Posts

Conversion and Deconversion as Concepts in the Sociology of Religion

Religious conversion has traditionally been understood as the abandonment of one religious identity for another, or a switch from no religious identification to a newly religious one. Psychologists, sociologists, anthropologists, and others have viewed conversion as a sudden, singular event in one’s life. In the 1960s and 1970s, in the wake of new religious movements and the flowering of Asian religious traditions in the West, sociologists reformulated conversion as an active, gradual process of transformation.

Conversion, in these understandings, is not a changed subjective or ontological identity but rather a shift in one’s discursive universe, social relationships, and embodied practices, a new role learned through language, behavior, and interpersonal boundary maintenance. Similarly, deconversion and its scholarly synonyms (apostasy, alienation, disaffiliation, defection, exit, leaving) has many contexts, motivations, and processes, including loss of a specific religious experience, doubt or denial of beliefs, moral criticism, emotional suffering, and unlearning particular vocabularies and behaviors.

For this interview with Lynn Davidman, we focus on the concepts of conversion and deconversion*, illustrations of these processes in various contexts, what each term means and how each is experienced in someone’s life, the histories of these terms and their use in scholarship, and issues that arise from their conceptualization or use.

You can download this interview, and subscribe to receive our weekly podcast, on iTunes. If you enjoyed it, please take a moment to rate us. And remember, you can use our Amazon.co.ukAmazon.com, or Amazon.ca links to support us at no additional cost when buying academic texts, jelly beans, the artist formally known as “Prince” memorial T-shirts, and more.

*Our interview took place during the Association for the Sociology of Religion annual meeting, held in Chicago. During our conversation, Davidman refers to comments made at an author-meets-critics panel about her new book which took place earlier that day.

*For more on conversion, see L. Rambo, Understanding Religious Conversion (1993) and L. Rambo and C. Farhadian, The Oxford Handbook of Religious Conversion (2014), as well as D. Snow and R. Machalek, “The Sociology of Conversion” (1984).

*For more on deconversion, see H. Streib et al, Deconversion (2009) and P. Zuckerman, Faith No More (2011).

How Meanings are Made and Taken Apart: Reflections on Discursive Analysis

In an interview with the Religious Studies Project, professor Kocku von Stuckrad outlines interesting possibilities for discursive analysis. He describes an approach that “goes beyond terms” and also beyond examining political power structures. The interview brought up many important, broad themes that are discussed in the study of religion. This essay is an examination of some thoughts the interview brought up and provoked, also in relation to some practical realities of the academic world.

Discursive analysis has become an important theoretical approach in the study of religion. Seen through the discursive lens, religion is a concept that is being used by different people in different settings in a number of ways. The content of any concept is always changing, always negotiated and contested. Still, there is some room for confusion. This is, in part, because discursive analysis is not exactly a unified approach but rather a collection of approaches.

The type of discursive analysis von Stuckrad speaks of does not only include texts and usage of certain terms, (i.e. how different terms and themes are linked to one another so as to produce knowledge), but also includes institutionalised and materialised products of this knowledge. Von Stuckrad refers to “discourse of practices”, which definitely is a welcome link between language and the material reality, acted and experienced.

This approach goes beyond certain styles of critical discursive analysis, but power relations are not forgotten. As one becomes more aware of how academic knowledge, for example, inevitably shapes the discourses on almost any given theme, and these discourses in turn may shape or create actual practices and institutions, it becomes evident that scholars may actually hold a tremendous power. The next responsible thing to do is to turn a critical gaze to our own institutional links and what kinds of “knowledge agreements,” discursive compounds, we, together with our research, are standing on. As scholars of religion, or of any other subject for that matter, we should pay critical attention to our own position. When we as researchers pick up a concept and use it, we must be aware just how far from sterile, self-evident and unpolitical they are. They come with underlying assumptions, a whole history of negotiations and selection processes.

