"Religious Abuse: An Overview" by Etrigan

            Many will agree that it would be abusive to threaten to thrust a child’s hand into a fireplace. Many would consider it cruel and tragic to teach a small child that she might someday be abandoned by her loved ones unexpectedly, say, at the mall, or the grocery store. But, matters become much more hazy and controversial when an adult threatens a child with fiery eternal damnation, or when that child grows up fearing that his friends and family will all be “Raptured” without him. Some might be a bit slow to criticize or condemn the adults in the latter scenarios, because to condemn or pry into another’s religious practice or faith is considered to be in bad form—after all, what’s to prevent another from casting aspersions on your religion, then, once that can of worms has been opened?—and to offer potentially invasive or unwelcome childrearing advice, equally so. From there, some might argue that deeply religious parents are only trying to teach their children about the things they sincerely believe are vital to their well-being and survival, just as most regular parents teach children about strangers, and drugs, and fire safety. If the religion turns out to be true, the parents have done their children a favor, and if it turns out to be false—or if the child’s perspective on the religion turns out to be inaccurate, myopic, or juvenile—then the child will grow up, come to know better, and move on, and either way will be no worse for wear. Right?

            Both Dr. Winell’s private counseling clients and the participants in her “Release and Reclaim” workshops would beg to differ. For a number of years, Dr. Winell has counseled those who have endured religious abuse, using an approach inspired by existentialism and humanism, and methods which include clinical guided imagery, and talk therapy. Her clients often tell harrowing stories of the pain, confusion, frustration, guilt, and fear they suffered at the hands of religious authorities, or fundamentalist parents, friends, or community members. Even some who have not been involved with organized religion for decades will nonetheless report that they still bear scars and burdens from their negative encounters with religion, in the form of self-loathing thoughts, frequent depression, persistent fear, confused morals, a lack of ambition, and an inability to make important decisions, act independently, or engage in proper self-care. Many are highly suspicious or afraid of religion, and are thus fearful of pursuing any kind of spiritual interests, curiosities, or ambitions, for fear of being seduced, hurt, or manipulated again. A number of Winell’s clients have even endured neglect, or physical, verbal, or even sexual abuse, in addition to the religious repression or coercion, and this, of course, complicates matters.

So, what does religious abuse look like? Its most extreme and visible forms typically surface in cults and among religious terrorists, and therefore, an abusive, destructive religion or group is often characterized by an authoritarian power structure, the complete adoration of the charismatic and messianic leader or founder, attempts to isolate its members from the “evil” outside world, attempts to exercise control over practically every aspect of a member’s life, a total willingness to dehumanize or even kill outsiders or ex-members, an obsession with fund-raising and proselytizing, and a pronounced interest in some kind of apocalypse, disaster, or end time. Those under the sway of a cult or repressive group will often be fearful of and unable to function in the outside world, engage in black-and-white absolutist thinking and moral reasoning, have few interests or hobbies outside of the group, have few relationships outside of the group, and show an extreme willingness to sacrifice funds, comfort, interests, relationships, health, goals, freedom and even life to or for the group. However, a group or ideology does not have be—or be generally considered—a full-blown cult in order to possess a number of these and other signs and symptoms, and it should be noted that the signs and symptoms may often appear in forms that are decidedly more vague and subtle.

Even seemingly benign infractions (from an outside perspective) and slightly unnerving or suspicious doctrinal teachings can have a profound negative impact, particularly on a child. A child will often trust his parents or elders implicitly, and will assume that they know best and most about the world, and are looking out for his true best interests. He will not know about other approaches or worldviews besides his own, until being taught about them. He will take things personally, interpret statements literally, and often make gross generalizations and wild assumptions. He will be green and inexperienced—still learning, still exploring, still growing.

