part-time basis. Through donations of time and materials from local professionals, The Center also operated a health and dental clinic, counseling center, day care center, and styling salon. After graduation in 9–12 months, the facility assisted residents in obtaining independent housing, insurance, driver's licenses, and full-time jobs. The Center's determination to change women's lives through faith and education was reflected in their promotional materials, in which they claim: "We refuse to be called a 'half-way house,' because there is nothing 'half-way' about it. This is a 'whole-way program.'" Helen described the resources available during her time in this way:

When I came by I had no birth certificate, no ID, no social [security card] so they help with all that like doctor everything you need they schedule to get you back on the right track you know before you start working you know so you won't have to miss work. … They help you. They take you to your appointments. Everything you need is right here. You wanna go to college it's right here. You need to get on a computer we have a computer lab. Everything is in this building that you need we got career closet if you don't have interview clothes.

### *Social Support*

In our analysis of the change narratives, it became apparent that a religious conversion was not in and of itself sufficient to bring about lasting change for the women. They recognized that they needed the support of others if they were to keep on the right track in their difficult situations. The narratives suggested that they relied on various social support mechanisms to keep themselves focused and inspired. In particular, they found it helpful to seek out assistance from others and to increase their social networks [28,29]. Felicity described the inspiration derived from interacting with women from similar backgrounds: "It was cool to see people. [then] you know you're not the only one that's been through this. 'Cause that's kinda how I felt. I felt like, you know, you start feeling like, God why'd you let this happen to me? But other girls have been through it to. So it was nice to see that." Beatrice recounted the uplifting nature of fellow residents during times of sadness and depression: "The other day I was just so sad. I was depressed and cryin' and every time I turn around somebody tellin' me you're gonna be okay you just pray, just to have hope and faith. I mean, that helps you out a lot."

### *False Starts and Returns to the Center*

For all of the narratives of success in transitional and rehabilitation centers often heard from facilities across the United States, the majority of narratives end with relapse and hopelessness. In making claims of substantive conversions, residents seemed cognizant of the fact that change is difficult and that many in the general public are doubtful of the possibility of dramatic change, especially among those who have served time in prison and have drug and alcohol problems. Skeptics abound of "jailhouse conversions" and sudden instances of individuals "finding religion" while experiencing stressful life events [18,22,30-33]. Residents of The Center seemed aware that their chances for success were in some cases a "long shot," and would be diminished with each relapse. Nevertheless, they seemed intent on their key goals of sobriety, responsibility, and faith. Tara explained that "I already been here before about two years ago but just like I said was coming for the wrong reasons. It really saved my life. I got saved and got baptized… I'm really tryin' to change my life for the better cause the way I was living, it's just not the way to live." Our interviewees seemed to address these criticisms directly, but not in a defensive manner as might be anticipated. In one sense they routinely praised The Center for its role in their recovery, yet made it clear that the only change they could explain and justify was their own. Almost on a quest to prove the skeptics wrong, Felicity noted, "I was a completely different person when I first came in here. I wanna show that girls here, they can change."

Delia shared a unique account of a cycle of short-term success followed by major relapse. She experienced multiple stints in prison and in various drug treatment facilities with only short periods of sobriety, but claimed that The Center had "broken the cycle." She explained that "If it was not the love and support that I had here I would not have come back, and if I would've come back, I wouldn't have come back clean. This is the first time that I've ever dealt with anything [in my] life that I've been clean."

### **Maintaining Their Change**

Despite people's best intents, conversions may become less salient over time and fail to foster prosocial behavior. It is not uncommon for inmates to have an epiphany but eventually "backslide" and resort to their prior selves or the "old me" [25]. Thus, we thought it important to ask participants how they planned to maintain this change. Nearly all of the participants said they "knew" they would be successful because it was "God's will" for them to succeed. They did acknowledge, however, that they must take an active role in their recovery. Their primary strategies for staying straight were to avoid negative influences and to seek positive ones.

Residents at The Center often described their lives as a daily struggle between "Godly" and "worldly" influences. Many noted the difficulties of being a woman of God when faced with major temptations from the outside world. They believed that it was important for their transformations that they avoid any temptations, and often had very strict standards for conduct, language, and **172**

relationships as a result. This approach is consistent with the important work of Iannaccone [34], who found that strict behavioral standards in fundamentalist congregations often fostered a stronger sense of accountability, identity, and cohesion than congregations with more open standards.

When asked what, if anything, she tried to avoid, Cordelia answered, "[I avoid] peoples, places and things. My old people, old places, old things, and old habits. … I had a friend in here, on her cell phone she has a song called "White Bricks"—that's talking about cocaine. Since I've heard that as her call tone on her phone, I don't associate with her now." Meredith provided a unique framework for maintaining a faith-based identity as she faced temptations. She stated repeatedly, "I don't even speak death. I don't do it." She elaborated on her future, "I'm gonna accomplish my goals. That's speaking that life thing, you know. You don't speak death. I'm not gonna start getting that doubt in my head. No, ma'am. I'm gonna succeed. I'm gonna reach my goals, and that's all I have to say about that." It was clear that her goal was to be so focused on her faith and newfound commitment to a drug-free and crime-free lifestyle that she would not even entertain the possibility of another arrest or relapse.

The other side of the coin observed from the narratives was the importance of associating with the "right people." As is typical among evangelical Protestant adherents, residents placed a strong focus on surrounding themselves with religious others. They believed that if they could surround themselves with other women of God, they would be less likely to end up at the facility again. Residents discussed their desires and attempts to rekindle dampened relations and to develop new ones with like-minded others who could provide positive support and encouragement. Asked her plans upon leaving The Center in a few weeks, Felicity noted, "I need a support group. And I wanna make sure I find the right support group [after I leave]. I don't wanna fall back into wanting a man to live with and stuff like that, but I think The Center has helped tremendously." This quote is reminiscent of Severance's [35] findings from her interviews with women about to be released from prison. Just as in that study, our interviewees understood that their main hope of success in the outside world was to have "somebody in my corner."

### **Discussion and Conclusions**

The study of religion as an academic discipline is a rather recent development in colleges and universities in the United States and abroad. Beginning in about the 1960s, researchers from social science backgrounds (predominately sociology) have studied religion as a social force that may impact a wide range of individual and societal outcomes. Researchers from this sociology of religion tradition have studied the impact of religion on topics such as community involvement, coping with difficult life events, crime, drug use, environmental concern, family, health and mortality, interpersonal relations, political attitudes, psychological well-being, public life, and racial attitudes. A consistent finding is that religiosity operates as a social force for reducing negative behaviors and for increasing positive behaviors [1-9]. Historically, these studies have used quantitative methodologies such as surveys of the general public and of religious congregants, but increasingly investigators are using in-depth interviews, participant observation, and content analysis [e.g., 18,22].

To add to this growing body of literature that explores the lived experiences of participants, we interviewed women in a faith-based transitional facility about how they have changed for the better since their arrival. Overall, these women claimed that they had changed dramatically as The Center allowed them to become new people and to distance themselves from their old selves. By providing them with religious classes, social support, and social resources, The Center allowed them to develop a sense of self-worth and self-respect. Although the women noted many difficulties and poor choices in their lives prior to entering The Center, their level of exposure to and participation in evangelical Christian religion was extensive. As a result, they seemed well-acquainted with religious narratives of redemption and change. They attributed their ability to grow spiritually, emotionally, and behaviorally to The Center's emphasis on religion. In addition, they believed strongly that they would be able to maintain this conversion because with "God on their side" they would be able to avoid negative influences and to sustain or build positive ones. In short, their ability to become new people and to maintain this identity was due to their restored or newfound faith in God, which was fostered by their stay at The Center.

Our study contributes to the growing literature on how religiosity operates as a social force to reduce antisocial attitudes and behaviors and to increase pro-social attitudes and behaviors. We find that change is a combination of self-motivation, social support, and religion. Specifically, our study contributes to the sociology of religion literature in three ways. First, we extend the literature on how religion may be used as a mechanism for coping and changing difficult life circumstances. Investigators who study religious coping methods and their implications for health and well-being typically have used psychological theories and quantitative methodologies in their research. We use an alternative approach to understanding the relationship between religion and difficult life circumstances by viewing religion as a social-psychological tool for reinterpreting situations and for creating new identities.

Second, we chose as our research site a faith-based transitional center for women. This facility is unique in that its residents include women completing terms of incarceration with the state department of corrections, as well as those there on a voluntary basis because of drug and alcohol issues, socio-economic issues, and domestic violence victimization. Despite the clear faith-mission of the facility, it also operates intensive educational and vocational training programs. Scarce academic research exists on women's transitional centers, especially on those with a faith-based emphasis. In contrast to the use of psychological theory and quantitative methodologies in previous research, we employ social psychological theories and a qualitative methodology in this study. Doing so allows us to understand the "lived experience" of dealing with difficult life circumstances and time spent at a women's transitional center.

Third, our findings have important implications for identity research and narrative theory [18,22,23,25]. Consistent with the work of Maruna [22,25], the new faith-based identities of women residents of The Center may be associated not so much with being a certain type of person, but with engaging in a spiritual struggle. This perspective may illuminate the concept of being "born again" and may help to make sense of how identity work and evangelical Protestant traditions may coalesce to help individuals attempting to be reformed. Put another way, the women are not claiming that they are finished being "reborn" or transformed, but that they are better prepared for the ongoing struggles of their lives. In this way, the backsliding of the past is recast as part of that spiritual struggle that is likely to continue [22,25].

Although our focus in this study was on the experience of change in a faith-based transitional center, our findings may have implications for understanding the impact of secular treatment centers as well. If faith-based programs can help individuals experiencing difficult life circumstances to create and sustain positive identities through social support mechanisms, it may be that educational, vocational, and therapeutic programs work in much the same way. Interviewees from our study appear to value the positive relationships created in religious programs as highly as the religious content of those programs. Future research might determine whether residents of secular treatment facilities who participate in educational or vocational programs feel similarly about the importance of making positive connections with their teachers and program sponsors. If that were the case, it would follow that all any treatment program designed to bring about cognitive transformation would benefit from an enhanced focus on social support.

As with any qualitative study using a non-random sample, readers must be careful to avoid generalizing our results to all residents of faith-based treatment facilities or to women undergoing difficult life circumstances. Although we might anticipate similar results in other regions of the United States with a similar concentration of women from evangelical Protestant backgrounds, additional research would be needed to confirm this. Future research might include studies of transitional centers in regions with a different configuration of faith traditions. Our hope is that sociology of religion scholars will continue to conduct research on identity, religiosity, and faithbased prison programs.

### **Acknowledgements**

Funding for this study was provided by the National Science Foundation via the Research Experiences for Undergraduates program (Award # SMA-1004953) and by the Religious Research Association. The authors are grateful to staff at The Center for their cooperation in data collection. Correspondence should be addressed to: Kent R. Kerley, University of Alabama at Birmingham, Department of Justice Sciences, 1201 University Boulevard, Suite 210, Birmingham, AL 35294, krkerley@uab.edu.

### **References**


### **Who is in Control? How Women in a Halfway House Use Faith to Recover from Drug Addiction**

### **Kent R. Kerley, Jessica R. Deitzer and Lindsay Leban**

**Abstract:** Religious adherents from most major faith traditions struggle in balancing their individual agency with divine leadership. While this issue of individual *versus* divine control is complex for those in free society, it becomes even more so when applied to those in correctional and treatment settings. For those attempting to recover from drug addiction, a common conclusion is that drugs have taken control of their lives, thus it is necessary for them to reclaim control. Via a narrative analysis of semi-structured interviews with 30 former drug addicts residing in a faith-based halfway house for women, we explore how the women make sense of losing control of their lives due to their drug use, but then being taught to regain control by surrendering to a higher power. We find strong evidence of Deferring and Collaborative religious coping styles and these coping styles structure how the women discuss the future and their strategies for success.

Reprinted from *Religions*. Cite as: Kerley, K.R.; Deitzer, J.R.; Leban, L. Who is in Control? How Women in a Halfway House Use Faith to Recover from Drug Addiction. *Religions* **2014**, *5*, 852–870.

### **1. Introduction and Theological Background**

Religious adherents from most major faith traditions struggle in balancing their individual agency with divine leadership. For those from Christian faith backgrounds, God's role in their lives has been the subject of much discussion among theologians, ministers, and lay members. The overarching question appears to be how God and the individual coexist to direct attitudes and behaviors. On the one hand, there is a clear Scriptural mandate to have a short-term and Goddependent mindset. This lengthy passage from Matthew's Gospel often is quoted among those who adopt this God-driven approach to life:

Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life? And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, "What shall we eat?" or "What shall we drink?" or "What shall we wear?" For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. (Matthew 6: 25–34, New International Version).

On the other hand, there is a clear imperative for people of faith to work hard, to be responsible, and to be focused. The Apostle Paul, for example, details the importance of adherents "running the race" and working diligently in all activities to the best of their abilities. Perhaps the exemplar in Paul's epistles of the need for individual agency among believers is found here:

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like someone running aimlessly; I do not fight like a boxer beating the air. No, I strike a blow to my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize. (I Corinthians 9: 24–27, New International Version).

If this issue of individual *versus* divine control is complex for those in free society, it becomes even more so when applied to those in correctional and treatment settings. For those attempting to recover from drug addiction, a common conclusion is that drugs have taken control of their lives, thus it is necessary for them to reclaim control. The exact method for reclaiming control may vary by treatment program, but the end goal typically is for individuals to transition from external control (*i.e.*, drugs) to internal control (self). Well-known drug treatment programs often emphasize reclamation of self and individual control of life [1]. However, adding the additional complexity of turning control over to God may create conflict and confusion among those attempting to recover from drug addiction.

### **2. Conceptual and Theoretical Background**

The difference between internal and external locus of control was first distinguished by Rotter [2], who conceptualized internal control as perceiving an event to have occurred due to personal behavior or characteristics, while external control is attributed to luck, chance, fate, others, or other unpredictable and complex forces. Levenson [3] then separated the concept of external control into two categories: attribution of events to powerful others and attribution of events to chance. Because attribution to a higher power was not included in previous work, Welton and colleagues [4] added a new dimension they called the "God locus of control".

To explore the issue of how recovering drug addicts make sense of external and internal control of their lives in light of a divine other, first we review social scientific studies of how religion can be used to cope with difficult life circumstances. In this literature, researchers find consistently that religiosity, which is the cognitive and behavioral commitment to religion, often operates as a social force to increase prosocial behaviors and to decrease negative ones. Religiosity often has a significant impact on prosocial outcomes among those in free society, such as psychological well-being, health and wellness, and marital happiness [5–8]. Researchers report also that in prison environments, religiosity may decrease the likelihood of arguments, fights, assaults, and other deviant behaviors among inmates [9–13].

Religious coping in the context of drug treatment remains a somewhat controversial topic because an internal locus of control may been seen as preferable for recovery. Indeed, well-known drug treatment programs tend to emphasize a stronger internal locus of control [1]. Programs with faith-based components, such as Alcoholics Anonymous (AA), have been criticized on the basis that participants are more likely to develop external loci of control as opposed to other programs focused only on recovery [14]. However, spirituality has been found to increase confidence in recovering drug users [1] and to decrease external attributions for past drug use or future relapses [15]. Welton [4] classified a God locus of control as being neither exclusively internal nor external in nature, and thus not inherently disadvantageous. He found that advantages in coping skills were associated with either internal or God loci of control, hypothesizing that having both would provide the greatest benefit.

Pargament [16] agreed that religious coping was neither exclusively internal nor external in nature and provided strong empirical evidence that religion may serve as a positive coping mechanism for individuals dealing with a wide range of deleterious life circumstances, including divorce, unemployment, depression, illness, loss of loved ones, and war service [17–21]. In addition to highlighting the salutary benefits of religious coping, Pargament and colleagues [16,19] created a typology of three distinctive styles of religious coping and problem-solving: (1) *collaborative*, (2) *deferring*, and (3) *self-directing*. First, the collaborative coping style is one in which God and the individual are in partnership (*i.e.*, internal locus of control and God locus of control). This approach was found by Pargament *et al.* [16] to be the most common religious coping style. Second, in the deferring coping style, the individual defers the responsibility of problem-solving to God (*i.e.*, God locus control and external locus of control). The individual holds a passive role, while God takes an active role. Third, the self-directing style is one in which individuals take an active role, while God plays a passive role. As one participant interviewed by Pargament *et al.* [19] explained: "God put me here on this earth and gave me the skills and strengths to solve my own problems." With this coping strategy, the individual exhibits an internal locus of control, while also forgoing a God locus of control.

Regardless of the specific style used or the problem to be solved, religious coping at its core implies that individuals have ceded some level of control of their lives to a higher power. In the United States this could be a significant challenge given the cultural focus on autonomy, self-support, independence, and hard work. A drug recovery strategy centered on regaining control of one's life by ceding control to a higher power may seem counter-intuitive; however, there appears to be a clear basis in Scriptures for such a strategy. In Matthew's Gospel (16: 24–25), for example, he recounts a puzzling admonition from Jesus to his disciples: "Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it." Matthew reports another conversation in which Jesus said, "Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it" (10:39). Thus, in this paper we explore how former drug addicts residing in a faithbased halfway house make sense of losing control of their lives due to their drug use, and then being taught to regain control by surrendering to a higher power.

### **3. Data and Methods**

To address the key issues described above, we conducted semi-structured interviews with residents of a faith-based halfway house for women (hereafter called The Center). The facility was located in the Southern United States, and housed over 400 women who were on "supervised release" from prison, on court-ordered probation for drug offenses, or who admitted themselves voluntarily. Our research team members worked with staff members at the facility to solicit volunteers for the study. Staff members at The Center posted notices that volunteers were sought who were willing to discuss their drug addictions. Our study criteria were that volunteers had a history of illicit drug addiction and were at least 19 years old, which is the minimum age for adult status in that state.

In compliance with Institutional Review Board protocol, we informed all participants that the interviews would be conducted with a researcher not affiliated with a prison or state department of corrections and would be voluntary and confidential. The interviews were semi-structured to allow the women to speak openly using their own terminology and so that the researchers could ask relevant follow-up questions as needed. Participants received \$20 upon completion of the interview. This amount was chosen because it was enough to encourage participation, but not so much as to create undue influence for participation. It is also consistent with remunerations in similar types of research [22–24].

We interviewed a total of 30 residents of The Center. Most interviews lasted 40–60 min and were audio-recorded with the permission of each participant. Trained personnel transcribed all interviews and replaced identifying information with aliases, which we use in this paper to maintain confidentiality of the interviewees. To ensure inter-coder reliability, all investigators read each transcript to identify common themes. Our team then convened to identify emergent themes and were careful to move forward only with those themes articulated by the participants and agreed upon by the team. We completed the analysis by reading the text for each category and, for each one, we created subcategories that captured distinctions recognized as important by the participants.

The median age of participants was 39.5 years, and the age range was 19 to 56. The racial composition for the women was 7 African American, 22 White/Caucasian, and 1 Native American/American Indian. Seventy percent of the women had a high school degree or higher, and among those about one quarter had some college credit or beyond. Just over half worked full- or part-time jobs prior to admission, and their average income was under \$20,000. In terms of criminal history, on average, interviewees reported four misdemeanor arrests, one felony arrest, and one felony conviction. Among those with felony arrests, drug offenses by far comprised the largest category. Although the demographics of our sample are similar to those for all residents of The Center, generalization to the entire population is not advisable given the non-probabilistic sample.

All but two of the women in our sample reported former abuse or addiction of drugs or alcohol. This is representative of the Center, in which about 85–90 percent of residents have a history of drug addiction. The most commonly abused drugs were methamphetamine (8 out of 30), crack or powder cocaine (10 out of 30), or opiates, typically in pill form (10 out of 30). In the past, the women reported feeling "out of control" due to their drug use. The women attributed their past struggles either to external factors (e.g., drug addiction, the influence of others, or negative situations) or to internal factors (e.g., selfishness or poor decisions), which indicated differences in their loci of control. The women most commonly attributed their drug addiction to external factors. This drug addiction, as well as the influence of others and bad situations, was thought to have taken control of their lives and was to blame for most of their problems. However, this was their account of their past lives. Their current loci of control certainly had changed during their experience at the faith-based halfway house.

### **4. Introduction to Thematic Sections**

Prior to entering The Center, the interviewees described how external forces—namely drug addiction, the influence of others, and socioeconomic disadvantage—controlled their lives. Particularly in the case of drug addicts, it was difficult for them to establish an internal locus of control or any sense of autonomy. Now working to reclaim their lives in The Center, most of the interviewees believed they would not go back to the same "out of control" lifestyles they had before their arrival.

The women used common narratives to explain their transition, and, typically, the women gave several reasons for their transformation. Most of the women described a feeling of being ready for or wanting to change. Oftentimes the women described hitting "rock bottom" and realizing that they could not fall any lower. Occasionally, others had an influence on the women's decision to change, either through seeing the successful lives of other recovered addicts or wanting to change for others (e.g., children and family members). As Jasmine explained, "if we were able to get clean for ourselves, we would've never damaged our health like we did… So doing it for somebody, to me… it makes it more worthwhile." Yet, the most commonly used reason for their transition out of drug addiction was not a relationship with others, but with God. Indeed, God was credited for the transition away from drugs for 25 of the 30 interviewees.

Nearly all of the interviewees considered themselves Christian converts, although some did not believe in God before coming to The Center. A few still doubted the existence of God, but the Center undoubtedly had an effect on the women's religious beliefs. Residents attended mandatory daily devotions and religious services, as well as classes on religion. Even in The Center's educational classes, staff members used a faith-based approach to the study of parenting, child rearing, employment, drug addiction, and crime.

The interviewees used their Christian belief system, newfound for many of the women, as their key approach for framing the problems and temptations they would face after release. The temptation to go back to their old lifestyles of crime and drug use was great, and it was important for the women to have some basis for resisting temptations and for solving problems. In short, the women claimed that they needed a way to prevent being "out of control on drugs" once again after release from the halfway house.

Yet, rather than being taught to take control of their own lives, the women instead were taught to cede control to a loving God. What appears to happen, then, is that women in the faith-based halfway house are taught to transition from control by one external force (drugs) to control by another external force (God). This manifested itself in different religious coping styles utilized by the women in our sample. We found evidence for two of Pargament's [16,19] styles of religious coping (deferring and collaborative). The women held differing views about surrendering control to God *versus* relying on one's own actions and autonomy. In addition, several of the women seemed to still be transitioning to or in conflict with these views. These women, whom we refer to as conflicted or as "wrestling with God", did not employ a collaborative or deferring view.

In what follows we describe the deferring, collaborative, and conflicted religious coping styles identified in our interviews. We illustrate each coping style with a narrative example, and then present an analysis of emergent themes among participants with each style. Our format is consistent with other narrative work in criminology [25], and a narrative approach has been identified as valuable when studying the meaning of religious experience [26].

### **5. Deferring to God**

Thirteen of the 30 interviews articulated a religious coping style generally consistent with Pargament *et al.*'s [16,19] deferring style. For these women, the relationship between God and themselves was not a partnership. Rather, the women conceived of a God who was all-powerful and had complete control over their lives. These women saw themselves as playing a passive role in controlling their lives, while God took an active role. Topanga explained the deferring style this way: "I just sit there and do, not what Topanga wants to do, but do what God wants [me] to do." Similarly, Sierra commented, "The only way I'm gonna live life in the fast lane is with God driving cause life in the fast lane didn't get me anywhere. Got me a lot of fines to pay, a lot of bail money. It got me nowhere. But this time, Jesus got the wheel."

Such a perception of God shaped the way that the deferring women made sense of their recovery. The recovery narratives described by these women all took a similar structure and reflected the submissive nature of their relationship with God. Like the other interviewees, the deferring women had a clear internal locus of control (controlled by selfishness or sin) or external locus of control (controlled by their addiction, others, or situations) prior to coming to The Center. However, these women viewed themselves fundamentally as selfish during the time of their drug addiction, before surrendering themselves to God. When describing her past self and her addiction, Kyrie stated, "It's a sin problem. It's a selfishness problem." For her, focusing on God instead of self was key to overcoming addiction. She elaborated, "[I am] letting go and letting God, because it's all in his hands. He already has everything planned out for you and all you got to do is walk it out. … I'm letting God lead."

### *5.1. Tabitha: A Narrative of Deferring to God*

Tabitha provided what was perhaps the most comprehensive narrative on using a deferring coping style to overcome her addiction. Tabitha found herself in The Center as a result of manufacturing methamphetamine. She served only four years of a ten-year prison sentence, but then violated probation and was court-ordered to The Center. Although a meth manufacturing charge led her to The Center, the real addiction with which Tabitha struggled was alcohol. When describing how her alcoholism took form, she explained, "My marriage fell apart, I had a 21-year marriage with two children, and my husband and I were having some difficulty, and I just started drinking. … But within two years I was a raging alcoholic and had lost everything, including my two children."

Tabitha and her husband were caught driving under the influence of alcohol, and they lost custody of their children. Although she realized the need to end her excessive drinking, she described having felt consumed by alcoholism, seeing it as a force that had control of her:

I couldn't quit. And I didn't drink because I wanted to, I drank because I had to, my body got to the point, my tolerance level got so high so quickly, I mean I would literally have to drink to function each day. You know, I'd get sick from shaking, and that sort of thing. … [I had] probably a pint, sometimes more, of vodka per day, straight, not even bothering to get a cup. I mean, it was bad.

Tabitha then recalled the period in which she felt she had "hit rock bottom":

When my husband divorced me and took my kids from me, I thought that was bottom. We were very wealthy, I was a corporate executive for a Fortune 500 company for many years, I made a lot of money, we had a big house, nice community, two children. So when I lost all that I thought I had hit rock bottom, but oh no. I had farther to go. I had to hit a personal level of low, because it's not just your possessions, when you lose them, that makes people hit bottom.

From there she went to a transitional home and attempted to overcome her addiction. Just like The Center, that facility was faith-based, and Tabitha attempted to draw on her faith to "get clean". She commented, "I dedicated my life to the Lord, you know, stayed in my Bible, and I really wanted to get well." Yet, despite her effort, Tabitha admitted that it was not the "right" relationship with God and was unable to maintain a life of sobriety. She elaborated:

At that point in time I still wanted to do it Tabitha's way, so I was like "Okay, I'm gonna get my life back. Come on, God." So it wasn't "Father you lead me and I'll go." So when I came back it was like two years later and I tried to get things squared away, and I couldn't do it. I couldn't do it on my own.

Because of what she claimed was an inability to fully give herself to God, Tabitha fell back into her old drinking habits, got remarried, and was again sent to prison. She described more negative experiences that represented her "true rock bottom". Feeling hopeless, she believed she had nothing to live for and desperately turned to God again:

I tried to die for two years. I tried to commit suicide several times, and the Lord would not let me die. So when I got to the point that I lost everything, I lost everyone, the Lord would not let me die. Satan wouldn't come get me like I kept calling out for him to do… I had nothing else, so I fully surrendered my will, and said "Show me why I'm here." And the Lord started showing me from that day forward. He really started speaking to me at that point in time. I could have been in prison for 20 years and been happy, because I had never been happy like that in my life, it was just a joy for me inside.

In that critical moment, Tabitha described relinquishing total control over her life to God, and completely submitting herself to God's control. She saw this transition in control as transforming her entire life. She said that at this point she was no longer consumed by alcohol and commented that, "Jesus Christ is the only one that can deliver someone from their addictions." She was released from prison soon after this religious epiphany.

Tabitha claimed that she lived her life with God in the forefront. She described allowing God's will to guide her in every aspect of life:

I'm in love with the Father. It's a wonder I don't ask him each morning what I should wear. You walk in disobedience for a while, it's not pleasant. I would rather break the law than disobey God. But I'm always learning and always questioning and learn to follow him anywhere.

Tabitha said her relationship with God "increases every day", and she emphasized, "The more I seek Him, the more I find Him. It's true, just like it says in the Bible. It allows me to develop that personal relationship with Him." When asked if she faced any difficulties following her religious change, she said "Really none for me, honest to God, but I know a lot of people don't like their loss of freedom. But, that's a part of it."

Because she believed she had submitted herself fully to God's will, Tabitha did not describe any active plans for maintaining sobriety in the future. She conveyed confidence in her ability to remain sober simply because of her active relationship with God. She explained, "I have no cravings for [alcohol] at all. The Lord delivered me from that two years ago. I've been around it since then. I have friends outside that drink and I lived with my husband who was back to doing bad things but I was around it without doing it, but I just moved out." For Tabitha, strategies for success involved focusing on the power of God and reminding herself of her lack of control. She emphasized the importance of putting her life in God's control and not worrying about the future, "You have to be a firm believer that the Lord delivered you from that and He's not gonna allow you to be tested more than you can bear." She focused on keeping God at the forefront of her daily life, which also meant keeping Godly people around her.

Tabitha listed many disparate goals for her future, but emphasized that her achieving these goals would be up to God. She explained, "It's all up to the Lord though. When I plan, my plans fail so I don't plan anything above tomorrow. I let Him dictate where I go and what I do." In Tabitha's view, pursuing her own goals was pointless, as she believed her fate was ultimately in the hands of God. She elaborated:

If I plan to go to my hometown next weekend, if I don't ask, something will come up that will prohibit me from going. I am so much happier that way*…* If you look to the Lord, it clears our self, it supplies all our needs, you can hear the Lord's voice. I was just reading, in like Isaiah 26, I think during lunch time. It said, "When you make plans without me I'll thwart them," and that may not be the exact words, but it's true. Why make plans that are not approved by the Lord? That only tends to walking in disobedience. You'll eventually go off the path if you don't consult the Lord which way to go.

### *5.2. The Deferring Perspective*

Overall, the deferring women all described particularly powerful turning points when they accepted God's all-encompassing control, and turned themselves over to his will. These turning points were depicted as times when deferring women were able to transition from an internal or external locus of control to a locus of control focused entirely on God. The deferring women described this moment as a life transformation where they were finally able to overcome their addictions. In fact, the majority of deferring women believed their addictions were "cured" at this point. For instance, when describing the critical moment when she deferred to God's control, Sierra commented:

I'm cured. As long as I keep God in my life and I keep doing what I'm supposed to be doing in his word, then my disease is taken from me. … You give your life to God and you turn your whole self around. God, he took all that from me. It's gone, it's taken. So, I don't have that disease anymore.

Sierra, like many deferring women, described a moment when she "gave her life to God", which she described as curing her "disease". Believing they were now cured, these women had optimistic views of their addiction.

After this transformative experience, the deferring women credited all positive life outcomes to God and to their faith in God. This included reinterpreting their past according to their new outlook. When discussing the events that led her to The Center, Ally recalled:

I couldn't see it then, I realize that God had brought me up here and answered my prayer and kept me and my baby safe, which is way more than anything I could have imagined three and four months ago. I didn't see it then. I was mad because I had to come back to rehab. But now, looking back, I see that he was looking out for me. God did not want me to have my baby in prison, he wanted the same thing I wanted, and he made it happen for me.

They were also likely to depict themselves as selfish during the point in their lives where they had struggled with addiction. This view was likely a way of interpreting the moments where they had yet not fully relinquished control to God. They often recounted their failed experiences to get clean in light of this selfishness.

Likely as a result of their often extremely optimistic views, deferring women did not give much thought to developing strategies for maintaining sobriety after they left The Center. Instead, deferring women typically articulated that God would keep them clean, and described very weak or no concrete strategies for resisting temptation. Talia explained, "I'm just trying to get through this and yeah, I'm not trying to think a whole lot into the future … day-by-day." Those who did have strategies primarily described working on their relationship with God. As Kelsey detailed:

I'm going to stand firm on the word of God, and I know that if I use it, use the word of God then that's the only offense weapon there is, the rest are defense weapons. I know the sword of the spirit is the word of God and I know that if I use that to fight these principalities and darkness and all this kind of stuff, I'll overcome.

Deferring women saw their future as "out of their hands" and for this reason, were not compelled to devise concrete strategies for their success.

### **6. Collaborating with God**

Rather than exclusively seeing themselves as deferring to God's control, twelve of the 30 women in our sample had a more collaborative view. According to Pargament [16], those with a collaborative coping style consider God to be their partner, with mutual control over their situations. For those coming from a Christian faith tradition, a collaborative relationship with God involves following God and doing what God says is right as expressed through Scriptures and through internal promptings of the Holy Spirit. Although God strengthens, helps, and works through individuals, they must maintain an active role to solve problems [16]. As Shelby explains, "You, me and you, got to help our own self first before anybody can help us. So, it's not The Center, it's not them, it's them and God, that's how I feel about it."

Although the connection with God was described universally as strong by the women, the nature of that interaction did vary. Many women were like Jasmine, who said "I'm not Moses… I don't hear Him or nothing, but we communicate." Others were like Cameron, who explained:

I've always heard God speak to me and guide me through my spirit. At times that I should've listened, I didn't, and let's just say I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and consequences happened and now I'm more aware of that conscience. When the Spirit tells me, "don't do that" I pay more attention to it. I listen to it because I know there are major consequences. He's been calling me for a long time and I listened this time. I had to follow that.

Through prayer, worship, reading Scriptures, and feeling the guidance of God through the Holy Spirit, the women with a collaborative coping style felt a strong partnership with God. This partnership allowed them to act in quasi-autonomous manner, but while perceiving the power and presence of God with them.

### *6.1. Sarah: A Narrative of Collaborating with God*

Sarah was court-ordered to stay one year at The Center after being released from jail. Like many others, this was not her first time in a rehabilitation center. She first began using drugs when she was 18 and reported that her use worsened when she began nursing school. She then spiraled out of control after failing to complete the program. Sarah was a drug user for 15 years, primarily having used opiates and methamphetamine. Upon her release, Sarah felt tempted to use again:

I did not use after I got out of jail the second time… The only reason I didn't use right when I got out of jail was because my mom and them kept a real tight rope on me… I'm sure if I would've gotten out of jail and not had that family support that I would've been right back where I was… This time, I told the judge that I needed to go away for a little while where I could get it together. I needed this.

A week after arriving at The Center, Sarah claimed that her outlook on herself and her addiction had changed after she read a book and started a class on addiction. She credited this transformation to God and The Center's religious teachings. Before she took this class, she said she had no relationship with God, and no hope that she would overcome addiction. She explained, "I thought I was just screwed for life. I was going to be an addict for the rest of my life… Then, when I got here, that's when I realized that there was hope again. I can overcome this because there's something greater than me." She described her transition in very strong terms:

I didn't think I was a bad person when I had a "disease". When I had a disease it was like cancer, it was incurable. I was always going to be like this and I was probably going to die an addict because I have this disease. But now I've learned that I was a bad person that made bad choices and that's okay because God's saved me from that … Now I feel like I don't have a disease because God has set me free from it and I'm cured. I have a choice to go back to that… You got hooked on it, but you can let it go. God can take all that away, and that's when I realized that there was hope for me.

Now, with a new outlook on life, Sarah considered herself more adept at making decisions. She described her relationship with God this way:

I know that God and the Holy Spirit guide me and my choice, and I know that He is there to help me when my decision-making process is going haywire… Now I have that conscience saying, "That's not what God would do. That's not what Jesus would want you to do. He honestly loves and cares for you and He doesn't want to see you go down like that."

Sarah decided that she no longer wanted a life controlled by drugs and the people that consume them. However, she still experienced major temptations while visiting home on weekend passes. Here, Sarah details one such experience:

Well, the last time I was at home, I went to a pool party and yes, there was drugs there. And I prayed and I just said, "God, take the temptation away from me and help me to be strong and walk away from this situation", and I was able to walk away from the situation. I picked up the phone and called somebody and said, "I'm ready to be home. I don't want to be here." I feel like God had his hand in that.

After this experience, Sarah made new plans to help her succeed. She explained, "The future plan is to not be associated with people that have it [drugs]. I mean, that was just a stupid decision that I made to go over there… The next time I will be thinking rationally and I'll be able to make better decisions." Even as she planned for the future with her newfound faith, she also made it clear that she would have to make the tough decisions. Sarah decided not move back home, especially since her family has easy access to drugs: "My mom's a nurse practitioner and my sister just got her doctorate in nursing. I mean, I just know that there would be some major temptations there. I'm not going to put myself in the devils playground like that."

Armed with her new faith in God and outlook on life, Sarah made some plans for the future to help her succeed and feels encouraged by others at The Center:

Well, I'm ready to start school back. I've got 164 credits. I've got to do something so I'm getting ready to start school back and get a job. I'm not going to move back home because that's too close to my old playing field … [Others] have taught me not to give up, that I should go for what I want to do, and not to be ashamed of my past and get hung up on my failures and staying down… I can ask God to show me, close the doors that he doesn't want me to go down… I know that he's going to guide me in the directions that I need to go.

Overall, Sarah believed The Center and God helped greatly on her path to recovery. In fact, she did not believe that she could be clean without having this religious faith. She described the transition as complete, no longer considering herself an addict, "This has just filled a void in my heart… Now I have happiness, I have joy. Before this, I didn't have those. I'm proud to say that I'm sober now and I'm proud to say that I'm not an addict." She now viewed herself as being in a partnership with God.

### *6.2. The Collaborative Perspective*

Overall, the women with collaborative viewpoints transitioned from feeling controlled by drugs to feeling that, through God, they possessed the power to change their lives. They no longer saw addiction to drugs as a disease outside of their control, as Sarah described above. Instead, they felt they could overcome their addiction through God, which was articulated as a very freeing and empowering realization by Anastasia: "They teach you at other rehabs that you're an addict. Here I'm not an addict. I struggle with addiction. … This place taught me that I don't have to be that anymore. I can be different." Although the women actively resisted the temptation to use drugs, they saw the strength to do so as coming from God. Celeste, in talking about her upcoming release, explained "I just got to keep pressing on and keep believing and keep asking him to keep me strong. And He will, if I sincerely mean it."

Not only do they see God as giving them strength to overcome their addiction now, but also they believe that they must continue to work with God towards a successful future. God is seen as in the passenger seat directing individuals where to go and the routes to take. The individuals, in turn, must listen to and complete the steps necessary to reach their goals. The belief that God will assist them and keep them strong does not mean that they take a passive role in their own future, and, as such, they develop many strategies for their future success, much like Sarah's future plans. Although one such strategy is to rely on their relationship with God, the presence of many other strategies suggests that the women still think about and plan for the future.