We must also be aware of how our participation in certain discussions may shape the world around us. In our view, this does not mean that researchers should shy away from these discussions, but that they should enter them understanding the possible weight. Academic knowledge, or language at the very least, will leak into the surrounding society one way or another. Studying topics under some political crossfire can especially attract expectations. For example, studying the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster has gained attention from groups and individuals that promote the cause of this movement, and it is entirely possible that all the scholarly attention given to the movement will be pointed at as evidence that it is a movement to be taken seriously also in political debates – this has already been seen in the case of some neopagan groups.

A whole other problem is the fact that scholars from many fields, often cultural studies, have in recent years become quite aware of many possible audiences to their research, not all of which are of the good kind. We can only hope that hate mail and anonymous threats are not a growing phenomenon. And that this sort of publicity will not drive researchers away from the public sphere.

Examining these usages and often especially the power relations – who has the right to define the content of a concept – is at the heart of discursive analysis. And keeping an eye on power relations is more or less a necessity if one wants to dig into how concepts have evolved in time. The very concept of religion is a great example of the historical, setting-specific nature of language. All the more illuminating is to think about how the concept carried its Judaeo-Christian underpinnings into academic research and was used to conceptualize cultural systems that had no such concept in their own reference system.

When scholars start paying critical attention to their particular position and the load of their concepts and ideas, research becomes a consciously two-way process. In order to adequately examine the subject of our research, one must also take a good look at one’s own instruments. We must know them well in order to know what kind of information they can offer us about our subject. This sort of critical perspective should more or less go hand in hand with all research, not only studies that explore discourses.

As for practical applications, there are probably many different ways in which the genealogical point of view von Stuckrad suggests can be incorporated in actual individual research projects. As he points out in the interview, not all research projects need to be discursive analyses. Within a broader framework of discursive understanding, a wide range of methods can still be applied. Still, the discursive reflection should be described in the actual research. As researchers are always making decisions from a particular point of view, they should make an effort to make themselves more visible in the research. Apart from reflecting critically on one’s position and terminology, for example, it is important to report these processes. Only then can the reader examine the way the researcher has reached his or her conclusions.

But what exactly would be the most constructive way to incorporate this reflection in research papers and reports? We have heard warnings about using the chapter titled ‘reflection’ for pouring out all sorts of affiliations, engagements and other caveats, then going on with our research without giving these questions a further thought. This is hardly the kind of critical thinking we are looking for. Another question is, might there also be a risk that research papers become more massive and complex as more of the process is made visible in writing? Simultaneously, other kinds of demands are on the increase in the academia, such as writing as clear, succinct, and reader-friendly academic papers as possible. More transparency, fewer words. Luckily, we at least see developing academic writing further as a meaningful challenge.

In Praise of Polyvocality

A few weeks back, I found myself engaged in a one-sided debate with a colleague/friend over the use of the term ‘non-religion.’ As it was at the end of a two-day conference, it was one of those casual conversations wherein certain sophisticated aspects of the preceding academic discourse spill over into the informality of a chat over drinks.

In other words: like many a conversation amongst academically-minded friends, the casual simplicity of our conversation was periodically peppered with intellectual debate.

This is partly why I refer here to our argument as being rather one-sided, though of course it would be both unfair and erroneous of me to remove myself entirely of any responsibility. After all, I am something of an antagonist [editor’s note: …to say the least]. Then again, I’m also the one telling the story here, so I can shape it any way I wish. Something to consider the next time you read an ethnography.

Nevertheless, from my perspective, our discussion felt ‘one-sided’ because it consisted mostly of my friend emphatically and excitedly arguing (perhaps with himself?) against what he perceived was my own emphatic and excited argument that the term ‘non-religion’ has been reified by those who use it for their own cynical gains. While I would, of course, agree that it has definitely become reified (what term hasn’t?), I could not help but think the argument he was putting forth was veering into a discussion beyond simple term usage. Which, in the end, is partly why I requested to offer this response to Chris Cotter’s interview with Johannes Quack.

The other reason for my request is that while I have, for the last five years, been a rather vocal advocate against the term ‘non-religion’ (for a number of reasons that aren’t exactly pertinent to this particular story), I have also, as I assured my friend, come to believe that the term, and its many cognates, shouldn’t be wholly abandoned. That is, just because it doesn’t work for me, doesn’t mean it doesn’t work for someone else.