Consider the child mentioned earlier, while keeping these things in mind. When his parents or his pastor start to constantly underscore the horrors of Hell, or the glories of the Rapture, the child’s active imagination will kick into gear. If his parents go out for the mail or are in another room, he may fly into a panic, because he believes he was “left behind,” and is now alone in the world. Because he doesn’t yet have a nuanced understanding of these various subjects and terms—due to a lack of cognitive development and background knowledge—he may fret constantly about whether he is being bad, or being good, or is a true believer in Jesus, or is “washed in the blood,” because he doesn’t know what those things really mean. The child may take responsibility for misdeeds that weren’t even his fault, or that weren’t even real misdeeds at all. If he is told that the Holy Spirit grants true discernment and understanding to those who are truly and faithfully praying and listening, he may panic if an interpretation to a Biblical verse or a solution to a personal or moral problem doesn’t reveal itself in due time. And, at a time when he is meant to be freely exploring and learning, he will be told that the world itself is sinful and vile, and that his own body, thoughts, and feelings are themselves wicked more often than not. Rather than coming to possess “the peace that surpasses all understanding,” iff the bulk of a child’s upbringing consists of constant teachings and preachings on Hell, damnation, Original Sin, the Wrath of God, us vs. the world/Them, spiritual warfare, demon possession, and the Apocalypse, he may feel profoundly anxious much of the time, and thus become rigid, legalistic, and paranoid. What’s more, if things continue like this, these feelings and tendencies will likely follow him well into adulthood, and may even stay with him for the rest of his life.

Being filled with these attitudes and feelings is not only bad for one’s mental and emotional state, but also bad for one’s productivity in life as well. If you are convinced that the world is bad, that unbelievers are wicked and foolish, and that various miscellaneous actions will lead you into the Pit, how can you ever be truly willing or able to try or learn new things, or journey out into the world independently? If you are taught that your own flesh is evil, and is always plotting to destroy and undermine you, how can you ever develop a positive self-image, or a sense of self-efficacy, and how can you ever learn to trust yourself, honor your own thoughts and feelings, or listen to your gut? If you are taught that your religious text means what it means, and means it for all time, inevitably, you will stumble or fumble as you try to apply certain ancient, rigidly-interpreted teachings and morals to modern life, and you will be instructed to ignore or resist threatening new developments or discoveries in science, technology, and philosophy. Ultimately, a person in such a situation will be sorely tempted to just cling for dear life to their trusted authority figures or religious community, because everywhere else—including the self—is a proverbial minefield. This is no way to live a life.

Some might accuse me or Dr. Winell of being anti-religion. To my mind, nothing could be further from the truth. The problem is not necessarily religion in itself, or even one religion or another in particular, but rather, a certain insidious attitude and approach that sometimes creeps into religion, as well as other kinds of world views and ideologies. This parasite, this menace, this cannibal—this slinking, creeping, stinking terror—is known as fundamentalism.

Fundamentalism is characterized by legalism, dogmatism, tribalism/xenophobia, rigidity, authoritarianism, and moral absolutism. Its objectives are to enforce purity and obedience to The True Way, and to expand the influence of The Way to the ends of time and space, and slip it into every nook and cranny. Outsiders may be potential converts, but even potential converts are enemies until they have fully entered the fold. In order to ensure the loyalty of believers, fundamentalist ideologies condemn the very things that come most naturally, or are most natural, to human beings, such as lust, or doubt, or anger, so that the believer will have to remain ever-vigilant, ever-guilty, and ever-repentant, with no hope of rest or reprieve in this lifetime. Because The True Way is, of course, the one, the only, and the best way, it must be upheld by any means and at all costs, and  reality—including all new or novel discoveries, revelations, developments, and ideas—must therefore be filtered through it, and not vice versa. Likewise, if one is faltering, failing, or feeling blue while adhering to The True Way, one must shoulder all the blame, and never think of blaming or doubting The Way, or its approved and anointed interpreters.

So, fundamentalism, in all its myriad forms, inevitably reaps guilt, shame, hatred, rigidity, and small-mindedness. It gives unto people a small, simple, and often frightening world, instead of a large world filled with myriad possibilities, countless complexities, and colours beyond just black and white. It renders people subservient to often-corrupt and rigid authority figures, and to strict, outmoded, and flavorless doctrines. It discourages learning, kills growth, condemns exploration, destroys curiosity, crushes self-trust, and above all, exploits the trust and faith of those seeking a way in which to live.