These strategies include avoiding people, situations, and places that are seen as barriers to success, developing goals for a successful future, and relying on others to help them or motivate them to succeed. Sarah's decision to stay away from her home, situations, and others that tempt her to use drugs is an example of an avoidance strategy. Likewise, her desire to get a job and take additional college courses reveals that she has active goals for success. Her family's assistance and the things she has learned from others at the Center reflect some reliance on others to help her succeed. Yet, Sarah's most important strategy for success, like most other women with a collaborative style, is reliance on her relationship with God. They report that God, seen as far from a passive participant, is the foundation from which they draw the power to utilize the other strategies for success. Sally embodies the collaborative ideals when she says this, which is a reference to a New Testament scripture:

I think that I have the real tools now to do what it takes, and a lot more understanding. I know a lot of times I will fail and make wrong decisions. In life you make mistakes constantly, but I feel like I'll be less likely to make as many, and especially some of the worst ones that destroy our lives. I feel like I can do all things through Christ, and He strengthens me.

### **7. Conflicted Relationship with God**

As with any typology, there are times in which a case may not fit precisely into a certain category. We categorized 25 of the 30 women as using a predominately deferring or collaborative religious coping style. We did not find any women who used a predominantly self-directing style, but five women used some combination of the three styles. That is, five of the women in our sample described problem-solving styles that were not exclusively collaborative, deferring, or self-directing. Being an amalgam of multiple styles, we called this style "conflicted".

All of the conflicted women showed some evidence of Pargament's [16,19] self-directing style of religious coping. In the self-directing style, God is not relied upon for problem-solving, although His existence is acknowledged. Instead, the primary responsibility for resolving problems lies in the hands of the individual. According to this style, God has given individuals resources and abilities necessary to allow autonomous direction of their own lives. Yet, none of these women quite fit into the self-directing category. It seemed instead that these women struggled to balance The Center's mandate to surrender their lives to God with their own uncertainty about God and divine leadership. The conflicted women were hesitant to rely on God either because they did not believe in God, reported being angry at God in the past, or disliked the fact that religion was "forced on them" at The Center.

### *7.1. Jessa: Narrative of Conflicted Relationship with God*

Jessa reported using many drugs, but her drug of choice was methamphetamine, which she used since age 12. She became pregnant with her first child at 13. She now had two children, both of which she lost custody of due to her drug use and criminal history. Although Jessa said she had "never seen [herself] as an addict", she described the dangers of an addictive personality: "When you're an addict, you have your personality, your person that you are, you have to have something. For me, even when I was popping pills when I was 10, 11, I had to have something, it was never enough." She described struggling with this urge:

There's still going to be that urge to do something different, to want more… I'm not saying that I'll never get out of it, that I'll never be delivered completely from it. That's what I hope and pray for every day, it's just, I know the reality. That there's only one way to do it and that's through God, honestly. And that's not because I'm here, that's because of what I know. I mean you have to really, you have to really, really believe in something, and He's a wonderful thing to believe in. And that's going to be about the only thing… because there's no doubt in my mind that if I was at home right now that I would get high.

Jessa was sentenced to The Center for manufacturing methamphetamine. She chose the facility instead of probation out of fear she would end up in jail if she did not keep herself away from the influence of drugs. She reported needing "something different… job experience. I needed to be able to get my feet on the ground". It was the job experience that drew her to The Center, and not the religious focus. She did not believe in God before she came to The Center, although that changed:

The only other things were 28 day programs… They basically said I could get job training, that I'd be able to get work here. [That's] really the only thing that attracted me to here. Because before I came here, I was shooting up and I didn't even really believe in God. I mean I had lost a lot of, most of my faith in anything. So, that's not really what appealed to me. But I mean… when it comes to that I'm glad that I came here because my relationship with God has been renewed.

Although she described a newfound belief in God, she still struggled with feelings of inadequacy, stagnation, and self-governance. She described past friction in her relationship with God:

I was the first to go, well, I don't deserve God, so I'm going to do whatever I want. And that was my excuse… I don't deserve God, so I can do whatever I want to do… I don't need God. I don't deserve Him. He don't deserve me. I'm going to stay away from Him. Cause I just hurt Him. But God's gonna love me regardless.

In accordance with this attitude, Jessa described as instance in which she would have relapsed if not for others. Back at home on a weekend pass, Jessa described going out with friends to a local bar:

I was there dancing with this guy…and we were just having so much fun… and then out of nowhere he was like, "let's go shoot up! Let's do a shot." And it was like a big bear right in front of you. It was scary. Cause I knew I was that close and I knew that there wasn't going to be no going back… So my friends piled me into the car and buckled me down and took me back home… I was all, "I wanna get high, I wanna get high." As long as it's between us and not The Center, I was drinking that night. They was like no, my friends was like, not gonna happen. So, they took me back to the room, and I passed out, and that was over with.

Although Jessa reported many instances when she was reprimanded for behaviors deemed inappropriate at The Center, she did not feel that there was anything she could do to change her situation, and she concluded: "If it's God's will for me to go to prison, that sucks, but there's a reason for it. There's gotta be a reason." Her fatalistic view of the conflict was expressed this way:

My motto is "it don't matter." You can do the best out of the best out of the best, and it don't matter… People will argue that with you. I just, it don't matter. You can believe and you can love unconditionally and you can give, you can hope, and pray and pray and pray, and if it's not… Now I believe if it's not God's will, then I believe it if ain't going to happen, it just ain't going to happen. Now I know that it's not God's will… I always said when I do my best I come out worse than if I hadn't tried at all.

Jessa reported that God and her fiancé would help her maintain sobriety and optimism in the future. She claimed that since God has already done so much for her, "it would hurt God so much for me to backslide." Although she described finding it hard to be hopeful, she said "I only am [optimistic] because my fiancé makes me be." Otherwise, Jessa did not describe many strategies for success and did not think The Center had prepared her well. She explained, "I don't think faith-based is the way to go for… people like us who are so good at screwing up." She did not see herself as abstaining from drugs in the future, especially in the case of marijuana. She did not seem to consider herself as having experienced positive change, although she expressed hope that she would change in the future:

You can usually tell a person [who won't make it], and apparently, from the way people are talking, I'm one of these people… There's people that walk around here, that you can tell there's a change in their lives. I don't feel like that. I haven't gave up on myself. But there's people that you see that just don't, that aren't ready. People who haven't hit bottom yet.

### *7.2. The Conflicted Perspective*

Jessa described not believing in God before coming to the Center. Other conflicted women shared this sentiment, were angry at God, or both. For instance, Caitlyn said, "I was like mad at God… I was like, where was God when I was going through this? … I know now that there is a God… I am still struggling with that part too, to be honest, but I know now that he has always been there and I am the one that left Him. He didn't leave me." Through Jessa's use of language (*i.e.*, there's *gotta* be a reason, you *have to* believe in something), she conveyed that she felt obligated to believe in God. She was not completely convinced, however, nor did she consider herself completely recovered.

For the five conflicted women, their limited faith in God, distrust in the Center, and stagnant circumstances led them to feel helpless, instead of helped. They did not trust that they had a strong relationship with God, that God would help them, or that God would give them the power to help themselves. Moreover, they did not trust that the Center would assist them in this process. This response was echoed by women with conflicted coping styles. Some showed a clear preference, seeming to be in the process of transitioning to the Center's beliefs or surrendering to God, albeit still struggling with the change. Others did not believe this faith-centered approach to rehabilitation was right for them and may have been simply repeating the lessons and "mantras" taught to them at The Center in acknowledging God's power.

Due to the divergent nature of their problem-solving styles, the women did not form many, if any, strategies to ensure success—like Jacie, who asserted "I've gotta do myself right now", and "I've got to focus on me", when asked about God's role in her future. Unsure who to put their hope in, the women did not seem to place it either in themselves or in God, landing somewhere in between self-reliance and surrender. This led them to generally paint a very pessimistic view of their future.

The ultimate reason the women did not fit into either a collaborative or deferring viewpoint is unclear. Perhaps the emphasis on religion at The Center caused these women to refrain from a coping style that was self-directing. Another viewpoint is that the women were simply not ready to change or that they were in the process of changing, thus experiencing a clear conflict between their former beliefs and the beliefs being taught at The Center.

### **8. Discussion**

Most women in our sample articulated a clear transition from their former coping styles and loci of control to a new, God-centered way to solve their problems. As they explained their transitions to sobriety, the women referenced factors such as hitting rock bottom, being inspired by others to succeed, finally wanting to change, and most prominently, a renewed commitment to faith. The women claimed that God was in control of their lives, which was consistent with what they learned in faith-based classes at The Center. Importantly, however, the women differed in discussing where God's leadership for their lives ended and where their own leadership began.

Pargament's [16,19] typology of religious coping/problem solving styles proved to be useful in how we categorized the narratives of our interviewees. The deferring and collaborative coping styles revealed that the women held differing views of surrendering control to God *versus* relying on their own agency and autonomy. Specifically, the women with a deferring style believed that, while God had an active role in their lives, their role was passive. Conversely, the women with a collaborative style believed that they and God shared an active role in their lives, including determining their future success. The conflicted women, in contrast with the majority of the participants from The Center, showed evidence of self-directing and nonreligious coping styles. Their narratives were underscored by the larger issues of experiencing conflict and "wrestling with God" in regards to surrendering control of their lives to a higher power.

As with any study, ours is not without limitations. First, because we used a non-probabilistic sample of women in a faith-based halfway house, we cannot make generalizations about our findings to all women drug users or to all women residents of halfway houses. Because in-depth interviews with drug addicts in recovery were the only reasonable methodological choice, this was not a major consideration. Second, because all of our participants were completing a faith-based recovery program at the time of the interview, it was unlikely that we would find strong evidence of all three religious coping styles identified by Pargament [16,19]. While there was ample evidence of the deferring and collaborative styles, we found no evidence of women who exclusively used the self-directing style. Because those who work at The Center typically consider autonomy, self-direction, and self-efficacy as major factors in drug addiction in the first place, interviewees had been conditioned to avoid a self-directing coping style. Instead, The Center teaches a Scriptural view of God as a powerful participant, a view that can be seen as either collaborative or deferring depending on the women's interpretations of self as active or passive in solving their problems. We cannot speculate on whether the self-directing coping style is relatively rare in The Center, or if some residents simply may not feel comfortable with its articulation.

Also noteworthy from our analysis of collaborative and deferring coping styles is the relationship between coping style and plans for the future. Future planning has been identified as an important element of rehabilitation [27], and many of the women in our sample claimed that they avoided dangerous people and situations, bonded with Godly others, worked on their relationship with God, and developed plans for a successful future. Yet, we find that formerly addicted women with a deferring coping style may be unlikely to form future strategies for success or form only vague ones. While the deferring style may be preferred among those who work at The Center, it may have the unintended consequence of discouraging autonomous action in the future. Failure to make plans for sustaining sobriety may leave the deferring women unprepared to cope with future events, which, in turn, could lead to returning to former lifestyles and patterns of destructive behavior [27]. Thus, it seems that not all religious coping styles produce similar outcomes, which may have important implications for faith-based programs. Program organizers and staff should be aware of differences in religious coping styles and their potential influence on readiness for the future as they develop their curriculum.

Our findings are also in concert with Kerley's [28] recent discussion of active and passive resistance among religious inmates and those in recovery settings. He identified active resistance strategies, which mirror the strategies for success observed among the collaborative women in our interviews. This active resistance included plans to avoid crime and crime-inducing people, places, and situations. Passive resistance, in contrast, was found among individuals who internalized the concept of "one day at a time", and thus, did not make preparations for the future. Such a classification is consistent with the limited strategies for success used by the deferring women in the current study.

### **9. Conclusions**

To conclude, we note that our findings, as well as those of Pargament and others, support the idea that the deferring religious coping style may pose risks for individuals dealing with difficult life circumstances (e.g., drug addiction). The nuanced distinctions between (1) a Scriptural worldview in which autonomous action is necessary and (2) a Scriptural worldview that encourages faith in God's control without action, create practical differences in the way individuals approach their futures. The identification of positive benefits from a collaborative coping style leads us to conclude that religious coping for drug addicts is not only acceptable, but also may be beneficial to individuals' problem-solving skills. Due to having both a God locus of control and an internal locus of control, the collaborative style of religious coping allowed the interviewees to plan for the future while perceiving the strength of God as with them, and as such, gave them greater hope for maintaining sobriety after release. Our hope is that the findings presented here catalyze additional social scientific research on the nuanced relationship between faith and coping among the free and the incarcerated.

### **Acknowledgments**

Funding for this study was provided by the National Science Foundation via the Research Experiences for Undergraduates program (Awards #1004953 & 1261322) and by the Religious Research Association. The authors are grateful to staff at The Center for their cooperation in data collection.

### **Author Contributions**

The authors jointly conceptualized, analyzed data, and produced this manuscript.

### **Conflicts of Interest**

The authors declare no conflict of interest.

### **References**



### **Does Religious Involvement Generate or Inhibit Fear of Crime?**

### **Todd Matthews, Lee Michael Johnson and Catherine Jenks**

**Abstract:** In victimology, fear of crime is understood as an emotional response to the perceived threat of crime. Fear of crime has been found to be affected by several variables besides local crime rates and personal experiences with victimization. This study examines the relationship between religion and fear of crime, an underexplored topic in the criminological literature. This gap is rather surprising given the central role religion has been found to play in shaping the attitudes and perceptions of congregants. In particular, religion has been found to foster generalized trust, which should engender lower levels of distrust or misanthropy, including that which is directed towards a general fear of crime. OLS regression was performed using data from the West Georgia Area Survey (n = 380). Controlling for demographic, community involvement, and political ideology variables, frequency of religious attendance was significantly and negatively associated with fear of *property* crime. This relationship remained even after a perceived neighborhood safety variable was introduced to the model. However, religious attendance was not significantly related to fear of *violent* crime, and religious orientation was unrelated to fear of property and violent crime. These results suggest that religious involvement conditionally reduces fear of crime, and the authors recommend that future research explore relationships between religion and fear of crime.

### **Abbreviations**

WGAS: West Georgia Area Survey; OLS: Ordinary Least Squares; US: United States

Reprinted from *Religions*. Cite as: Matthews, T.; Johnson, L.M.; Jenks, C. Does Religious Involvement Generate or Inhibit Fear of Crime? *Religions* **2011**, *2*, 485–503.

### **1. Introduction/Background**

The body of literature on religion and crime pays a great deal of attention to the role of religion in crime etiology and criminal justice practice [1]. In a recent article, Akers reviewed multiple studies showing negative relationships between religion and crime, noting that religious extremism, however, may be associated with increased crime [1]. Baier and Wright's meta-analysis of 60 studies showed that religious beliefs and behaviors moderately deterred criminal behavior [2]. However, victimological analyses of religion are largely missing from this literature. This oversight is surprising given the central role religion has been found to play in shaping the attitudes and perceptions of its adherents. The purpose of the current study, therefore, is to test whether religious involvement reduces fear of crime.

### *1.1. Fear of Crime and Religion*

Ferraro and LaGrange defined *fear of crime* as "an emotional response of dread or anxiety to crime or symbols that a person associates with crime" [3]. More specifically, individuals fear the harm or loss resulting from criminal acts, and not simply the existence of actions labeled as "crimes" [4]. This fear is produced by one's *perceived risk of crime*, which is "a recognition of a situation as possessing at least potential danger, real or imagined" [3]. It is important to distinguish between these concepts: *fear of crime* refers to an emotive state of being afraid of being victimized by crime while *perceived risk of crime* refers to a cognitive assessment of one's chances of being victimized. As measured variables, perceived high risk of crime should increase levels of fear of crime, although the two are not necessarily highly correlated. Some people, for example, may perceive high risk of crime but not be highly afraid of it [5]. Further, these concepts should not be confused with general concern over crime [5], which has more to do with recognition of crime as a social problem. General concern does not necessarily equate with fear and perceived risk. For example, a person can believe that a community or society has a significant crime problem without thinking that s/he has a significant chance of being personally victimized or being very afraid of crime.

Past research suggests that fear of both violent crime and property crime is widespread across the public and is a social problem separate from crime itself, although most people are not likely highly fearful of crime on a daily basis [6]. Zhao, Lawton, and Longmire [7] found that living in close proximity to crime events increased residents' fear of crime. Other research shows a lack of correspondence between fear of crime and official crime rates, with fear appearing to over- or under- estimate actual crime threats [8]. Regardless, it is apparent from research on fear of crime that such fear is not simply a reaction to area crime rates and personal experiences with victimization.

A number of studies suggest that fear of crime is also the result of several personal as well as ecological and community level factors [5,9]. While personal and demographic variables such as age, gender, income, education, race, health, and victimization are frequently studied, religious orientation or behavior variables are rarely included in models examining fear of crime. Previous research showed that religiosity is an important factor of public perceptions of criminal behavior in that the strength of religious belief is positively related to punitive and morally indignant responses to crime [10]. It appears that more religious persons may have more "tough on crime" attitudes, but how fearful do they tend to be of crime? This oversight in the literature is curious, given that religious affiliation ties persons to social networks offering resources that can be used to respond to threats to well-being such as crime. Additionally, and perhaps most crucially, religious affiliation has been found to build generalized trust (trust in others unknown to us) in participants [11-18]. This form of trust has been characterized as "the foundation of a civil society… (that) eases the way toward getting people to work together" [19]. Religious participation or affiliation is seen as a central pathway for the generation of such trust, a contention extending back in American social thought to Alexis de Tocqueville's *Democracy in America* almost two centuries ago. Contemporary scholars maintain that religious institutions play a vital role in the development of generalized trust today [16-18].

This trust in others beyond our immediate social milieu is critical in our complex, specialized world, reducing social risk and fears and enabling day-to-day social action to continue relatively unimpeded [20,21]. Excessive fear of external actors and social conditions, both known and unknown, would paralyze the modern social world, as individuals would be too fearful or mistrusting to engage in any sort of "risky" action. Thus, elevated levels of generalized trust should engender lower levels of distrust or misanthropy, including that which is directed towards a general fear of crime. Excessive fear of crime can cause such social paralysis, as it leads to significant changes in individual and collective behavior and can truly alter social relations. Despite the apparent link between religion, trust, and perceptions of crime, only a few studies examining the relationship between religion and fear of crime could be found.

Lotz tested for the relative impacts of experienced victimization *versus* indicators of resistance to social change that included religion and political conservatism [22]. In a sample of residents in Washington state in the US, Lotz found that religion and political conservatism were slightly associated with increased concern over but not fear of crime while victimization was slightly associated with increased fear of but not concern over crime. The results suggest that fear results from practical crime threats but concern results from socio-political ideology [22].

O'Mahony and Quinn tested if community-related factors explain fear of crime better than individual factors, including one's religious participation [23]. Prior research using national samples suggest that Protestants are more worried about terrorist attacks than Catholics in Northern Ireland. Using community-based survey data, however, O'Mahony and Quinn found in a multivariate model that community type and respondent satisfaction with the community significantly determined fear of crime while individual characteristics, including one's religion, did not [23]. It is important to recognize here that the community type measure they used is partly defined by religious composition (groupings included "Catholic Lower Working Class Urban," "Protestant Small Towns," *etc.*) [23]. Thus, while their study suggests that individuals' religious affiliation alone does not determine their fear of crime, it does not suggest that religion plays no part in determining fear of crime.

Sacco and Nakhaie included religiosity among several demographic variables in their analysis of age and crime-coping adaptations in a Canadian national sample [24]. The researchers argue for and used behavioral, rather than perceptual, outcome measures of fear of crime. These behaviors included "carrying something for self-defense, locking car doors when alone, checking the back seat of the car for intruders, planning their route with safety in mind, and staying at home at night because they are afraid" [24]. Results showed that among nonelderly respondents only, the religious (compared to the non-religious) were more likely to engage in some of the behaviors—lock car doors, plan a safe route, and stay home for fear. However, Sacco and Nakhaie's behavioral measures of fear of crime are controversial as they may actually indicate a separate subjective reaction to a crime construct, behavioral reactions to crime, and not fear of crime that is widely understood as an emotional state [24].

Mohammed, Saridakis, and Sookram included a dichotomous measure of religion (religious affiliation/no religious affiliation) as a control variable in their analysis of the impact of victimization upon fear of crime—also a dichotomous measure (fearful/not fearful of crime) in a national sample from Trinidad and Tobago [25]. The researchers report that persons with a religious affiliation were more likely to be fearful of crime than those without a religious affiliation, a result they found to be counter-intuitive.

Clearly, more studies are needed if the relationship between religion and fear of crime is to be understood. Aside from being too few, religion was not the focus of prior studies and they used dated or questionable measures of fear of crime, such as those noted in the review above.

### *1.2. The Current Study*

The current study tests for a possible association between religious involvement and fear of crime. Frequency of attendance at religious services and religious orientation will serve as the primary independent variables of interest in models examining fear of crime as an outcome. Because of the paucity and inconsistency of past research on religion and fear of crime, a positive or negative relationship between the two will not be hypothesized. Generalized trust is included to see if it has effects independent of religious attendance and religious orientation. Also, an index of civic engagement is included here, as those who participate more broadly in social life should also generally be more trusting and less fearful. Further, political orientation, community tenure, and civic participation are added as potentially competing independent variables. If religious involvement is associated with fear of crime, it will be important to explore the possibility that liberal *vs.* conservative identity or community ties in general, not religious activity specifically, are actually affecting people's fear of crime. As O'Mahony and Quinn point out, it may be the lived experiences within the community that determines fear of crime more than religion and other personal factors [23]. Finally, prior victimization is included as a potential independent variable, even though past research does not indicate that objective experience with crime is a strong predictor of fear of crime [5].

The models also contain a set of demographic control variables: age, gender, race, and education. Past research shows that fear of crime varies according to personal factors [5]. Two key factors here are age and gender. Earlier studies suggested that older persons have higher fear but more rigorous recent research has revealed complex relationships. For example, Ferraro found a curvilinear relationship with age: the young, not elders, had the highest levels of fear while middle-aged adults had the lowest [5]. Concerning gender, studies consistently show that women have higher levels of fear of crime, including crimes in which women are not more likely to be victimized [5]. It is possible that fear of sexual assault elevates women's fear of other crimes. Because women are at higher risk of sexual assault, it may operate as a master offense that increases their fear of other crimes, especially those with the potential to lead to sexual victimization [26]. Research by Ferraro [26] and Fisher and Sloan [27] supported hypotheses that women's fear of general crime shadows their fear of sexual assault. However, this research focused little on how risk shapes men's fear of crime. Reid and Conrad [28] found that women reported higher levels of fear of sexual assault but also that perceived risk had a greater cumulative impact on men's fear of robbery, a crime in which men are more likely to be victimized. The shadow effect in women's fear of crime appears to be part of a larger gender differences picture. As Schafer, Huebner, and Bynum's [29] research shows, men and women's experiences in fearing victimization are likely determined by different factors. Also, gender differences may lie in the reporting itself. To protect masculine self-identity, men may under-report their levels of fear. Sutton and Farrall [30] found evidence that men's, but not women's, reports of fear of crime is influenced by social desirability. At any rate, in this analysis of the impact of religious participation on fear of crime, it is important to consider the impact of gender.

Finally, fear of crime could be an outcome of the extent to which one finds the neighborhood to be a safe place. Assessments of the presence of danger in the community, where people spend a great deal of time, are likely to influence fear of crime. Several studies find that neighborhood characteristics and perceptions of one's neighborhood affect fear of crime [see for example 7,9,31-33]. Further, like community tenure and civic participation, feeling safe in the neighborhood could be an indicator of community attachment—a "safe place" could be part of a favorable definition of a community. Thus, a measure of how safe one feels in the neighborhood will also be included. A total of four models will be tested: two examining fear of violent crime and two examining fear of property crime.

### **2. Results and Discussion**

### *2.1. Data*

In Fall 2010, the Survey Research Center at the University of West Georgia launched the *West Georgia Area Survey* (WGAS). The 2010 WGAS was a first of its kind social scientific phone survey of the seven county core of the West Georgia region, an area of roughly 650,000 people on the western fringe of the larger Atlanta metropolitan area. These counties were selected due to their geographical proximity and general demographic similarities with Carroll County, GA, which is the home county of the University of West Georgia. The WGAS was designed to follow from decades-long studies like the General Social Survey (National Opinion Research Center at the University of Chicago), the Houston Area Survey (Rice University), the Baton Rouge Area Survey (Louisiana State University), the Mississippi Poll (Mississippi State University) and other similar social science attempts to empirically assess attitudes and behaviors regarding topical issues of the day. Another study of particular influence was political scientist Robert Putnam's Social Capital Benchmark Survey. This study was conducted with a nationally representative sample and with dozens of communities across the United States. Topics and questions were drawn from these previous studies as appropriate to fit the purposes of the WGAS principal investigators.

A landline random digit dialing sample was generated for the Survey Research Center by Survey Sampling Incorporated, and the survey was administered using Computer Assisted Telephone Interview software over a six week period from late October to early December. The sample was first drawn proportionally from each of the seven counties, based on the most recent Census population estimates. Households were then randomly drawn from within each county. The most recent birthday was used as the final step in sampling individuals within the households contacted.

The survey contained questions on a wide range of topics, including: demographics and contextual variables; community life and social trust; civic involvement; environmental concern and water issues; and fear of crime and victimization. The average completion time for respondents was approximately 20 minutes. The final number of completed surveys was 380, with a response rate of 22%. While the response rate was lower than ideal (though not excessively so today), non-response bias was counteracted by generating a true random digit dialing sample, utilizing refusal conversion, and matching our demographics to local Census estimates, weighting those that were significantly different (such as age). The final dataset was roughly representative of major demographic characteristics in the study region except for the age of respondents. This is a fairly consistent reality today for those who engage in landline-based telephone surveys, as older respondents tend to be more likely to both have a landline and to use it as compared to younger respondents. Thus the decision was made to weight the data based on the age of the survey respondent. It should be noted that the models were run by the researchers both with and without weighting, with no major differences emerging.

### *2.2. Measures*

The dependent variables utilized in the regression models include an index of fear of property crime and an index of fear of violent crime. Ferraro points out that sound measures of fear of crime should (1) tap into the emotion of fear or worry, not judgments or concerns, (2) refer to the type of victimization, not "crime" generically, (3) take aim at the subject's everyday life, not hypothetical situations or ones subjects may intentionally avoid, and (4) avoid double-barreled items, asking what subjects hypothetically or actually do for example [5]. Also, to best measure fear of crime in survey research, multi-item measures are essential [5]. The current analysis uses the fear of crime measure developed by Ferraro and Lagrange to respond to these criteria [5].

Two indices were constructed from a series of ten statements where respondents were asked to rate their fear of each on a scale of 1–10, where 1 indicated no fear at all, and 10 meant that the respondent was very afraid. The indicators of fear of property crime included:


The indicators of fear of violent crime included:


The possible values for each index range from 5–50. The mean score for the property crime index was 22.02, and the mean score for the violent crime index was 23.19. Both indices exhibit a high degree of reliability: for the property crime index, the Cronbach's alpha was 0.831, while the Cronbach's alpha for the violent crime index was 0.935.

The demographic variables in the regression models include *race* (dichotomized to white and black/other); *education*, a six-point ordinal variable ranging from less than high school to graduate or professional degree; *gender*; *political ideology*, which includes conservative, moderate, liberal and those who "haven't thought about it"; *years lived in community*, a six-point ordinal variable ranging from "less than one year" to "all your life"; a *civic participation index*, measuring participation in a wide range of community life, ranging from 0–15 types of activities; and *generalized trust*, recoded into two dummy variables ("people can be trusted" and "depends," with "you cannot be too careful" as the reference group). Descriptive statistics for all the variables used in the regression models, are found in Table 1.

The focal independent variables of interest include two measures of religious life often used by researchers, *frequency of religious attendance* and *religious orientation*. The frequency of religious attendance variable asked "(n)ot including weddings and funerals, how often do you attend religious services?" Options ranged from every week to less often than once a year. Just fewer than forty percent of respondents reported attending religious services every week, while each of the other categories fell in the ten to twenty percent range. The variable was reverse coded for the regression analyses. The orientation question captured broad religious preferences, including Protestantism, Catholicism, another type of Christianity, Judaism, some other religion, or no religion. Protestantism was the most frequently cited preference, with 64.1% choosing this option. Other Christians were 15.5% of the respondents, while those with no religion were 9.3%, Catholics made up 7.5%, and those representing other religions were 3.6% of total respondents in the survey.

The other focal variables of interest for the researchers were *previous victimization* (either of a property crime or a violent crime respectively), and the respondent's *feeling of safety at night in one's neighborhood*. Over 42% of respondents reported having been a victim of property crime at some point in their lives, while 18.9% reported having been a violent crime victim. *Feeling of safety at night in one's neighborhood* is a measure that was used in earlier research to measure fear of crime, though Ferraro and Lagrange contend that it is likely a better indicator of perceived risk than fear [5].

While feeling of safety at night in one's neighborhood is moderately correlated with both the fear of property crime index and the fear of violent crime index, VIF diagnostics run for each regression model indicate no problems with multicollinearity. Slightly less than half of the respondents (45.2%) reported that they felt very safe in their neighborhood at night, while 41.2% felt somewhat safe, and only 13.6% reported feeling somewhat or very unsafe.

Ordinary Least Squares (OLS) regression analysis is used to examine whether the frequency of religious attendance and/or the respondent's religious orientation are predictors of fear of property crime and fear of violent crime, net of the effects of the respondent's general feeling of nighttime safety in their neighborhood and of the demographic variables. As noted above, Table 1 presents the descriptive statistics for all variables included in the analysis. Table 2 includes two models displaying the results of the OLS regression of the predictor variables on fear of property crime. In Table 3, there are two models presented which show the results of OLS regression of the predictor variables on fear of violent crime. In both Table 2 and Table 3, the first model includes the demographic variables, the previous victimization measure and the respondent's feeling of safety. The second model in both tables incorporates the measures from the first model, while adding in religious attendance and religious denomination.


**Table 1.** Descriptive Statistics.

### *2.3. Analysis*

Table 2 includes the results of the OLS regression models of the predictors of fear of property crime. Model 1 focuses on the demographic variables, previous property crime victimization, and the respondent's feeling of safety. Several demographic variables emerge as significant predictors of fear of property crime in this model. Gender (β = −0.122, p < 0.05) displays a significant and negative relationship with fear of property crime, indicating that male respondents are much less fearful of property crime than female respondents, controlling for all other variables in the model. Also significant and negative is one of the comparison groups for political ideology, those who "haven't thought about" where they stand ideologically (β = −0.130, p < 0.05). Respondents in this category are much less afraid of property crime than the reference group of ideological conservatives. Years lived in community is also significant and negative (β = −0.123, p < 0.05), thus those respondents who lived in their community longer showed less fear of property crime than those who had been there a shorter time. Also, those who exhibit higher levels of trust were significantly less fearful of property crime than those who believe you cannot be too careful with others (β = −0.212, p < 0.001). Being the victim of a property crime was not statistically significant. However, the respondent's feeling of safety during the night in the neighborhood was highly significant and negative for both groups *versus* the reference group. Those who felt very safe (β = −0.457, p < 0.001) and those who felt somewhat safe (β = −0.225, p < 0.01) expressed lower levels of fear of property crime compared to those who felt somewhat unsafe or unsafe in their neighborhood at night.

Model 2 of Table 2 adds the respondent's religious participation and religious attendance to the predictors utilized in Model 1. Regarding the religious participation variables, religious attendance is significant and negative (β = −0.137, p < 0.05). Those who attend religious services more frequently exhibit less fear of property crime than those who attend less frequently, net of the other variables in the model. Further, Protestants (β = 0.239, p < 0.05) and Catholics (β = 0.162, p < 0.05) each reported significantly higher levels of fear of property crime when compared to the reference group of the non-religious. However, the inclusion of this variable did not reduce to insignificance the variables that were significant in the previous model. Gender (β = −0.138, p < 0.01) was again significant and negative, with male respondents displaying less fear of property crime than female respondents1 . Those who "haven't thought about" where they stand ideologically were again less fearful of property crime than conservatives (β = −0.147, p < 0.05). Years lived in community was again significant and negative as well (β = −0.126, p < 0.05). Those who exhibit higher levels of trust were again significantly less fearful of property crime than those who believe you cannot be too careful with others (β = −0.210, p < 0.001). Finally, the respondent's feeling of safety during the night in the neighborhood was highly significant and negative for both groups *versus* the reference group. Those who felt very safe (β = −0.472, p < 0.001) and those who felt

<sup>1</sup> In response to reviewer comments, we also performed an analysis of violent crime where rape/sexual assault was excluded, as it was argued that the difference in fear between men and women may be due to the inclusion of this single item. We found that women in our sample were still more fearful of violent crime when rape/sexual assault was excluded from the index.

somewhat safe (β = −0.243, p < 0.01) again expressed lower levels of fear of property crime compared to those who felt somewhat unsafe or unsafe in their neighborhood at night.


**Table 2.** Ordinary Least Squares (OLS) Regression of Predictors of Fear of Property Crime.

\*Sig at p < 0.05; \*\*Sig at p < 0.01; \*\*\*Sig at p < 0.001

The results of the OLS regression models of the predictors of fear of violent crime are found in Table 3. Again, Model 1 focuses on the demographic variables, previous property crime victimization, and the respondent's feeling of safety. Only gender, generalized trust, and feeling of safety at night in the neighborhood emerged as significant predictors of fear of violent crime. Gender (β = −0.278, p < 0.001) has a highly significant and negative relationship with fear of violent crime, displaying an even more powerful effect than it did on fear of property crime. Male respondents are much less fearful of violent crime than female respondents, controlling for all other variables in the model. Those who exhibit higher levels of trust were significantly less fearful of violent crime than those who believe you cannot be too careful with others (β = −0.184, p < 0.001), while those who said that it depends were also less fearful of violent crime than the reference group (β = −0.100, p < 0.05). Finally, the respondent's feeling of safety during the night in the neighborhood was highly significant and negative for those who felt very safe (β = −0.369, p < 0.001) *versus* the reference group.


**Table 3.** OLS Regression of Predictors of Fear of Violent Crime.

\*Sig at p < 0.05; \*\*Sig at p < 0.01; \*\*\*Sig at p < 0.001

Model 2 of Table 3 incorporates the religious participation variables along with the predictors of fear of violent crime utilized in Model 1. Neither religious attendance nor any of the denomination variables are statistically significant. Gender remained highly significant and negative (β = −0.272, p < 0.001), with male respondents once again displaying less fear of violent crime than female respondents. Those who reported higher levels of trust were again significantly less fearful of violent crime (β = −0.176, p < 0.01), and the respondent's feeling of safety during the night in the neighborhood was highly significant and negative for those who felt very safe (β = −0.378, p < 0.001) *versus* the reference group.

### **3. Conclusions**

The current study offers preliminary evidence that religious involvement can reduce fear of crime, though not necessarily in the expected direction. Controlling for all other variables, increased religious *attendance* was associated with reduced fear of *property* crime. However, mixed findings emerged regarding religious *orientation*. Only Catholics and Protestants displayed differences when compared to the non-religious, and for these groups, they displayed higher levels of fear of property crime. This could be due to relatively small sample sizes in the case of Catholics and the non-religious. However, it is also possible that this finding relates to the specific composition of the types of Catholic and Protestant denominations in the study region. Unfortunately, this study did not examine specific religious beliefs or theologies, and thus this statement is speculation. Future research incorporating denominational variations and/or religious beliefs could better uncover explanations behind these seemingly anomalous nuances.

The religion variables were not associated with fear of *violent* crime. That religious attendance is related to fear of property crime but not violent crime is an interesting finding. Besides any methodological restrictions, one possible reason for this finding has to do with the nature of the sample used in this study. Perhaps property crime is a more salient issue for them, as 42.5% of respondents in the sample report having been a victim of property crime, while only 18.9% report having been a violent crime victim. Indeed, the fear of property crime in this sample is relatively high: the mean index score for fear of property crime was nearly as high (22.4) as that for fear of violent crime (24.8), though this is not necessarily unusual in studies of this sort [5]. Also, some specific property crimes had higher fear ratings than some specific violent crimes (for example, the mean for property vandalized of 4.54 *versus* the mean of 4.11 for robbed or mugged on the street). Another possibility is that the fear-reducing (or trust building) capacity of religion is simply limited, meaning that religious involvement offers enough comfort to reduce fear of property crimes but not the more frightening crimes against the person. As noted, those who report the highest levels of generalized trust are significantly less fearful of both property and violent crime, though individuals who are more muted in their general trust of others showed no significant differences *versus* those who exhibit the lowest levels of trust. This could extend to the forms of trust generated by religious involvement, which may or may not generally extend to areas of social life such as crime. Ultimately, the processes leading to fear of violent crime and fear of property crime may differ. At any rate, why religious involvement would reduce fear of property but not violent crime needs to be determined by further research that could explore how trust is generated within religious institutions, and how this trust is generalized beyond this arena of social life.

The effect of religious attendance was independent of political ideology, community involvement, and demographic variables. Conservatives did not significantly differ in fear of crime from moderates or liberals, although individuals who seem to be apolitical—those who "haven't thought about" a political ideology—reported less fear of property crime than conservatives. The measure of years lived in the community was significantly and negatively associated with fear of crime across all models. This result could mean simply that residents will reside longer in neighborhoods in which they are less fearful of crime. However, like religious involvement, the length of community tenure potentially indicates the extent to which residents are tied to the community, so it was important to include it as a control. Civic participation was insignificant throughout all models. Regarding the demographic variables, consistent with previous research, men reported less fear of crime than women throughout all four models. Race and education were insignificant across all models.

Feeling safe at night in the neighborhood had the strongest impact upon fear of property and violent crime, and its inclusion greatly increased the R-square for each model. Religious attendance remained significant after adding feeling safe, though its impact slightly decreased. Thus, feelings of safety in the neighborhood may also mediate religion's impact upon fear of crime. Perhaps religious persons are more likely to feel safe in their neighborhood which, in turn, reduces their fear of crime, but in this study religious attendance has a clear direct effect controlling for several variables. In total, the results do not suggest that fear of crime among more religious persons can be explained at all by their conservatism or to a great extent by their attachment to the community or gender.