Which, if we really think about it, is the essence of academic discourse.

This simple argument here will be the focus of this response, the thesis around which I will be using Quack’s approach to non-religion in an Indian context, to not only point out the benefits of differing theoretical and methodological views, but to also make the larger anthropological argument that this discourse about terminology provides a pragmatically curious solution.

I call this thesis: in praise of polyvocality.

At the recent XXIst Quinquennial Congress of the International Association for the History of Religions at the University of Erfurt, I had the esteemed pleasure of having Professor Johannes Quack moderate the panel on which I was presenting: “Current Perspectives on Atheism.” Beyond his intriguing, and rather groundbreaking, research on rationalism in India, Professor Quack is perhaps the ideal individual on which to support my thesis.

During the question-answer section of the panel, which also included a very interesting presentation by Ingela Visuri[1] on the correlation between autism and Atheism, there began an interesting diminutive debate between Johannes and I over our different term usages. Where this might have, as it has in the past, veered into a discussion between contesting advocates with no real solution provided in the end, it in fact proved extremely advantageous, and not just for the benefit of the audience. At one point, when asked if there was a strict difference between his use of non-religion and my use of the term Atheism, and in particular if the former was merely a more broad or essentialist version of the latter, Johannes kindly responded with a similar answer to the one he gives in his RSP interview about his use of the term rationalist: from a straightforward anthropological perspective, because the individuals being studied identify themselves using a particular term, it would be unfair to impose a different one on them other than the one they use. While this permission to allow one’s subjects to speak for themselves, of course, makes the discussion about term usage even more difficult (especially as subjects tend not to agree on terminology), it also offered a useful insight into the pragmatism of using such different terms, as well as an argument against assigning a general one under which they might be categorized.

This also returns my discussion to the issue of reification. Perhaps my greatest argument against ‘non-religion’ has been based on the notion that it stands as a relational umbrella: in the discourse on the academic study of religion, the study of the non-religious represents research being done not so much on the ‘opposite,’ but on the relational periphery. This is something that Chris and Johannes discuss toward the end of their interview. While this might prove useful in the sense that it places the discourse of the study of the non-religious within the larger context of the study of religion, I would argue it also, perhaps by accident, reifies the term in the same way that ‘religion’ has become an umbrella over which we categorize all aspects of being or acting religious. In the end, then, it adopts, from its relationship to ‘religion’, all the issues and ambiguous difficulties we’ve had with that term over the last century or so. This, to me, is less a solution to the problem, than a contribution to it. When we add this to the adolescent growing pains of the study of Atheism, ir-religion, un-belief, non-religion, etc., the result is a rather stunted upbringing. Though I digress.

So, then, to move, here, from the critical to the promotional, in Johannes’ answer, as well as via his discussion with Chris about the differences between group and individual identities at the end of their interview, I believe there is a solution to be found: I would argue that a remedy for term reification, be it Atheism, non-religion, religion, or anything relationally similar, and thus a remedy for the terminological issues we may face as researchers, is found within the straightforward anthropological approach which he advocated for in our panel, only turned around in a reflective manner. That is, where we seek out and promote the pragmatic objectivity in permitting each of our subjects to define themselves in their own terms, there is an equal pragmatism in introspectively allowing ourselves to do the same with our own language. While this approach might develop a rather vast terminological discourse, it also breeds a sense of diversity, which, through an anthropological lens, is more beneficial than it is detrimental to our conclusions.

In fact, when we take a further step back, and view the academic discourse itself as an anthropological subject, these terminological differences become their own types of individual identities. In this way, our debates over terminology become differing voices all contributing to a discourse that together comes to represent a cultural whole. Thus, our differences of opinion become less problematic, and more representative, a polyvocality that together create a group identity filled with different individual ones. Then, and just like we would with our subjects, viewing this discourse objectively fosters a much more nuanced insight into this culture than, say, an argument that one subject embodies his or her culture more than another.