Positive religion, on the other hand, looks dramatically different from fundamentalism, and so has a different effect on systems, societies, and people. So, what does positive religion look like? I will try to explain my understanding of it.

I am a pragmatist. When confronted with an idea, a method, a theory, an approach, or even a physical doo-dad or device, I often ask, “How is it supposed to work?” and, more importantly, “Does it work?” I myself do not believe in doing things just out of habit or principle; what you do should serve some kind of practical, visible, productive purpose. If it doesn’t, you should consider changing your approach.

So, too, do I require that religion must “work.” It must serve some kind of practical, observable purpose, successfully meet certain needs, and complete certain objectives. A good religion, I believe, must help and encourage its adherents to become ever-stronger, ever-wiser, ever-healthier, ever-happier, ever more competent; must aid those adherents in successfully understanding and functioning in the world as it really is; must teach and encourage its followers to productively (and, for the most part, peaceably) communicate, collaborate, connect, and cooperate with various other beings and systems in the world. A positive religion cheers you on when you learn, when you grow, when you succeed, and allows you to filter it through reality, rather than vice versa. A positive religious practice puts a song in your heart and some muscle in your arm (and your head). If your religion or your religious organization doesn’t do that, that’s your cue to make a change.

            Be aware, however, that if an individual has languished long in an abusive religious environment, the road to healing may prove to be surprisingly arduous, long and winding. Some may notice that they drift back into old habits or old ways of thinking in moments of stress or thoughtlessness, while who toy with once-sinful activities and ideas may initially report feeling conflicted or guilty, or will hear criticism from a nasty, moralistic, accusatory inner voice that Dr. Winell calls “the monster.” Those who often relied on their fundamentalist family, community, or church will genuinely miss their total support, guidance, and (often conditional) acceptance, will feel heartache at the criticism and rejection they now experience from those parties, and will be unsure of how to make friends or make decisions without help.

            The scars run deeper still. Dr. Winell often conducts guided imagery sessions with her clients, in which they are encouraged to lie down, relax, and visualize, say, interacting with their inner child (the symbol of their core and original self) in a peaceful place, or defending their child from the monster’s attacks on the playground. Some participants later remark that they felt uncomfortable around their child, or even acted aggressive towards him or her. Some will report having endured negative in-visualization consequences or feelings of guilt for fighting off the monster. A number often reflect with awe and surprise at how wonderful it felt to socialize with the child, or how cathartic it was to fight the monster. These exercises might seem deceptively simple, “fluffy,” or frivolous to the outside observer, but they seem to make a consistently profound impact on those who go through them.

 So, the pain is real. The stories are true. Religious abuse is a very real, very serious, and sadly, too pervasive phenomenon. The problem that remains is how to deal with and regard the phenomenon of religious abuse and coercion in the larger society. This, of course, raises a number of complex and troubling questions. Is it still abuse if the authority, parent, or community believed they were acting in the victim’s best spiritual and personal interests? Will prevention or treatment of religious abuse in any way curtail or infringe upon religious freedom, freedom of expression, personal privacy, or the right to raise one’s children as one sees fit? If a rape victim, abused child, or battered spouse is potentially justified in fighting or even killing that abuser or attacker, does this imply that the religiously-abused individual might have a similar privilege or option?

            I admit that I do not have the answers to these particular questions, nor the space and the time to address them here anyway, but this at least serves to show why religious abuse may prove to be a touchy subject for many. (Perhaps, in the future, I will try to answer some of these questions in essay form, so stay tuned.) Certainly, it opens up quite a can of proverbial worms. However, I believe that something must be done, because I have seen that religious abuse can do as much harm to an individual as any other kind of abuse, or coercion, or manipulation, and because these sorts of problems, questions, and issues are gaining greater momentum and influence in the world today. It is my hope, therefore, that we—Dr. Winell, myself, and others—may gain greater understanding of both fundamentalism/religious abuse, and its opposite, and develop techniques and approaches that can heal and help individuals and communities that require it. This vitally important, now more than ever.