The results of this study differ from the studies reviewed earlier. Lotz found that religion was not associated with fear of crime at all, and the results of the current study run counter to Lotz's hypothesis that religious conservatives worry more about crime [11]. The current study also differs from Sacco and Nakhaie's conclusion that nonelderly religious persons are more likely to fear crime [13], and Mohammed, Saridakis, and Sookram's finding that persons with a religious affiliation were more likely than those without an affiliation to be fearful of crime [15]. Like O'Mahony and Quinn, the current study did not associate religious *affiliation* with fear of crime [12]. However, their study did not include a measure of religious involvement, which along with other methodological differences, makes it difficult to compare to the current study.

These divergent results from prior studies are quite possibly due to methodological differences. In addition to the use of a small sample that is quite different from those used in the other studies, and that religion was not a focal variable in the other studies, the current study employed different measures of religion and fear of crime. For example, Sacco and Nakhaie and Mohammed, Saridakis, and Sookram used dichotomous measures of religiosity [13,15], and Mohammed, Saridakis, and Sookram used a dichotomous measure of fear of crime [15]. These crude measures simply distinguish between the religious and non-religious and those who are fearful or not fearful of crime, which creates a severe precision problem as there is great variance in the degrees to which people are religious and fearful. Also, Sacco and Nakhaie used behavioral measures of fear of crime, consisting of crime safety behaviors [13], and the current study used the perceptual fear of crime measure developed by Ferraro and LaGrange [5]. Although Sacco and Nakhaie correctly point out that perceptual fear measures are problematic, their approach is also problematic in that they use overt behaviors to indicate an internal emotional state [13]. Crime safety behaviors may be better viewed as behavioral reactions to crime that potentially affect and result from levels of fear of crime, rather than as a proxy for fear of crime.

### *3.1. Implications*

As noted in previous sections of the manuscript, this study suffers from certain limitations. The sample size of 380 is acceptably large for many types of analysis, but it can create issues when attempting to examine variations across many categories, such as religious denominations. This limited the analyses of religious differences to those of major affiliations, which obscures important denominational differences, as noted in the previous section. For example, those Protestants that adhere to a more conservative theology may have quite different belief systems regarding fear of crime than rather liberal Protestants [34]. Relatedly, more in depth measures of religious beliefs could help more effectively elucidate differences in fear of crime, in a similar manner to recent research which has demonstrated differences in gender beliefs rooted in religious ideology [35].

However, the results reported here indicate that more frequent religious involvement, as measured by worship attendance, is inversely related to fear of property crime. This lends credence to the idea that religious activity provides individuals with access to social networks that provide fear-reducing resources and even facilitate higher levels of generalized trust. If this link is genuine, it represents another positive outcome of religious activity. As discussed earlier, such generalized trust is a crucial element of life in a complex, modern world [20,21]. Even though fear of crime may be beneficial to the extent that it motivates a person to take precautions against victimization, thereby increasing feelings of safety, fear is an undesirable emotion that potentially reduces one's well-being and quality of life [31].

In addition to further expanding our understanding of correlates with fear of crime, future research should examine other important victimization variables as well. It remains to be seen how religious involvement impacts other subjective appraisals of crime threats (e.g., perceived risk and general concern) as well as actual victimization. Also, more research is needed to specify what it is about religion that reduces fear of crime. The trust generated by participation in religious activities is one possibility, but other dimensions of religious life could also be involved in determining levels of fear. More personal religious activities such as prayer, meditation, and reading sacred texts, for example, may serve as routine activities that alleviate one's fears. Individualized religious coping activities such as prayer have also been found to reduce distress [36,37]. However, the current study does suggest that religious involvement is not spuriously related to fear of crime via community attachment or conservative identity. Future researchers should seek to explore the nuances of the general relationship between religion, trust, and fear of crime.

### **Acknowledgements**

The authors would like to thank the reviewers and the Special Issue editor for helpful comments.

### **References and Notes**

1. Akers, R.L. Religion and crime. *Criminologist* **2010**, *35*, 1-6.


### **Appendix A: Survey Questions**

*At one time or another, most of us have experienced fear about becoming the victim of crime. Some crimes probably frighten you more than others. We are interested in how afraid people are in everyday life of being a victim of different kinds of crimes. Please rate your fear on a scale of 1 to 10 where 1 means you are not afraid at all and ten means you are very afraid. How fearful are you of...*

being approached on the street by a beggar or panhandler

being cheated, conned, or swindled out of your money having someone break into your home while you are away having someone break into your home while you are there being raped or sexually assaulted being murdered being attacked by someone with a weapon having your car stolen being robbed or mugged on the street having your property damaged by vandals

*How safe do you feel out alone in your neighborhood at night. Do you feel.* 

Very safe Somewhat safe Somewhat unsafe Very unsafe DON'T KNOW

*Have you ever been the victim of a property crime?* 

YES NO DON'T KNOW REFUSED

*Have you ever been the victim of a violent crime?* 

YES NO DON'T KNOW REFUSED

*Which of the following best describes the highest level of education you have completed?* 

Less than high school Some high school Graduated high school/GED Some college/Associate degree/vocational or trade school College graduate Graduate or Professional Degree (Master's, Ph.D., M.D., J.D., *etc.*) REFUSED

*Please stop me when I reach the category that best describes you...* 

White or Caucasian Black or African American American Indian or Alaska Native Asian Native Hawaiian or Other Pacific Islander Two or more (SPECIFY) Other (SPECIFY)

### DON'T KNOW REFUSED

*Are you male or female?* 

Male Female Other REFUSED

### *Which of the following best describes your political views?*

Extremely conservative Conservative Slightly conservative Moderate Slightly liberal Liberal Extremely liberal Haven't thought about it DON'T KNOW REFUSED

*How many years have you lived in your community?* 

LESS THAN ONE YEAR ONE TO FIVE YEARS SIX TO TEN YEARS ELEVEN TO TWENTY YEARS MORE THAN TWENTY YEARS ALL YOUR LIFE DK REFUSED

*Generally speaking, would you say that most people can be trusted or that you cannot be too careful in dealing with people?* 

People can be trusted You cannot be too careful DEPENDS DK REFUSED

*Now I'd like to ask you about other types of groups and organizations. I'm going to read a list. Just answer 'yes' if you have been involved with this kind of local group in the past 12 months (other options are "no," "don't know," or "refused").* 

Any organization affiliated with religion An adult sports club, league or outdoor activity club A youth organization like the Scouts, 4H clubs,

Boys and Girls Clubs or youth sports leagues A PTA, PTVO, or other school support or service groups A veteran's group A neighborhood, homeowner, or tenant association How about a neighborhood crime watch group A senior citizens or older persons group A charitable organization that provides services to the needy A labor union, professional, trade, farm, or business association An environmental group Service clubs such as the Lions, Kiwanis, Rotary, a women's club or other service group A support group or self-help program for people with specific illnesses, disabilities, problems, or addictions, or for their families Ethnic, nationality, or civil rights organizations Other public interest or political groups or party committees A literary or art discussion group or a musical, dancing, or singing group Any other hobby, investment, or garden clubs or societies

*Not including weddings and funerals, how often do you attend religious services?* 

Every week Almost every week Once or twice a month A few times a year Less often than that DON'T KNOW REFUSED

*What is your religious preference? Is it Protestant, Catholic, another type of Christian, Jewish, some other religion, or no religion?* 

Protestant Catholic Other Christian Jewish Some other religion No religion DON'T KNOW REFUSED

### **Schools and Communities of Norm-Awareness**

### **Gabriella Pusztai**

**Abstract:** The relationship between religiosity and educational attainment is an important question in the sociology of religion literature. It is widely contested whether the natural outgrowth of the spreading rational worldview and the increase of educated people can account for the decline of religious adherence. Is there any other explanation for the different opportunities of religious and non-religious societal groups to obtaining the highest educational level? After the political transformation in Central and Eastern Europe, one of the most important challenges of restructuring the educational system was how different cultural groups would be able to infuse their own spirituality into their children's education after the domination of the totalitarian ideology. The Hungarian case is unique because of the mixed confessional landscape, the populous Hungarian minority outside the border, the alternating hard and soft periods of religious harassment. Recently, more than half of the Hungarian population can be described as religious in their own way, one sixth strongly affiliated with churches, and another sixth are atheists. However, several studies showed that basic indicators of social status were very strongly and negatively interrelated with religiosity. It turned out that preferred educational views, values, approaches and priorities regarding the norms at schools differ very sharply according to the religious views, and belonging to a religious network significantly supports educational careers. This paper is a comprehensive review of research on the educational functions of denominational schools and religious communities in contemporary Hungary.

Reprinted from *Religions*. Cite as: Pusztai, G. Schools and Communities of Norm-awareness. *Religions* **2011**, *2*, 372–388.

### **1. Introduction and Background**

The relationship between religiosity and educational attainment is an important question in the sociology of religion literature. It is widely contested whether the decline in religious adherence is a natural and unavoidable outgrowth due to a spreading rational worldview and the increase of educated people, which is known as the modernization process. Since the educational system plays an equally central role in status attainment, it is worth paying attention to dominant interpretations of religious views in educational institutions, and observing the association between a highly educated population and the level of several indicators of religious practice and belonging. In this respect, it is not obvious what a reliable explanation could be for the different opportunities of religious and non-religious societal groups to obtain the highest educational level. Our paper aims to address this question by summarizing the research findings about school careers of students from denominational schools and religious communities in post-communist Hungary.

Schooling was among one of the most important factors of education in Hungary, and up to the 20th century their value and norm systems were a consistent part of a comprehensive and more or less homogeneous religious culture. From the 11th to the 16th century, schools were maintained by units of the Catholic Church, and subsequent to the expansion of the Reformation, a few parallel denominational school systems were started. However, from the 18th century, the government endeavored to control and operate the entire school system on the basis of the uniform principle. Contrary to the competitive and restrictive models, cooperation between churches and state was characterized by mutuality and the sharing of tasks, because the modern state invoked churches to help extend the institutional system in the first waves of educational expansion in the 19–20th century. After the Communist takeover in 1948 all schools were nationalized, religious associations and civil movements were eliminated from public life, and only 10 denominational secondary schools were allowed to exist under strict limits [1]. In the new state-controlled schools there was no place for religious instruction. Teachers and students were constrained to acquire and propagate the Marxist ideology [2]. It was a particular subject of instruction, yet aggressive atheism penetrated all elements of the curricular and extracurricular activities and youth movements. Different worldviews and ways of thinking, in particular faith-based world views, were declared to be a dangerous enemy of communism. For this reason, teachers and university lecturers had to report on students' world views before their entrance examinations and final university exams. Religious instruction continued within parishes, but it could attract very few children because, on the one hand, students who were affiliated with religious communities became stigmatized and, on the other hand, a number of clergymen were harassed who attempted to organize youth work. Religious students who expressed their religiosity were discouraged or excluded from applying for higher education. All in all, the disadvantages of religious people could appear similar to the phenomenon in Western Europe, but it was a more complex problem. While several forms of indoctrination and persecution continued until the 1990s, the so called soft dictatorship brought about a much more substantial religious change. It enabled the unambiguous religious revival after 1978 [2] and paved the way for "a reflex-like crude individualism aiming at the accumulation of material wealth and survival" [3].

### **2. Post-Communist Countries: The Exception or the Rule?**

Although from the viewpoint of the sociology of religion, the cultural contrast between European and American religiosity seems to be the most significant present fracture, we can state that the multiple modernities that exist within Europe also have some consequences for the religious landscape and social status of religious people in the Hungary [4]. Euro-secularism, which, according to Berger and workmates [5], is an essential part of European culture, characterizes post-communist countries slightly less or in a different way. One special type of modernity was communist modernity, which mainly influenced previously pre-modern countries, and the changes brought about by this centrally controlled quantitative modernization affected only superficial spheres of society, such as urbanization and industrialization, but the deep structures of society and culture remained intact. There is no doubt that before communist rule, the German and Czech areas were economically the most modern parts of Eastern and Central Europe, and now they are characterized by a strong decline of involvement in the churches, thus showing similarities to Western European societies. In contrast, countries with a traditional social structure that went through socialist modernization are now also the most religious parts of this region, and the role of religion in the construction of personal and national identity is extremely important [6,7]. This seems to support the secularization theory. There have been very large social and economic differences in Hungary, such as between habitants of the capital city, country towns and villages, and among western, eastern and south-eastern peripheral regions. However, as far as the objective and subjective dimensions of religiosity are concerned, people from developed regions, settlements and from higher strata proved to become more active than others with a lower social status [8].

The superficial socialist and pseudo-modernization era was accompanied by enforced atheism, and met mainly with passive and rarely active resistance from the churches. It is still unexplored to what extent church leaders—who worked under great political pressure—pretended cooperation or were corrupted ideologically, but societies in the region proved to be more religious in places where churches played a crucial role in the collapse of communism (e.g., Poland). It is unquestionable that the underground face of churches with vigorous lay participation in small communities, and in the "movement church" ensured the sole way of pluralization in ideological supply to the society **[**9**]**. It seems to confirm the supply-side theory **[**10**]**. Where churches yielded to the pressure of the state party, the first-generation separated their spiritual lives from political reality, but the second generation dropped out of churches. They did not become atheists, but they aspired to have advancement in education and careers, and as a result their social ties towards the local religious communities were injured or broken for a few generations. Consequently, after the alternating hard and soft periods of religious harassment, more than half of the Hungarian population can be described as religious in their own way, one sixth are engaged church members, and another one sixth are atheists. In this respect it seems to be consistent with the individualization approach [11]. However, after the fall of communism and following the adoption of a post-material value system, one part of the highly educated young generation turned towards the religious communities [12].

As we are dealing with the relationship between religiosity and educational careers, the focus of our interest is the religiosity of intellectuals, especially of teachers. According to the Euro-secular model, the most influential subculture of intellectuals seemed to be committed to the transmission of secular values also in Central and Eastern Europe, and this phenomenon remained a predominant feature in higher education in post-communist countries [13]. During the decades of communism promotions were awarded mainly on an ideological basis, and achievement was replaced by political reliability. Intellectuals and leaders mostly only took part in religious rites of passage ceremonies secretly, and drew away from regular churchgoing. After the political transformation, intellectuals with overtly alternative world views only very slowly collected enough cultural and social capital to come out from their catacomb-existence [1]. Religious and denominational affiliation counted—and for this reason still counts—as a private matter also in the whole of society [14]. As for the teaching profession, the core element of teacher training was the message that traditional communities (such as churches and also parents) turned children against the official ideology and teachers should keep a check on students not to fall under the influence of a "clerical political reaction" [1].

The confessional landscape is supposed to be an influential factor within the present religious setting in the Central Eastern European region. Secularization has been more intensive in partly Protestant countries, and the proportion of religious Protestants has declined. The most secularized culture is displayed in previous provinces of East Germany and the Czech Republic [15]. Although according to the supply-side theory, confessional pluralism stimulates religiosity, some researchers consider confessional diversity the weak point of resistance to state-facilitated secularization because in this situation the representatives of the state-party used the "divide et impera" tactics effectively [16]. It is beyond question that confessional pluralism in Central and Eastern Europe has historical roots. The fundamentally mono-confessional blocks of Europe are replaced by the broadest and most manifold multi-confessional belt here: Catholics, Protestants, Orthodoxs and Muslims live close to one another. Ethnic and confessional factors are interrelated and religiosity is stronger in those regions where confessional affiliation functioned as a central component of identity. The Hungarian case is unique because of the mixed confessional landscape and the populous Hungarian minority outside the border. Since 1920 in Romania and Ukraine there have been compact Hungarian ethnic minorities in Romania1 and in Ukraine. There is a significant gap within levels of religiosity in ethnic Hungarian communities and those in the home-country, the first group lives in a plural religious context and the latter is characterized by greater individualization. This border region is characterized by traditional multi-confessionalism, with a significant protestant presence. More than half of the Hungarian ethnic students belong to the Reformed church, so the proportion of Catholics is somewhat lower. Until recently, religion has been one of the pillars of ethnic Hungarians' national identity in reviving Orthodox context in Romania and in Ukraine. After the communists came into power, Hungarian denominational schools were nationalized also in today's Ukraine (which was the Soviet Union at that time) in 1945, and then simultaneously in Hungary and in Romania in 1948. At the time of the political transformation, the peripheral border areas in the region had an insufficient network of education, and they wanted to fill the gap by opening denominational schools. While in Hungary several denominational schools were opened or re-established, in Romania and in Ukraine there was no legal way for the churches to run schools and receive funding because the dominant Orthodox Church preferred not to run general education schools. Other denominations were not allowed to engage in activities that were incompatible with Orthodox tradition. As a consequence, denominational schools are run by foundations there.

### **3. Youth Religiosity**

In the special tripartite structure of the religiosity of Hungarian society, ecclesiastical religiosity (people who practice their religion within a church) and non-religiosity are two smaller groups of about the same size, whereas the majority—almost every second person—claim to be religious in their own way [17], which is also known as patchwork religiosity. Essentially the same classification applies to young people as well. Tomka observed that basic indicators of social status are very strongly but negatively interrelated with religiosity, but in recent years the tendency seems to have weakened with respect to the frequency of churchgoing. For example, the most highly qualified people (with university degrees) follow the path of the least qualified people. Among young people, highly qualified parents are already overrepresented on both ends of the scale, and practicing young church members come from not only more educated but also economically higher-status

<sup>1</sup> In Romania the number of Hungarians is 1.5 million living in two compact areas and in diaspora. Apart from the border area, the other compact Hungarian area is in the middle of Rumania in the very Eastern corner of the Carpathian basin. In Ukraine the Hungarian population of 150 thousand lives in a compact community along the border and also in diaspora.

backgrounds, especially in big cities [18]. Young people increasingly practice their religion in small communities, which often surpasses or even replaces their practice in the large community. All research done among young people unanimously contends that religion-based voluntary membership is by far the most popular organized activity among young people, even more popular than sport activities [19]. There are considerable differences between the ethnic Hungarian and home-country youths' religiosity, as more of those in the minority are practicing religiosity.

### **4. Data and Methods**

This paper is intended to summarise a 15-year study of educational functions of denominational schools and religious communities students in post-communist Hungary. We used multiple data sources in our study. First, we used the European Value Survey (EVS) and the World Value Survey (WVS), which are longitudinal, cross-national survey programs. They were designed to investigate moral, religious, political, and social values. Their questionnaire, details about sampling, data collection and databases are available online. We used comparative data from both survey programs, and analysed databases of 4th wave of the European Values Study from 2008. This survey was conducted in 47 countries, and the Hungarian data file contains 1513 cases.

Second, we used data from the serial Hungarian Educational Public-opinion Research organised by Hungarian Institute for Educational Research and Development. Present analysis is based on the databases from 1999 (N = 1010), 2002 (N = 1000) and 2005 (N = 1278). We compared parental educational value preferences from the different school sectors.

Third, we identified data on denominational schools' students (Family and School Socialization among Pupils at Denominational Schools'1999, N = 1464) as well as on students from different sectors (paralells 2006, N = 1446). The 1999 research was extended to Hungary as a nationwide survey, investigating representative samples of school-leavers in denominational schools. We made a multistep stratified cluster sampling (according to denominations, regions, and the special position and the size of the places of residence). The students filled in the questionnaires by themselves with the help of the inquirer's instructions. In 2006 our study is based on data gathered in the border regions of three Central Eastern European countries, namely Hungary, Romania and Ukraine. As our aim was to detect the sector effect, the most appropriate method seemed to be to observe, just like in experiments, two students groups of approximately similar social backgrounds in different sectors. As we intended to examine the school careers of Hungarian students within and outside Hungary in denominational and non-denominational secondary schools, we picked the schools sampled by pairing each denominational school with a non-denominational one of similar status regarding their location and the students' social position. Thus, the list of sample schools consisted of pairs of schools chosen in the way described above. The students included in the survey picked from the 11th and 12th grades.

Fourth, we used data from a longitudinal survey program conducted by Center for Higher Education Research and Development among Hungarian-speaking higher education students in seven institutions of the above-mentioned border region, which is situated on the eastern edge of the European Higher Education Area. In 2003 freshman (Regional University I. N = 1500), in 2005 finals (Regional University II. N = 952), in 2008 undergraduate (The Impact of Tertiary Education on Regional Development I. N = 1211) and in 2010 graduate students (The Impact of Tertiary Education on Regional Development II. N = 600) were surveyed. We used cluster sampling in which students were picked at all facilities based on student number and seminar groups were selected at random.

We have already validated our survey results with several methods, from various points of view and with various methodologies. We also compared the results obtained during the application of contextual and multilevel analysis techniques in our investigations to our earlier multivariable analyses [20,21].

### **5. Religiosity and Educational Values**

After the political transformation, one of the most important challenges of restructuring the educational system was to offer the possibility to different cultural groups to pass their own spirituality on through their children's education in a school system affected by the domination of the totalitarian ideology. This was a common task for the whole of Central and Eastern Europe in the post-communist era. Although the previous decades had been characterized by state-supported secularism, after the political transformation, countries of the region were able to find different solutions in the educational field according to their confessional composition, history of religious culture, and educational traditions of churches. In Hungary, teachers' and politicians' views on the role of schools as conveyers of values were most powerfully shaped by the pluralism of values appearing in society and schools on the one hand, and by a liberal attitude to education as a reflexive response to pedagogy of communist period on the other. According to the liberal view, children have a high degree of autonomy in value choices and influences coming from actors traditionally involved in their upbringing (parents and teachers) should be limited in this respect.

According to the Aufbruch (2007) survey, it was a widespread view in post-communist societies that bringing up children is among those activities that are most strongly influenced by religiosity. Half of the respondents in the region thought religious people brought up their children better than non-religious people [22]. Yet the question whether religiosity makes education more effective seemed to divide religious and non-religious respondents. All this suggests that various social groups have sharply different principles on upbringing. International comparative value research shows that Hungary falls in the middle of the scale also with respect to the importance generally attributed to religious upbringing. It is considered more important in Poland, Romania and Slovakia; it is considered less important in the Czech Republic, Estonia and Germany. Between one fifth and one fourth of the population, predominantly but not exclusively those who practice their religion either individually or in a community, place the transmission of religion among the five most important goals of bringing up children in a family. The past two decades has seen the rise of a hard core that gives outstanding importance to religious education in schools. The issue was repeatedly examined in the Hungarian Educational Surveys on education. In 1999 24%, in 2002 18%, and in 2005 40% considered religious education in schools very important, and a further 30–40% considered it somewhat important.

Surveys rarely ask respondents to name components of religious upbringing, but much of it is revealed by the educational values religious people find important. Since the 1990s the difference between religious and non-religious peoples' orders of educational values appears to be unchanged2 . Both groups put good manners in the first place, but after that, religious people give more importance to hard work and respect for others, whereas non-religious people give priority to independence. The dominant axis of educational values seems to be the individuality *vs.* community scale, on which religious people are closer to the community pole, while for non-religious people the value of individual freedom overwrites solidarity with the community. The differences on the autonomy *vs.* outer control axis reveal that in the religious system of education, children are less emancipated and are looked upon as creatures needing protection and supervision in the charge of adults, whereas non-religious ideologies tend to accept children's moral autonomy and limited responsibility of adults.

The right of decision on upbringing is an index of ideological character. In the socialist era representatives of institutional education regarded parents as ideologically unreliable, but since the 1990s, parents' right to choose schools has been generally accepted. However, school users are divided as regards children's ability and right to decide. People attached to denominational schools give priority to schools' and parents' responsibility and right of choice. As for the relationship of the two, in accordance with the "in loco parentis" principle, schools can be looked upon as the "extended arms" of families responsible for the upbringing of their children. This idea is essentially different from the principles preferred by public schools, namely children's moral autonomy and their consequent autonomy in the choice of values and the restricted ideological influence of parents and teachers, the traditionally dominant actors of a child's upbringing.

At the same time, however, one has to keep in mind that there is no longer such a unified view on the upbringing of children among practicing religious people as previously, as there are remarkable differences—corresponding to the transforming religiosity of the particular groups—according to the level of schooling [23,24]. The most highly qualified religious people place a sense of responsibility in the first place and respect for others comes third, but good manners, hard work and obedience appears only later (Table 1). This reveals the trend that, while community values retain their priority, the importance of individual autonomy is on the increase in religious groups' educational value systems. The changes in educational values within religious groups might be related to the different types of religiosity among people of different social status. Of more importance, however, is that highly educated religious people's educational values do not become similar to the highly educated non-religious, and the differences become more distinct over time.

<sup>2</sup> The order of values were basically similar in the 2008 EVS data and the 1990s' WVS data. The question was about what qualities respondents considered important in child rearing at home.


**Table 1.** The five most important educational values among Hungarian respondents of various school levels (2008, N = 1513).

Source: European Value Survey, Hungarian sub-sample

### **6. Research after Rebuilding Denominational Schools**

Hungarian denominational schools are government-financed private schools maintained by a unit of churches and guided (in the spiritual sense) by a church or denomination. Most of our surveys focused on students of denominational schools, since our question was whether and how denominational schools can help overcome educational disadvantage among religious people. However, church adherents have been less qualified, have lived in the villages, and have worked in jobs of lower esteem. Because of their high university acceptance rate in Hungary it was widely believed that denominational schools are elite schools mostly attended by non-religious students of favorable social backgrounds. We found that denominational schools accept a mixture of students from various social and religious backgrounds. Many denominational schools are located in disadvantaged peripheral regions, and almost three-quarters of students in denominational schools come from villages or small towns. Apart from the capital city, where the neglected children of non-religious well-educated parents were in the majority, denominational schools students had an average and lower social status, similar to public secondary school pupils. However, we noted some differences in their social status in that there are fewer intellectuals in leading posts among pupils' parents in denominational schools. In spite of their higher qualifications, these parents do not work in jobs of the highest prestige but rather as subordinate intellectuals, which indicates that the effects of religious people's negative discrimination, typical in former times, were still detectable. There are a larger number of entrepreneurs and fewer unemployed workers among the parents. The reason why these people were driven to set up their own businesses was to avoid unemployment. The number of children per family was well above Hungarian average, and thus the per capita income was lower [1]. As for religious climate in their families, we separated mainly religious families and families who do not practice their religion. The first type is characterized by traditional, multigenerational and church-adhering religiosity, but a more modern type of micro-community worship is also significant. It is clear that the children's socialization is made more effective by the long-lasting unity of the value systems of families and friends. Almost half of all students live in a family characterized by low-level institutional adherence and group membership, but the majority demonstrate some signs of religiosity.

Our research focused on the composition of school users, their expectations, and the fulfillment of those expectations [1]. We came to the conclusion that students have chosen a denominational school either in hope of direct religious upbringing and moral development or putting their trust in the school's careful and safe atmosphere, assumed because of its religious nature. Thus the main line of expectations is connected with either religiosity or some of its consequential dimensions. Besides this, however, we detected a further function that had been previously ignored, namely reducing inequalities of opportunity among students of culturally disadvantaged backgrounds. Schools achieved that with the help of the social resources of school communities that are based on the safety of norms [1]. According to our results, students' educational careers were influenced—to a much greater extent than by all other explanatory variables—by the strong and organic relationship network within the community of school users. This includes a sense of belonging on the part of parents and children who followed similar norms and formed a community, and, most of all, by the school density of student groups with a circle of friends practicing religion [1,25,]. The same explanatory variables influenced denominational students to refrain from drugs and accept members of different ethnic groups [26]. This influence proved to be even stronger than that of cultural capital on school context. Students having a close circle of religious friends—a phenomenon typical of denominational schools in particular—provide such social capital in the school community that also inspires those who lack this resource themselves.

Whereas the hypothesis on denominational schools as functional communities producing social capital has been a matter of discussion since the 1980s in American research. In Europe it received attention after the turn of the millennium when a Program for International Student Assessment proved that denominational schools had better results than public schools in 14 of the 17 countries [27,28]. When Corten and Dronkers [29] tested the theory of social capital, he grounded his hypothesis on Coleman *et al.*'s concept [30] of a functional school based on shared values. In the original interpretation, the value system of a functional community consists of a coherent unity with a unified system of preferred values, such as: man's life in this and in the other world; man's mission in the world; the individual's dignity irrespective of abilities or social background; paying attention to the teacher and making a decent use of one's talents. These values support one another, forming an efficient and functional system for the community. Coleman emphasizes the cohesive nature of the network (closure) and that there is a general consensus on values in the school community, so he focuses on form and content alike. The existence of an intergenerational closure around the school is often not a measured, but a so-called assumed, variable in surveys concerning denominational students. Dronkers, who insisted on Coleman's formal criteria, found that European data did not support the fact that the functional school community came into being due to parents' frequent personal interaction within the same religious community.

We think that as long as the majority of those belonging to a denominational school community are involved in communal religious practice, we might assume a value consensus among the church adherents and among the members of small groups even without everybody knowing everybody else. Approaching the concept of the functional community from the content element of the structure of relationships, we concluded that the unity of norms and behavioral patterns is an important element of a consistent value system. A functional community is characterized by harmony between everyday actions and religious norms within the school community. We found that the effectiveness of a denominational school can be explained by the density of religious students who function as a bridge between the school community and the religious community, thereby supplying their fellow students with important and seemingly novel (under modern school circumstances) information such as discipline, respect for the teacher's dignity and conscientious work [31]. In other words, the better achievement of denominational schools may be due to the fact that students do not only mobilize their internal achievement-stimulating norms to their own purposes, but they also make them available to the rest of the school community. The question is what proportion needs to spread new information in the community so that the spillover effect of stimulating norms can reach the other students.

### **7. An Attempt at Intersectoral Comparison**

The next phase of research consisted of searching for answers to several further questions. Our first survey had been conducted only in denominational schools, and for intersectoral comparison we used identical or similar variables available in various national databases. However, those data were collected with different methodologies and often with different variables, so it was necessary to obtain data with the specific aim of intersectoral comparison. Since a populous Hungarian minority lives outside the border, by studying within different school systems it became possible for us to make international and intersectoral comparisons at the same time: to check whether a school community's communal resources with roots in religiosity function similarly in the education systems of three different states. Above all, we wanted to find out, whether there were any differences between the student populations which are seemingly similar in status in the two sectors. As regards students' religious backgrounds, there are considerable differences between the sectors of the school systems. Although all three types of religiosity are present among denominational school students' parents, more than double are practicing compared to public schools. However, it is our conviction that, when researching school processes, it is not sufficient to examine only the characteristics of individuals and families, since pupils connected via an organizational framework will obtain new and common characteristics. In this respect, we treated the religious practice of pupils as a characteristic of school communities. One fourth of the pupils attend schools where adherents of religion are in the minority, and almost one third of the sample attend schools where three fourths of the pupils are believers by personal conviction. Therefore, we could see that while pupils in non-denominational schools can study in very heterogeneous environments in this respect, the denominational school students are present in a predominantly religious environment. In connection with building friendships, the school itself provides the greatest source. Whilst in non-denominational schools, students make friends at places of amusement and during hobby activities, in denominational schools, it is the religious communities and the dormitory that prove to be the most determining source for making friends.

We have also concluded that even in the case of a student population having approximately similar socio-economic status indicators, there is a significant intersectoral difference, which is due to the distribution of the students among the schools. Non-denominational schools turned out to be socially closed and segmented, compared to their denominational counterparts. Non-denominational students go to schools which can be classified socially into five different groups according to the social composition of the schools. On one end of the scale, we find schools where the rate of parents with degrees is only 10%, whereas on the other end this rate is over 60%. There are no such social cases in denominational schools. It confirms the thesis that if a school is organized on a religious basis, identification with the religious community overwrites the vertical structure of social status in recruiting students [32].

Besides this, we mainly focused on exploring the nature and effects of special contexts in schools. Using the various dimensions of achievement we created a summarizing index of achievement that included aspects such as taking on extra academic work (taking language exams, participating in competitions), planning one's future academic career (higher education) and a subjective element, namely the importance attached to academic activities. The aim of the dominant part of our study was to find what elements of the school context are able to moderate the reproductive effects of the school. According to our findings, school context strongly influences school performance. The individual-level influence of parental social status can be reduced by school context rates of parental education mostly in the denominational sector where the school system was less divided into social castes. The second source is students' personal religious practice enabling them to work persistently and ambitiously, act purposefully with strong self-control and respect the work of others (teachers and classmates). The third source is students' relationship networks developing predominantly along religious communities and appearing as an indirect consequence of religiosity in that cooperating students in the relationship network support one another's purposeful and disciplined academic work [33]. The school density of those linked to religious networks modifies the individual and context-level determinisms of social status, albeit in a very discrepant manner. Whilst in the non-denominational sector it has barely any effect, in the denominational sector it becomes the dominant compensating factor. It is likely that the members of religion-based networks need to be present in the school context in considerable density to be able to influence their peers coming from disadvantaged backgrounds for cooperation with the school and teachers, academic performance, and balanced work [34].

### **8. Norms Related to Studying in Denominational Schools**

Here we summarize our findings not only about attitudes to academic achievement, but also to academic work itself. This is of utmost importance in our region according to the fundamental hypothesis that the high achievement of denominational schools might be due to the fact that the community of students generally accept norms related to the importance of studying and sense of duty, and these values are also supported by a transcendent set of arguments [35-37]. The same argument is present in the pedagogical documents of the surveyed schools, but it will produce real effects only if it appears in the personal opinions of the widest possible circle of students. In order to detect possible intersectoral differences, we asked students about the importance of various activities related to studying. The examined variables were school attendance, studying, receiving good marks, prospects of higher education and paying attention in class. To get a feel of the context, we also wanted to know how important students thought those activities were to their friends, classmates and student hostel roommates. Having looked at the entire sample, we found that secondary-school students gave the highest priority to continuing to higher education and the lowest to paying attention in class. It was noteworthy that students, irrespective of sector, tended to group themselves more than their peers among those to whom school-related activities were very important. That is to say, their intended and realized attitudes to studying showed some discrepancy, as the majority seemed to be less devoted from the outside than they themselves claimed to be. That is why it became necessary to examine the peer environment. Our data enabled us not to base our analysis on self-evaluating individual-level answers, but on attitudes appearing on the context level.

In regards to attitudes attributed to friends, about one fifth of the students were helped by a uniformly supportive environment, and when evaluating their friends' attitudes to school activities, students came up with a wider range of attitudes than during the expression of their own opinions. On the whole, every tenth student attended a class where studying was important for everybody, whereas in the classes of at least every fourth student those who really wanted to study and get good marks were in the minority. We were surprised to find that half of the students spent their days in classes where the prevailing norm was not paying attention during lessons. It is only enough to imagine this learning environment in order to make sure it hinders students' achievement not only through its contextual influence but also in its physical reality. In contrast, classes in denominational schools were much more unanimous that it was important to pay attention in class and they were somewhat more homogeneous in their opinions on the importance of school attendance. These were the two variables that typically produced intersectoral differences. Instrumental and credentialist elements of school activities, such as getting good marks, going on to higher education and preparation for classes were regarded as indispensable also in the non-denominational sector, but school attendance and paying attention to the teacher in class was of utmost importance to students in the denominational sector. The reason why school attendance stands out from the other activities may be due to the great appreciation of involvement in the school community, which, as research shows, is one of the most frequent motives for choosing a denominational secondary school. It is an interesting question why denominational students give more importance to paying attention in class. Possible motives might be a kind of utilitarianism—to reduce home preparation time—or rather the acknowledgement and appreciation of, and tolerance towards, discipline in class and the teacher's work. We suppose the former is the result of home-acquired behavioral patterns, which correspond with the inner logic of the school system, whereas the latter may be a consequence of religiosity.

Our hypotheses about students coming from families with high cultural capital were not borne out, as they did not consider either school attendance or paying attention more important than average. On the contrary, it was exactly students whose fathers did not have a degree that seemed to take paying attention in class somewhat more seriously. Among pupils with high cultural capital, going on to higher education, getting good marks and studying was slightly but not remarkably more important than average. What we found significant was that there was a particularly strong correlation between religiosity on the one hand and school attendance and paying attention on the other. Religious students' attitudes to school activities were definitely better in all respects, regardless of whether they practiced individually or in a community (Figure 1). All this suggests that the high density of students with religious practice in the school context may shift the prevailing studying-related norms of the school community in a favorable direction. That is to say, we have discovered a marked distinguishing feature of the learning environment of denominational schools [38].

**Figure 1.** Proportion of those who consider studying-related activities important within their circle of friends.

Source: Paralells'2006, N = 1446

### **9. Religious Interpretive Communities in Higher Education**

We consider attitudes towards academic work to be a very important predictor of adult job attitudes and occupational status. Our research team has been conducting surveys for a decade among higher education students in the above mentioned border region. The focus of our research has been how religious students or students coming from denominational secondary schools are socialized and how well they achieve higher education. In this area one fifth of undergrad students and one fourth of master students belong to a religious small community (in 2008 and 2010).

During the communist decades not only were previous social identities discredited, but also moral consciousness and social cohesion. Dual morality was widespread in socialist countries: several generations grew up believing that "socialist ethics" and practical ethics were separable. After the transition to democracy, the system of norms was further challenged by the performance pressure post-socialist societies had to face both on individual and social levels in the process of joining the developed world [39]. The perception of the young generation, that fortune of the new economic and political elites was based not always on honest work, caused uncertainty in norms, anomie. This attitude seems to be all the more important in the status attainment process, because not only the politicians but the employers increasingly count on the development of dedicated attitudes to work, ethical awareness and self-improvement as the most important outputs of higher education [40,41]. The results of all of our surveys clearly showed that former denominational schools' students and members of religious communities had very favorable attitudes towards work [37,42-43]. Whereas our earlier results showed significant differences in future career plans, our recent findings also contained considerable differences in the moral awareness of students' work between students with religion-based and other relationship networks.

