All of the theories so far presented propose that religion is an adaptation – that it directly benefits the individual’s survival, or the survival of genes or memes. There is also a group selection theory advanced by David Sloan Wilson. I will not discuss this in detail because it is a controversial theory which, I confess, I do not understand very well. However, implicit in one of the ‘seeds’ of religion – cooperation and cohesiveness – we have the social dimension fully before us. If that ‘seed’ is correct, then it is evident that the formation of a group is part of the core business of religion. Implicit too is the notion of belonging. Religion, as opposed to religiousness, clearly
has a function that involves the bonding (cohesion) of the group – sometimes for the purposes of solidarity against the other or “out-group.” Without getting too technical about it, it seems obvious to me that one of the major contributing factors to the evolutionary/historical development of religious belief is the formation and strengthening of a social group and a social order. I think this has more to do with culture than biology and so will leave it at that.
There are two additional theories that propose that religion is ‘nonadaptive.’ (D.S. Wilson 2002/2003, p 45) One is the notion, based on our earlier distinction, that religion was an adaptation to past environments but is not adaptive in modern environments. This idea is a very interesting one. It is also a ‘generalisable principle’ that utility may not be constant through time. It is ever worth bearing this in mind in many contexts, but I will leave it at that for my purpose at present.
The other ‘nonadaptive’ idea is a very significant and widely supported (e.g. by Robert Hinde, Pascal Boyer and Scott Atran) theory that holds that religion “is a by- product of genetic or cultural evolution.” (Wilson 2002/2003, p 45) Dennett calls these ideas ‘pearl theories’ because, like pearls, the product is not the real reason for the production – rather it is a by-product of the oyster’s effort to deal with a local irritation. (Dennett 2006, p 91) Gould and Lewontin called such things ‘spandrels’ after an architectural feature which is ‘incidental.’ (Dennett 2006, p 271)
My favourite example of the by-product theory harks back to David Attenborough’s question of a few paragraphs ago, “Why do humans sing?” It is widely accepted that the ‘Broca’s area in our brain’ (our neurological, language processing center), and the larynx in our throats, have slowly evolved and added capacity as more precise signalling was naturally selected. It could be seen as one of the ‘best tricks’ (phrase coined by Dennett) evolution has ever come up with. The enormous functional advantage of articulate communication hardly needs to be stated. Being able to make such a variety of sounds, with such control over pitch, volume, and every other conceivable aspect of speech, is arguably the ‘best trick’ ever. In addition, singing and music generally certainly have functionality too – as discussed. But singing is almost certainly, in the first instance, a by-product. What is the sound-producing capacity of Homo sapiensfor? It is for communication. That is, almost certainly, its
82 primary purpose.65 That some other animals (especially birds of course) sing to attract mates does not, in my view, detract from my point. The human range of complex, sustained, melodic, pure sounds is surely a by-product of the development and utility of endlessly varied speech. This is conjecture, but, I submit, a good one!
Both Daniel Dennett and Richard Dawkins seem to give some credence to by-product theories. Dawkins provides an illuminating example concerning children. He argues that child brains may very well have a default or ‘rule of thumb’ innate urge which inclines the child to, “…believe without question, whatever your grown-ups tell you. Obey your parents.” (2006, p 174) This can quite readily be seen as a basic safety (survival) principle for any sensible child under a certain age. And it also can readily be envisioned as ‘misfiring’ when it comes to a child’s being receptive to all kinds of imaginary, fictional ideas, when delivered by adults. Another take on this basic idea is provided by Bruce Hood – he says,
The idea is simply that we’re born with brains which have evolved to make sense of a complex world by seeking patterns. And in doing so, and this operates early, it’s an intuitive, untutored process; in so doing children come up with misconceptions, or assumptions which can be seen to be the basis of later adult supernatural beliefs. So the idea is that one source of beliefs is from within the child, not necessarily through story telling or indoctrination.
(Radio National, 30/01/10)
The final truth (if there is such a thing) may very well be a combination of some or all of these ideas which are, after all, educated guesses. However inventive or far fetched any of these may appear, they demonstrate that naturalistic explanations can be offered (point 2 of my argument) for what was once seen as the province of ‘revealed truth.’ And this is one of the major points I wish to make. A specific idea or ‘just so’ story, if you like, may not be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, but it does demonstrate the possibility of a naturalistic explanation.
That ‘believers,’ those on the ‘inside,’ may find such attempted explanations somehow threatening is unfortunate. I have mentioned Emerson’s view, and it is mine also; and Dennett echoes similar sentiments – no faith worth having ought to be undermined by
65
I actually heard someone at an evolution conference (name forgotten, I’m sorry) suggest the opposite – that singing came first! As a sometimes musician, I like that idea. In that case, perhaps speech is the by-product? Perhaps we should consider if they co-evolved?
a naturalistic understanding. But still tension and conflict on this point are likely to continue. I hope to give further and convincing reasons why this conflict is not necessary (my argument points 4 & 5) in Chapter Four.
In spite of my giving plenty of space to these naturalistic theories, my preferred kind of explanation, I cannot and do not conclude that an ‘inside’ understanding of religious beliefs is invalid, unworthy or should be dismissed. On the contrary, I am inclined to think that the insider’s perspective should be listened to very carefully. As will become apparent in Chapter Four, I will argue for the rationality and right to believe on the basis not only of an appeal to reason, but of the fruits of the particular belief, or belief system. I have heard it said that Camus did not think he should be thought of as a philosopher – because he didn’t believe in ‘reason’ all that much. I too wonder about the extent and limits of reason:
The superiority of reason?
One of the most dastardly products of reason is its own adulation. So convinced are the ‘reasoners’ that their Truth has the capital ‘T,” that it thus becomes a self-congratulatory, and self-righteous way of thinking, not terribly unlike dogmatic religious beliefs. Such is the power of confidence in correctness it instils in the reasoner. There are many who would be Lord. Their gods are embattled in some cosmic arm’s race – “Mine is bigger, better, truer than yours, and especially superior to theirs. You are
misguided; they are foolish blind believers; but I am a rational reasoner, king of our cerebral species! (DH)