In the end, then, I believe the polyvocality of our discourse is indeed a benefit, particularly because we aren’t all talking about the same thing. Our disagreements and debating and arguing over the proper term usage contributes more and more to the discourse upon which our identity, as an academic endeavor, is formed. Thus, while we might quarrel amongst each other over whether or not our terminology is correct, or whether it better represents our subjects, as subjects ourselves, these discussions are in their own way leading toward a process of identification, and thus a sense of academic congruity. From this third level, then, looking down at ourselves as we look down on our subjects, each layer embodying a unique cultural character, we can better make sense of what it is that we’re studying, as we study it. To do otherwise, to me, seems a bit too much like a one-sided debate.

Suggested Reading

Johannes Quack, Disenchanting India: Organized Rationalism and Criticism of Religion in India (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012).

Johannes Quack and Jacob Copeman, “’Godless People’ and Dead Bodies: Materiality and the Morality of Atheist Materialism,“ Social Analysis, Vol. 59, Iss. 2, 2015.

http://www.nonreligion.net/?page_id=35

http://nsrn.net

http://www.everythingisfiction.org/

Lois Lee, Recognizing the Non-Religious: Reimagining the Secular (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015).

Ethan G. Quillen, “Discourse Analysis and the Definition of Atheism,” Science, Religion, and Culture, Vol. 2, Iss. 3, 2015.

[1] https://hig-se.academia.edu/IngelaVisuri

Podcasts

Conversion and Deconversion as Concepts in the Sociology of Religion

Religious conversion has traditionally been understood as the abandonment of one religious identity for another, or a switch from no religious identification to a newly religious one. Psychologists, sociologists, anthropologists, and others have viewed conversion as a sudden, singular event in one’s life. In the 1960s and 1970s, in the wake of new religious movements and the flowering of Asian religious traditions in the West, sociologists reformulated conversion as an active, gradual process of transformation.

Conversion, in these understandings, is not a changed subjective or ontological identity but rather a shift in one’s discursive universe, social relationships, and embodied practices, a new role learned through language, behavior, and interpersonal boundary maintenance. Similarly, deconversion and its scholarly synonyms (apostasy, alienation, disaffiliation, defection, exit, leaving) has many contexts, motivations, and processes, including loss of a specific religious experience, doubt or denial of beliefs, moral criticism, emotional suffering, and unlearning particular vocabularies and behaviors.

For this interview with Lynn Davidman, we focus on the concepts of conversion and deconversion*, illustrations of these processes in various contexts, what each term means and how each is experienced in someone’s life, the histories of these terms and their use in scholarship, and issues that arise from their conceptualization or use.

You can download this interview, and subscribe to receive our weekly podcast, on iTunes. If you enjoyed it, please take a moment to rate us. And remember, you can use our Amazon.co.ukAmazon.com, or Amazon.ca links to support us at no additional cost when buying academic texts, jelly beans, the artist formally known as “Prince” memorial T-shirts, and more.

*Our interview took place during the Association for the Sociology of Religion annual meeting, held in Chicago. During our conversation, Davidman refers to comments made at an author-meets-critics panel about her new book which took place earlier that day.

*For more on conversion, see L. Rambo, Understanding Religious Conversion (1993) and L. Rambo and C. Farhadian, The Oxford Handbook of Religious Conversion (2014), as well as D. Snow and R. Machalek, “The Sociology of Conversion” (1984).

*For more on deconversion, see H. Streib et al, Deconversion (2009) and P. Zuckerman, Faith No More (2011).

How Meanings are Made and Taken Apart: Reflections on Discursive Analysis

In an interview with the Religious Studies Project, professor Kocku von Stuckrad outlines interesting possibilities for discursive analysis. He describes an approach that “goes beyond terms” and also beyond examining political power structures. The interview brought up many important, broad themes that are discussed in the study of religion. This essay is an examination of some thoughts the interview brought up and provoked, also in relation to some practical realities of the academic world.

Discursive analysis has become an important theoretical approach in the study of religion. Seen through the discursive lens, religion is a concept that is being used by different people in different settings in a number of ways. The content of any concept is always changing, always negotiated and contested. Still, there is some room for confusion. This is, in part, because discursive analysis is not exactly a unified approach but rather a collection of approaches.