Higher education, which is generally characterized by a relatively open goal-system, loose control-mechanisms and high fragmentation, serves as the first opportunity for students to work and organize their activities independently. According to our findings, fair academic behavior of students (for example reading obligatory and recommended literature, not buying their thesis, not using crib-sheet, not learning for money, attending all lessons, no plagiarism, working for diploma, learning hard) differ regarding the religious education and community experiences (Figure 2). We can state that it is a consequent trend that also formal, informal and non-formal types of religious education can prove standard norms and a high level of moral awareness.

**Figure 2.** Level of moral awareness of undergrad students according to religious environment.

Source: The Impact of Tertiary Education on Regional Development I. N = 1211

During the social and economic restructuring, mass redundancy, a high level of unemployment and job insecurity became frequent phenomena in Central and Eastern Europe. Therefore, young generations are threatened by meaninglessness and they have to adapt to living with unemployment. The ways of how students enter and get along in the world of work reveal different attitudes. As for the positive attitudes towards socially useful work, there is more empirical evidence among students who take part in any kind of religious education. Interregional research has shown that they are determined to get a job and they can be outstandingly characterized by an altruist attitude towards work. They have a coherent image of work, in which the central elements are responsibility, helping others, social usefulness, dealing with people and team work. Students from other school sectors, however, consider advancement in career, prospects for promotion, and high salary important [37].

The process and main agents of student socialization seem to have changed, as the role- concept and the interpretation of norms and views about desirable learning outcomes are not clear-cut and purposefully transmitted. They depend on the meanings constructed in students' context. Since it is more effective than any curriculum or pedagogical method in higher education, the interpretive communities and the diffusions of different reality constructions within the student society at the individual campuses is worth highlighting. Religion-based interpretive communities have proven to be among the most influential agents in transmitting higher educational values. Perhaps the values and norms dominant in religious interpretative communities assists in reducing the social disadvantage of religious people, and this is not only for their own benefit, but also for larger communities.

### **10. Conclusions**

This article has given a comprehensive review of our research on the correlation between religiosity and school careers. We maintain that modernization took place in Central and Eastern Europe differently than in Western Europe. The so-called pseudo-modernization that the majority of the region underwent did not affect the deep structure of society. People did not cut ties with religious institutions due to their own spontaneous individual decisions. Under political pressure, the process took place only on the surface. As a result, however, the past decades have seen the appearance of a large social and demographic gap between religious and non-religious people. Looking at young people's religiosity 20 years after the political transformation one can see that religious practice, both personal and in communities, especially small ones, is more frequent among children of higher-status parents or young people studying at higher levels than among lower-status youths. In recent years we have demonstrated, in several analyses, the academic achievement advantage of those involved in religion-based relationship networks. In this study we have summarized our findings that belonging to a religious community constitutes a clear separation between educational values and attitudes to academic work both in schools and higher education, which foreshadows the probable future attitude to work. We have attempted to approach the problem of how—with what mediation—religion contributes to a successful school career, which is one of the key issues of the sociology of religion. The above results are very important and unique in the surveyed region, and call for further analysis and research. They shed light upon the fact that the correlation between academic career, social advancement, high status, and religiosity do not necessarily follow the Western European secular model. High status is not always accompanied by decreasing religiosity and individualism that seeks one's own accomplishment. Instead, there is another model in which dedication to community interests and high academic achievement can support social advancement, and be influenced by the interpretation of norms by a religious community based on cohesive relationships.

### **References**


**Section III. Conceptual and Review Papers** 

### **Diffused Religion and Prayer**

### **Roberto Cipriani**

**Abstract:** It is quite likely that the origins of prayer are to be found in ancient mourning and bereavement rites. Primeval ritual prayer was codified and handed down socially to become a deep-rooted feature of people's cultural behavior, so much so, that it may surface again several years later, in the face of death, danger, need, even in the case of relapse from faith and religious practice. Modes of prayer depend on religious experience, on relations between personal prayer and political action, between prayer and forgiveness, and between prayer and approaches to religions. Various forms of prayer exist, from the covert-hidden to the overt-manifest kind. How can they be investigated? How can one, for instance, explore mental prayer? These issues regard the canon of diffused religion and, therefore, of diffused prayer.

Reprinted from *Religions*. Cite as: Roberto Cipriani. Diffused Religion and Prayer. *Religions* **2011**, *2*, 198–215.

### **The Idea of Diffused Religion**

"Diffused religion" is a concept that requires clarification [1]. In this article the term "diffused" refers particularly and not only to Italy and is approached in at least two ways. First of all, religion is "diffused" in that it involves vast sectors of the Italian population and goes beyond the simple limits of ecclesiastical religion; sometimes it is even in evident contrast with church religion and religious motivation (see, for example, the keen debate about the referenda on divorce and abortion generated within Italian Catholicism). Secondly, it is widespread because it is the historical and cultural result of the almost bi-millennial presence of the Catholic institution in Italy and the outcome of its socializing and legitimizing action over time. The premises of present-day "diffused religion" in Italy were laid down many centuries ago and have evolved and changed down through the ages. As we have just said, "diffused religion" concerns broad strata of the Italian population. Numerous studies carried out over time appear to confirm this state of affairs. However, what strikes one most is the strength of the geographical and historical roots of Italy's most commonly practiced religion. It is the very strength of tradition, of practice, of family and community involvement which makes membership of the prevalent religion compelling, almost inevitable. Where socialization within the family fails to arrive, pastoral activity and evangelization, carried out in a capillary fashion by priests and lay parish workers, do.

The true significance and impact of "diffused religion" can be understood simply by observing its peculiarities. In a broader sense, its presence is clearly visible even in domains less obvious than the church, although its visibility may be somewhat intermittent at times. Some of the values widely shared by Italian society may be seen as manifestations of disagreement with canonical Catholic thinking. Because Italian society shows a peculiar tendency towards civil freedom and ethical pluralism, in terms of attitudes and behavior, Italians often appear to disagree with the official teachings of the Roman Catholic Church. Although the Catholic perspective is dominant in many areas, Italian society often opts for a different set of values, though not fundamentally in contrast with Catholic social doctrine. Italian society is like a separate sphere which promotes models of freedom and open discussion, not always in line with the official position of the Catholic Church. This leads to the creation of a public sphere, where religion is not the sole reference point, where other perspectives are brought into play, generating a defense mechanism against the influence of the Catholic Church and its capacity for religious socialization. In reality, diffused religion is spread both "in" (through) many channels of socialization and education (mainly schools and universities) and "by" (thanks to) specific structures and actions which represent and promote particular values. Furthermore, religion is also diffused "for" (in favor of) other religious groups and movements, given that—beyond the intentions of the so-called "church religion"—we may witness the spread of other creeds (easy proselytism by Christian organizations other than the Roman Catholic Church, like the "Jehovah's Witnesses", or by "sects" of eastern origin, *etc*.); it may also impact favorably on ethical and/or political involvement. In brief, it is also possible to consider "diffused" religion as acceptance of other religions at individual or group level, also because it represents a parameter capable of underscoring and evaluating and measuring moral and/or political choices within society.

### **The Role of Diffused Religion and Prayer**

Diffused religion, seen, generally speaking, as a set of values, practices, beliefs, symbols, attitudes and modes of behavior which do not conform to official church-religion models, is typical, if not entirely, at least in large part, of substantial sectors of civil society. Diffused religion does not coincide perfectly with the whole of civil society although it certainly regards a statistically relevant part of it. In other words, it embraces large sectors of society and is representative of many of society's commonly-shared attitudes towards the Church (or churches). We can say, therefore, that civil society does not overlap diffused religion completely, seeing that it includes not only church-religion, but atheism, indifference and agnosticism as well. Nevertheless, diffused religion seems to underscore quite a number of essential issues, which achieve significance thanks to their influence on society on the whole. However, a distinction between diffused and civil religion is mandatory. It is not a question of adopting the idea Rousseau (1712-1778) expressed in his *Social Contract* (chap. VIII, book IV) or the more recent concepts advanced of Bellah [2]. Neither fit the Italian case. Rousseau's idea was developed in the eighteenth century, and was characterized by strong pedagogical-philosophical connotations.

Bellah's concept, although contemporary and sociological, regarded the United States, which is a nation with religious notions quite alien to those of Italians (concepts like those of "chosen people" or the centrality of Holy Scripture, for instance, are foreign to the Italian mentality). Above all, the idea that religion as such may be replaced by society would not be legitimized in Italy: religion is one thing, society quite another, at least as far as sociological analysis is concerned. Another difference between diffused religion and civil religion belongs to the domain of mass psychology. The religious element is often capable of producing unity and harmony among individuals or groups otherwise at loggerheads with each other. Thus, religious identity can at times compensate partially for lack of national identity. Seen from this point of view, civil religion is believed to have contributed significantly towards the birth and development of the United States of America. In Italy, to the contrary, religious fervor impeded and delayed the achievement of territorial unity. At most, one may speak of a diffused type of religion within civil society, and even of a civil religion (to be redefined each time) within secular society.

On the other hand, the role of diffused religion is primarily that of providing a self-defense mechanism for non-conformist believers, for those believers who are not attuned to the doctrine and directives of the ecclesiastical hierarchy. One undesired effect of forms of diffused religion not particularly bent on ignoring or contesting official dogma which must be taken into consideration is a certain tendency to favor individualized thought and action, with the result that active participation in movements in favor of civil and political social betterment is slackened. If one presumes that the civil and political aspects of society are closely connected and mutually functional, one must say the same of diffused religion, which is capable of legitimating, though indirectly, the religious structures underscoring its own milieu. In conclusion, it is an 'inextricable intricacy': diffused religion supports the Church anyway, and both, together, support the civil society of which they constitute a significant part. Furthermore, the virtuous behavior of individuals can provide the *status quo* with considerable support, as compliance with existing norms by single citizens helps reinforce it significantly.

With the emergence of religious sociology or, more appropriately, of the sociology of religion, as an autonomous and non-confessional science, the problem of devising adequate indicators of religious phenomena and of individual and collective experience also emerged. At first, it was assumed that weekly attendance at religious services might be considered a reliable marker, as this practice could be regarded as a real and visible measure of attitude. Therefore, in questionnaires, the questions administered were mostly aimed at ascertaining the number of times interviewees attended the official rituals organized by the religion to which they belonged. Later, however, doubts emerged regarding the reliability of similar data, which were based more on the extemporary statements of the interviewees than on real, empirically verifiable practice. Above all, it was discovered that attendance at mass or any other form of worship might often depend on motivations not necessarily or strictly connected with religious conviction: this led to further heuristic interpretations, aimed at ascertaining the intensity of a creed and its related practice. The first qualitative research projects then began to allow interviewees to express themselves more openly, granting them greater freedom when organizing their discourse, providing accounts of their experiences and definitions of their religious feelings. New realities then emerged and other, more evident data resulted which permitted further interpretations to arise within the panorama of the sociology of religion.

More than the observance of feast days, what emerged was the impact of belief on everyday life, the importance of ordinary religious experiences, regardless of liturgical celebration and without the presence of officiants legitimated by other religious institutions. These experiences had a clear bearing on people's own values, to their choices, on their personal beliefs, on personal kinds of religiosity as against hierarchical expressions of religiosity typical of church religion, without creating any real fracture with them. Meanwhile, the development and affirmation of new, so-called "non-standard" or non-quantitative methodologies led to the discovery of numerous life histories, of attitudes and behavior styles which were not easy to access previously, when numerical dimension, percentages, statistical correlations were practically the only means used. Thanks also to the development of computer programs dedicated to qualitative analysis, it is possible to examine social-religious phenomenology in greater depth, and to reveal personal life-paths, not always in compliance with classical, traditional parameters (that is, with Durkheimian and/or Weberian, conceptual categories) and whose independence from institutional religion may be seen as ushering in future developments. One must add that the importance of prayer of a mainly individual-connotation type had been pointed out by quantitative research too. The empirical information to this regard was clear: there are many more people who pray than those who go to church.

Currently it seems that although the rate of attendance at regular religious worship is decreasing, recourse to direct dialogue with the divinity (whether as a form of personal invocation or one based on formulae learnt during religious socialization, or a simple conversation with the supernatural interlocutor practically considered a peer) appears to remain stable. Each of the different modalities of interaction between human beings and the supreme being, whom people may call god, does not appear as the result of impromptu spontaneity, but rather as the historical consequence of a long-term radicalization process of practices and experiences, which in some cases are thousands of years old. The various, more or less formalized, religious organizations, operating down through the ages, have created the premise for a long and solid permanence of behavioral patterns which cannot be easily eradicated or marginalized. Prayer is an aspect of these patterns, the outcome of lasting and efficient action, which has led several, successive generations of social actors to avail of it in certain more or less predictable circumstances, which continue to appear fundamentally the same, despite the passage of time. It is by no mere fluke, therefore, that today there is a return, among Catholics, to the gestures one sees in the drawings and graffiti found in the catacombs, where those who pray are depicted with raised open arms, the same posture assumed again today by the congregation when reciting the *Lord's Prayer* during mass.

It is not difficult to imagine that many of the conventions concerning prayer have been handed down from century to century essentially as an underpinning of mnemonic recollection of sacred texts, of the most commonly used formulae, of continuously repeated ejaculations, of the rhymed, rhythmic formularies which act as a formidable aid to memorization and recall. Furthermore, the existence of stock formulae, which are also provided with the ecclesiastical *imprimatur*, or at least officially recognized by the hierarchy, constitutes a significant anchor for those individuals who are not overly familiar with personalized religious solutions, and are therefore inclined to take refuge in what has been transmitted orally or in small, pocket-size texts, easily to access and use. One should not forget that the basic catechism regarding rites of passage and access to the sacraments is taught mainly through reference to prayers, ritual formulae, the recitation of verses and brief sentences. It is no coincidence that the so-called "Pius X catechism" is a list of simple, concise questions and answers, easy to learn by heart and required to pass the exams foreseen for admission to the sacraments. This is why this portion and potion of diffused religion stands the test of time and resists almost everything, the weakening of belief and practice as well as the almost complete estrangement from the religious links of one's early social life.

Besides the church as an institution, the family also contributes significantly to the instruction of the new generations, both as far as exemplary conduct, and the theory and ideology underscoring their fundamental religious beliefs, are concerned. The religious scenario of the family is generally not foreign to the framework of norms that accompanies and orientates adolescents and young people during their development and maturity. Finally, other institutions contribute in a similar manner, proposing pathways, systems, solutions, to be resorted to again in the future. Thus, prayer itself, although not always consolidated as a "habit of the heart" in Bellah's terms [3], surfaces once more even when other religious habits have been forsaken.

### **The Historical Roots of Prayer**

The origins of prayer are still the object of study, mainly by historians, anthropologists and sociologists. Stemming, most probably, from the quest for a super-natural interlocutor, a variety of factors converge to produce the act we call prayer. Of considerable significance to this regard is the thesis of Ernesto de Martino, who wrote that: "in primitive civilizations and in the ancient world, a noteworthy part of man's technical endeavor aimed not so much at technical dominion over nature (where after all technology found only limited application), but at the creation of institutional forms capable of protecting his presence from the risk of absence from the world. Nowadays the need for this technical protection, constitutes the origin of religious life as a mythical-ritual order" [4]. The risks run by human beings in the ancient world were all pretty well defined: wild animals, unknown territories, lack of water and food, atmospheric phenomena, death of livestock, diseases.

Currently we are better equipped against such dangers, but the risk of one's own death or of that of a member of the family still persists. The threat is common to all generations and populations. There is, therefore, a diachronic line crossing the millennia, which, in the ancient world produced expressions like funeral mourning [5]. Furthermore de Martino adds [6], the sacred may be seen as a "mythical-ritual technique capable of protecting presence against the risk of absence from history". Ancient sacred funeral lamentation ritual converges with prayer: it may be expressed individually or as a collective act; it may be initiated and conducted by one or more alternating prayer-leaders; it may be accompanied by ritual gestures; it may follow a particular procedural order; it may contain responsorial forms; it may involve choral participation; it may avail of refrain; it may also contemplate free development or alternating recitation between groups of people; its character can be at once narrative, evaluative and interpretative; it may often lead to dramatic ritual gestures of resolution such as the tearing of clothes or self-inflicted bodily harm (a sort of final *amen* meaning "resting on", *i.e.*, "to have faith", in short, acceptance of the fact that things are as they should be, that belief is ill-suited to demonstrations of despair or infliction of self-punishment, unless as an expression of resignation, of surrender to a superior will, of implicit and joint recognition of the inanity of human action in the face of divine power: "this is so, because this is the way You want it to be").

The theme of death remains that most capable of creating parity between funeral lament and prayer. It provides a more or less conscious answer to some lacerating questions: why is life interrupted? Who is the real master of life? Why does the end of existence strike some, and not others? How can this lethal risk be faced? Or, how can the risk be made, after Luhmann [7], more tolerable through religious mediation? And after all, are not lamentations and prayers for the dead both inspired by the need to compensate the imbalance created in the social body by the death of one of its members? Lament and prayer are elaborations of the mourning process, or of the intention to attribute meaning to death and life alike. Rather than suicide, to which the survivors might wish to resort, an alternative is available in ritual (whether crying or praying). Thus, "undoubtedly, rites capable of resolving the suicidal impulse through equivalent attenuated and symbolic acts, must be intended as dramatic measures, to be taken each time in the concrete event of single laments […] On the other hand, the mimicry of the ritualized *planctus* appears in the ancient lament as oriented towards a progressive symbolic diminution of the current crisis, in the place of real suicide: passing from the incision of the flesh—in an established measure—to some less demanding forms of allusive annihilation, such as hitting oneself, plucking one's beard or hair, smearing oneself with dust *as if* buried, spreading one's head with soil *as if* cremated, allowing oneself to collapse on the ground *as if* fulgurated by death, and other mortifying and abject acts representing in relatively milder forms the *as if* of the will to die" [8]. At this point, it is possible to hypothesize that praying for the dead is itself a form of attenuation of the *cupio dissolvi,* of the desire to die, along with the loved one who has actually died. However, in a metaphorical sense also, prayer, even when not specifically related to death, has nonetheless a latent implication that refers to the ultimate moment of human existence: one prays to give thanks for being saved from danger; to overcome the risk of non-survival; as a form of *captatio benevolentiae*, that is to attract the special attention of the supreme being; one prays to be allowed to continue one's own existence; to praise the divinity and its benevolence; to obtain and experience danger-free situations. In ancient times, primeval acts of prayer, spontaneous exteriorizations of individual pain and fear of death, became social rituals because the death of the individual affected the whole community and not only the single mourner or mourners.

Generation after generation these ritual expressions of bereavement and grief were codified and transmitted socially by the family or the religious community or both. The repertoire of formulaic orisons was enlarged to embrace a vast range of human needs and handed down from parent to child, from celebrant to congregation. The prayers thus developed were learned and taught especially during infancy and childhood to all the members of a community, which custom can help explain why even lapsed believers, many years after they have rejected their faith and/or church, in moments of danger, stress, need, above all in the face of death, recur to prayer as a reaction, a strongly ingrained cultural reflex acquired when young.

An eloquent example of the social purpose of ritual prayer is provided by the still-practiced custom of blessing fields. In actual fact, it is on a good harvest that the life of single individuals and entire communities depends. The act of blessing the land contains the intention of banishing potential drought, destruction of seeds and crops. Given that much seems to be uncertain, or independent of human will, divine protection is invoked to avoid deadly risks. Also the precautionary and preventive action of blessing is complementary to the subsequent action of giving thanks (formalized in the USA as the national festivity of Thanksgiving Day). Not only do both practices relate to the main reference point, which is divine rather than earthly, but, above all, they do not exclude demands linked to the relationship between life and death, abundance and want, protection and danger, sowing and harvesting, between material and spiritual reward. The privileged connection between prayer and difficulty is demonstrated at biblical level by the so-called *Lamentations,* generally attributed to Jeremiah (650-586 B.C.), but, dating back in actual fact, to a community of Jews recalling the destruction of Jerusalem in 586 B.C. The five "books" of *Lamentations* enter progressively into a rapport with the genre of remembrance, mourning, one might say, for the end of the holy city of Jerusalem. Their recitation is both individual and collective: the topic is the demolished city, but there is also an invocation to the Lord, who is "just" (verse 18) and sees "how overwhelming is the anguish" (verse 20). So once more the lament becomes prayer, request for help, peroration (from the Latin verb *per-orare*), as it can be seen in the last verses of the fifth and final Lamentation: *Restore us to yourself, Lord that we may return; renew our days as of old unless you have utterly rejected us and are angry with us beyond measure.*

### **Continuity and Contiguity of the Forms of Prayer**

How can the connections between present-day and more ancient phenomenology be identified? Lévi-Strauss, as it is known, looked for these connections studying populations which had not yet been in touch with processes of modernization [8]. In our case, as far as the Euro-Mediterranean area of Greek and Roman funeral mourning is concerned, we can refer to the Sardinian culture of the *attittadoras* [9], the keening women who still participate in funeral rituals, and who present characteristics similar to those of keeners in Egypt, Greece, Romania, Lucania, Calabria, Campania (the latter with the peculiarity of the *ritornelli asseverativi*, that is the asseverative refrains where a chorus of women confirms what the chief keener says about the deceased, or the use of the *riepito battuto*, that is a vocal lament accompanied by the action of hitting oneself) [10]. Not dissimilar is the lamentation documented by Koppers [11] in the Yamana population, referred to by de Martino.

Being insular, the culture of Sardinia is a very useful source of diachronic analysis, as in a similar context it is possible to witness enduring features that in other places have been mitigated or have disappeared altogether. Such is the case of the *goigs* or *gosos*, religious hymns, most probably of Catalan origin and dating back to medieval times: "they are characterized by aspects of praise, and by narrative-emblematic and descriptive content, aimed at emphasizing the merits, virtues, sanctifying graces of Christ, the Virgin and the Saints". They might be considered as belonging to the laudatory category of prayer. Their structure is such that they are easy to transmit orally. Their form was originally ecclesiastical and cultured, but, as in the case of many other chants (for instance the *canto delle zitelle*, the chant of the spinsters performed at the Sanctuary of the Holy Trinity in Vallepietra) it has undergone a process of simplification due to popular intervention which reduces the role of the institutionalized clergy while the laity emerges as protagonist, innovating and proposing new chants and new prayers in honor of Our Lord, Our Lady and the Saints.

In conclusion, if originally the *goigs* or *gogos* were dedicated, in the troubadour tradition, to women or to the knights' "madonnas", they were later modified to pay homage to the Mother of God (*Mar de Deu*) and therefore also to the Saints. The *Ave Maria* itself, sung in the various Sardinian dialects according to a consolidated popular tradition, when all comes to all, is not very different from the religious *gosos.* Besides, the *gosos* were also used to protest against both the religious and political establishment (as some events demonstrate clearly). The *goigs* became *gogos* with the Spanish domination in Sardinia; not only, they sought symbiosis with the more ancient Byzantine patterns already present in the island. Lastly, "in the *gosos*, as in the case of the *goigs*, the exemplary and thaumaturgical qualities of the Saints to which they were dedicated were exalted. The hymn concluded with an oration in the form of a plea to the Saint begging mercy for oneself, for one's relatives, for the community" [12]. The plea for mercy is a logical consequence of the series of praises sung in honor of the saint: this way there is a transition from eulogistic prayer to pleading, an appeal for help. There is a further element which leads the *gogos* back to a single tradition: they are performed in rural contexts and at key moments of the agricultural cycle. A fact that ties in with the tradition of blessing fields and the act of giving thanks for a good harvest, as mentioned above.

The exorcistic, apotropaic character of some religious invocations belonging to the realm of prayer, is again to be found in Sardinia, that is, in a cultural context which more than others has maintained the traces of a centuries-old tradition, in exorcizing formulae—called and not by chance *preghieras* (prayers)—with which people talk to the saints, pleading for mercy. The rhetorical devices, the figures, the metaphors, the tropes constellating the *preghieras* are numerous; these compositions are rich in symbolic content peculiar to folklore, where for instance the expression "born with a shirt" (to be born lucky) is associated with "the symbol of the plea to the Madonna or to Jesus for the "gift" of luck auspicated in the form of protection. The future of even one day is always disconcerting for the individual and the community; and disconcert can become paralysis, without the intervention of prayer" [13]. In the Sardinian cultural tradition, there are also the *historiolae*, which have already been studied by de Martino [14] in *Sud e magia* (South and Magic). These are *exempla*, examples in form of tales that justify and reinforce certain behavior, including recourse to prayer as an effective solution in the face of difficulty. A modality quite close to that of the Sardinian *preghieras* is found elsewhere in Italy, for instance in Lucania [15], with reference to prayers to God, to the Madonna and the saints, in particular, Saint Nicholas [16]. Unique forms of prayer also exist: the wearable-hidden prayer and the overt-manifest prayer. The former is kept in a cameo or medal, hidden from the sight of others, worn underneath one's clothes; the latter is attached to a house window, or a vehicle, for protection from the evil coming from the outside world.

Perhaps the most meaningful contribution to the study of prayer is provided by Heiler's book, first published in German as *Das Gebet* in 1918 and afterwards in English as *Prayer* in 1932 [17] (by the way, it seems useful to remember that since 1909 Éditions Félix Alcan in Paris printed the thesis of Marcel Mauss on prayer but the author asked not to publish it even though he distributed some copies and quoted it many times). Heiler distinguishes between seven types of prayer: secular (spirituality), primitive, ritual, cultural (Greek), philosophical, mystical, prophetic. Each of them has a specific reference context and a number of characterizing features: secular spirituality is a conversation with god but within the world, that is to say, nature; primitive prayer concerns the risks of life, therefore fear and needs, but it goes beyond ancient cultures and reaches industrial societies too; ritual prayer is in line with Durkheim's approach (according to his definition of religion as a set of rites and beliefs) and is based on repetitive formulae which derive from superstition (and magic) and are aimed at obtaining results; Greek prayer stems from classical Greek culture and insists much more on ethical needs; philosophical prayer regards relationships between the deity and nature; mystical prayer communicates and converses with god; prophetic prayer is at the apex of relationship with god because it follows the biblical tradition where prophets are able to speak directly and personally to god, without intermediation, magic formulae or mnemonic prayer.

### **The Diffused Religion of Prayer**

The practice of prayer, which, for Marcel Mauss [18], as we know, is at once belief and ritual, for Durkheim [19], the essence of religion, is certainly the most enduring and common aspect of universal religions [20]. These very same empirical studies, carried out with chronological and territorial continuity, demonstrate that prayer does in fact constitute the *fil rouge* of much religious behavior oriented towards oneself and/or towards others [21]. Equally important, a vast research project carried out by Poloma and Gallup [22] which has shown that prayer is important in the life of US citizens. The survey involved 1,030 subjects and clearly demonstrated that recourse to prayer represents a sort of challenge to the churches, and can have considerable influence on people's lives at political, moral and social level, especially as far as the ability to forgive and to be satisfied by life is concerned. Poloma and Gallup focused in particular, on typologies, religious experience, relations between personal prayer and political activism, between prayer and forgiveness, between prayer and religious approach. The most significant datum is that 88% of the interviewees admitted to praying, and that the subjects did not fall into the senior citizen, Afro-American, southern-states, female, or poorly educated social categories. Compared to the overall average percentage, that for the young was only slightly lower: 80%.

There are four types of prayer, according to Poloma and Gallup (from the least to the most participative): "*ritual*", "*petitionary*", "*meditative*", and "*conversational*". Thus, one prays as part of a ceremony, as a form of plea, as a kind of meditation, to converse with the godhead. But it is the meditative type of prayer that reveals the most direct relationship with the divinity. Also the outcome deriving from the experience is divided into five categories, where what prevails is a sense of peace and well-being. Poloma and Gallup also carefully examine the relations between prayer and politics. Another survey, the *Baylor Religion Survey*, carried out in 2005 to examine 1,721 cases, again in the United States, points out that women, African-American and low-income individuals, pray more than men, whites, and high-income individuals. "Petitionary" prayer is preferred by African-American and low-income and poorly educated people. Moreover, low-income individuals direct their prayers towards more spiritual ends, to obtain the favor of the divinity [23]. The data gathered by the "2004 General Social Survey", indicate that 89.8% of United States citizens pray at least sometimes, and three quarters of them pray at least once a day. Moreover, of those who pray, 67% think that their prayers are heard, and 95% that their requests are granted [24]. According to a survey carried out some years ago, prayer is not connected with the fear of death [25], but one should ask to what extent the sample used provided data allowing the results to be applied in other contexts, and whether the modality of the study was geared to produce in-depth knowledge of the relational dynamics between prayer and fear of death.

Other motivations why prayer is seen as a solution making a difficult condition more acceptable are provided on various occasions by the results of different surveys. The same can be said of the plea for divine favor, possibly in connection with admitting one's own faults, confessing one's own sins. According to Baker it is much more interesting and useful to look at the contents of prayers (rather than their frequency): economic security, health, confession and forgiveness of sins, spiritual relations with god. Amongst those who pray, according to what emerges from the "2005 Baylor Religion Survey", 89.4% pray for their family, 75.3% for an acquaintance, 66.2% for a relation with god, 62.2% for the world, 61.2% to confess sins, 57.1% for health, 49.4% as a form of adoration (from the Latin verb *ad-orare*), 46.8% for unknown people, 33% for economic security. These rough data alone explain that a decrease in sacramental confession does not correspond to diminished awareness of having sinned. And, however, the data taken on the whole, present a picture that seems to disregard affiliation with a church, although to complete this discourse one must emphasize the fact that sensitization towards the action of praying derives, presumably, from the content of religious socialization within an ecclesiastic domain and the family and the social community, where prayer becomes a sort of permanent imprinting. In conclusion, it must be taken into consideration that Baker's analysis does not concern either ritual prayer, or group prayer, or even the prayer expressed in liturgical services. In other terms, personal and extemporary prayer recurs so much that it has become dominant compared to more standardized forms, managed at institutional level. One of the limitations to the interpretations provided by Baker is that the study refers to the Christian framework alone, thus disregarding modes typical of other forms of religion. Of Baker's study, the final passage, which comes after many statistical-quantitative analyses on the function of prayer, is particularly worthy of attention: "qualitative data on prayer content would also be an important advancement to the current understanding of prayer. Content analysis of individual prayer, assessing why people choose to pray about specific topics, and gathering extensive information about prayer habits are but a small glimpse into the issue that could be covered by qualitative research. When dealing with a topic as intensely personal and varied as prayer, certainly this approach deserves exploration".

Furthermore, philosophical in-depth explorations like the one carried out by D. Z. Phillips [26] can lead to new interpretations of prayer as a conversation, a "dialogue" with someone who does not understand, a dependency, a superstition, a divine voice, a community event. Some suggestions about the possibility of investigating mental prayer come from Archer's [27] analytical dualism concerning existing structures and future agents. This dualism is solved by analyzing the morphogenetic sequence which intervenes between the antecedent culture-structure and actions of agents, involved in a process of reproduction or transformation of previous cultural and structural contexts. There is a relationship affecting both structure and agency in terms of internal conversation, which takes place through the agent's evaluative reflexion (like *ruminatio Dei verbi*, rumination of the divine word, according to Augustine of Hippo) of the situation, and the agent's evaluation of his projects within the context of his situation. Archer has interviewed 20 people (including a nun) in order to understand their modes of reflexion: it can be communicative reflexive (extroverted: think and talk); autonomous reflexive (self-directed towards action: think and act); metareflexive (continuously critical: think and think); fractured reflexive (uneasy: think and talk, but with distress and confusion). Mental prayer is similar to metareflexion, but it also resembles autonomous reflexivity, even though it is present in fewer cases (communicative reflexivity does not exclude previous meditation, and fractured reflexivity includes different modalities of internal conversation). In any case the reflexivity of mental prayer can be understood as a meditation (not so different from Augustinian rumination, and from Archerian mediation of meditation), therefore a quest *in foro interno* for the meaning of life, of old age, for the solution of personal identity, and the evaluation of a situation.

### **Towards a Sociology of Praying**

Different ways of praying offer sociologists an excellent opportunity to carry out non-conventional analyses, based on minimum indicators, on minute detail. How can one, for instance, investigate mental prayer? What are the signals to be taken into account when investigating it? Certainly only the social actors themselves possess direct knowledge of the experience. They and they alone can make it accessible to others by communicating motives and content. However, there are other ways of praying using the five senses and, in this area of investigation, noteworthy help is provided by the work of five Spanish theologians, all women, including two Catholic nuns. Extraordinarily rich and documented in form, the work concentrates on the bodily dimension of prayer, otherwise overlooked by the usual scientific and cognitive approach [28]: the basic assumption is that sense means pathway; human beings have five senses, five accesses or pathways open to reality. Pathways leading outwards, towards the world and the Other, and pathways leading back to the inner self, starting with the human being and reality. The difference between these roads is not irrelevant as far as perceived reality is concerned. Although in spiritual life everything resides within the intellect, the peculiarity of the senses in the configuration of the spiritual world is relevant".

This approach paves the way towards a more perceptive sociology of praying, to which Michele Colafato contributes with great attention, broadening horizons even further. Following the work of various specialists, he goes more deeply into the observation and understanding of the experience of prayer in Orthodox Christianity, of the individual and collective outlook of the *salat*, i.e. Islamic prayer, of Catholic prayer, of Buddhist prayer, in particular the *Lotus Sūtra*, and Jewish prayer (where the issue of the senses re-emerges: "taste: every time we taste something, we must utter a blessing", "smell: there are specific blessings for aromatic herbs such as rosemary and sage", "hearing: listening to any news, whether good or bad, must be accompanied by a blessing", "sight: the moment we meet a king, a peasant, or we see the sea, blossoming trees…we must pronounce a specific blessing", "sense of touch: the instrument through which the body enters into contact with and perceives all that surrounds it. The precept regarding women is particularly relevant in the Jewish religion: the woman must be immersed completely in a purifying bath, where she can strongly perceive the contact between her body and the water") [29].

### **The Situation in Italy**

In Italy, Franco Garelli underlines the role of religious sentiment when analyzing the results of research into pluralism, statistically relevant at national level [30, pp. 88-92]. It is interesting to note that this survey indicates as the occasion most strongly associated with the desire to pray is "the funeral rite… suggesting that in our culture death is the event most closely associated with some form of religious meaning. In the collective imagination this extreme experience of "breaking away" must be accompanied by a religious ritual, the meaning of which undoubtedly changes according to the degree of religious conviction of those who require it. Death presents itself always as the human experience in the face of which even many non-believers accept the religious ritual, drawing in some way on a symbolic capital present in our culture to face questions difficult to answer from a secular perspective" [30, p. 10]. This seems to confirm the generative impact of funeral rituals and lamentation (centered on the meaning of death and thus of life itself) on prayer.

On the other hand, the weight of the social-cultural context emerges from the datum concerning the contribution made by the inclusion of a weekly lesson on the Catholic religion in Italian school syllabi, aimed at teaching religious "literacy", seeing that this lesson "increases the knowledge of the Catholic religion by groups who have fewer opportunities of becoming acquainted with it, than those who have access to many more sources of socialization oriented in that sense. The specific knowledge provided by the teaching of Catholicism "reaches" the young in proportions higher than do sources of general religious knowledge. Teaching seems, therefore, truly capable of reducing, to some extent, the knowledge gap produced by non-scholastic socialization contexts" [31]. This too is an outcome of diffused religion, which produces, in turn, a knock-on effect as regards culture in general and the attitudes and behavior inspired by it, including attitudes towards praying.

It is significant that research carried out at national level on religiosity in Italy ascertained that "Italians between 18 and 74 years of age who declare having prayed at least sometimes during the year number 83%. Even non-believers pray, especially if they are in a "quest" mood (49%) and so do those who believe in a supreme being but do not belong to a specific religion (44%). Even among those who declare being atheists there is a quota, although small (8%) that prays". The motivations underscoring prayer coincide, point by point, with the classical typologies: the mystic, who aims at entering into direct relations with the divinity: 44%), the impetration-peroration type, bent on obtaining support in difficult moments (44%), the mixed-category person who wishes both to enter into a relationship with god and request his intervention; the thanks-giver (about 25%) who expresses gratitude as well as repentance for some offence; the traditional worshipper, whose prayers are the result of teaching; the supplicant who asks for personal favors; and, lastly, those who pray for a grace (which is apparently the least common in Italy: 10%). In conclusion, it appears that prayer is "a way of expressing one's religious feelings, still firmly rooted in culture and therefore destined to persist in time, even when circumscribed to a minority of the population". A similar minority character does not as yet present consolidated indicators for the future. Nevertheless, it is also true that "the generations closest to us and the best educated people shun inclusive behavior (pray because it is a duty or because this is the way they were taught) and tend to privilege more than the other interviewees the form of prayer best suited to contemporary people: prayer aimed at shedding light on one's innermost self" [32].

Recent research detects a similar tendency and confirms the typical modes of praying: thanksgiving, repentance; private-individual-separated/public-collective-united; orally-verbally expressed or silent-mental; laudation/peroration; trustful/imploring; spontaneous or based on scripture (the *Bible*—for instance the Psalms 1, 77, and 118; and the *Lotus Sūtra*—chapter XXV—that is an impetration to free oneself from all negativity). Despite this vast range of possibilities it is by no means certain that interviewees are always aware of the implications. For instance in the archdiocese of Urbino prayer took sixth place among the actions to be privileged by a believer: only 11% of the interviewees placed it first. Yet when we look at the question on the frequency of prayer, it emerges that 10.4% pray every day, 31.3% about once a day, 15% sometimes during the week, 10% sometimes during the month, 11.7% sometimes during the year and 21.6% never pray. And as rightly observed, as a premise "the importance of analyzing prayer as used outside of religious rites derives from the fact that such behavior is present in all religions and often concerns even those who declare being non-believers".However, it must be stressed that "most of the interviewees, when they pray, use the traditional prayer formulae transmitted through processes of religious socialization and heard while attending various rites and practices" [33]. In conclusion, this datum falls, once more, within the canon of diffused religion and thus of diffused prayer. Also amongst young people the influence of previous religious socialization remains: if 30% never pray, 26% pray once or several times a day, 16.2% once or several times a week, and 13.4% more than once a month. "The procedure of praying is related mostly to reciting known formulae (59.2%), keeping silent, listening and contemplating (25%), but also reflecting on one's own life and on what happens around us (50%). Young people, compared to the overall total, privilege personal prayer and inner searching" [33, p. 304].

