Empty Voices

Ever since Talal Asad penned his critique of Clifford Geertz’s (1993) definition of religion, a consensus has developed that both scholars are operating within different ontological frameworks. Jon P. Mitchell (2017), in his chapter ‘Defining Religion: Geertz and Asad’, supports such a consensus. Mitchell contends that Geertz offers a universal and essentialist definition of religion, whereas Asad offers a contextualist and discursive theory of religion. However, these differences fall apart under analysis. While it is true that Geertz and Asad disagree on many points, such disagreements are primarily based on different emphasises and agendas, not different ontological paradigms.   In ‘Religion as a Cultural System’, Geertz defines religion as (1) a system of symbols which acts to (2) establish powerful, pervasive, and long-lasting moods and motivations in men [sic] by (3) formulating conceptions of a general order of existence and (4) clothing these conceptions of a general order

Within the study of religion in recent years, there has been a growing interest in what is meant by ‘theory’. The rise of this interest can partially be attributed to the critical turn, starting in earnest in the 1990s. The critical study of religion is largely concerned with the role of definition and classification and how ‘religion’, ‘world religions’, etc. are not neutral objects which exist in the world ‘out there’, but instead are social constructions operating according to the agendas of the definer or classifier. The role of the critical scholar, therefore, is to deploy theory in order to get behind descriptive presentations of religion and world religions – to get to the ideology which underlies them. It is undoubtably the case that in the past, too little attention was paid to the role of ideology in the construction, deconstruction and reconstruction processes which characterise the creation of classificatory systems and the societies they support. By focusing on theory in t

Tim Farron was the leader of the Liberal Democrats from 2015 to 2017. Farron resigned as leader after a general election campaign which saw him come under continuous pressure over the compatibility between his socially conservative theological views – in particular, his belief that gay sex is a sin – and his self-classification as a liberal. In his book, A Better Ambition: Confessions of a Faithful Liberal , Farron (2019) suggests that his experience as Liberal Democrat leader gave him a unique insight not only into the interaction between religious and political discourses in Britain but the state of liberalism also. For Farron, his experience has led him to believe that the latter is under threat – in particular, liberalism is ‘…under threat from the inside, from itself and from mistaken understanding of what liberalism is among people who think they are liberals’ (223).   In chapter 10 of his book, ‘Redeeming Liberalism’, Farron argues that ‘…liberalism does not seem terribly libe

It is not uncommon for prominent critical religion academics to question the suitability of scholarship which makes normative statements and value judgements – scholarship which has an explicit political agenda, and which uses its research to promote particular constructions of ‘religion’. For instance, Russell T. McCutcheon (2018), in his book Fabricating Religion , critiques examples of scholarship that make normative judgements to suggest specific constructions of ‘religion’ are more progressive or just than others. McCutcheon argues that as every category and metric system is merely part of a local lexicon and worldview, any application of them in the service of evaluation can only produce subjective results. That is, what is progressive and just to one person is regressive and unjust to another. Consequently, value judgements tell us more about the scholar making them than they do about the phenomenon they attempt to classify (98). For McCutcheon, scholars of religion should be

Scrolling through my Twitter feed during the current COVID-19 pandemic is not a great idea. Nonetheless, I recently stumbled across an interesting tweet from the Religion Media Centre  (RMC). They describe themselves as ‘Independent and impartial – providing the media with information, context and expert comment’. The tweet regards a virtual panel discussion examining the following question: ‘ Is the NHS [National Health Service] our new national religion?’ The sentiment of wanting to appreciate an underfunded NHS, struggling with a lack of Personal Protective Equipment (PPE) supplies and adequate staffing during traumatic times, is reasonable, if not vital. But this blogpost is not a critique of Conservative party policies and public complacency about the NHS. While my caveat is that I do not know exactly what was discussed by the RMC virtual panel, I argue that this a deeply flawed question that we should not be asking. It is worth stating that I am not challenging person

This brief article details some reflections of mine after having taught as a graduate student on an undergraduate Religious Studies module for the last four years. The views here are my own and do not reflect the institution where I taught. Between October 2018 and July 2019, I had the opportunity to teach full-time on an undergraduate Religious Studies module at a university in the North West of England. It was called: “The Study of Religion: An Introduction” and was delivered to first-year Theology and Religious Studies students. For three years before that, I had given occasional lectures and tutored during weekly seminars for the same Religious Studies module and another titled “Global Perspectives in Christianity”. The responsibilities that I had during my teaching posts included weekly lectures, seminars, and tutorials, grading assignments, delivering study-skills sessions, and administration. Moreover, I was given the chance to adapt the Study of Religion module slightly in

In May 2016, Jay L. Garfield and Bryan W. Van Norden wrote an opinion piece for the New York Times which challenged the exclusion of non-western voices in Anglophone philosophy departments ( https://www.nytimes.com/2016/05/11/opinion/if-philosophy-wont-diversify-lets-call-it-what-it-really-is.html ). They suggested that such practices of exclusion rested upon institutional racism which had its foundation in western colonialism and normativity. The exclusion of, say, Buddhist philosophical voices from departments of philosophy were/are always value judgement calls – calls which suggested that Buddhist thinkers were not engaged in activity that was completely rational and/or that the methods used by Buddhist thinkers were/are not completely rational (Garfield, 2017, xviii). I do not wish to engage in a systematic examination of study of religion departmental biases here; however, I do believe it is justified to suggest that similar institutional racism exists within our departments