The type of discursive analysis von Stuckrad speaks of does not only include texts and usage of certain terms, (i.e. how different terms and themes are linked to one another so as to produce knowledge), but also includes institutionalised and materialised products of this knowledge. Von Stuckrad refers to “discourse of practices”, which definitely is a welcome link between language and the material reality, acted and experienced.

This approach goes beyond certain styles of critical discursive analysis, but power relations are not forgotten. As one becomes more aware of how academic knowledge, for example, inevitably shapes the discourses on almost any given theme, and these discourses in turn may shape or create actual practices and institutions, it becomes evident that scholars may actually hold a tremendous power. The next responsible thing to do is to turn a critical gaze to our own institutional links and what kinds of “knowledge agreements,” discursive compounds, we, together with our research, are standing on. As scholars of religion, or of any other subject for that matter, we should pay critical attention to our own position. When we as researchers pick up a concept and use it, we must be aware just how far from sterile, self-evident and unpolitical they are. They come with underlying assumptions, a whole history of negotiations and selection processes.

We must also be aware of how our participation in certain discussions may shape the world around us. In our view, this does not mean that researchers should shy away from these discussions, but that they should enter them understanding the possible weight. Academic knowledge, or language at the very least, will leak into the surrounding society one way or another. Studying topics under some political crossfire can especially attract expectations. For example, studying the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster has gained attention from groups and individuals that promote the cause of this movement, and it is entirely possible that all the scholarly attention given to the movement will be pointed at as evidence that it is a movement to be taken seriously also in political debates – this has already been seen in the case of some neopagan groups.

A whole other problem is the fact that scholars from many fields, often cultural studies, have in recent years become quite aware of many possible audiences to their research, not all of which are of the good kind. We can only hope that hate mail and anonymous threats are not a growing phenomenon. And that this sort of publicity will not drive researchers away from the public sphere.

Examining these usages and often especially the power relations – who has the right to define the content of a concept – is at the heart of discursive analysis. And keeping an eye on power relations is more or less a necessity if one wants to dig into how concepts have evolved in time. The very concept of religion is a great example of the historical, setting-specific nature of language. All the more illuminating is to think about how the concept carried its Judaeo-Christian underpinnings into academic research and was used to conceptualize cultural systems that had no such concept in their own reference system.

When scholars start paying critical attention to their particular position and the load of their concepts and ideas, research becomes a consciously two-way process. In order to adequately examine the subject of our research, one must also take a good look at one’s own instruments. We must know them well in order to know what kind of information they can offer us about our subject. This sort of critical perspective should more or less go hand in hand with all research, not only studies that explore discourses.

As for practical applications, there are probably many different ways in which the genealogical point of view von Stuckrad suggests can be incorporated in actual individual research projects. As he points out in the interview, not all research projects need to be discursive analyses. Within a broader framework of discursive understanding, a wide range of methods can still be applied. Still, the discursive reflection should be described in the actual research. As researchers are always making decisions from a particular point of view, they should make an effort to make themselves more visible in the research. Apart from reflecting critically on one’s position and terminology, for example, it is important to report these processes. Only then can the reader examine the way the researcher has reached his or her conclusions.

But what exactly would be the most constructive way to incorporate this reflection in research papers and reports? We have heard warnings about using the chapter titled ‘reflection’ for pouring out all sorts of affiliations, engagements and other caveats, then going on with our research without giving these questions a further thought. This is hardly the kind of critical thinking we are looking for. Another question is, might there also be a risk that research papers become more massive and complex as more of the process is made visible in writing? Simultaneously, other kinds of demands are on the increase in the academia, such as writing as clear, succinct, and reader-friendly academic papers as possible. More transparency, fewer words. Luckily, we at least see developing academic writing further as a meaningful challenge.

In Praise of Polyvocality

A few weeks back, I found myself engaged in a one-sided debate with a colleague/friend over the use of the term ‘non-religion.’ As it was at the end of a two-day conference, it was one of those casual conversations wherein certain sophisticated aspects of the preceding academic discourse spill over into the informality of a chat over drinks.

In other words: like many a conversation amongst academically-minded friends, the casual simplicity of our conversation was periodically peppered with intellectual debate.