In the area of Chieti and Vasto, too, the percentages for the young are considerable: 27.56% pray often, 41.99% sometimes, 20.21% rarely, and 9.97% never pray. However, "they do not seem to be very much inclined to use ritualized and traditional modalities, except for those, a significant number, that may be identified as the nucleus of religious "fervent"" [34, p. 61]. The young people interviewed prefer "communication, contact with God" (27.75%), "dialogue either with God, or with the Saints, or with the dead" (14%), "reflection or personal meditation" (12.25%), "closeness to God" (11.5%). It must be noted, among these data, the presence of the dead as addressees of prayer, although the question that was posed, which included god and the saints, does not allow us to discern what the true significance of the data related to the dead contained in the answers may be. Lastly, the manner of praying must be taken into consideration: 29.66% use their own words, 23.36% the phrases or formulae of traditional prayers, 19.95% reflect on their own lives, 13.39% have an inner dialogue with god [34, p. 153]. In an inquiry carried out in southern Latium [35], the young people interviewed claimed recurring to faith in difficult moments, in varying proportions: always 29.3%, often 28.7%, sometimes 32.2%, never 9.8%. There is no explicit reference to prayer, but it appears to be implicit, also because the stratification of the intensity of the behavior corresponds in general to what has already emerged in relation to prayer amongst the young. In the diocese of Oristano in Sardinia [36] personal prayer occupies a relevant position as its frequency is "often (every day or almost every day)" for 45.4%, "sometimes" for 34.4% of the interviewees and "never" for 20.2% (in particular male subjects). The average rates registered in Italy in 2009 during research availing of a national sample, were slightly different (respectively 50.8%, 31.9% and 17.3%), and therefore the population of Oristano appears in some cases less "religious" than the general Italian population. As regards the motivations, however, religious feeling is higher: 47% pray to feel closer to god, and the same percentage to obtain support in difficult times, 31% are moved by the desire to thank and praise god, and 23% to repent and to perform an act of penitence. The weight of the teaching received stands at a mere 11% and that of praying as a duty at 14%, while the search for clarity within oneself reaches 18%. Reasons for requesting a grace stands at only 10%. In conclusion, instrumental prayer pertains to a minimum quota of the population but does not seem destined to disappear, seeing that it endures amongst the young although contained within the same percentages as those registered for the entire research sample.

Provokingly, Introvigne and Zoccatelli at the end of a sociological study on the Sicilian diocese of Piazza Armerina, ask whether "the Mass is over," whether, in fact, the most emblematic of Sunday

and feast-day Catholic religious practices is not destined to decrease in importance or even disappear. A qualifying element in Introvigne and Zoccatelli's investigation is the verification of the difference existing between declarations of practice and actual practice, that is, the issue of over-reporting. In this specific case, attendance at the festive service (Catholic or other) regularly (once a week or more) on the basis of the answers provided, totaled 33.6%, yet monitoring of actual numbers of worshipers present brought the rate down to 18.5%. The authors, however, observe that "if the inquiries on over-reporting carried out during the years in the United States, in Poland and in Italy, can "demonstrate" something, it is precisely that declared practice is in fact "declared": it constitutes the measure of identity and also identification, but it does not measure facts and behavior" [37]. Thus, percentages like 33.6% or 18.5% should not be taken as evidence, as they are both partial and do not adequately represent the entire behavioral (and, not to be neglected, vocational) set. Furthermore, the research project in question makes no explicit reference to the phenomenology of prayer, but it may be inferred that data concerning Sunday practice and methodological reflections on over-reporting are applicable also to the sociological framework related to the frequency of praying in Central Sicily [38] and elsewhere.

We must proceed cautiously then, also in consideration of the data obtained thanks to an international research project on values carried out in Italy [39]. Salvatore Abbruzzese, denying the eclipse of the transcendent, recalls that "in the study carried out in 1999, 53% of the Italian interviewees declared praying outside of religious ceremonies and to do it more than once a week" [40], indicating "every day" (37.4%) or "more than once a week" (16.5%), against alternatives that proposed "once a week" (7.3%), "at least once a month" (5.7%), "many times a year" (5%), "seldom" (14%), "never" (12.7%), "do not know" and "does not answer" (1.5%). Out of the total answers to the question (which has remained unchanged since 1990) "How frequently do you pray to God, outside of religious ceremonies?" it emerged that around three quarters of the Italian population prayed, although with markedly different frequency.

In the *European Values Survey* of 1981 the question on prayer was not asked. In 1990 the answer "prays often" registered 33.5%, while in 1999 the answer "prays every day" reached 37.4%. Therefore it proved very useful in 1999 to change the options and make them clearer than the rather generic ones used in 1990 ("often", 33.5%; "sometimes", 32%; "almost never", 9%; "only in moments of crisis", 8.1%; "never", 16.8%; "do not know", 0.6%; "does not answer", 0%). The answer "never" is more easily comparable because it is identical in the two inquires of the *European Values Survey* of 1990 and 1999: at the beginning it stood at 16.8% and then came to 12.7%. With regard to this latter perspective, Italy (with Portugal) seems to reflect a reverse tendency compared to the overall sample; the number of those who pray has increased while in other European countries (above all in: France, 54.7%; Holland, 49.5%; Belgium, 37.9%; Germany, 27.8%; Spain, 25.3%) the rate of those who do not pray at all appears to have increased, thus confirming the secularizing trend. Nonetheless, the centrality of prayer in religions remains a constant feature, from Judaism to Christianity, from Buddhism to Islam, from Hinduism to Shintoism and so on. Also the migratory fluxes appeal to the patrimony of the cultural capital created by prayer, so much that they use that term in their own denominations as in the case of *Bethel Prayer Ministry International*, which is active also in Italy [41].

### **The New Perspective of Qualitative Analysis**

Even more than quantitative data one might expect qualitative results to provide corroboration concerning the nexus between diffused religion and diffusion of prayer. A convincing contribution is to be found in a recent qualitative study on the spirituality of the young. The chapter entitled "In the face of death and pain" must be stressed as strategic, as it shows that "today the event of death continues to play its anthropological role of connecting worlds, obliging those who experience this tragic event to wonder what lies beyond life, and urging many to refer to God in the attempt to formulate a plausible answer. This can happen to those who thought they had cut all their bridges with religion". And precisely "through the practice of prayer one can establish a connection with the radically Other: feel his/her embrace or rejection; or express one's own doubts or convictions on the existence or non-existence of something that goes beyond the human; it is possible to refer to one's belonging to one's own church or religious/ecclesial group with the possibility of diversifying the forms and roles of praying; and in conclusion, through prayer it is also possible to "exercise" one's own knowledge of the sacred texts.

Prayer represents, therefore, a point of potential convergence of the different dimensions of religiosity: practice, experience, belief, belonging and also knowledge" [42].

There are then various examples taken from the documents gathered during the qualitative research involving 72 young people from Vicenza, availing of the focus-group technique. Emblematically, an interviewee re-proposed explicitly the ultra-terrestrial dimension as a *locus* of interlocution: she used to address her dead grandfather because it was easier for her to do so by "recuperating and going beyond a long tradition transversal to religions". Further, obviously god and the saints are not missing as interlocutors: the series of abstracts from the declarations of the young people is long and articulated and proves the social character of prayer, "between obligation and personalization", although it is carried out in private and intimately.

The overall view that emerges from the research in Vicenza is a testimony of the level of incidence of prayer in the mental universe of the young: prayer is at the twenty-eighth place (followed by the Gospels, values, death and fear) in a list of "*full words* of medium frequency" starting with "God" and ending with "choices" and in its thematic area (seventh as regards frequency, after "sacred figures", "relatives", "mass", hereafter", "clergy", "church") there are "act of contrition, Ave Maria, Credo, Our Father, Lauds, praying, community prayer, prayers of praise, prayers of Thanksgiving, free prayer, morning prayer, evening prayer, psaltery, vespers and so on". In conclusion, the analysis of the convergences puts prayer in relation, above all, with sacred figures, the Word and the sacraments, and, at social level, with religious movements.

A new trend is now appearing, which is that of spirituality as a new form of religiosity expressed through the prayer [43]. And the prayer in groups is a relevant issue regarding some new attitudes in religious practice: it seems a common phenomenon in different religious experiences both traditional and innovative. Another novelty comes from the practice of prayer by unbelievers. Also the prayer in public arena [44] is a new trend that accompanies official ceremonies organized by lay institutions. At the same time there is an increasing of prayer by young people in daily life but outside religious places. Finally the culture of prayer is typical of pentecostal and charismatic communities that are brought together in the act of praying.

According to Laura R. Olson, editor of *Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion* [45]: "the study of prayer is a growth industry in our field at the present moment. Some scholars are asking how it affects those who pray and are prayed for. The Social Science Research Council has undertaken a broad-based project on prayer that promises to stimulate new research crossing disciplinary boundaries and drawing upon a wide range of methods". The proofs of this new interest comes from the *Journal* itself that contains two articles by Shane Sharp on prayer failure [46], efficacy and utterance [47], a research by Hayward and Krause on older adulthood behavior [48], and a study by Schafer on intercessory prayer as interpersonal phenomenon, and source of optimism [49]. Therefore we are moving towards a more developed sociology of prayer [50].

However the sociological approach cannot forget other perspectives like prayer's psychological dimension which is a suitable solution to study, for instance, the relationship between prayer and health. In order to understand biopsychological issues linked to the prayer dynamics it could be necessary to analyse some transpersonal, spiritual, and deep layers of religious experience. Actually "from a psychological perspective, for the devoted believer, prayer might be a meaningful path that will help reincorporate health into one's life. Still, to various degrees, prior to actually performing the embodiment of health, the inner transformations related to the healing outcome could be cognitively processed by any believer as an alien, inaccessible experience of radical otherness" [51]. In short: once more the scientific study of religion requires an interdisciplinary point of view.

### **Conclusions**

The multi-millenary "Karst system" that has allowed the tradition of praying to come down to us today, probably originated in conjunction with primordial existential crises, with the experience of other people's death and, consequentially, with the fear and the risk of one's own death. The presence of funeral lamentations aimed at overcoming the "crisis of presence" that starts at the moment of somebody's death, has presumably prompted mechanisms of narration that have later led also to mechanisms of more mature reflection on the meaning of life and therefore of death. This is the moment in which the problem of a presence other than human arises. A similar otherness leads to an attempt at dialogue, in the form of a request for help, that later becomes both praise and thanksgiving, but also much more: request for extraordinary intervention (the grace of a miracle that implies giving thanks for the favor received), invocation, repentance, public action, ceremonial action, expression of trust, private dialogue, mental prayer, sacred text and much more, in original forms, diversified according to the various religions, but converging in the functions exercised in the different cultural domains.

The diffusion of prayer is essentially the fruit of the socialization carried out by religious confessions through their educational and legitimating structures, which perpetuate forms and contents of praying, leaving room also for innovation. Far from eroding the existing patrimony, they re-motivate and re-adapt the proposals, for the benefit of a diffused religion that draws its strength from the contribution of whole generations who have preserved the testimonies in the course of time. It is not out of place to try to imagine that even the resistance of the young against the use the pre-existing cultural capital reflects—in the long term—a need to preserve which cannot be guaranteed solely by the already operating structures. After all, even if we leave consolidated formulae aside, together with already accessible solutions, a religious and spiritual afflatus seems to preserve a habit which refuses to die because it is related to death itself, with which it continuously has to measure itself, through the screen/shield of the sacred figure that serves as a helpful interlocutor, even though it is considered artificial.

To what extent all this may be confirmed in the future too, is difficult to predict, but given its ancient and solid roots, its disappearance will not be sudden. If this were the case, in fact, it would probably mean that the problem of death had already been solved, and that the path towards a never-ending life had already been found.

### **References**


### **Religion and American Politics from a Global Perspective**

### **Paul Froese**

**Abstract:** Past findings and theory in the sociology of religion support two opposing perspectives concerning the influence of religion on American politics. Looking from within the United States, the commanding influence of religion on political rhetoric and voting patterns seems apparent. From a global perspective, the role that religion plays in American politics is less clear; in fact, one could argue that our political institutions are decidedly secular. I present support for both of these perspectives before turning to an international analysis of images of God using the Gallup World Poll. These data indicate the uniqueness of American religiosity and suggest that the ways in which religion affect politics in the United States is unusual for a post-industrial country. Namely, many Americans understand God as a political actor; because of this, American political culture mixes religious and political language with fervor, all while keeping church and state institutions separate.

Reprinted from *Religions*. Cite as: Froese, P. Religion and American Politics from a Global Perspective. *Religions* **2014**, *5*, 648–662.

*"There is no attack on American culture more destructive and more historically dishonest than the secular Left's relentless effort to drive God out of America's public square."* 

Newt Gingrich

*"God bless America."* 

President Obama; President Bush; President Clinton; President Bush; President Reagan; President Carter; President Ford; President Nixon; *etc*.

There are good reasons, when comparing the United States with other nations, to expect that religion will have little to no influence on American politics. However, when looking within the United States there seems to be a lot of evidence to the contrary. Is there something wrong with our theories about religious influence or are we exaggerating the evidence because it is not comparative? Perhaps a little of both is occurring depending on the political and theoretical bias of the observer. In general, American conservatives tend to feel that religion is embattled in contemporary American culture while liberals tend to feel that Evangelical Protestantism, specifically, has overtaken the political right. Similarly, social scientists are divided on the extent to which religion matters to American politics.

First and foremost, the claim that God has been expelled from America's public square, as made by Newt Gingrich and many other conservative pundits, is outlandish from a global comparative perspective. In fact, it seems that even conservatives who decry the left's attempts to destroy religion will simultaneously boast that the United States is one of the most religiously tolerant nations on earth. This boast is supported by some facts. The United States consistently ranks at the top of the most religiously tolerant nations according to the three most accepted measures of religious freedom (see The Association for Religion Data Archives.

Yet it remains an empirical question of how important religion is to politics within a culture of religious tolerance and freedom.

### **1. Why Religion Should Not Matter**

Religious diversity and state funding of religion are both expected to determine the political influence of religion within a society. The level of state religious favoritism (in tandem with state regulation of minority religions) is the most direct indicator that state and church institutions cooperate and have shared interests. Anthony Gill offers an intricate theory of how these relationships develop and demonstrates that religion most directly influences politics in nations with historically dominant religious traditions [1,2]. In these contexts, we expect and have evidence to show that religious authorities provide elites with political legitimacy, in the form of religious-ideological support, in return for religious favoritism.

While many post-industrial countries still bolster "state religions" with tax dollars and the suppression of religious competitors, the United States reports some of the lowest levels of religious favoritism and religious regulation in the world. This suggests that no single church or denomination monopolizes the attention of political elites or holds exclusive access to the halls of power. The United States also has a legal separation of church and state which secures an institutional "differentiation" of religious and political organizations.

In addition, there are reasons to think that religious differences within the United States are less important that in other countries. Robert Wuthnow, among others, has argued that denominational divisions have lost their edge over the past 50 years [3,4]. Additionally, while many conservative religious groups successfully fight against a growing tendency towards ecumenicalism, an overarching culture of religious tolerance pervades the American landscape. The election of Roman Catholic John F. Kennedy provided evidence that Protestant discrimination against Catholics had dropped to low levels by 1960. The fact that Presidential candidate Mitt Romney won the Republican primaries in 2012 suggests that many American Christians may also be willing to elect a Mormon President, again supporting the idea that nominal Christian identity stifles denominational conflicts.

Instead of inter-religious conflict, public debates about religion tend to be framed in terms of *the secular versus the religious*. While disagreements over perceived levels of secularization have motivated citizens to debate public policy on such issues as prayer in schools or the display of religious symbols in public spaces, American churches tend not to attack one another. And this lack of religious tension suggests that political elites have no leverage in pitting religions traditions and denominations against one another.

In addition, researchers who study the activities of individual churches and denominations in the United States agree that is it rare for a pastor or minister to openly support a political candidate or make political demands of his or her congregants [5,6]. As a whole, this research suggests that it is actually liberal and African-American churches which most openly, although also rarely, make politically-charged appeals. These findings go against the popular perception of White Evangelical churches as GOP recruitment centers.

In sum, the religious culture of the United States appears relatively tolerant, peaceful, inclusive, and politically neutral within a global comparative perspective. These positive characteristics suggest that the American political system is unimpeded by religious demands from dominant churches and clergy. In addition, the declining significance of denominationalism along with the largely apolitical activities of individual churches suggests that American religious diversity will not inspire inter-religious conflict anytime soon. Olson and Carroll summarize a common belief in the literature that "religion will not soon become a major axis of political conflict in America" and others have warned that the United States is not divided into clear "religious camps" with competing national agendas ([7];[8], p. 765). So why do we tend to think of American politics as dominated by concerns of faith?

### **2. How Religion Matters**

Most obviously, American political candidates make a big deal of their "commitment to faith." In a systematic analysis of national political speeches, Domke and Coe find that religious rhetoric has steadily been on the rise among both Republicans and Democrats since the Nixon administration [9]. The religious language of our political leaders is so pervasive that it can inspire alarm when it is absent. Barrack Obama and Mitt Romney both had to address the concerns over their religiosity head-on; in both cases, they attempted to quell fears of their supposed religious deviance by maintaining that they are faithful Christians.

Religious social movements, usually trans-denominational in nature, have long attempted to influence public policy in the United States from both the left and right. Liberal and conservative activists sometimes employ a religious framing of social issues, most effective cases being the use of African American churches as the moral and institutional basis for the civil rights movement and, more recently, the various Catholic and Evangelical Protestant organizations which spearhead the pro-life movement [10–14].

In fact, religious issues are often at the forefront of national political campaigns. The courting of the "religious vote" is an often discussed strategy among pundits and the media, and pollsters can neatly predict conservative voting behavior based on religious participation and self-identity. While there is some evidence from Manza and Brooks that Evangelical Protestants have not become more conservative, most research confirms this perceived trend towards a "religious right" and the electoral success of George W. Bush among Evangelical Protestants is unquestionable [15–19]. Lydia Bean is researching the dynamics which have allowed the Republican Party to more successfully mobilize religious Americans [20]. Her research demonstrates that while conservative clergy are not more politically active, key members of their congregations tend to be and utilize the church space to informally spread support for the GOP. Bean argues that there are no equivalent Democratic Party activists within liberal churches.

Still, there is active debate among academics concerning the significance and reality of the James Hunter's "culture wars thesis"—the idea that American politics has shifted from class-based struggles to focus more on religious-cultural issues, such as abortion, gay marriage, and stem-cell research. Critics of this thesis analyze public opinion to demonstrate that Americans cannot be easily bifurcated into the social-cultural categories suggested by the thesis [10,11,21–27]. Nevertheless, Hunter's ideas regarding the importance of conceptions of moral authority are useful. For instance, Davis and Robinson utilize survey data concerning God's moral authority to distinguish between "religious traditionalists" and "religious modernists" and find that modernists are more likely to view individuals as personally responsible for their destinies [21]. Wayne Baker also explains value differences within the American population with reference to basic variation in beliefs about moral authority [28]. This research suggests that religious concerns are preeminent in many voters' minds and are often the lens through which they understand policy proposals and debates.

In addition, Michael Lindsay demonstrates how Evangelical identity, in particular, has risen to become a useful resource in influential social networks [29]. Lindsay argues that Evangelical networks foster collaboration and proliferate throughout major institutions of power in the United States, namely on Wall Street, on Capitol Hill, in Hollywood, and halls of higher education. While these networks may not be focused on any religious agendas *per se*, they serve as a kind of "old boys club" in which fellow Evangelicals trust and hire one another to greater degree.

All of this research highlights two major findings. First, religion is a powerful force and salient political issue in American society. Second, the ways in which religion impacts politics in the United States is unique when considered within a comparative framework. It is not through the direct influence of religious leaders and churches on public officials but rather through religious framing of issues by politic elites and through embedded networks of Evangelicals in our major institutions that religion flexes its political muscle. Jonathan Fox notes this clear distinction between the legal *versus* the ideological authority of religion in the United States, which Daniel Philpott explained as the result of high levels of religious-political "differentiation" combined with widespread belief in "political theology" [30,31]. In sum, the legal and institutional differentiation of religious and political spheres (the separation of church and state) has not diminished the power of religious political rhetoric in the United States as it has elsewhere in the world.

As Philip Converse alerted political researchers in the 1960s, "there is fair reason to believe that [religious differences] are fully as important, if not more important, in shaping mass political behavior than are class differences" ([32], p. 248). In order to better understand the uniqueness of this relationship we must delve into how the United States is ultimately a religious exception to many worldwide trends, in particular, the continuing popularity of American political theology.

### **3. American Religious Exceptionalism**

The United States is clearly a religious exception in the post-industrial world. Americans attend church more than Western Europeans, they have more religiously conservative sexual and social attitudes, and they link their theology to free market economics more directly [33,34]. Emerson and Smith describe American Protestantism as synonymous with economic individualism [15,35]. Smith explains:

"American individualism…prescribes that individuals should not be coerced by social institutions, especially by the government, and particularly not on personal matters; that freedom to pursue individual happiness is a paramount good; that people shouldn't meddle too deeply in other people's business; and that the government usually provides poor solutions to social and cultural problems" ([36], p. 211).

Davis and Robinson find the opposite relationship in 21 European countries and Israel [37]. They discover that "what theologically distinguishes modernists (including believers and secularists) from the religiously orthodox is their greater individualism" ([37], p. 1632). In this way, religious Americans look very different from their religious counterparts in other post-industrial nations. Quite simply, religious Americans are more conservative morally, sexually, and economically.

Possibly the most telling difference is in how some religious Americans understand the separation of church and state. While nearly all Americans advocate this separation, a strong minority feel that that the United States is a "Christian nation" and that the government should actively promote "Christian morals." However, this is not just another measure of religiosity. American Christians who are very religious according to such indicators as worship attendance, prayer, religious donations and volunteerism, are not uniform in their sense how they understand the relationship between their religion and politics.

Distinct from the concept of religiosity is an American's belief in "sacralization ideology", a tongue twisting yet important concept. Stark and Finke explain that sacralization ideology means that "there is little differentiation between religious and secular institutions and that the primary aspects of life, from family to politics, are suffused with religious symbols, rhetoric, and ritual." ([38], p. 284). Sacralization ideology is the extent to which individuals feel that their religion should influence and be a part of public policy debates; Philpott calls this *political theology*, "the set of ideas that religious actors hold about political author and justice" ([31], p. 505). In many pre-industrial countries sacralization ideology or political theology appears very popular or at least is unquestioned in that it exhibits itself in Peter Berger's concept of a "sacred canopy". For Berger the pre-modern world is often imbued with religious traditions that are so "taken-for-granted" that they are woven in the fabric of social life [39].

The importance of sacralization ideology is most pronounced in the Muslim world, where Islamic theology asserts that political discussion should be guided to greater or lesser extent by Shariah Law. Conservative Muslims express sacralization ideology when arguing that all aspects of personal, social and political life should be governed by religious rules and regulations. However, there are diverse opinions regarding these matters within Muslim communities and these differences may underlie fundamental political and social divisions within Islam.

Modernization tends to bring with it a separation of religious and secular spheres and, in turn, the decline or disappearance of sacralization ideology. The separation of church and state in the United States is the primary example of how these spheres are conceptually and legally divided in the modern world. However, many Americans appear similar to pre-modern individuals in their attachment to sacralization ideology, or the common American notion that political decision-making requires consideration of "the sacred"—or in the case of American Christianity—God.

Carson Mencken and I found that sacralization ideology was the best predictor of whether an American thought that the Iraq War was justified [40]. In this instance, beliefs about the religious purpose of the Iraq War proved more important than political affiliations, identities, and Social Economic Status in determining whether an American supported the war effort. Figure 1 replicates part of this analysis and depicts the surprising strength of sacralization ideology. Of great interest is the fact that a "strong Democrat" was more likely to support the Iraq War than a "strong Republican" if he or she thought that religion *should* be part of the reason we went to war.

Why did sacralization ideology predict opinions about the Iraq War so well? Most clearly, President Bush framed the war effort in religious terms, often referring to a historic fight of good against evil [40].

In sum, Americans are simply more religious than most other citizens of post-industrial nations and are more likely to believe that religion *should* influence politics—the essence of sacralization ideology. Whether this kind of ideology is on the rise is unknown but past generations of conservative Christians were some of the least politically active Americans. This all changed in recent decades with more and more Protestant Evangelicals resisting the "individual-level privatization" of their faith in the public sphere [41]. Consequently, the rise of conservative religious politics does not necessarily reflect a rise in conservative religionists (they have always existed), but a change in their attitudes about the role of religion in politics.

**Figure 1.** Predicted probabilities of pro-war attitudes (by sacralization ideology and political affiliation).

To better explore this phenomenon and its importance in a comparative framework, we need to better understand the role of beliefs about God around the world and their relationship to politics. Images of God reveal something deep about the worldview of believers and provide a unique window into understanding how and when religion can be used politically [42].

### **4. God around the World**

A universal trait of politics around the world is its reliance on symbols to communicate complex messages and principles to the masses. This ongoing process of building political legitimacy and framing moral debates along policy dimensions relies on and draws from cultural and national traditions. In the world, there is no symbol or tradition more common than God.

If we treat the word "God" as a metaphor than we must know to what it is referring. Clearly, God means something different across religious traditions and denominational groupings, and between individuals. Our task is then to somehow measure this theological diversity to see if it is meaningful in some larger social or political sense.

Max Weber famously provides us with a four-fold typology of world religions—(i) otherworldly asceticism; (ii) inner-worldly asceticism; (iii) other-worldly mysticism; and (iv) inner worldly mysticism [43]. Of these, inner-worldly asceticism, Calvinism being an exemplar, is the religious ideology which best motivates social change because it links salvation directly to earthly ethical duties. While this is a helpful insight, Collins laments that Weber's typology "is still overgeneralized, since it includes not only economic self-discipline leading to rationalized capitalistic development, but also military crusades; among the latter we find Christian, as well as Muslim holy wars, Cromwell's armies, and, since Weber's day, modern instances including militant political mobilization among both Christian fundamentalists and the activist Christian left" ([44], p. 172). Collins' point is well taken and indicates an area in which we might be able to improve.

Rodney Stark's work builds on Weber's insights by more specifically analyzing how various forms of inner-worldly asceticism motivate believers. In general, this type of theology is monotheistic, which for Stark, makes all the difference. Specifically, Stark asserts that "the extent to which religion enters into either solidarity or conflicts appears to be in direct proportion to the scope of the Gods involved" ([45], p. 33). The underlying reason for this was hinted at by Georg Simmel who noted, "[a] deity that is subsumed into a unity with the whole of existence cannot possibly possess any power, because there would be no separate object to which He could apply such power"([46], p.53). In other words, it comes down to whether God is believed to be an independent actor/collaborator in world affairs. Armed with this image of God, we expect a religion to matter greatly in political and social change.

Stark has demonstrated that belief in God is associated with moral policy disputes across Europe and in India, Turkey, and the United States; but the relationship does not hold in China or Japan [47]. Stark concludes that God is politically unimportant in China and Japan because God is generally regarded as "unconcerned about morality, or as an impersonal essence" in these religious cultures ([47], p. 624). Similarly, majority monotheistic nations are far more likely to ban genetic research than countries with Hindu or Buddhist traditions. Molecular biologist Lee Silver speculates:

[M]ost people in Hindu and Buddhist countries have a root tradition in which there is no single creator God. Instead, there may be no gods or many gods, and there is no master plan for the universe. Instead, spirits are eternal and individual virtue—karma determines what happens to your spirit in your next life. With some exceptions, this view generally allows the acceptance of both embryo research to support life and genetically modify crops [48].

Looking specifically inside the United States, Andrew Greeley found that Americans with more maternal and gracious conceptions of God were more likely to vote Democrat, support "safe sex" education, support environmental protection, and oppose the death penalty [49–53]. Overall, Greeley finds significant correlations between viewing God as a mother, lover or friend and being politically liberal. Greeley's findings fit with more recent arguments by George Lakoff and Wayne Baker about the opposing moral cultures of American liberals and conservatives [28,54]. Lakoff asserts that liberals express a "Nurturant Parent" morality (similar to Greeley's loving motherly God) while conservatives reference a "Strict Father" morality—a prioritizing of obedience over independence. Perhaps President Clinton summarized this perspective best when he explained that "liberals want to fall in love, and conservatives want to fall in line". The general view is that conservatives tend towards a stricter moral absolutism while liberals tend towards flexible moral humanism, both of which are reflected in the kinds of gods they worship.

These theoretical and empirical extracts suggest that investigating the role of God in politics around the world may bear more fruit. Specifically, past research suggests that more active and engaged Gods (a) will inspire human sacrifice for religious causes, be they altruistic or militaristic; and also (b) inspire strict moral codes of acceptable behavior.

Still, this may get us little further than Weber's initial insight about the political potential of various theologies. In other words, we can identify which religious concepts are correlated with sacrifice and moral absolutism but can do little to predict what forms of sacrifice and moralism they inspire. It seems that the cultural and political context is primary. For instance, in a culture in which moral issue X is salient, we will expect religious believers in an engaged God to be more absolutist on this issue. The relationship between genetic research laws and monotheism around the world is one piece of supporting evidence. Or if nation Y is at war with nation Z, we would expect citizens with an engaged God to be more willing to fight unless they are part of a strictly pacifist tradition; and if one nation has a more engaged God, we might expect that nation to be more vicious and resilient in its war effort. In historical studies of Christian and Muslim intolerance, Stark has shown how external conflict is "inherent" to monotheisms [45]. To better explore these ideas, we require better data and more precise theories.

I suggest that a good place to begin is by looking at cross-cultural data on images of God. "God" tends to be a concept understood in many cultures, albeit in vastly different forms. Stark highlights the importance of a God's scope and responsiveness. The World Values Survey and the International Social Survey Program have some questions about God which may be of use. But I have been lucky enough to place a God item on the Gallup World Poll, one of the most inclusive international datasets including over 140 countries. While this is only a single variable, it provides a glimpse of God's scope and responsiveness—specifically, the question asks, "do you believe that God is directly involved in things that happen in the world?" By averaging responses to this question, we can classify nations by their popular image of God. On one end we have nations in which most individuals see God as a distant cosmic force and at the other end are nations in which the population thinks of God as active in world affairs. This is one of the best, albeit limited, indicators of whether theology can be used in political arguments; if believers think God is engaged in the outcome of political history, they are more apt to accept political rhetoric which appeals to God.

Figure 2 displays these mean God scores in relationship to the per capita GDP and the majority religion of each country. Three initial findings present themselves. First, majority Muslim countries tend to have much more active Gods than majority Christian nations. This may be a function of modernization, because, second, countries with lower per capita GDP tend to have more active Gods. And third, the United States stands as an outlier to these two general trends. Namely, the United States has one of the most active Gods in comparison to other majority-Christian nations and the most active God in comparison to nations with the highest per capita GDP.

**Figure 2.** God around the World (correlated with per capita GDP).

Figure 3 again highlights American exceptionalism by comparing the United States to other majority-Christian nations. The United States most closely resembles African Christian nations in their active images of God. Europeans stand in direct contrast with some of the most distant images of God; and this finding was replicated using God items from the International Social Survey Program [33,42].

This data provides many research possibilities. First, the clear relationship between a nation's type of God and its level of economic development suggests a causal pattern. Perhaps this is a new way to think about the process of secularization; it is *not* a transition from religiosity to secularity but rather a move from a theological tradition which asserts that God engages in the world to a theological tradition which voluntarily resigns the scientific, political, and professional realms to their own philosophical devices. Based on levels of affiliation and church attendance, the United States is often mentioned as an exception to a general trend toward secularization which is occurring in most postindustrial countries [55–58]. Figures 2 and 3 indicate that the United States is also exceptional because Americans believe in a kind of God which is mainly confined to pre-industrial and industrial societies.

**Figure 3.** God around the Christian World (correlated with per capita GDP).

To put a finer point on this abstraction, I feel that images of God are really a measure of the extent to which believers feel that God is a political and social actor—in other words, it is a measure of sacralization ideology. Religions with active and engaged Gods demand a political say, while religions with "cosmic forces", "personal enlightenment", or countless deities will have little interest in religious politics outside of protecting their right to worship. If this is the case, then we can begin to see why religion continues to play an active role in American politics—American religion is politically important because many Americans think that God is actively involved in it and, in fact, guiding it.

### **5. God and American Politics**

The book *America's Four Gods (2010)* is an attempt to understand the importance and meaning of Americans' images of God. In general, Chris Bader and I find that images of God are directly related to how an American understands sex, science, economics, and patriotism [42]. These issues are at the heart of contemporary American political debates and are especially relevant in the formation of identity politics.

While God is important, scriptural disputes surprisingly are not. Approximately 60 million Americans think the Bible "should be taken literally, word-for-word, on all subjects"; in other words, these people are *Biblical Literalists*. However, simply reading of the Bible does not tell you what these Americans believe. This is because Biblical Literalism is first and foremost an identity and not a clear set of beliefs [59]. The main theological belief that is statistically associated with Biblical Literalism is faith in an active and engaged God. Simply put, Biblical Literalism is a group marker that mainly indicates that the person thinks God interacts with the contemporary world in the same way He does in Biblical stories. It can be through wrath, love, or spoken revelation. In some paradoxical way, Biblical Literalists are less reliant on the Bible because its Divine author is thought to be always around and open to conversation.

Consequently, the political fervor and perspective of Biblical Literalists is less about carrying out the directives of scripture and more about allying with believers who share their image of God and their sense of His presence. For this reason, the political manipulation of these kinds of religionists takes the form of religious posturing and not theological dogmatism. A political candidate need not appear slavishly devoted to Biblical mandates but rather should appear in dialogue with God. In this way, political leaders do not have to link their policy ideas to scripture but, rather, need to successfully communicate that their decision-making is informed by heart-felt prayer. And American political leaders are eager to tell us that they are in dialogue with God. As Domke and Coe assert, "the substantial presence of God and faith in American politics over the past few decades did not occur by chance…The God strategy is operating in full force, and many, many Americans are on board" ([9], p. 33).

And between the only viable American political parties, the GOP is the undisputed champion of the God strategy. But why? I do not think that a conservative platform is philosophically more compatible with belief in an engaged God. Leftist social, economic, and foreign policy easily could be seen to be working with and through God. This is the belief system of religious socialists and communists known as "liberation theology"; this ideology asserts that God smiles approvingly on a controlled economy and a classless society. But this is certainly not the case in the United States.

An active American God appears unapologetically conservative on all counts. Domke and Coe find that Republican political leaders are much more likely than Democrats to "fuse God and country by linking America with divine will" ([9], p. 19). I expect that the Democratic Party is unwilling to employ such overt religious rhetoric for fear that it would sound too exclusionary, while the Republican Party appears to have no fear in this regards. They clearly define their enemies as "godless" which, in this usage, does not indicate atheism but rather that someone may hold a different image of God—a God which is not so closely allied with American national interests.

The aligning of conservative politics with an active God makes sense philosophically and politically. Philosophically, an active God takes sides in worldly affairs, favoring the good and condemning the bad. If this is the case, then believers naturally ponder which nations and citizens are God's favored; and the answer is obvious—us. In contrast, believers in a distant God do not think in terms of God's favored people; for these believers, God does not pick sides and therefore cannot be described as favoring one nation over another. Politically, the Democratic Party is also hoping to appeal to Americans of all religious and non-religious ilks. For this reason, they are careful to employ the most ecumenical religious language possible, which strikes many believers in an active God as insincere due to its avoidance of clear dividing lines.

In the end, this is how religion remains a political force in the United States. The Republican Party appeals to a certain type of religious believer—one who believes that God is a political actor. In turn, the GOP must address or at least appear to address religious issues which concern these believers. While abortion and gay marriage are the most salient of these issues, believers in an active God have also come to think of political leaders who fervently employ the God strategy as having some holy mandate in *all* of their political dealings. Past support for the Iraq War is one of the clearest cases of this phenomenon [40]. In this instance, justification for this foreign policy was premised mainly on the narrative that America, with God's help, was fighting evil in the world. Americans that believed this framing never gave up on the war, while other conservatives abandoned it in droves as casualties mounted [40].

### **6. Conclusions**

Images of God cannot fully explain the complex relationship of religion and politics around the globe. Research that stresses the institutional and historical interplay between religion and politics is pre-eminent in our understanding of this dynamic. That said, political theology is often given short shrift at great cost. I expect this occurs due to an understandable oversight. Namely, social scientists tend not to fully comprehend the deep influence and importance of theology for believers. Classical theorists tended not to make this mistaken even as they derided religious belief in general. But on the whole, the effect of religious belief is very difficult to comprehend if you do not share it. Reliable research can overcome this oversight and can be conducted from a position of belief or non-belief. This is another way of saying that we should continue to closely investigate ideology to understand group and individual motivation. Images of God are another way to measure ideological differences and I expect they will provide some more revelations about the exceptional ways religion influences politics in the United States.

### **Conflicts of Interest**

The authors declare no conflict of interest.

### **References**


### **The Resurgence of Religion in America's Prisons**

### **Michael Hallett and Byron Johnson**

**Abstract:** This article discusses the growing prominence of "faith-based" programs in American corrections and the historical context of penal regime change during periods of economic crisis. The article traces areas of overlap and divergence in recent discussions of penal reform in the U.S. The article suggests a new American penitentiary movement is emerging, noting central tenets of faith-based programs have salience for both conservatives and liberals: on the one hand, faith-based programs are largely paid for by church congregations and volunteers, which appeals to conservatives' desire to shrink government and get taxpayers out of the business of community building; on the other, faith-based programs demonstrate a recommitment to having at least some level of programming in prisons, which satisfies the left's view that community building and social capital ultimately lower recidivism. The paper documents several prominent faith-based correctional programs while articulating an agenda for research.

Reprinted from *Religions*. Cite as: Hallett, M.; Johnson, B. The Resurgence of Religion in America's Prisons. *Religions* **2014**, *5*, 663–683.

*The religious influence on prison reform and penal policy remained a powerful one throughout the nineteenth century, as the work of Ignatieff and others has shown. Evangelicals were in the vanguard of reforming movements both in Britain and in the USA, helping to ameliorate conditions of captivity and to aid prisoners upon their release, later developing alternatives to imprisonment such as probation, which began as a form of missionary work funded by church-based temperance societies* [1].

### **1. Introduction**

In surprising ways, the history of prison reform involves first a detailed study of economic and social relations. Historians of punishment emphasize changing economic modes of production and how these relate to dramatic shifts in prevailing strategies of punishment. Durkheim emphasized how the emerging "division of labor" in industrial capitalism weakened social solidarity to bring about a rise in individualistic punishments over those performed in the public square; Foucault highlighted the "birth of the prison" amid the rise of market-focused "technologies of the soul" in the penitentiary itself; Dario Melosi and Massimo Pavarini [2], in their book *The Prison and the Factory: Origins of the Penitentiary System*, identify the architecture of the penitentiary system not just as a point of confinement and observation, but also as the point of instruction for a monastic-like work ethic to be applied in congregate factories. Historians of punishment often focus on the impact of economic social relations regarding transformations in penal strategy and changing sensibilities about punishment [3].

The prison itself, of course, first expanded as a humane alternative to the harsh public square punishments of the 17th and 18th centuries when the guillotine—first reserved for reasons of "decency" to members of the aristocracy—was made "democratically" available to all capital defendants during the French Revolution [4]. As the scaffold came to be associated with riotous fighting and political rebellion—the prison followed soon after, allowing for more regulated sanctioning while avoiding the spectacle of harsh public square punishments.

In short, the birth of the prison corresponded to the rise of industrial capitalism, with changing economic and social relations rendering corporal punishment less effective for securing public order than more regimented punishments of the "soul". As Jonathan Simon puts it: "The prison permits a far more graduated system of sanctions, the better to encourage full enforcement of the criminal laws protecting property. It operates to enforce discipline and self-control on those subjected to its rigors without the need or occasion for unruly publics to gather." [5]. When speaking of the "birth of the prison" or "discovery" of the asylum or as we argue here, even the (re)invention of "faith-based prisons", criminologists and historians of punishment should revisit the observation of Rusche and Kirchheimer: "Every system of production tends to discover punishments which correspond to its productive relationships." [6]. As the current era of mass-incarceration breaks down under increasing criticism from both sides of the political aisle, it is important to examine the macro-level changes that might be driving the re-emergence of religion in American prisons.

### **2. The Unintended Consequences of Correctional Expansion**

It is not surprising that penal institutions respond quickly and early to profound changes in political economy. As institutions that are largely bound to fail in their own terms at suppressing crime, and which are likely to come under particular stress and scrutiny during periods of social conflict, penal institutions are always about "reform"; either the existing ideals, still in need of proper implementation, or through proclaiming new ideals. "When something important changes in the political economy, throwing into question the practicality or relevance of existing assumptions about social stability, the legitimacy of institutions of punishment is likely to be seen as in crisis and requiring dramatic changes" [5].

America's massive correctional build up has taken a high toll not only on taxpayers in general, but especially on the plight of those residing within disadvantaged communities [7–13]. When one thinks of crime victims, children of prisoners, for example, do not typically come to mind. However, the many challenges facing children of an incarcerated parent make them one of the most disadvantaged groups in our society. Not surprisingly, children of prisoners go on to be overrepresented in the criminal justice system [14]. In addition to the estimated two million children of prisoners, add another roughly one million children of prisoners who may have a parent leaving prison each year. Over just the last five years, it is likely some seven million children have either had a parent in prison or recently released from prison. Further, these estimates do not consider the large number of children who have or have recently had a parent incarcerated in jail. [15].

When a parent is incarcerated, the lives of their children can be disrupted in many tragic ways. A change in the child's caregivers or the addition of a new member to the household can be quite traumatic [16]. For children who reside with a parent who becomes incarcerated, this may result in foster care placement and the introduction of new family members as well as reliance on nonparent adults for care [17]. Repeated changes in family relationships are a common source of disruption in children's lives. The potential instability and insecurities surrounding caregivers can be devastating for children [18]. Consider that children of prisoners are more likely to observe parental substance abuse, perform poorly in school, and experience poverty and disadvantage [19]. Moreover, research suggests that because of social stigma and isolation, families often deceive children about the whereabouts of incarcerated parents [20,21]. Taken together, these toxic factors can lead children of prisoners into early and frequent contact with the criminal justice system. In fact, children of prisoners are at-risk for alcohol and drug abuse, delinquency and crime, gang involvement, and subsequent incarceration [22–24]. For some children of prisoners, a fatalistic attitude can emerge whereby they believe there is little hope for living a full life, and even an expectation of following a similar path as their incarcerated parent [25,26].

We know that the cycle of imprisonment among large numbers of individuals is increasingly concentrated in poor, urban communities that already have enormous social and economic disadvantages [27,28]. Most prisoners are ill-prepared to navigate the many obstacles awaiting them after leaving prison including housing, employment, transportation, and trying to re-connect with families. To state the obvious, most ex-prisoners are not returning to positive and welcoming environments [29,30]. So challenging for ex-prisoners is this reentry process that many fall prey to substance abuse and other major health risks [30]. In fact, a study of all inmates released from prison in the state of Washington from July 1999 through December 2003 found the risk of death among former inmates to be 3.5 times higher than comparable residents during a 1.9 year follow-up period. Even more striking, during the first 2 weeks after release from prison, the risk of death among former inmates was 12.7 times that among other state residents. The leading causes of death among former inmates are drug overdose, cardiovascular disease, homicide, and suicide [30], *et al.*

### **3. Unlikely Allies in Prison Reform**

While it may be premature to invoke Victor Hugo's axiom "no army can stop an idea whose time has come" regarding prison reform, even a cursory examination of recent policy statements from both liberal and conservative leaders suggest harsh "warehouse" sentencing and massive prison construction may be coming to an end. Prison reformers on the left tend to highlight the cost-effectiveness of community-based rehabilitation programs for reducing offender recidivism when compared to long-term incarceration. Reformers on the right emphasize a sea change in how conservatives view criminal justice spending. As conservative reform advocate Grover Norquist recently put it: "Spending more on education doesn't necessarily get you more education. That's also true about national defense. It turns out it's also true about criminal justice and fighting crime." [31].

Insofar as getting "tough on crime" has been a defining issue for political conservatives, it has also created large government bureaucracies in policing, courts and corrections amid a largely federally funded "war on drugs" [32–35]. While consensus on the left has been that harsh prison sentences would lead to "institutionalization" and high recidivism, a newer movement away from harsh sentencing on the right connotes a deeper philosophical aversion to justice spending equivalent to that of other public sectors—as sources of high taxes and "big government". For example, Dagan and Teles explore the roots of conservative efforts to scale back use of incarceration, suggesting failed prisons have become like failing schools—and correctional officer employee unions equivalent to teachers unions who resist attempts to measure their performance:

"Once you believe that prisons are like any other agency, then it becomes natural to suspect that wardens and prison guards, like other suppliers of government services, might submit to the temptations of monopoly, inflating costs and providing shoddy service. And, of course, conservatives have long made such arguments to justify their pet project of bidding out incarceration to for-profit businesses. But the prisons-as-big-government critique has acquired a new force that makes the privatization debate almost irrelevant. Far from shilling for corporate jailers, conservatives now want to shrink the market. For fiscal hawks, the point now is not to incarcerate more efficiently or profitably, but to incarcerate less." [31].

In sum, while the left's concern about mass incarceration has been focused on the racially disproportionate impact of drug sentences and deleterious effects of long prison sentences, prison reformers on the right stress concerns about cost and return on investment.

However, the emerging contours of agreement between left and right on prison reform need to be closely examined. Nuances in cross-party support for prison reform belie deeper shifts in economic and social relations that better contextualize the debate. For example, the energy behind prison reform is anchored by agreement that harsh warehouse sentencing policies have failed taxpayers, but this consensus is not driven by wholesale agreement about what should come next. Heather Rice-Minus, a lawyer with the Justice Fellowship, the policy branch of Prison Fellowship, founded by the late Chuck Colson, sees traditional values at work. "We may use different language, but whether it's, quote, social or racial justice on the left, or quote, redemption and government accountability on the right, we're uniting on reform based on different but complementary values." [31].

Insofar as crime fighting has long been a core issue for conservatives, it has also carried high costs for taxpayers in prison construction, the hiring of more police officers, and maintaining custody and control of skyrocketing numbers of inmates [33,34]. While the vast majority of resources spent in the war on crime, of course, has gone to public and governmental agencies, a core impetus of faith-based programs is to re-direct government spending away from public agencies and funnel these toward private organizations outside of government. In the aftermath of the left's social welfare strategy for managing poverty and the right's subsequent zero tolerance strategy for managing crime, taxpayers arguably find themselves at the conclusion of two failed eras of modern social control, both of which required "big government" spending, but neither of which produced the longer-term transformations in social relations promised at the beginning.

Meanwhile, the needs of released prisoners returning to communities are in fact greater than ever before. According to Urban Institute: "In comparison to a decade ago, men and women leaving prison are less prepared for reintegration, less connected to community-based social structures, and more likely to have health or substance abuse issues." [36]. Hyper-incarceration weakened inner-city neighborhoods all the more, making them less able to successfully reintegrate **274**

ex-offenders than before. This is not to suggest that full-scale agreement between liberals and conservatives has been achieved on the topic of faith-based prison programs. While many liberals fear faith-based prisons violate separation of church and state, especially for their captive audiences, many conservative evangelicals also emphasize the notion that to be truly "faith-based", religious organizations should disassociate themselves entirely from government [37].

In sum, much recent criminological scholarship examines the shift toward high incarceration over the past 35 years, especially as it corresponds to a dismantling of the welfare state and rise of a "big government security state" [34,35]. Ultimately, however, both arguably failed. First, social welfare programs trapped impoverished citizens in isolated "housing projects" removed from transportation and employment while providing fiscal incentives for childbirth that weakened family cohesion. Next, the subsequent incarceration boom further depleted urban centers of social capital, housed men inside prisons until they became institutionalized, while providing almost no aftercare upon release. By the mid-1990s, recidivism skyrocketed in a perfect storm of expanded blight and social disorganization, with the greatest increase in recidivism being in the very policy area that was the priority of the crackdown: drug crime [38,39]. To paraphrase the work of criminologist Loic Wacquant and others, from the vantage point of 2014, both the *war on poverty* and the *war on drugs* were, in fact, failed wars on the same people, designed not so much to transform the poor as to contain them, not so much to address "broken windows" as to simply displace those visibly breaking them [39,40].

### **4. A Just Measure of Faith: The New American Penitentiary Movement**

In this paper, we argue a new American penitentiary movement is taking place and that a central tenet of faith-based programs helps explain its salience for both conservatives and liberals: on the one hand, faith-based programs are largely paid for by church congregations and volunteers, which appeals to conservatives' desire to shrink government and get taxpayers out of the business of community building; on the other hand, faith-based programs also demonstrate a recommitment to having at least some level of programming in prisons, which satisfies the left's view that community building and social capital ultimately lower recidivism.

By suggesting that program activities delivered by faith-based groups produce better results than similar programs run by the government, proponents of faith-based programs rely on claims of superior performance based on morality and caring—as well as the fact that many times these services are delivered by volunteers, at no cost to taxpayers. The argument frequently made on behalf of faith-based programs is twofold: first, that faith-based programs provide services at lower cost, but also that, second, faith-based programs provide services that government cannot provide at all—through the loving-kindness of volunteers motivated by agape and not a government contract or paycheck. The claim often made on behalf of faith-based programs is not only that they are cheaper, but that they are better [41]. The Preamble to Florida's enabling legislation authorizing the state's first "faith-based prison" demonstrates both the prioritization of private spirituality and fiscal conservatism in the faith-based prisons movement:

Whereas state government should not and cannot bear the sole burden of treating and helping those suffering from addictions and self-injurious behaviors, and, Whereas, faith-based organizations are "armies of compassion" devoted to changing individuals' hearts and lives and can offer cost-effective substance abuse treatment through the use of volunteers and other cost saving measures, and Whereas research has proven that "one-on-one" private and faith-based programming is often more effective than government programs in shaping and reclaiming lives because they are free to assert the essential connection between responsibility and human dignity; their approach is personal, not bureaucratic; their service is not primarily a function of professional background, but of individual commitment; and they inject an element of moral challenge and spiritual renewal that government cannot duplicate and Whereas, in an effort to transform lives and break the personally destructive and expensive recidivism cycle, Florida should increase the number of chaplains who strengthen volunteer participation and expand the pilot [faith-based] dormitory program that includes a voluntary faith component that supports inmates as they reenter communities. Be It Enacted by the Legislature of the State of Florida.

—Preamble, 2001 Florida Criminal Rehabilitation Act 2001 Fl. ALS 110; 2001 Fla. Laws ch. 110; 2001 Fla. SB 912

Thus, when placing the emergence of a faith-based prisons movement into context, it becomes clear that calls for faith-based prison reform emerged at a time of broader shifts in economic and social relations, reflective of longer-standing historical patterns. As Beckett and Sasson point out regarding the "big government" of criminal justice programming, however: "Reduced welfare expenditures are not necessarily indicative of a shift toward reduced government intervention in social life, but rather a shift toward a more exclusionary and punitive approach to the regulation of social marginality." [33]. Coming out of the 1970s, with urban ghettos isolated and dysfunctional, featuring failing schools, entropy in family, and persistent high unemployment, poor black neighborhoods produced record numbers of prisoners. Middle class voters of the same period, removed from the travails of urban decline, endorsed "toughness on crime" and a "culture of control" [42]. Social inequality, civil rights and integrationist agendas faded from prominence while scaling back the welfare state even by left leaning politicians like Bill Clinton and Tony Blair translated into high incarceration.

Perhaps the most fundamental "cultural" divide in contemporary U.S. politics involves the question of personal responsibility *versus* that of opportunity, agency *versus* structure. The social construction of "deserving" *versus* the "undeserving" poor—changed over time, from "deserving poor" being a descriptor of rural white poverty during the Great Depression, to the moniker "undeserving poor" aimed at African-American urban poverty in the 1960s [33]. As Melossi and Pavarini point out, however, the distinction between "good poor" and "bad poor" dates back to the emergence of industrial capitalism itself, with merit being associated with one's capacity and willingness for labor and prisons becoming a place "for teaching the discipline of production" [2]. In short, it is a time of great transition in American criminal justice policy—prompting both a sense of hope and fear among criminologists: "I think there is a general sense right now that we have built a beast that has to be un-built, and people are trying to figure out how we do it.…For criminologists who have been doing this for over 35 years, it is an exciting time, because the conversation has changed." [43].

Indeed, a central platform of the "compassionate conservative" movement on the right may now be coalescing with prison reform advocates on the left, in that both personal responsibility and providing opportunity through forgiveness is increasingly seen as both prudent and the right thing to do. As one of the nation's leading conservative proponents of prison reform, Texas Senator John Cornyn recently put it: "I've long despaired over the fact that we sort of gave up on people, or we have historically given up on people. Rehabilitation, alternative approaches, or at least giving people a second chance is the right thing to do, the humane thing to do, and it's a whole lot more cost-effective." [31].

### **5. Tracking the Scope and Evolution of Faith-Based Programs in American Prisons**

The absence of a comprehensive list or index of all faith-based programs operating in American prisons belies the fact that these programs exist in all prisons and correctional facilities in the United States. Religious programs for inmates are not only among the oldest but also among the most common forms of rehabilitative programs found in correctional facilities today [44,45]. This high prevalence of use is confirmed by the U.S. Department of Justice, which reports representative data on America's prison population. After admission to prison, 69% of inmates report having working assignments, 45% report participating in some form of academic education, and 31% report attending vocational training. 1 Among all other types of personal enhancement programs offered in prison, religious activities attracted the most participation: 32% of the sampled inmates reported involvement in religious activities such as Bible studies and church services, 20% reported taking part in self-improvement programs, and 17% reported that they had been involved in counseling. This national survey verifies what many correctional practitioners and volunteers have observed for years; namely, that many inmates attend and participate in religious programs.

However, what is new is the way in which the reach and nature of religious programs have changed in prisons over the last several decades. For many, quite understandably, the term "prison ministry" is synonymous with prison evangelism. Many churches have a prison ministry as part of a congregation's overall outreach strategy. However, even more common than church sponsored prison ministries are "mom and pop" jail/prison ministries. These individual-led ministries are rarely organized, and often operate in complete isolation from other congregation-based outreach efforts to prisoners. Regular observers of American prisons—rural or urban, large or small, minimum or maximum security—will find that these mom and pop prison ministries tend to be small and insular and are primarily aimed at preaching and evangelism.

<sup>1</sup> The Bureau of Justice Statistics conducted this study in the summer of 1991, conducting face-to-face interviews with 13,986 inmates from 277 correctional facilities in 14 states. The sampling design used a stratified two-stage selection process whereby the prisoners interviewed were selected from more than 711,000 adults held in state correctional facilities throughout the United States. Similar surveys were conducted in 1974, 1979, and 1986.

Perhaps, the earliest and largest organized effort toward prison evangelism can be traced to 1969 and the Bill Glass Evangelistic Association. Now known as Champions for Life (CFL), this prison ministry was founded by former National Football League football player Bill Glass, and purports to be the world's largest evangelistic prison ministry [44]. CFL's mission statement is to "assist the Church by equipping and igniting Christians to share their faith in Jesus Christ with the 'least of these'." Given this history, it is not surprising that prison ministries are viewed as simply evangelizing prisoners. Consequently, one might suspect that people driven to preach to prisoners would not really be very compassionate or have a more holistic vision for prisoner rehabilitation that prioritizes a host of non-spiritual or secular concerns related to prisoner needs like education, vocational training, life skills, and mentoring. Read the promotional material of some of these prison ministries and one will find plenty of assertions that would seem to reinforce this stereotype.

The reality is that contemporary prison ministry and faith-based prison programs are not simply evangelistic—far from it. For several decades, prison ministries have done far more than simply preach to prisoners. Instead of just going into correctional facilities to participate in an evangelistic service or lead a Bible study, faith-motivated volunteers as well as faith-based organizations have increasingly developed and implemented much more pervasive and comprehensive programs for prisoners, ex-prisoners, and even the families of those incarcerated.

Consider the aforementioned Champions for Life, known as the world's largest evangelistic prison ministry, has developed multiple programs that target other at-risk populations, and do so without an evangelistic focus. CFL and its various ministries are dedicated to promoting virtuous and prosocial behavior to children in public schools, especially inner-city schools, as well as providing long-term mentoring relationships to adjudicated youth coming out of the juvenile court system [44]. Thus, the organization known as the world's largest evangelistic prison ministry is actively supporting at-risk youth in non-proselytizing ways that seek to steer at-risk youth away from a life of crime.

Kairos Prison Ministry International, one of the largest prison ministries in the world, seeks to address the spiritual needs of incarcerated men and women, and their families, as well as those who work in the prison environment. According to the Kairos mission statement, "the people of Kairos are called by God to share the love of Christ with those impacted by incarceration". Drawing upon believers from a variety of Christian traditions, Kairos trains volunteers to work within one of three Kairos programs: Kairos Inside, Kairos Outside, and Kairos Torch [45].

Kairos Inside utilizes trained volunteer teams of men and women from communities in close proximity to an institution to present an introductory 3-day weekend, deemed "a short course on Christianity". This effort is mobilized in cooperation with the prison chaplain, and an organized follow-up is part of the weekend program. The Kairos Inside program currently operates in 350 prisons in 31 states in the U.S. and eight additional countries. More than 170,000 incarcerated men and women have been introduced to Kairos, since its inception and the current number of volunteers exceeds 20,000 per year [45].

Kairos Outside is a special weekend retreat designed to support the female loved ones of men and women who are incarcerated. It is a safe environment for women to interact with other women in similar situations. Women are encouraged to form small groups that can support them in dealing with the many challenges facing the families of the incarcerated. The Kairos Outside program operates in 19 states, Canada, England, Australia and South Africa, and is active in 35 locations. Kairos Torch is a ministry that encourages young men and women who have experiences in the criminal justice system to participate in mentoring relationships. Kairos volunteers commit to a weekly mentoring process with these youthful offenders for six month following the initial weekend retreat. Currently, the Kairos Torch program is operational in 10 locations.

In sum, Kairos Prison Ministry utilizes an army of trained volunteers to work with and mentor male and female prisoners. Moreover, recognizing that correctional environments are stressful, Kairos volunteers also seek to encourage those correctional employees working within correctional environments. Though sharing the Christian faith is still central, Kairos volunteers provide all manner of assistance to prisoners whether through education, like skills, and ongoing mentoring. Additionally, Kairos is actively mentoring youthful offenders in an effort to prevent these same youth from ending up in the adult correctional system.

Launched in London, England in the late 1970s, the Alpha Course presents the basic principles of the Christian faith to new Christians. Over the last two decades, the course has expanded internationally and Alpha USA has also launched Alpha for Prisons which presently operates in 145 prisons within the United States. More recently, Alpha USA through collaborative efforts with other faith-based and community organizations is now offering prisoner re-entry services to the criminal justice system.

Founded in 2000, Horizon Prison Ministry works to restore prisoners and those formerly incarcerated to healthy purposeful living through mentoring, education, skill training, and spiritual growth. Horizon attempts to bring the larger community into the process of restoring offenders back to society. The Horizon program extends over a 12-month period. Inmates who volunteer to participate in Horizon are placed within a modified housing unit. The men come together as a community in a living and learning environment. Horizon has a focus on transition preparation and men receive mentoring and guidance from Horizon volunteers and a group of resident encouragers. Preliminary evaluation research of Horizon program shows promising results [46–50].

The Prison Entrepreneurship Program (PEP) is a Houston-based nonprofit organization that connects executives, MBA students, and leaders with convicted felons [48]. PEP was founded on the proposition that if inmates who were committed to their own transformation were equipped to start and run legitimate companies, they could succeed in business following release from prison. PEP sponsors entrepreneurship boot camps and re-entry programs for inmates. It started with a "behind bars" business plan competition that drew upon the entrepreneurial acumen of inmates. The initial experiment proved so successful that the Prison Entrepreneurship Program was established in 2004. The mission of PEP is to stimulate positive life transformation for business executives and inmates, uniting them through entrepreneurial passion, education and mentoring. Since the inception of PEP, over 700 inmates have graduated from the program. PEP graduates, on average, pay approximately \$7000 annually in taxes following release from prison. PEP is growing quickly and now recruits prisoners from more than 60 prisons throughout the Texas Department of Criminal Justice (TDCJ). PEP is arguably one of the most innovative and promising correctional programs in the entire country.

Data provided to the authors by Prison Fellowship, America's largest non-profit organization offering religious programming in prisons, shows their systematic residential programs exist in nearly 30% of all U.S. prisons, while their ad hoc programs are offered in an astonishing 86% of all America's 1236 prisons. At this point, more than half the states have some form of residential faith-based programs operating in their prison systems, and, by Constitutional fiat, all U.S. prisons must allow for religious worship and free-exercise of faith. Nationwide, literally hundreds of thousands of inmates participate in Prison Fellowship (PF) programs each year. Angel Tree, a program that unites offenders with their children while they are incarcerated, particularly around the holidays, currently exists in 81% of American state prisons.

PF offers prisoners a variety of in-prison programs. Through one-to-three-day seminars and weekly Bible studies, inmates are taught to set goals that prepare them for release. Weekly Bible studies usually last an hour, and one-to-three day seminars might be offered several times a year at a particular prison. The level of prisoner exposure to such religious programs is probably no more than 50 h of Bible study and several days of intensive seminars annually—a relatively modest correctional intervention. Even so, preliminary empirical evidence indicates regular participation in volunteer-led Bible studies is associated with reductions in recidivism. For example, Johnson, Larson, and Pitts (1997) [50] found that prisoners from four different New York prisons who attended 10 or more Bible studies during a one-year period prior to release were significantly less likely to be arrested during a one-year post-release follow-up study. In a more recent study, tracking these same prisoners for an additional seven years, it was found that regular participation in volunteer-led Bible studies remains significantly linked to lower rates of recidivism for two years and even three years post-release [50].

In the 1990s, PF tried to locate a prison partner that would allow them to launch a new initiative that would replace occasional volunteer efforts with a completely faith-based approach to prison programs. The ultimate goal would be to reform prisoners as well the prison itself. The late Charles Colson, founder of PF, unsuccessfully pitched this idea to a number of governors, before finding in 1996 an enthusiastic partner in then-Texas governor George W. Bush [51]. The collaboration between the Texas Department of Criminal Justice (TDCJ) and PF represented a first for Texas, if not the country. According to PF, the InnerChange Freedom Initiative (IFI) was different from traditional prison ministries in that it promotes adult basic education, vocational training, life skills, mentoring, and aftercare, while linking each of these components in a setting permeated by faith. IFI promotional material initially described the program as a "revolutionary, Christ-centered, Bible-based prison program supporting prison inmates through their spiritual and moral transformation beginning while incarcerated and continuing after release". Not surprisingly, this description fed the mistaken notion that religious programs like IFI were at odds with a treatment model. In reality, however, IFI established an approach that viewed religion and treatment as complementary [52].

IFI was officially launched in April of 1997, at the Carol Vance Unit, a 378-bed prison in Richmond, Texas. IFI is responsible for inmate programs and TDCJ is responsible for security and custody. Together, PF and the TDCJ formed a unique private–public partnership that would test the proposition that this sacred–secular collaboration could achieve the civic purpose of reducing recidivism and thereby increase public safety.

Anchored in biblical teaching, life-skills education, and group accountability, IFI established a three-phase program involving prisoners in 16–24 months of in-prison biblical programs and 6– 12 months of aftercare while on parole. Phase I of IFI lasts approximately 12 months and focuses on rebuilding the inmate's spiritual and moral foundation as well as providing educational and survival skills. A heavy emphasis is placed on:


Phase II of the IFI program lasts 6–12 months and seeks to continue the educational, work, and support group aspect of the program. The main difference in Phase II is that IFI participants are allowed to perform community service work during the day at off-site locations, such as Habitat for Humanity. IFI members in Phase II continue with Christian-based education, Bible study courses, mentoring, and support groups, but with a special emphasis on leadership issues.

Phase III of IFI is the aftercare component of the faith-based program and lasts for an additional 6–12 months. The mission of the aftercare program is to assist participants in their reentry into society by helping with housing and employment referrals, facilitating the mentoring relationship, and making connections between the offender and local church communities that will provide a nurturing environment to continue the former prisoner's spiritual growth. Aftercare workers recruit new churches and volunteers to assist in the mentoring of IFI participants, and to help with other critical reentry needs such as housing, transportation, and employment.

Johnson and Larson utilized a quasi-experimental research design, and found that IFI program graduates had significantly lower rates of rearrest than a matched group of inmates (17.3% *vs.* 35%), and had significantly lower rates of reincarceration than the matched group (8% *vs.* 20.3%) [52]. The fact that IFI graduates are significantly less likely to be either rearrested or reincarcerated during the two-year period following release from prison represents initial evidence that program completion of this faith-based initiative is associated with lower rates of recidivism of former prisoners.

Modeled on Prison Fellowship's InnerChange Freedom Initiative in Texas, the Minnesota Department of Correction (DOC) established in 2002 the InnerChange Freedom Initiative (InnerChange), a faith-based prisoner reentry program located at the Minnesota Correctional Facility (MCF)-Lino Lakes on the edge of the Twin Cities. MCF-Lino Lakes is a medium security facility. InnerChange is privately funded, and the program depends heavily on volunteers from local churches and religious organizations for the delivery of many of the services provided. InnerChange programs cover areas related to substance abuse education, victim impact awareness, life skills development, cognitive skill development, educational attainment, community reentry, religious instruction, and moral development.

**281**

The Minnesota DOC completed an outcome evaluation of the InnerChange program [53]. The evaluation assessed the impact of InnerChange on recidivism among 732 offenders released from Minnesota prisons between 2003 and 2009. The average follow-up period for the 732 offenders was a little more than three years. To evaluate the effectiveness of the InnerChange program for male inmates at MCF-Lino Lakes, the DOC examined recidivism outcomes among 732 offenders released from prison between 2003 and 2009. InnerChange participants had lower recidivism rates than the offenders in the comparison group. For example, 42% of the InnerChange participants had been rearrested for a new offense by the end of December 2011 compared with 51% of the comparison group offenders. The results also show that 25% of the InnerChange participants were reconvicted for a new offense compared to 34% in the comparison group. In addition, 9% of the InnerChange participants were reincarcerated for a new criminal offense compared to 13% of the comparison group offenders. The results from the multivariate statistical analyses, which controlled for time at risk and other rival causal factors, revealed that participating in InnerChange significantly lowered the risk of recidivism by 26% for rearrest, 35% for reconviction, and 40% for new offenses leading to reincarceration.

According to Duwe and King, there are likely several reasons why InnerChange reduces recidivism [53]. Though traditional Christian beliefs and doctrine promote living a prosocial and crime-free life, InnerChange also attempted to lessen the recidivism risk of those who participate by focusing on issues such as education, criminal thinking, and chemical dependency. Further, InnerChange participants receive a continuum of care that connects the delivery of programs in the institution to those found in the community. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, InnerChange expands offender social support networks by connecting participants to mentors and linking them with faith communities after their release from prison. The findings suggest that faith-based correctional programs can work if they incorporate elements of other correctional programs that are known to be effective. Additionally, a cost-benefit study by Duwe and Johnson finds that the Minnesota InnerChange program saves taxpayers approximately \$8300 per participant [54].

Helping prisoners to rewrite their life narrative can be a powerful and redemptive experience, giving ex-prisoners the hope and purpose needed to start a new and positive life, while at the same time helping them to come to grips with the anti-social life they have left behind [55,56]. Preliminary evidence indicates that faith-based pre-release/reentry prison programs can be effective in reducing recidivism [57]. However, most faith-based programs do not last very long and one can readily argue that to have the biggest possible salutary effect, prisoners need a more substantial or sustained faith-based intervention to be effective. Moreover, the most serious offenders tend to have longer prison sentences and are typically ineligible for consideration when it comes to participation in programs.

However, two experimental programs are now ready to test the proposition that a four-year prison seminary can be effective with even the hardest of those criminals serving very long sentences—even life sentences—within our nation's maximum security prisons. The Darrington Unit (Rosharon, TX, USA) resembles most other maximum security prisons around the country, except for the fact that it now offers a four-year seminary within the prison. On 29 August 2011, 39 prisoners were formally installed as the first class of seminarians studying to become ministers under a new program that operates within this maximum security prison. Referred to as the Darrington Seminary, it is an extension of the Ft. Worth-based Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. The nondenominational program is carefully modeled after a similar initiative at the Louisiana State Penitentiary, often referred to as Angola. Initiated by warden Burl Cain, the Angola Bible College (which is an extension of the New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary) has received considerable attention from religious media outlets since its inception in 1995. The unique aspect of these two seminaries is that they focus on enrolling "lifers" as well as those with extremely long prison sentences, so that the men, once graduated, will have many years to spend in sharing their faith and their moral convictions with others inside the prison [58].

Angola has a notorious and well-documented history as one of the most violent prisons in America. However, what an increasing number of observers have reported in recent years is a far less violent Angola. Many have suggested that Angola has undergone a total change in the prison culture during the last 20 years. Moreover, some credit this change to the fact that the Angola seminary graduates have remained inside the prison. Using this particular "lifer-student" approach, correctional leaders at Angola and Darrington are convinced they have the potential to not only rehabilitate prisoners, but to transform the prison environment itself.

Again, the difference in Angola and Darrington, where faith-based programs are concerned, is that these two seminaries will accept only those inmates with extremely long sentences, so the inmates can be returned to service inside the prison system, and therefore exert for many years an influence for moral change and spiritual renewal among the rest of the inmates. The most critical aspect of these two seminaries is their commitment to send their graduates out as "Field Ministers" to other prisons in their respective states. Angola has been sending out their graduates as "missionaries" for a number of years, and the Darrington Seminary now has approval from the highest levels of the TDCJ to follow this same approach [57].

The idea of placing a seminary within a maximum security prison is unprecedented within the field of corrections. However, the idea of placing seminaries in other prisons is already gaining traction amongst correctional leaders and key decision-makers. In fact, the Urban Ministry Institute (TUMI) and Prison Fellowship have launched in the last several years more than 20 seminaries within California's prison system as well as that many in prisons outside of California [58]. Indeed, serious discussions are now taking place between TUMI/PF and officials from a host of states regarding the possibility of bringing these privately funded prison seminary programs to prisons across the country. If these discussions take root, we may well be observing a major shift within the American prison system within the next few years.

Since faith-based programs tend to be privately funded and largely staffed by volunteers, they come at little or no cost to taxpayers. In a time of shrinking budgets and program cutbacks, correctional administrators are increasingly open to the idea of volunteer led faith-based programs and even seminaries, especially if the evidence indicates that they can be effective in reducing recidivism.

### **6. The Need for More Research on Faith-Based Prison Programs**

Despite the widespread presence of faith-based programs in American prisons, research on faith-based programs remains limited [59]. The field is in its infancy, beset by methodological and implementation challenges as well as the broad diversity in scope and character of faith-based programs operating in American corrections. As the Urban Institute recently stated: "Basic but critical questions about the nature of faith-based programs and how they may improve offender outcomes, including recidivism and other reentry outcomes, remain largely unanswered" [36]. Unfortunately, little research in the way of a deep-level examination of the specific elements of religiosity as they relate to desistance appears in the social science literature [60,61].

In short, despite the fact that religious faith has long been a cultural proxy for criminal rehabilitation, social science research on the *specific connections* between religiosity and *criminal desistance* has been lacking. Social scientists have been reluctant to attempt to measure the impact of "faith" in correctional programs—for some very good reasons. First, federal agencies and private foundations have rarely funded or prioritized research on faith-based programs within the field of corrections. This oversight has been a deterrent to scholars looking to conduct research in this overlooked area. Second, in the United States, because Constitutional strictures surrounding the 1st Amendment require voluntariness and a complete lack of coercion when governing participation in custodial "faith-based" programs, the obvious problem of *selection bias* complicates all efforts to compare performance of volunteers for faith-based programs with that of those who did not. In other words, for comparison purposes, we are not able to randomly assign individuals into experimental (e.g., faith-based program) or control groups (those receiving no intervention).

Regarding selection bias, inmates who volunteer for faith-based programs may be already qualitatively different from the general population of inmates—possibly being easier to deal with, more habitable in general, and more amenable to behavioral change. Critics of faith-based programs suggest the assets of faith-based programs—offered by volunteers at almost no cost to correctional systems in the U.S.—often provide resources widely unavailable to the general population of inmates. In other words, there may be "false incentives" to proclaiming one's faith in the context of prison that mask true behavior change or spiritual growth. More seriously, any positive effects of religious programs may well be the byproducts of qualitatively "easier" inmates self-selecting into the program while being offered a richer menu of human contact and services. As a result, much of the research on faith-based programs is still qualitative and even sometimes anecdotal [62–68].

Selection bias may also run in the opposite direction. Namely, inmates with less than positive motivations may be quick to sign up for faith-based programs. In fact, this is exactly what Byron Johnson discovered in the evaluation of the Texas InnerChange Freedom Initiative, a faith-based prison in Texas [53]. In-depth interviews with inmates participating in the faith-based program revealed that many signed up for the program to get close to home (*i.e.*, Houston), not because they were religious or wanted to participate in a faith-based program. Likewise, interviews with chaplains and correctional staff at the same prison indicated a general distrust of inmates signing up for the faith-based program. Stated differently, correctional staff uniformly indicated that many of the inmates signing-up for the program were "cons" hoping to impress the parole board and earn an early parole for having participated in a religious program. In other words, the faith-based program would attract inmates that were anything but devoutly religious looking. Such inmates would look for any angle to exploit that presents them in a better light before prison authorities and the parole board.

In order to address this gap in research, a number of studies utilizing exploratory "unstructured life-history narratives" have been produced and that help identify and investigate the subjective experiences of desisters, by way of "cognitive shifts", "identity changes", and attempts at "making good" described by successful ex-offenders [61–68]. As demonstrated in this previous research, religiously-anchored "redemption narratives" provide desisters with an important spiritual "toolkit" necessary for coping with what criminologist John Braithwaite calls "shame management" [69]. Offenders often characterize the resources provided by religiosity as often *more accessible* and *comprehensive* than those available through the justice system. Indeed, religiously-motivated desisters often describe themselves as empowered or "fired up" to meet the challenges associated with constructing pro-social identities after release [61–68].

For the reasons mentioned, much of the research on faith-based programs that does exist relies on qualitative narrative accounts. Religious spirituality has, in fact, been found to be a highly salient resource for many successful ex-offenders, especially under conditions of low emotional support and weak informal social control [61,62,70–73]*.* Phenomenological analyses of the desistance process reveal that religion and spirituality frequently help offenders construct stories of change that become vital to an altered sense of self.*.* More importantly, religiosity seems to help desisters undertake preliminary agentic moves that, while often not outwardly visible to family members or justice officials, are the beginnings of an evolving self-narrative that is both pro-social and provides a redemptive path [61,66].

Specifically, life-history narratives highlight agentic moves that draw upon stories of change emphasizing the ways religious practice and spirituality provide emotional, cognitive and linguistic resources employed by desisters in their daily lives. As Giordano *et al.* put it:

"Thus, in addition to its relative accessibility, religion seems to have potential as a mechanism for desistance because many core concerns within religious communities and the Bible relate directly to offenders' problem areas. Even more importantly, religious teachings can provide a clear blueprint for how to proceed as a changed individual." [68], *et al.*

### **7. Conclusions**

Rebuilding the lives of ex-offenders has proven exceedingly difficult. With national data showing a near 70% recidivism rate within three years after release from prison (by re-arrest) and a greater than 50% re-incarceration rate within five, America's correctional system has proven anything but the curative answer to the crime problem. Nearly 20 years of "prisoner reentry" research, moreover, has shown disappointing results—and in the comparatively few cases where desistance actually does take hold, desisters report succeeding *despite the system* rather than because of it [74]. For those few who do succeed after release from prison, the aphorism "you rehabilitate yourself" is what successful desisters report back [68]. Indeed, the high failure rate and sheer fiscal impact of American corrections draws resources away from related areas of concern like education and tuition-free childcare that might lesson crime. Despite the longstanding prominence of religion as a supposed source of criminal desistance, however, systematic research on specific religious programs for offenders is surprisingly lacking. While most research on religious programming for American prisoners involves Christianity, numerous documentations of non-Christian religious practice as supportive of offender desistance also exist in the literature. Two excellent recent pieces explore the growing prevalence of Eastern religious practice among prisoners [75,76].

While crime is often disproportionately concentrated in economically impoverished neighborhoods, religiosity may provide a reflexive framework empowering to ex-offenders. Successful desisters frequently report that religiosity provides a *spiritual fortitude* useful for a path for longer-term desistance even in the context of structural inequality [61–65]. Faith-based programs in American corrections are growing in prominence and are likely here to stay.

### **Author Contributions**

The authors jointly conceptualized, authored and produced this manuscript.

### **Conflicts of Interest**

The authors declare no conflict of interest.

### **References and Notes**



### **The Sociology of Humanist, Spiritual, and Religious Practice in Prison: Supporting Responsivity and Desistance from Crime**

### **Tom P. O'Connor and Jeff B. Duncan**

**Abstract:** This paper presents evidence for why Corrections should take the humanist, spiritual, and religious self-identities of people in prison seriously, and do all it can to foster and support those self-identities, or ways of establishing meaning in life. Humanist, spiritual, and religious (H/S/R) pathways to meaning can be an essential part of the evidence-based responsivity principle of effective correctional programming, and the desistance process for men and women involved in crime. This paper describes the sociology of the H/S/R involvement of 349 women and 3,009 men during the first year of their incarceration in the Oregon prison system. Ninety-five percent of the women and 71% of the men voluntarily attended at least one H/S/R event during their first year of prison. H/S/R events were mostly led by diverse religious and spiritual traditions, such as Native American, Protestant, Islamic, Wiccan, Jewish, Jehovah Witness, Latter-day Saints/Mormon, Seventh Day Adventist, Buddhist, and Catholic, but, increasingly, events are secular or humanist in context, such as education, yoga, life-skills development, non-violent communication, and transcendental meditation groups. The men and women in prison had much higher rates of H/S/R involvement than the general population in Oregon. Mirroring gender-specific patterns of H/S/R involvement found in the community, women in prison were much more likely to attend H/S/R events than men.

Reprinted from *Religions*. Cite as: O'Connor, T.P.; Duncan, J.B. The Sociology of Humanist, Spiritual, and Religious Practice in Prison: Supporting Responsivity and Desistance from Crime. *Religions* **2011**, *2*, 590–610.

### **Introduction**

Prisons, by nature, are dangerous places. Prisons concentrate large numbers of people in crowded conditions with little privacy and few positive social outlets. Prisons hold healthy people dealing with issues of loss, fear, shame, guilt and innocence, alongside people with mental illnesses, varying levels of maturity, sociopathic tendencies, and histories of impulsivity and violence. The sense of danger and the generally oppressive nature of prisons make it all the more remarkable that prisons can also be places of reflection, exploration, discovery, change and growth. St. Paul, Henry David Thoreau, Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X, Aung San Suu Kyi, and countless men and women have all used their time in prison for good.

Malcolm X dropped out of school after eighth grade and gradually got involved in prostitution, burglary, drugs, and firearms. In 1946, when he was 21, Malcolm was sentenced to 8 to 10 years in the Massachusetts state prison system for larceny and breaking and entering. During his first year in prison Malcolm was disruptive and spent quite a bit of time in solitary confinement. "I preferred the solitary that this behavior brought me. I would pace for hours like a caged leopard, viciously cursing aloud to myself." ([1], p. 156) Then, a self-educated and well regarded prisoner called Bimbi - "he was the first man I had ever seen command total respect…with his words" - inspired Malcolm to take up education, study and learning ([1], p. 157). Malcolm became more and more interested in religion and was advised by a religious leader to atone for his crimes, humbly bow in prayer to God and promise to give up his destructive behavior. After a week of internal struggle, Malcolm overcame what he describes as a sense of shame, guilt and embarrassment, and submitted himself in prayer to God and became a member of the Nation of Islam. It was a turning point, the kind of 'quantum change' described by William Miller in *Quantum Change: When Epiphanies and Sudden Insights Transform Ordinary Lives* [2]."I still marvel at how swiftly my previous life's thinking pattern slid away from me, like snow off a roof. It is as though someone else I knew of had lived by hustling and crime." "Months passed by without my even thinking about being imprisoned. In fact, up to then, I had never been so truly free in my life." ([1], p. 173) This jail-house religious conversion experience set the direction for Malcolm X's lifelong journey of self, religious, racial, political, class and cultural discovery, and his profound influence on American life, which continues to be a topic of immense importance and debate to this day [3].

There are many similar prison stories of conversion leading to successful desistance from crime and a generous life of giving to one's culture, community, and country [4]. In their article "Why God Is Often Found Behind Bars: Prison Conversions and the Crisis of Self-Narrative", Maruna, Wilson and Curran (2006) make two important points. Their first point is the lack of social science knowledge about religion and spirituality in this unique context of incarceration. "The jail cell conversion from "sinner" to true believer may be one of the best examples of a "second chance" in modern life, yet the process receives far more attention from the popular media than from social science research." Their second point is that the discipline of "narrative psychology" can provide explanatory insight into the phenomenon of religious and spiritual conversion in prison. Prisoner conversions, they argue, are a narrative that "creates a new social identity to replace the label of prisoner or criminal, imbues the experience of imprisonment with purpose and meaning, empowers the largely powerless prisoner by turning him into an agent of God, provides the prisoner with a language and framework for forgiveness, and allows a sense of control over an unknown future." [5]

Todd Clear and a group of colleagues, such as Harry Dammer and Melvina Sumpter, explored the meaning and impact of religious practice in prisons throughout the US in a series of ethnographic and empirical studies. They found this practice helped people to psychologically adjust to prison life in a healthy way [6,7], and to derive motivation, direction and meaning in life, hope for the future, peace of mind, and make a shift in their lifestyle or behaviors [8,9]. High levels of religious practice and belief in a transcendent being were also related to positive post-prison adjustment in the community upon release [10]. Interestingly, Clear *et al.* argue that the main role of religion and spirituality in prison is not to reduce recidivism but to prevent, or at least ameliorate, the process of dehumanization that prison contexts in the U.S. tend to foster. Religion and spirituality in prison help to humanize a dehumanizing situation by assisting prisoners in coping with being a social outcast in a context that is fraught with loss, deprivation, and survival challenges [11]. Along these lines, Cullen *et al.* argue that criminologists must be more willing to help discover and support ways in which correctional institutions can be administered more humanely and effectively [12]. The practice of religion and spirituality in prison is one way to foster humanity and support desistance in a social context that can be inherently inhumane.

The Washington State Institute for Public Policy (WSIPP) meta-analysis of the impact of rehabilitation programs on recidivism included six 'faith-based' or 'faith-informed' studies that met their standards for methodological quality or rigor, and concluded that the findings on the impact of faith-based interventions on recidivism were "inconclusive and in need of further research". Interestingly, four of the six studies in the meta-analysis failed to find an overall program effect on reducing recidivism, but two found a positive effect, one of which was also the study with the highest effect size (-0.388) for reducing recidivism, among the 291 evaluations that met the rigorous methodological criteria for acceptance in the meta-analysis. The study with the highest effect size was a study of a faith-informed program for very high-risk sex offenders in Canada called Circles of Support and Accountability or CoSA [13]. Additional research conducted by CoSA since the meta-analysis confirmed the strong effect size findings for the CoSA program. [14] Johnson's review of the broad literature on religion and delinquency/crime in the community and after prison is very helpful because it examines a wide range of outcomes for a wide range of religious variables, and includes a large number (272) of studies of varying methodological rigor. Johnson's conclusion, however, that "clear and compelling empirical evidence exists that religiosity is linked to reductions in crime" is not fully supported by the WSIPP meta-analytic findings about the impact of faith-based programs/religion on reducing crime for ex-prisoners [15, p. 172]. O'Connor *et al.* discuss the six studies included in the WSIPP meta-analysis along with some additional studies, and expand on the generally encouraging but inconclusive state of the research findings on recidivism from the corrections literature [16]. Dodson *et al.* also review some of the literature in this area of recidivism but do not include all of the relevant studies in their review [17].

Important new findings from a series of eight meta-analytic studies commissioned by the American Psychological Association (APA) are very relevant to this question of the connection between religion and corrections. These eight studies looked at whether or not it 'works' to adapt or match psychotherapy to eight individual client characteristics. In correctional terms, this APA research relates to the third of the three main principles of the Risk-Need-Responsivity Model of rehabilitation, namely the principle of responsivity [18]. The evidence-based principle of responsivity in corrections has two aspects to it. First, 'general responsivity' states that correctional interventions should use cognitive-behavioral modes of intervention as offenders respond best to this style of programming. Second, 'specific responsivity' states that interventions need to be tailored to the specific ways in which individual clients respond to treatment; a very shy person will not do well in groups, an illiterate person will not do well in programs that require a lot of writing *etc.* Responsivity is about adapting treatment to the particular ways in which the offender population in general, and individual offenders in particular, respond to treatment. The APA studies concluded that it was "demonstrably effective in adapting psychotherapy" to four of the eight factors studied: (1) reactance/resistance; (2) client preferences; (3) culture; and (4) religion and spirituality (R/S). The APA now counsels all of its members to incorporate a person's religion and/or spirituality into their treatment (regardless of the therapist's religion and/or spirituality), because doing so produces better treatment outcomes. "Patients in R/S psychotherapies showed greater improvement than those in the alternate secular psychotherapies both on psychological (d = 0.26) and spiritual (d = 0.41) outcomes." [19].

The APA meta-analytic study on the outcomes of adapting psychotherapy to a patient's particular religious and spiritual outlook categorized these R/S outlooks into four different types of spirituality based on the type of object a person feels a sense of closeness or connection to: (1) humanistic spirituality; (2) nature spirituality; (3) cosmic spirituality; and (4) religious spirituality [20]. Many humanists, secularists and atheists *etc.*, however, do not like to use word "spiritual" to describe their perspective on life, so we prefer to collapse this fourfold categorization into a threefold classification based on a person's way of making ultimate meaning in the world and their affective connection to the world and the transcendent: (1) humanist; (2) spiritual (includes both nature and cosmic spirituality); and (3) religious. Humanists tend to find meaning in human life itself and do not relate to a transcendent being or spirituality beyond human life. Sometimes referred to as secularists or 'Nones' (no stated religious preference, atheists, agnostics), this group of people is growing and now accounts for 15% of the US public [21]. On the other hand, people who are spiritual and/or religious, (many people say they are both spiritual and religious) [22], find meaning in life precisely by relating to some being or force that transcends human life. However one categorizes the different types, it is important for Corrections to take note that the APA has recommended that all psychologists and counselors should integrate humanism, spirituality, and religion into their work in a way that matches each client's particular way of establishing ultimate meaning in life or feeling connected to something that is vitally important in their lives [19,20].

A new federal law, passed in 2000, called the Religious Land Use and Institutionalized Persons Act (RLUIPA), has dramatically reduced the ability of prisons and jails to restrict humanist, spiritual or religious (H/S/R) accommodations because of security or practical concerns. Just as prisons and jails must provide inmates with access to health care, they must now provide inmates with the ability to express and practice their belief and meaning systems, unless there is a compelling government reason not to do so. The Supreme Court has consistently ruled that people do not lose their First Amendment constitutional rights to practice their religion, spirituality, or way of life, when they are incarcerated. Before RLUIPA, prisons had fairly wide scope as to what they would and would not accommodate. RLUIPA and a series of other US cultural and legal developments, have meant that the "topic of religion and the criminal justice system is now clearly on the national criminological agenda" [23]. These First Amendment rights and responsibilities extend beyond spirituality and religion into humanism. In 2005, the US Court of Appeal did not declare that atheism was a religion, but did decide that atheism was afforded the same protection as religion under the First Amendment, and ordered a prison in Wisconsin to allow an inmate to form a study group for atheists alongside the religious study groups they already allowed [24].

In his acclaimed book, *A Secular Age*, Charles Taylor describes what it means to live in a modern secular democracy and a secular age. For Taylor, every person can now choose how they will create a sense of ultimate meaning for their life, and relate to the big questions of health, justice, suffering, evil, death and the purpose of life. The more traditional choice derives meaning from a diverse range of religious and spiritual traditions, which posit a transcendent source or ground of meaning, usually called God or the Divine. Now that we live in a secular age, people can and do choose to make meaning in a way that makes no reference to a transcendent God/Divinity, but only to human life and the human condition. This purely secular or humanistic way of making meaning is new; historically, this choice has never been available on a broad societal level. Nowadays, people take this choice for granted [25]. Prison chaplains have a unique potential, by way of their training, prison roles, skills and interests, to work with all three ways of making meaning – humanist, spiritual and religious [16]. Working effectively with all three paths, however, is a challenge for some prison chaplains and prison chaplaincies. The legislative hearings for the RLUIPA act (above) in the US make it clear that RLUIPA was enacted, in large part, because various prison systems and chaplains were not equally or fairly accommodating the wide variety of humanist, spiritual and religious traditions and meaning-making represented in their prisons. Similarly, Beckford and Gilliat, devote a whole book to making the point that structural and sociological issues make it difficult for English and Welsh prison chaplains to provide "equal rights in a multi-faith society". The English and Welsh prison chaplains function in a social system that gives a privileged position to the Church of England, often referred to as the "national church". This meant that, until recently, a very large majority of the prison chaplains were from the Church of England/Anglican tradition. The dominant position of the Church of England chaplains increasingly caused problems of equal access and opportunity for a variety of non-Christian faiths as English and Welsh society became more multi-faith [26]. "The reason for highlighting the structural setting of religion in prison rather than the beliefs and actions of individuals was to expose the social, organizational and cultural factors which shape the opportunities for prisoners to receive religious and pastoral care."

To summarize: many people, like Malcolm X, undergo profound conversion experiences in prison that brings about a quantum change in the trajectory of their life; the practice of H/S/R in prisons and jails is constitutionally protected; and this practice has been found to help people adjust, psychologically and behaviorally, to prison life and develop personal narratives and identities that support desistance from crime. Further research will determine whether or not, and how, this practice is related to reductions in recidivism. Evidence from the field of psychology on the evidence-based responsivity principle of effective correctional programming, strongly suggests that treatment and correctional staffs in prisons, jails, probation and parole should incorporate a person's H/S/R into their correctional treatment and supervision practices. It is increasingly important, therefore, to have an accurate understanding of how H/S/R functions in a correctional setting and how to foster H/S/R in these unique contexts.

### **Understanding Humanism, Spirituality, and Religion in a Prison Setting**

There are a few excellent ethnographic studies that seek to understand the meaning and role of H/S/R in the lives of prisoners [7,8, 27], but to our knowledge, there is not a single systematic or comprehensive description of H/S/R practice in prison. Maruna argues that researchers and practitioners who study correctional interventions often ask the question "What works?" but fail to ask the equally important question "How does it work?" [28]. O'Connor *et al.* review the literature on H/S/R in prisons and community corrections, and much of this literature is focused on the question of whether it works, rather than how it works [16,29,30,]. Most of the literature is also focused on organized religion but, as we have argued above, this conceptual approach needs to make a shift to include all three ways of making ultimate meaning: humanism, spirituality and religion. In this paper, we describe the sociology of H/S/R in a correctional system, specifically the Oregon state prison system, and leave the question of H/S/R content and outcomes to future papers [31]. An important first step to answering the "how does it work" question is to describe and understand the phenomenon we are questioning. To put it simply: What does H/S/R look like in a prison context?

The Oregon Department of Corrections (ODOC) has a computerized scheduling system that helps organize and track the work and program involvement (education, cognitive, drug and alcohol treatment *etc.*) of the approximately 14,000 men and women who are incarcerated in 14 prisons around the state. Beginning in 2000, the department's Religious Services Unit began to add all of the events and services it organized to the scheduling system in each of the prisons. Gradually, the accuracy and completeness of the H/S/R data entry improved in each prison, and by 2004 the data was of sufficient quality to initiate the present study.

The Oregon Department of Corrections organizes what it calls the Religious Services unit in a different way than many other state prison chaplaincy systems. Chaplains in many U.S. state prison systems are hired by the prison where they will work, and are supervised by a deputy warden/superintendent or the head of prison programming. In Oregon, the Religious Services unit is part of a centralized Transitional Services Division that has responsibility for overseeing the intake assessment/classification center, and the education, drug and alcohol, H/S/R, and reentry services for all of the prisons. So the Religious Services unit has its own centrally-based senior manager or Administrator who sets the direction for the statewide H/S/R services at each of the prisons, and oversees the budget, goals/policies, and hiring, training and supervision of the chaplains and other staff in the Religious Services Unit. Tom O'Connor, one of the authors on this paper, held the Administrator of Religious Services position with the Oregon Department of Corrections from 2000 to 2008. Currently, there are 22 full-time chaplains, two half-time chaplains, and seven other staff members in the Religious Services unit [32]. The staff members in the unit serve the H/S/R needs of all inmates, and they come from several different faith backgrounds including: Zen Buddhist, Sunni Muslim, Presbyterian, Unitarian, Baptist, Foursquare Christianity, Lutheran, Shambhala Buddhist, Latter-day Saints, Methodist, Missouri Synod Lutheran, Greek Orthodox *etc.* When we collected the data for this study (2004 to 2005), the Religious Services staff makeup was basically similar to the current makeup, though slightly smaller and less religiously diverse.

The chaplains and other staff in the Religious Services unit are responsible for four kinds of programs or services: (1) the H/S/R services and programs in the 14 prisons; (2) a statewide faith and community-based reentry program called Home for Good in Oregon[33]; (3) a statewide volunteer program for about 2000 volunteers; and (4) a victim services program that includes the Victim Information and Notification Everyday (VINE) program and a facilitated dialogue program between victims of serious crime and their incarcerated offenders [32]. Almost all of the services and events organized by the ODOC chaplains are religious or spiritual in nature, however, the chaplains are increasingly involved in facilitating services that take place in a humanist or secular context, without any religious or spiritual overtones, such as non-violent communication classes, social study groups, victim-offender dialogues, restorative justice programs, third level educational programs such as Inside-Out, and non-religious meditation programs such as Transcendental Meditation [34]. The chaplains also do a great deal of direct counseling, informal interacting, and death/grief work with inmates who do not have any religious or spiritual background or practice.

The Oregon prison chaplains would not be able to meet the diverse and widespread H/S/R needs of the men and women in prison without the help of a substantial cadre of volunteers. These volunteers are an indispensible part of the sociology we are examining, and many voices such as the Director of the National Institute of Corrections are now arguing for an expanded role for volunteers in corrections [35]. In this paper, we give a brief overview of these volunteers; a forthcoming paper will examine the volunteer program in depth [36]. The largest group of volunteers is related in some way to religious faith traditions or spiritualties. Approximately 75% of the almost 2,000 men and women who currently volunteer for prison and/or reentry programs with the Oregon Department of Corrections, are religious or spiritual volunteers who come from a wide variety of faith and spiritual traditions such as Native American, Jewish, Protestant, Catholic, Hindu, Buddhist, Seventh Day Adventist, Latter Day Saints, Jehovah Witness, and Earth-Based or pagan such as Wicca. Ten per cent of the prison volunteers work in the area of drug and alcohol recovery, primarily from the Alcoholics and Narcotics Anonymous (AA and NA) traditions, and tend to fall into the "spiritual" category, along with some Native Americans, Wiccans, and Buddhists *etc.*, who prefer to think of themselves as spiritual but not necessarily religious. The AA and NA volunteers do not usually self-identify as 'religious' in the sense of belonging to an organized religion, but often consider themselves as spiritual because a "higher power" is a core part of their way of being and making meaning. McConnell recently did a series of ethnographic interviews with a diverse group of spiritually and religiously involved men in two of Oregon's prisons (a maximum security prison with a population of about 2,400, and a medium security prison with a population of about 800). Tony, one of the men interviewed by McConnell, who had a Native American ethnic heritage but no previous exposure to Native American spiritual practices prior to being in prison, expresses this identification with spirituality and not religion:

The first sweat [sweat lodge ceremony] I went to, I still had a lot of the anger, and I went in, and I heard some of the stories that they told.... A lot of their history, combined with their - I wouldn't call it a "religion" - but their beliefs. And then, a lot of their personal things that they were kinda lettin' go of and what not. And I was able to just let go of a lot of my anger. And was reassured that things, you know, if you have a good heart, a good mind and what not, it doesn't matter if it's God or Great Spirit, but you will be rewarded in time. ([27], p. 255)

The final 15% of volunteers in Oregon tend to work out of a wide variety of humanist or secular contexts and help with high school and college education, cultural clubs, re-entry, communication skills, meditation, recreational activities, life-skills development and administrative tasks in the department. Some of these 'humanist' volunteers work out of the Religious Services unit, and some of them work out of other units such as Education and Activities. A good example of this humanist or secular group would be many of the volunteers in the Inside-Out Prison Exchange program. Trained Inside-Out professors teach accredited college courses inside a prison, but half of the students in the class are inmates and half are outside students from a local university. Inside-Out has held nearly 200 classes with over 6,000 students, and trained more than 200 instructors from over 100 colleges and universities in 35 US states and Canada. The Inside-Out Program 'increases opportunities for men and women, inside and outside of prison, to have transformative learning experiences that emphasize collaboration and dialogue, inviting participants to take leadership in addressing crime, justice, and other issues of social concern.'[37]

These humanist, spiritual and religious volunteers are a huge resource for corrections and public safety; they are dedicated to making a difference in society and helping to lift people out of crime and into productive lives in the community.

### **The Sociology of Humanist, Spiritual and Religious Practice in a Prison Context**

We turn now to describe the H/S/R background and involvement of people who spend at least one year in prison. The Oregon correctional system sends people to the state prison system when their sentence length is one year or longer. Those who are sentenced to less than a year serve their time in the county jail system. Not everyone who is sentenced to the state prison system, however, spends a full year in prison because their time in the County jail awaiting trial *etc.* is counted toward their sentence. The population for this longitudinal study was the 3,009 men (90%) and 349 women (10%) who entered the Oregon state prison system at any point during 2004 and who were still in the system one year later from their original 2004 date of intake into the system. We started collecting data on the H/S/R involvement of these men and women from their particular date of entry in 2004 and followed them all for a one-year period from that date.

Table 1 shows the basic demographics for both the men and the women. Compared to men, the women were more likely to be White, and Native American and less likely to be Asian, African American and Hispanic. Men were much more likely to be a gang member and to have committed a sexual offence than women. The average age of the men and women, however, was the same. So, demographically, the men in our study differ significantly to the women.

Oregon has one central intake or receiving center for men and women who enter prison. The intake center is located on the grounds of the only women's prison in Oregon. The women and men are held in separate parts of the intake center for about three weeks and then moved to the only women's prison in Oregon or one of 13 male prisons for the remainder of their sentence. The men might be moved several times between these 13 prisons prior to their release. The women can only move between the medium and minimum sections of the women's prison which are located in separate buildings on the same grounds as the intake center. During intake, the ODOC conducts a battery of criminogenic risk, need, and responsivity assessments, including security, education, drug and alcohol, health, dental and psychological assessments.

The department does not keep any data on the H/S/R self-identity or affiliation of the men and women in the state prison system, and generally permits anyone to attend whatever H/S/R service or activity might be of interest to them, regardless of their self-identity. In 2004, the Religious Services staff made a voluntary H/S/R self-report assessment available to each person coming through intake, and 684 out of the 3009 men (23%) and 124 of the 349 women (36%) took the H/S/R assessment.


**Table 1.** Demographics of Study Population (N = 3009 males and 349 females).

The first question in the survey was "Choose one statement that describes you the best." with four possible answers: (1) I am spiritual and religious; (2) I am spiritual but not religious; (3) I am religious but not spiritual; and (4) I am neither spiritual nor religious. The men and the women answered this question in a very similar fashion: 60% of the men and 66% of the women said they were 'spiritual and religious'; 23% of the men and the women said they were 'spiritual but not religious'; 9% of the men and 7% of the women said they were 'religious but not spiritual'; and 8% of the men and 4% of the women said they were 'neither spiritual nor religious'. So, most inmates consider themselves to be 'both spiritual and religious.' Almost a quarter, however, consider themselves to be 'spiritual but not religious', and relatively small percentages consider themselves to be either 'religious but not spiritual', or 'neither spiritual nor religious'. This is roughly the same pattern that has been found in the general community, although people entering prison in Oregon may be different than the general population of Oregon in how they answer this question. One study with a general community sample from another state found that 74% were 'spiritual and religious', 19% were 'spiritual but not religious', 4% were 'religious but not spiritual', and 3% were 'neither religious nor spiritual' [22]. The neither 'spiritual nor religious' group probably equates in some way to a humanist group that tends to find meaning within the boundaries of human life (and not in relationship to a transcendent realm or object). Obviously, more research needs to be done before we can make clear distinctions between these H/S/R categories, but these figures give us a good starting point.

Figure 1 shows the self-reported H/S/R affiliation for the 648 men and 124 women who voluntarily took the H/S/R assessment in 2004. Respondents could check multiple answers, and because 180 (23%) of the men and women did so, we tallied all of the responses for a total N of 998. So if a person listed one preference we counted that as one, and if a person listed 2, 3, or 4 preferences, we counted that as 2, 3, or 4 *etc.* Although these numbers are not representative of the entire intake population, they are the best estimate we have of the incoming H/S/R affiliation of the study population. Later in the paper we will see that the decision to voluntarily take the H/S/R assessment at intake was a predictor of who would attend H/S/R events in prison, so our sample is biased toward people who are more actively engaged in H/S/R. The majority (48%) say they are Christian/Protestant, followed by 7% Catholic, 7% Native American, 7% Don't Know, 7% No Preference, 4% Other, 3% Latter Day Saint, 3% Earth Based, 3% Christian Scientist, 2% Jehovah Witness, 2% Seventh Day Adventist, 2% Buddhist and the remainder (6%) made up of very small numbers of Islamic, Agnostic, Jewish, Atheist, Hindu, Scientology, New Age, Confucian, Eastern Orthodox, and Hare Krishna (ISKON). Women were significantly more likely than men to say they were Christian/Protestant or Jewish, but equally likely to choose the other affiliations or selfidentities. The unaffiliated 14% who said "no preference" or "don't know" are a fairly large group, and some of these may tend toward the humanist perspective. While 14% of our samples choose 'no preference' or 'don't know', only 4% said they were 'neither spiritual nor religious', so these terms are not synonymous. A 2008 study found that Oregon's largest religious group was Evangelical Protestant (30%) or Mainline Protestant (16%), followed by Catholic (14%), and Latter Day Saints (5%). This study also confirmed what other surveys have found, that Oregon has one of the highest percentages of religiously unaffiliated adults in the country: 27% unaffiliated in Oregon compared to 16% nationally [38]. On the face of it, therefore, the H/S/R self-identities of people entering prison in Oregon seem to differ from the general Oregon population in some respects (fewer unaffiliated and fewer Catholic), and not to differ in others (similar percentages of Protestant and Latter-day Saints).

**Figure 1.** Humanist, Spiritual and Religious Affiliation at Prison Intake (N = 998).

The H/S/R assessment at intake asked people how often they had attended a church, synagogue, mosque, sweat lodge *etc.* as a child, as a teenager, in the year prior to their arrest and in the year following their arrest. Figure 2 shows how the women and men responded to this question. We see a similar pattern for both men and women of high levels of attendance as a youth, with progressively falling levels of attendance up to the point of arrest, and then a dramatic increase in attendance following arrest. The pattern, however, is even more pronounced for the women than the men. The women (70%) and the men (68%) were equally likely to have attended some religious or spiritual group as a child, and as a teenager (48% for both). The women (23%), however, were less likely than the men (30%) to have attended in the year prior to their arrest, and more likely (66%) than the men (54%) to attend in the year after their arrest. Findings like these, together with the higher rate of women voluntarily taking the H/S/R assessment at the intake center, soon led us to conclude that we needed to consider men and women separately in every analysis as there are significant gender differences in H/S/R behaviors in prison. In many cases these gender differences of involvement mirror similar gender differences of H/S/R involvement in the general community.

**Figure 2.** Religious/Spiritual Involvement (once a month or more) over Time for Females and Males (N = 772).

Research has shown that, in the general population in America, there is a similar drop in religious/spiritual attendance for most people from their childhood to their teen years. During their early adult years, however, as factors such as having children begin to come into play, their attendance level returns to a level that is higher than in their teen years but not quite as high as in their childhood years [39,40]. In other words, the normal pattern of religious attendance in the general population is similar to a U curve. For the offender population, however, the pattern seems to have more of an extended downward slope on the U, followed by a later upturn upon being arrested and entering jail or prison. Most likely, this delayed response is triggered by the fact that people, once arrested, tend to be in institutions or situations with more time on their hands, more control and structure in their lives, their basic needs met, and less interpersonal conflict and substance abuse opportunities in their day-to-day lives. In this new context questions of meaning emerge in a new way. The following quotes from two Oregon inmates, first from Elijah, a Muslim, and second from Wayne, a Christian, nicely capture the influence of living in a structured environment on the exploration of personal meaning and introspection:

One of the things, when I was on the street before I came to prison, is that there was so much, so much goin' on in my life, between school, my wife; we had a child. I didn't really have time to really look inward. And I don't know if I want to say "I didn't have time." I didn't take the time. And, I've been able to do that now a lot more. One of the things about prison is that you have time to look inward ([27], p. 243).

I hadn't slowed down enough to do any readin' of the Bible or anything... You got a lot more time to just do nothing really. You either do something with your time when you're here or you don't... It [the Bible] is the only real thing that's here, as far as I'm concerned... My heart's not into goin' out and hurtin' people. My heart's not into goin' out and bullshitin' and tellin' lies, and just playin', tryin' to beef up myself to look better and good, and all this stuff ([27], p.248).

From the foregoing self-report information, we knew that a sample of men and women at the point of intake into the Oregon prison system were reporting much increased levels of engagement in religious and spiritual practices after arrest. Now the task was to explore, in a longitudinal manner, the actual patterns of H/S/R engagement from the point of intake forward into the first year of prison. First, we tracked each person in the 2004 intake population to discover the first and subsequent months they chose to attend any H/S/R event during their first 12 months of incarceration. For most of the first month of their incarceration, our subjects were at the intake center, and there are no H/S/R events or services at the intake center for the men. The women, however, are allowed to attend H/S/R events at the women's prison because it is directly accessible from the intake center. To our surprise, we found that 80% of the women attended an H/S/R event during their first month of incarceration. The equivalent for the men was 32% (counting the first two months for the men). Just as we found a different pattern of self-reported religious involvement for the men and women in the year prior to and after their arrest, we found a different pattern of actual involvement for the men and women during their first year of incarceration.

Figure 3 below shows the cumulative attendance rates over the first year for the men and the women. It is remarkable that by the third month, 91% of the women had attended at least one H/S/R service, and by the end of the year 95% of the women had attended. We do not know what the precise attendance level for these women was while they were in the community, but this level of attendance is probably higher than it would have been in the community. For the men, 49% had attended at least one H/S/R event by the third month, and 71% had attended by the end of the year; also a very high rate of attendance. The higher attendance rate among women mirrors a higher H/S/R attendance level and interest among women in the general US population [41]. In more than 49 countries around the world, studies have found a pattern of significantly higher interest in religion and spirituality among women compared to men [421]. Therefore, the higher pattern of involvement for women seems to be a consequence of gender and not of the prison context itself. The overall high levels of re- engagement for both the men and the women, however, seem to be a consequence of the prior arrest and prison context.

**Figure 3.** Cumulative Attendance for Male (N = 3009) and Female (N = 349) Across Months of Incarceration.

The fact that 95% of the women and 71% of the men, a very large percentage of the population, had attended at least one H/S/R event during their first year in prison raises the question of how often these men and women attended overall. We examined this question of "dosage" or level of attendance in two different ways. First, we checked to see the average percent of attendance each month for both the men and the women as a group. Figure 4 shows the average attendance rates by male and female for each of the 12 months of our study. For the women, the first two months have the highest average attendance rates, at 80% and 79%. In the third month this drops to 68%, and then gradually settles to about 58% of the women attending each month. For the men, once again, the pattern is different. Very few of the men could attend during the first month, so the average attendance is almost 0%. For the second month, the average attendance is 29%, and by the third month it settles into an average monthly attendance rate of about 33% of the population. This means that the prison chaplains in Oregon, with the help of their volunteers, are directly engaging a large proportion of the total male and female population every month. This finding, therefore, confirms an earlier finding across state prisons that religious programming is the single most common form of programming in state prisons [43].

**Figure 4.** Average Attendance for Male (N = 3009) and Female (N = 349) Across Months of Incarceration.

We found some very interesting religious and gender differences when we examined the kind of religious or spiritual service that people were attending. Protestant services (basically meaning any non-Catholic religious services) were at the top with 60.7% of men and 92.8% of women attending at least one Protestant service. Next was Seventh Day Adventist with 14.5% of the men and 28.9% of the women attending at least one service. The next highest was Catholic with 11.2% of the men and 18.3% of the women attending at least once, followed by a Native American with 6.6% of the men and 23.2% of the women. The pattern is clear (see Table 2): women are much more likely than men to cross-attend numerous types of religious and spiritual services. Also of note is the order of the religious or spiritual groups by size of participation - Protestant, Seventh Day Adventist, Catholic, Native American, Jehovah Witness, Latter Day Saints, Buddhist, Muslim and Earthbased/New Age for the men, and Protestant, Seventh Day Adventist, Latter Day Saints, Native American, Buddhist, Catholic, Jehovah Witness, and Muslim for the women. Clearly, therefore, the Protestant/Christian group, which represents a vast variety of different Christian groups, is by far the dominant group in terms of attendance for both men and women.

Next, we examined how often people were going to events. Figure 5 reveals, as expected, a different pattern of attendance by gender. A very large group of men (45%) never attend or only attend once or twice in their first year, compared to only 8% of the women. Compared to the men, women were 7 times more likely to have attended an H/S/R event at least once. The same percentage of men and women (21%) attend from 3 to 12 times a year (up to once a month), and thereafter the women engage at much higher rates. It is important to note that a sizable percentage of both the men (24%) and the women (49%) attend at levels that approach weekly or more than weekly attendance. There is no easy way of comparing these levels of weekly or more attendance for inmates to the attendance levels for the general population in Oregon. In 2007, however, 32% of Oregonians said they attended religious services at least weekly, and the combined national US average was 39% with 44% of women and 34% of men self-reporting at least weekly attendance [38]. So it seems that women in Oregon prisons may be attending at slightly higher levels than women in Oregon communities, and men in Oregon prisons are attending at slightly lower levels than men in the community.


**Table 2.** Percent of Men and Women Attending Religious or Spiritual Groups.

Table 3 shows the results of a linear regression analysis on total number of H/S/R attendances of any type by men. Six factors were included in the model: having a current sexual offence, age at intake, voluntarily taking a spiritual assessment at intake, risk of recidivism, non-Hispanic *versus* Hispanic identification, and gang membership. These six factors, in that order, were significant predictors of which men attended H/R/S events more often (R2 = 0.111). The risk of recidivism score, which has been validated on Oregon inmates, ranges from 0 to 1. This score is automatically generated by the Department of Corrections at intake using a mathematical formula based on a person's score on the following seven risk factors: age, earned time, sentence length, prior revocation, number of prior incarcerations, prior theft convictions, and type of crime (person, property or statutory). Men who had committed a sex offence, who were older, who had voluntarily taken a spiritual assessment at the intake center, or who were Hispanic were significantly more likely to attend H/R/S events more often. On the other hand, men with a higher risk of recidivism and who were members of a gang were significantly less likely to attend more often. None of these six factors were predictors of how often the women attended H/S/R events, and we were unable to generate a meaningful model for the women using the variables available to us, perhaps because so many of the women are attending at high levels.

**Figure 5.** Levels of Attendance During The First Year of Incarceration by Male (N = 3009) and Female (N = 349).

**Table 3.** Linear Regression Model Predicting Number of Attendances.


Dependent Variable: Number of H/S/R attendances over a year; Model F (6 df) = 61.380, p < 0.0001; Model R2 = 0.111

It helps to interpret the linear regression results from Table 3 if we remember the finding from Table 2 above, namely that the Protestant/Christian group is by far the dominant group in terms of attendance for both men and women. So, the linear regression findings are heavily influenced by the people who are attending Protestant/Christian services. If we specified a linear regression model on people attending just Protestant/Christian or just Seventh Day Adventist services (the top two groups for men) the model is basically the same except that Non-Hispanic/Hispanic drops out in favor of Non-White/White. So, Whites are more likely to attend Protestant/Christian are Seventh Day Adventist services more often, along with those who had a current sexual offense, are older, voluntarily take a H/S/R assessment at intake, have lower risks of recidivism, or are not a gang member. Hispanics, however, are more likely to attend Catholic services along with people who have a current sexual offense, and are not a member of a gang, but the risk of recidivism, the age and the H/S/R assessment variables drop out of the model. For Native American attendance, the picture looks very different; people who are Native American, who have higher risks of recidivism (not lower, as in the other religious groups) and who are not a member of a gang are more likely to attend more often (R2 = 0.148), and the current sex offense, age and taking a H/S/R assessment at intake drop out of the model. Race and culture, therefore, have a big influence on who attends which religious or spiritual group, but in different ways for different groups. Similarly, having a current sexual offense, age, and risk of recidivism are important variables for attendance at most, but not all groups.

The final analysis we did on our data set was to look at what the H/S/R assessment information might tell us about the subset of 684 men and 124 women who voluntarily took the assessment at the intake center. We have already shown that the mere fact of taking this assessment predicts who will attend religious and spiritual services more often. A linear regression analysis number of attendances using this subset of men and women produced some startling results. Table 4 below shows the factors that came into a model to predict number of attendances for this 648 male subset of our population. The first variable into the model is called "Intrinsic Score". This variable comes from a 20 question intrinsic/extrinsic religiosity/spirituality scale [44] that was embedded in the H/S/R assessment. The scale asks questions to determine if a person uses their religion or spirituality in a more internal/intrinsic manner to make meaning, or a more external/extrinsic manner to create a social life. For example, one extrinsic oriented question in the scale asks people to respond (I strongly disagree, I tend to disagree, I'm not sure, I tend to agree, I strongly agree) to the following statement "I go to church (synagogue, mosque, sweat lodge *etc.*) because it helps me to make friends. A more intrinsic oriented question asks people to respond in the same way to the statement "It is important to me to spend time in private thought and prayer". The scale produces an "intrinsic" score and an "extrinsic" score. The fact that the intrinsic score is the first variable into the model indicates that men who are going more often are going for internal reasons of making meaning. In an earlier regression model which was significant but not as strong as the model we ended up with, the extrinsic score also came into the model with higher scores negatively predicting who would attend more often (R<sup>2</sup> = 0.262). The intrinsic and the extrinsic scores are not significantly correlated with each other for the men (they are weakly correlated for the women). The fact that both the intrinsic and extrinsic scores operate in this way shows that, contrary to often voiced sentiment, the men in the Oregon prison system who took a H/S/R assessment are attending services for largely internal, meaning driven reasons, and are not doing so to "get out of their cell", "get some cookies and refreshments", "to meet women volunteers" or "to hang out with and meet other inmates".

Interestingly, age at intake, having a current sexual offense and gang member still come into the model for this subset of men, but the risk of recidivism and the race variables drop out from the model. Furthermore, three other variables from the H/S/R assessment come into the model along with intrinsic score – attendance at a worship service in last six months, prayed with others in the last six months, and how important is religious or spirituality in your daily life now. The F (7 df) = 35.429 value for the model is very high and very significant (<0.0001) and the R2 for the model is also very high at 0.290 (recall that R2 for the model in Table 3 with the full population was much lower at 0.111). So this H/S/R assessment tells us a great deal about the people who take an H/S/R assessment, and their answers highly correlate with their future religious and spiritual behaviors in a meaningful way.

Table 5 gives the equivalent linear regression findings for the women who completed an H/S/R assessment. You will recall that we were unable to find a meaningful linear regression model for the women that would predict who, among all the women in our study, would attend more often. So it is very interesting to see that we were able to find a meaningful model using the subset of women who voluntarily took the H/S/R assessment at intake. Table 5 shows that three variables helped to predict which women would attend more frequently (R2 = 0.261). These included the importance of religion or spirituality in their daily life (at time of assessment), the more they listened to religious programs on television or radio in the previous six months, and race (non-Whites attended more often than Whites).

**Table 4.** Linear Regression Model Predicting Number of Attendances for Men Who Took an H/S/R Assessment at Intake.


Dependent Variable: Number of H/S/R attendances over a year; Model F (7 df) = 35.429, p < 0.0001; Model R2 = 0.290.


**Table 5.** Linear Regression Model Predicting Number of Attendances for Women Who Took an H/S/R Assessment at Intake.

Dependent Variable: Number of H/S/R attendances over a year; Model F (3 df) = 12.601, p < 0.0001; Model R2 = 0.261.

### **Conclusions**

In this paper we argue that the correctional system in the United States needs to take the humanist, spiritual, and religious self-identities of inmates seriously, and do all it can to foster and support those self-identities, or ways of making meaning. The meta-analytic findings from the studies commissioned by the American Psychological Association, together with the findings from ethnographic and some recidivism studies in prison, suggest that H/S/R pathways to meaning may be an important part of the evidence-based principle of responsivity, as well as the desistance process. The sociology of the H/S/R involvement of 349 women and 3,009 men during the first year of their incarceration in the Oregon prison system, and the extended pro-social network of chaplains, other staff and volunteers uncovered by our study, reveal a diverse and widespread human, social and spiritual capital that is naturally supportive of H/S/R responsivity and the desistance process for thousands of men and women in prison. In our view it is in the best interest of a more humane, effective, and less costly correctional system, not only to foster this capital, but also to integrate it more closely into the programming and treatment aspects of the correctional process.

### **References**


### **Hinduism in India and Congregational Forms: Influences of Modernization and Social Networks**

### **Samuel Stroope**

**Abstract:** In light of increased scholarly interest in the scientific study of non-Christian religions and societies, I review sociological research on Hinduism. Specifically, I focus on Hindu congregational forms, a phenomenon noted in social scientific literature. Drawing on existing theories from the sociology of religion, this article illuminates possible social sources of Hindu congregational forms. Two preliminary sources are proposed and possible mechanisms elaborated: (1) modernization and (2) social networks. I conclude by proposing several new directions for research on Hindu congregational forms. These arguments and proposals offer directions for expanding understanding of how theories in the sociology of religion might operate beyond Christianity and the West.

Reprinted from *Religions*. Cite as: Stroope, S. Hinduism in India and Congregational Forms: Influences of Modernization and Social Networks. *Religions* **2011**, *2*, 676–692.

### **1. Introduction**

Does congregational religion exist in Indian Hinduism?1 If so, what are the social sources of Hindu congregational participation? Primers on Hinduism in India report that Hindu religious behavior typically consists of religious acts at temples, household shrines, and other sacred and ordinary places [1–5]. Common Hindu religious acts include prayer, conjoint sight of devotee and god (*darshan*), and various ritual practices. Popular ritual practices include, but are not limited to, meditations (e.g., *yoga*), service (e.g., *seva, puja*), festivals, pilgrimages, sacrifices, and domestic rituals [6]. Although Hindu religious practice is often embedded within communitarian social contexts such as extended family and caste, there is a great deal of individualism in Hindu religious practice. Hindus may engage in sacred acts in settings where other lay devotees are present, but significant regular social interaction with fellow lay devotees is usually not a necessary or central component of Hindu religious practice. 2 Sociologists of religion have described individualistic styles of religious behavior as noncongregational religion. 3 Noncongregational religion is

<sup>1</sup> I derive the term "congregational religion" from sociologists' analysis of Christianity but use the term in a more general sense in this article.

<sup>2</sup> India researchers will appreciate that any generalizations about Hinduism will fail in some sense due to the enormous variety of religious life that proceeds under the banner of Hinduism in India across different regions, castes, and time periods [7]. Nevertheless, the brief introductory comments provided here serve to orient general readers and comports with similar efforts by India scholars to give a sense of Hindu religious life, especially along the lines that it differs from Abrahamic religions such as Christianity.

<sup>3</sup> While the sociology of religion literature often refers to noncongregational religious expressions as "unchurched religion" [8], this terminology is less appropriate for non-Christian religions and so this article uses the term "noncongregational religion."

understood to be anomalous or incipient in Western societies [9–15], though noncongregational religious expressions are normative in many non-Christian societies such as India [5]. Many non-Christian Asian societies and communities do not place emphasis on congregational forms [16], though these are hallmarks of Christianity—historically the primary focus of sociologists of religion [17].

Despite generalizations that religious practice in non-Christian non-western societies are not usually congregational in style, there are reasons to expect congregational forms to develop. This paper focuses on congregational forms in settings where noncongregational religion is normative. Specifically, I focus on congregational forms in Indian Hinduism, congregational participation among Hindus, and suggest possible sources of their development and Hindus' involvement in them. This article specifically builds the sociology of Hinduism literature by highlighting insights from diaspora research and elaborating the interaction of impacts from modernization and the role of social networks. The sociological study of non-western and non-Christian forms of religious practice—especially in major religions such as Hinduism and countries such as India—provide broader arenas for the refinement of theory in the sociology of religion and the development of empirical expectations.

### **2. Background**

India is a drama of immense religious variation both between religious traditions in India and within Hinduism itself. In fact, some Hinduism scholars argue that there is just as much variation found between religious streams within Hinduism as found between major world religions such as Christianity, Islam, and Judaism [18]. King [19] argues that: "[Hinduism] is often presented in a one-dimensional manner, giving the impression of an overall unity and coherence which this religious tradition never possessed. The various historical strands which went into the making of Hinduism include a great diversity of beliefs, rituals, and institutions which, strictly speaking, are often not comparable to those found elsewhere. The concept 'Hinduism' itself is such a wide umbrella-term as to be heuristically almost useless for analysis." At the least, to see Hinduism as a monolithic religion would be a flawed assumption. It is important to note Hinduism's expansive internal diversity when considering noncongregational as well as congregational Hindu religiosity.4

### *2.1. Hinduism*

In some ways, relative to the size and complexity of Hinduism in India, there exists a great need for additional scholarly attention devoted to the sociology of Hinduism in India [23]. While there

<sup>4</sup> Lorenzen (1999) provides a review of the invented Hinduism discussion. He argues for an eighteenth century Indian use of "Hinduism," and suggests a nascent unifying Hindu religious identity as early as 300 to 600 C.E. In contrast, many scholars point to a nineteenth century invention of the term "Hinduism" by British administrators to describe the diverse religious life that before that time had no overarching unity [20–22]. Lipner [7] favors the beginning use of "Hindu" as a cultural rather than "specifically *religious*" term and warns that accepting a religious essentialist understanding of Hinduism, among other dangers, leads to "undercutting the rich diversity of actual belief and practice."

exists a rich social anthropological literature surrounding Hinduism [for an overview, see 24], this foundational work could be complemented by bringing the insights of this literature into deeper conversation with recent theories and concepts developed among sociologists of religion outside of India, including those who study the Indian diaspora. Also, more could be done to synthesize insights and develop testable hypotheses for use in quantitative analysis [25]. This represents a step toward addressing the gap in quantitative sociological research on Hindu religious practice using nationally representative data sets that remains [26]. Considering research on the Hindu diaspora, the population of the diaspora is small in comparison to the population of Hindus in India, but considerable qualitative and quantitative sociological attention has been devoted to diasporic Hindu religion relative to its size. It is also in this immigrant religion literature that we find reports of strong Hindu congregational forms. These forms are by no means widely normative for Hindus in most contexts. In recent qualitative research among U.S. Hindus, a respondent noted that: "…Christians have the church as a support group, Hindus don't have anything" [27]. While it may generally be the case that Hindus tend not to form voluntary religious congregations, there are, however, exceptions to this generalization both in immigrant contexts [5,28,29], as well as in India [4,23].

### *2.2. Diaspora Hindus*

Non-Christian immigrant groups in the United States, such as Hindus and Buddhists, are typically thought of as noncongregational in their style of religiosity. Cadge and Ecklund [30] find that non-Christian new immigrants to the United States, specifically Hindus and Buddhists, are less likely to attend corporate worship gatherings than Christian immigrants. The reasons for low non-Christian corporate worship gathering attendance are not well documented, but Cadge and Ecklund posit two possible reasons: (1) Non-Christians attend these gatherings less because weekly corporate gathering is not a norm in their religious tradition. (2) Hindu and Buddhist temples and religious worship centers are in sparse supply in the U.S. as compared with the abundance of Christian houses of worship (even if a Hindu in the U.S. wished to attend weekly worship gatherings, there are likely none available in the immediate vicinity because Indians are the most geographically dispersed ethnic minority in the U.S.). However, non-Christian immigrants of traditionally noncongregational religions have been observed to exhibit incipient and even elaborate congregational practice as they seek to perpetuate culture and adjust to the host country. Immigrant communities in the United States emulate American Protestant congregational forms in voluntary membership, lay leadership, expansion of services, organizational networks, ritual, worship times and format, clergy roles, and language [29,31,32]. These adaptations take place even among Hindus, Buddhists, and Parsis in the U.S. context, despite the fact that congregational forms are relatively rare among homeland co-religionists.

Regarding Hindus, Kurien [27] documents two tight-knit "subethnic organizations" among South Indians in the United States, the *satsang* and the *bala vihar*. Lay congregations such as these, as well as congregation-like temples, are used by Hindus in order to: gain legitimization, garner participation, re-create Hindu environments that transmit values to Hindu adults and children, and build social support among co-religionists [27]. Increasingly religious-oriented ethnic media is also used within these processes to awaken religiosity among Indians and their children in the United States [33].

Yang and Ebaugh [29] reason that "immigrant religious communities in the United States are in a powerful position to exert influence in their countries of origin," including increasing the use of congregational forms. This position is particularly relevant for Hindus since second-generation Hindus may be more transnational than other immigrant religionists [34]. Kurien suggests precisely this notion, that diaspora congregations are playing a part in the increased popularity of congregations in India [5]. Yang and Ebaugh [29] stress the need for "further research in the immigrant home countries and other parts of the world." Such transnational research is of increasing importance considering religion's increasingly less confined situation due to shrinking barriers of time and physical distances [35]. Whether or not a new backward flow or revitalization of congregational religion from West to East is emerging, though critical, is beyond the scope of this paper. We must however take into account observations from diasporic Hindu congregations and consider it as one possible influence toward the existence of congregational Hinduism in India. Are there others that predate major international Hindu migration?

Congregational forms have been present in Indian immigrants' homeland in recent centuries, though the degree of foreign impetus for these structures is debated [36]. The *Brahmo Samaj*, a Hindu reform movement in nineteenth century Bengal, developed "patterns of worship on the model provided in the Protestant churches" [19]. Shah [23] records congregational tendencies among sectarian Hindus in the last 200 years as well as well as recent times, proposing a general increase in the phenomenon. Others conjecture that there has been an increase in these congregation-styled groups in recent decades [5].

### *2.3. Hindu Congregational Religion in India*

In prior research, Hertel [37] explores the congregational nature of temples in North India. Hertel defines a congregation as a "well-defined body of people who share the same priest(s) for purposes of worship and/or for performance of rites of passage. Congregations are membership groups within churches and sects [37]. Four types of Hindu congregations are delineated, two of which are local temple congregations and temples with occasionally gathered satellite laity. Recognizing the ethnocentricity in only considering those groups congregations that have weekly meetings, Hertel extends the concept of the congregation to non-western religious life by jettisoning any particular units of time between meetings. He anchors his definition of a congregation to a body of people that meets with priests. Although helpful in building a foundation for the recognition of the congregation in Hindu religious life, the principle of priest interaction is not broad enough when taking into account the intimate Hindu religious groups that have no professional clergy (see Shah 2006). In this way only Hertel's concept of "membership groups" is a sufficiently flexible building block in constructing a guiding definition in the study of Hindu congregations.

More recently, sociologists of religion have developed specific definitions of religious congregations. Chaves [38] defines religious congregations as: "relatively small-scale, local collectivities and organizations through which people routinely engage in religious activity: churches, synagogues, mosques, temples." Stark *et al.* [13] describe the boundaries of congregational religion by delineating churched and what he refers to as "unchurched religion," but what in this article is referred to as noncongregational religion:

Although all religions are social, there is substantial variation in their organizational character so that some can be identified as 'churches', while others fall far short of any legitimate definition of that term. A churched religion has a relatively stable, organized congregation of lay members who acknowledge a specific religious creed—therefore, we include both 'sects' and 'churches' in churched religions. An unchurched religion typically lacks a congregational life, usually existing as relatively free-floating culture based on loose networks of likeminded individuals who, if they do gather regularly, do not acknowledge a specific religious creed, although they may tend to share a common religious outlook. Unchurched religions may or may not coalesce around leaders.

Essentially, Stark *et al.* [13] see congregations as "groups of *adherents* who *meet regularly* for religious reasons." The above definitions center on routine, small religious gatherings of members.

Although noncongregational religion represents the majority of Hindu religious behavior, this is by no means the case for all Hindus in India. Congregational activity is normative among some Hindu sects. Sectarian Hinduism generally has "exclusive social boundaries" and aspects such as each sect having its own sacred literature, elaborate social organization, restrictions on religious participation outside the sect, and variances in entirely ascetic or lay leadership:

At the neighborhood level the lay members form groups such as *satsang, bhajan* or *kirtan mandal.* They often organize festivals and pilgrimages. Frequent interactions among followers lead to the formation of strong friendships. In arranged marriages, preference is give to members of the sect, and it has become common to mention this preference in matrimonial advertisements. Members of every sect now form associations at local, regional, national and international levels. There are also special associations of their women, youth, and senior citizens. [23]

Emotionality, music, worship ceremonies, and ritual food associated with Hindu congregations of sectarian or non-sectarian devotees:

The devotees who gather together to worship by chanting *bhajans* or hymns are usually, but not necessarily, affiliated to a sect. The chanting, the music, the rhythm and the atmosphere of fervent devotion can produce a deep effect and some enter a state of trance. At these gatherings there is also sometimes an *arati* ceremony and the distribution of *prasada.* Groups who gather together in this way to worship through hymn-singing occur all over India and at most levels of society. [4]

Singer [39] analyzes the influence of modernization on Hindu religion. In his fieldwork in Tamil Nadu, in southern India, in the 1950s and 60s Singer encountered *bhajana* groups. *Bhajana* refers to a kind of prayer or devotional hymn sung within these congregational groups. Similarly, in modern *satsangs* participants often refer to their devotional songs as *bhajans*. Singer [39] gives a picture of the historical linkages and modern innovations of the *bhajana* congregations:

In Madras City a form of congregational devotional worship—called *bhajana—*is becoming popular and seems to be developing into a Hindu cult that links the cults of temple and domestic worship. Superficially, the *bhajanas* resemble the older devotional cults (*bhakti*) within Hinduism, emphasizing recitation of divine names and worship of personal deities. But the contemporary *bhajanas* show many features that are distinctive of the region within which they have developed, of the social groups that support the development, and of the problems confronting contemporary Hinduism as it tries to adapt itself to modern urban conditions. … Since the end of World War II, *bhajana* groups have multiplied rapidly in the city and have also become fashionable in smaller towns and villages. The meeting of a *bhajana* group usually takes place at a private home and is attended by a mixture of castes and sects, with middle-class professionals and Smarta Brahmans predominating.

These *bhajanas* gather with varied frequency. The weekly type is the most intimate, local, and common:

an evening gathering of relatives, friends, and neighbors in a private home for about three hours from 7:30 to 10:30 P.M.; Saturday night is the most popular choice, although some groups meet on Thursday or other nights of the week. The men of the group, usually about a dozen, sit in a circle or in rows on the floor and lead the singing, while the women and children sit to one side and join in the refrains. [39]

Though Singer found significant religious continuity in people's cultural and family backgrounds, there was also discontinuity and innovation. Along with individuals' *ishtadevata*  (freedom to choose a personal deity), relative flexibility and innovation is latent in Hindu religious life. We should not be surprised by innovative reactions, adaptations, and competition with the forces of modernization. Singer's [39] *bhajanas* drew heavily from a caste with roots in ritual tradition yet: "they have felt the need to develop Krishna *bhakti* as an 'easier path to salvation,' since their middle-class and professional occupations, their Westernized education, and their increasing secularism have made the older and more difficult paths less accessible to them." Might there be numerous instances around India of modernizing forces drawing publics toward devotional Hinduism, including congregational forms?

Singer [39] proposes reasons for the *bhajanas'* development: fostering community in mass urban society, *noblesse oblige*, gaining local reputation, garnering spiritual merit, the Hindu *bhakti*  (devotional) tradition, and following scriptural sanction. Finding scriptural rationale for contemporary innovation is similar to observations of religious strategies in immigrant contexts. Immigrants see their religious adaptations to new settings as returning to forgotten orthodoxies [29]. Not only are Singer's *bhajanas* groups of modernizing Hindus finding orthodox rationales for their adaptive needs in new conditions, but they are perhaps religious groups in competition with modernizing and westernizing forces. In more recent times these congregational developments could partially be a result of homeward diasporic influence [5]. Growth in the popularity of Hindu congregations in India may also be because they are fulfilling religious enclave functions similar to those in the diaspora context, but doing so in India—a society undergoing large scale modernization and cultural change.

Singer's *bhajanas* also mirror societal developments toward reducing communal and regional divisions. In this way, they are in continuity with elements of modernization, or they are at least a way of reconciling the worlds of fervent religion and modernization. They function as a vehicle for the adaption of devout Hindu religious life amid modernizing forces.

To be clear, in Hindu congregations (particularly Singer's *bhajanas,* but also many diasporic *satsang* accounts) we do not merely see fluid temporary associations, but rather informal organic congregations that often develop into more elaborate and formalized structures with financial accounts, social service projects, classes, citywide networks, and large scale festivals. Though often organic and varied in practice and leadership, these groups have the precedent of continuity, perpetuation, and formal organization largely accomplished by lay leaders who have other work and family demands on their time.

In this paper, congregations are understood, not as necessarily weekly meetings led by priests or groups with membership rosters and doctrinal statements, but rather social gatherings where lay worshippers interact with each other around religious belief and practice, with or without professional leaders. As cited by Shah [23], among the many religious gatherings that can be observed, *satsang* is a form of congregation found among sectarian and nonsectarian Hindus in India. In *satsang* there can be regular, scheduled worship and social interaction with fellow lay religionists, assigned leaders and organizers, but without necessarily a formal creedal document or necessarily other elements of an elaborate congregational life.5 

### *2.4. Modernization and Congregational Forms*

Indian scholars have noted that one of the impacts modernization is to cultivate "radical and lasting changes in Indian society and culture," stemming from "new technology, institutions, knowledge, beliefs and values" [40]. These causal sources of change can be grouped under two processes highlighted in the international sociology of religion literature: (1) institutional differentiation, and (2) rationalization.6 Below I draw connections between these two sources and congregational forms.

A major way that modernization impacts religion is through institutional differentiation. Sociologists note that religion is frequently tied to kinship, regional location, and national identity [44]. This is especially true in developing agrarian societies such as India where society's various social institutions are thoroughly infused with religion such that it is difficult to separate out religion from cultural elements in society for example [40,45]. In other words, religion is not necessarily

<sup>5</sup> See Shah [23] for a description of congregational practices and group boundaries of sectarian Hinduism in India, and sects' growth.

<sup>6</sup> In the thinking of eminent Indian social anthropologist M.N. Srinivas, these influences of modernization might best be labeled as Westernization. Another major source of social change in Indian civilization highlighted by Srinivas is Sanskritization, described by many as the "single most important contribution to social science scholarship from India" [25,41]. Srinivas [40,42] developed the idea that low castes "took over, as far as possible, the customs, rites and beliefs of the Brahmins," or embraced high status religious practices for the sake of manipulating their ritual standing and facilitating social mobility. Srinivas also suggested that Sanskritization may be at odds with Westernization. Caste structure is an important topic outside the scope of the main focus of this article. Suffice it to say that regions in India with strong anti-caste movements should be those where processes of Sanskritization have weaker sway [43]. It may also be the case that areas where high caste persons feel their traditional status under greater threat due to egalitarian elements of modernization are precisely those areas where high caste Hindus utilize the boundedness and potential exclusivity of congregational forms as a way to cope with and buffer change [for an extended discussion, see 26].

clustered in a distinct sector of social life but has considerable entwinement with other life spheres. One way modernization impacts religion is by more fully dividing society into specialized spheres and multiply organizational forms and units within spheres [44]. This way of conceiving of institutional differentiation as one of the ways that modernization impacts religion follows a considerable literature in the sociology of religion [46]. The differentiation of society and the desacralization of social institutions are processes that sociologists of religion have analyzed in various contexts around the world, including outside of Christianity [47,48]. Contemporary modernization theorists in the sociology of religion generally hold that religion does not necessarily die or decline in modernity, but that it transforms in modernity [49]. In drawing from developments in modernity, these theorists do not look mainly to modernizing processes such as urbanization or industrialization, but rather the separation of various social institutions from religion as part of a larger pattern of institutional differentiation in modernity [49]. Religion becomes increasingly distinct from other social institutions such as the state, the market, education, the polity, the family, and the mass media. Part of what this differentiation does is open up religious freedom and religious choice. One religious group cannot use (or cannot as easily) use the force of the state to coerce religious groups or people in their religious choices or style of religious practice. This situation invites religious pluralism and in such an environment religious innovators or entrepreneurs are subject to less state and societal coercion; they may organize, meet, teach, and recruit from the public with greater freedom.

Another major way that modernization impacts religion is through rationalization. At the organizational level, rationalization is seen in the way that interpersonal relationships are more bureaucratic and less formal, seen in view of science, and are linked through technology. For example, religious groups come increasingly to rely on pre-determined policies to handle disputes or leadership succession rather than through less formal means. Rationalization also deals with science. Science in many instances claims increasingly broader areas of life as the subject of its explanations that may have been previously the domain of religion. In this way science competes with religion. The effects of a Tsunami in the coastal areas of Tamil Nadu can be explained with reference to tectonic plate shifts with no reference to a supernatural realm. But science also takes as its subject humans and their behavior. Patterns of religious involvement and the provision of material resources to religious groups can be explained and influenced through the use of scientific theories and the manipulation of physical spaces and organizational forms. The role of the supernatural in the human behavior is limited or at least transformed through such modernized forms of thinking [46]. In fact recent influential ethnographies of urban religiosity in India turn on this issue, discussing it under the heading of "disenchantment" [50].

While it is difficult to determine whether Hinduism is becoming more distinct from other social institutions in India or whether Hinduism is becoming more organizational in character, it is possible that the presence and efforts of Hindu organizations and their use of the congregational formats are a religious response to modernization. It is possible that religious groups in the religious marketplace are responding to the presence of new competitors in their midst. Various spheres of society undergoing differentiation from other spheres, including religion, come to follow their own logics and interests. Since these spheres are less entwined with religion, these spheres are free to critique or compete against religion. The mass media is one example, as are various forms of entertainment and carousing scenes and lifestyle enclaves such as those surrounding night clubs. Youth scenes in India's metro areas and large cities also serve as an example. Compared to many advanced industrial nations where religion appears to have undergone considerable marginalization [16], India's modernization might appear mild. However, in a society as religiously saturated and integrated as India, signs of differentiation would be noticeable and troubling to many religiously devout Hindus. It should be no surprise that creative religious responses to the competitor of modernization might appear on the Indian landscape.

We can look to several examples of creative Hindu competition amid modernization in India. Burger [51] observes the trademarks, brandings, and consumer benefits of yoga as an Indian spiritual export product on the global religious market. Focusing on the religious consumption narratives of devotees, Warrier [52] reveals the competition between India's proliferating gurus, promoting their diverse religious wares on the Indian and global religious market. Technology, the ease of global dissemination, and a newly moneyed urban middle-class are resulting in "multiple choices in every sphere of life, including that of religion," thus cultivating a vigorous spiritual marketplace [52]. As one example of why Hindu organizations might utilize the boundedness and membership of congregational forms, organizations might see an emerging Indian middle class and seek to tap into this growing religious niche and its social and material resources [52]. Congregation-like characteristics, such as exclusivism, are visible in some sectors of Indian Hinduism. Though allowing for the "vastly diverse range of beliefs, practices, and movements" and the foreign origin and imposition of the term "Hinduism" as a surface level "conceptual unity" on Indian religious phenomena, some sociologists of religion still assume a basic congregationless and nonexclusive uniformity within Hinduism [53]. As reviewed above in this article, other scholars have outlined the increase of stricter sectarian Hinduism in the last 200 years [23]. These Hindu sects function in many ways as exclusive religious bodies utilizing congregational forms, exclusivist religious participation, exclusive social bonds, particularistic sacred literature, and in some cases entirely lay leadership [23,39]. Ethnographic findings support such distinctions. For instance, in the realm of guru-centered Hinduism, Warrier [52] proposes two main "*guru*  orientations," the inclusivist "tourist of gurus" and the exclusivist devotee:

In terms of being "attached to a *guru,* however, [the exclusivists] remain exclusively loyal to their chosen one. Only in extreme circumstances, such as the passing away of the chosen *guru* or disillusionment with him or her, will exclusivists consider the option of attachment to a new spiritual mentor.

Exclusivity is not uncommon even in the fluid world of Hindu guru devotion. Characterization of Hindu religious life as uniformly non-exclusive and non-congregational is not compelling in view of such modern Hindu phenomena.

An additional religious response to the competitor of modernization in India can be seen in the energetic activity of Hindu revivalist organizations. Some of these organizations are exclusivistic and congregational. The arguments outlined above suggest that revivalist organizations may emerge and act out of a response to modernization. The religiously devout might see that old **322**

cultural constraints are not holding people to the religion and traditions of their families and backgrounds because secular activities and sentiments are competing with religious devotion. They might see the need to actively compete with perceived competition stemming from modernization processes. In this way, the effects of modernization are moderated by the power of tradition, an issue examined in the social anthropological literature on Hinduism.<sup>7</sup> Similar to the interaction of tradition and social change seen in the religious adaptations of the Hindu diaspora, congregational forms may be useful for creating enclaves of nostalgic religious purity, reconstituting orthodoxy, and transmitting religious tradition to the next generation [5,33,54]. In these ways, the use of congregational forms by Hindus in India may represent the kinds of "innovative returns to tradition" seen in other parts of the world [55].

### *2.5. Social Networks and Congregational Forms*

As a religious response to modernization, Hindu involvement in congregational forms turns on the benefits of religious social networks and the influence of religious social networks. Religious congregations that are comprised of regular gatherings of the same people often serve as a powerful form of social support in the face of a sense of uncertainty, a sense of rootlessness, and lack of social ties, characteristics of people in societies undergoing modernization [16,56,57]. However, participating in new religious activities, such as involvement in somewhat novel congregational forms, involves a certain level of risk and uncertainty in and of itself (Elster 1986). The bonds of trust found in pre-existing social networks, however, have been shown to smooth the path toward changes in religious behaviors and tastes [58–61]. The influence of social networks on changes in religious behavior may come in the form of direct constraints on behavior, or it may take place through fostering new behavior-guiding religious tastes [62]. For example, people's uncertainties about religious activities may be reduced by the testimony of trusted others and people may also adopt religious practices to avoid social penalties from others [63,64]. It is also important to keep in mind that the religious organization or group has an interest in reducing risk. The religious organization may reason that known persons already in their social networks are safer to recruit [65], and they may exert considerable energy and rely heavily on social bonds in recruiting and retaining such people in their religious activities.

Members of religious social networks may be influenced by a religious organization or they may be motivated by immediate family members, extended relatives, friends, or other social relations who might introduce opportunities to participate in novel congregational groups or even apply pressure to that end. Some people may reason that if their social network of peers is participating in a religious congregation then they should also. They may be motivated by pleasing others or gaining social rewards such as maintaining a reputation among peers [63,64]. Many aspects of sociological theories of religion that have been developed in Western and Christian contexts take for granted that the individual (regardless of his or her age or position in the social structure) is the

<sup>7</sup> This view can be categorized under the idea that tradition coexists with modernity in India, one of three approaches to tradition and modernity in India (the other two being: [1] modernity destroys tradition, and [2] tradition will prevent modernization [for a review of social science literature on tradition and modernization in India, see 25,39].

one who makes decisions about his or her religious behavior. In many non-Western contexts such as India, it is other people in society, especially in the family (e.g., the husband or senior male or female in the household), who makes many decisions for others, including religious decisions. At the least, the religious actor is under the consistent gaze of senior family members as a form of social influence. The issue of social constraints on religious tastes and choices [62] become critical when theorizing the social sources of Hindu congregational participation in the Indian context.

Social networks may operate as an influence toward *satsang* participation, for example. Traditional Hindu housewives may have additional religious motives for a wide array of religious fasts, rituals, and activities (including *satsang*) that may be above and beyond other people's religious investments. It is sometimes believed that wives' religious activities can gain merit and advantage the rest of the family in their health, lives, and pursuits [66,67]. Single women may similarly participate in religious activities in order to further their own concerns such as education or marriage [5]. Many respondents said they participate in *satsang* because of a sense of peace they feel during the gathering and for a time afterwards, a capability for dealing with life's challenges that is often facilitated in the context of social networks [68].

### **3. Discussion**

A sociological literature on the religious lives of immigrants has documented how immigrants use religious congregational forms for ethnic formation, transmission of traditional values, protection from outside influences, social support and other goals regarding coping and adaptation to social change. In this article, I have tried to advance our understanding of how Hindus in India may use congregational forms in ways similar to immigrant religious communities. This paper sheds new light on the literature on the sociology of religion in India by considering how social developments fostered by modernization, such as rationalization and institutional differentiation might foster Hindu congregational forms. The arguments presented here suggest that Hindu groups may respond congregationally to impacts from modernization because congregational forms serve as effective buffers to outside competition and serve as effective receptacles for Hindus experiencing new levels of individual choice in the Indian religious market. I also bring into relief the importance of social networks in understanding the appeal of congregations, especially social support, and the processes by which individuals involve themselves in novel congregational forms. Specifically, the social embeddedness of religious choices comes to take on particular importance in India because people other than the religious actor, especially senior family members, have considerable influence on decisions for the individual, including religious decisions.

Insights from the social anthropological literature on religion in India give reason to believe that such changes in Hindu religious expression should be expected. In the diverse religious marketplace of contemporary India, it is not unreasonable to expect innovative responses as religious persons and groups face social change and cultural competitors, perceived or real. There are historical examples of such religious innovation. Sectors of Hindu religion in India underwent changes in the nineteenth century in response to Protestant congregations in West Bengal [19]. Some have argued that the emergence of Hinduism as a unifying religious identity—a "world religion"—has been an outgrowth of a religious response to British orientalism in the nineteenth century [69]. Similar innovations might be going on in our time through the use of congregational forms by Hindu denominations, sects [23], and innovative revivalist organizations [70]. The use of congregational forms can be seen as responses to or the product of modernizing processes in India. We can envision various examples. Particular sects may see this as an opportunity to promote the expansion of their particular expression of Hinduism. Such organizations may leverage family and peer networks to shore up their recruitment. On the other hand, family, peer networks, and individual religious devotees themselves may have their own motivations, using their bonds of trust, credible testimony, and social pressure to assemble themselves and others into Hindu congregations.

Regarding the role of modernization and social networks in Hindu congregational forms, several potentially fruitful avenues of further inquiry present themselves. Further research should examine the degree to which the use of congregations by religious Hindus are innovative strategies for facilitating, adapting to, and competing with modernizing forces in contemporary India: differentiation, urbanization, international migration, increasing geographic mobility within India, waning of the salience of caste boundaries, and a growing differentiation and marginalization of religious traditions, particularly among emerging generations. The new wealth and opportunities of the India's middle class and changes in household structures and gender roles in urban India may also play roles [71]. Further research should also consider continuities between diasporic and homeland congregations, especially as a kind of cooperative transmission of religion and culture to children when any one child's parents cannot take on all of the transmission responsibilities. Along these lines, the participation of children and youth in these congregations should be compared in homeland and diaspora settings. Following the work of Singer [39], different kinds of *satsang*  congregations should be categorized, and more light should be shed on their formalization trajectories, networked associations, and overall prevalence. This research should be conducted on an even more trans-sectarian and trans-regional level.

Social networks may also play an important role among both sectarian congregations as well as nonsectarian Hindus who utilize Hindu congregational forms such as the *satsang*. Social networks' various ways of directly or indirectly influencing individuals' styles of religious participation are documented in theorizing and qualitative research on religious recruitment and religious switching. One area for future research is to help sort out the degree to which congregational participation is due to direct social influence on participation or indirect social influences on changes in individuals' participation-guiding religious tastes [62]. The attractiveness of these congregations can be seen in the ethnic church functions described in immigrant religion literature as well as anthropological work in India [39].

Subsequent research directions, as introduced above, could also include investigations of relationships between social networks and specific forms of congregational participation such as *satsang* participation. Such research would serve to better understand how the role of recommendation, trust, recruitment, or other direct and indirect social network factors might be differently attributed to various forms of congregational participation. Collecting religion survey data on India would help systematically compare evidence for these various social influences as well as help estimate the pervasiveness of congregational forms in Hindu religious life. At present, scant quantitative religion data on India exists. The various consequences of Hindu congregational involvement is also an area needing future research. For example, Singer [39] suggests that Hindu congregational groups have the effect of smoothing inter-caste relations in the workplace and other settings outside of the groups themselves, but the religious and demographic composition of the congregations themselves should be examined as a potentially important moderating factor [72,73]. Comparative analysis of *satsang* attendance between different regions of India and the various diasporic communities along all of the above avenues for research may expand our understanding of how the broader societal context shapes Hindu congregations.

Other more speculative sources of Hindu congregational forms may also prove worthy of study: mass movement toward *bhakti* Hinduism, responses to British colonial influences, and the influence of the Hindu diaspora back on religious life in the homeland in a time of increasing transnationalism. The diaspora are heavily influenced by sectarian Hinduism and so energetic sect activities may play a significant role in India and abroad. Diaspora Hindus' considerable financial resources are also a consideration, not simply for religio-political movements, but also for forms of religious practice [5].

Implicit in this article's discussion of the effects of modernization on religious forms is the notion that individuals may use religion as a resource for coping with life's difficulties, including social change. This idea maps onto a line of ethnographic work on how Hindus' sense of wellbeing may be diminished as globalization expands and potentially creates a disjuncture between Hindus' cultural goals and the material conditions that support those goals [74]. Regardless of whether Hindus participate in congregational forms to attain well-being, it remains to be seen whether the dynamics of Hindu congregational involvement in India are associated with the same increases in life satisfaction as found in other populations and whether similar social processes exist [75]. The impact of Hindu congregational participation on personal well-being (and relatedly, physical and mental health) represents an area in need of both qualitative and quantitative research in the sociology of religion.

More broadly, the information presented here comports with recent arguments from sociologists of religion [17] who contend that investigation of religious practices in increasingly influential non-Western and principally non-Christian societies will augment our understanding of larger portions of the world's religious life. Moreover, these streams of inquiry will broaden the global applicability of theories in the sociology of religion, thus helping the subdiscipline live up to its name.

### **4. Conclusions**

In sum, I have proposed modernization and social networks as two preliminary sources of Hindus' involvement in congregational forms. Modernization subjects people to social change and posese new forms of competition to religion. Due in part to the sorts of social network ties forged or maintained in congregations, congregationally styled religious forms serve as effective buffers to outside competition and social change, including providing receptacles for Hindus experiencing new levels of individual choice in the Indian religious market. In the future, Hindus may increasingly turn to congregational forms to express their religiosity as members of a society in transition.

### **Acknowledgments**

Thanks to Phillip Connor, Kevin Dougherty, Paul Froese, Stephen Offutt, and Jerry Park for comments on an earlier version of this paper.

### **References and Notes**


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