This is partly why I refer here to our argument as being rather one-sided, though of course it would be both unfair and erroneous of me to remove myself entirely of any responsibility. After all, I am something of an antagonist [editor’s note: …to say the least]. Then again, I’m also the one telling the story here, so I can shape it any way I wish. Something to consider the next time you read an ethnography.

Nevertheless, from my perspective, our discussion felt ‘one-sided’ because it consisted mostly of my friend emphatically and excitedly arguing (perhaps with himself?) against what he perceived was my own emphatic and excited argument that the term ‘non-religion’ has been reified by those who use it for their own cynical gains. While I would, of course, agree that it has definitely become reified (what term hasn’t?), I could not help but think the argument he was putting forth was veering into a discussion beyond simple term usage. Which, in the end, is partly why I requested to offer this response to Chris Cotter’s interview with Johannes Quack.

The other reason for my request is that while I have, for the last five years, been a rather vocal advocate against the term ‘non-religion’ (for a number of reasons that aren’t exactly pertinent to this particular story), I have also, as I assured my friend, come to believe that the term, and its many cognates, shouldn’t be wholly abandoned. That is, just because it doesn’t work for me, doesn’t mean it doesn’t work for someone else.

Which, if we really think about it, is the essence of academic discourse.

This simple argument here will be the focus of this response, the thesis around which I will be using Quack’s approach to non-religion in an Indian context, to not only point out the benefits of differing theoretical and methodological views, but to also make the larger anthropological argument that this discourse about terminology provides a pragmatically curious solution.

I call this thesis: in praise of polyvocality.

At the recent XXIst Quinquennial Congress of the International Association for the History of Religions at the University of Erfurt, I had the esteemed pleasure of having Professor Johannes Quack moderate the panel on which I was presenting: “Current Perspectives on Atheism.” Beyond his intriguing, and rather groundbreaking, research on rationalism in India, Professor Quack is perhaps the ideal individual on which to support my thesis.

During the question-answer section of the panel, which also included a very interesting presentation by Ingela Visuri[1] on the correlation between autism and Atheism, there began an interesting diminutive debate between Johannes and I over our different term usages. Where this might have, as it has in the past, veered into a discussion between contesting advocates with no real solution provided in the end, it in fact proved extremely advantageous, and not just for the benefit of the audience. At one point, when asked if there was a strict difference between his use of non-religion and my use of the term Atheism, and in particular if the former was merely a more broad or essentialist version of the latter, Johannes kindly responded with a similar answer to the one he gives in his RSP interview about his use of the term rationalist: from a straightforward anthropological perspective, because the individuals being studied identify themselves using a particular term, it would be unfair to impose a different one on them other than the one they use. While this permission to allow one’s subjects to speak for themselves, of course, makes the discussion about term usage even more difficult (especially as subjects tend not to agree on terminology), it also offered a useful insight into the pragmatism of using such different terms, as well as an argument against assigning a general one under which they might be categorized.

This also returns my discussion to the issue of reification. Perhaps my greatest argument against ‘non-religion’ has been based on the notion that it stands as a relational umbrella: in the discourse on the academic study of religion, the study of the non-religious represents research being done not so much on the ‘opposite,’ but on the relational periphery. This is something that Chris and Johannes discuss toward the end of their interview. While this might prove useful in the sense that it places the discourse of the study of the non-religious within the larger context of the study of religion, I would argue it also, perhaps by accident, reifies the term in the same way that ‘religion’ has become an umbrella over which we categorize all aspects of being or acting religious. In the end, then, it adopts, from its relationship to ‘religion’, all the issues and ambiguous difficulties we’ve had with that term over the last century or so. This, to me, is less a solution to the problem, than a contribution to it. When we add this to the adolescent growing pains of the study of Atheism, ir-religion, un-belief, non-religion, etc., the result is a rather stunted upbringing. Though I digress.

So, then, to move, here, from the critical to the promotional, in Johannes’ answer, as well as via his discussion with Chris about the differences between group and individual identities at the end of their interview, I believe there is a solution to be found: I would argue that a remedy for term reification, be it Atheism, non-religion, religion, or anything relationally similar, and thus a remedy for the terminological issues we may face as researchers, is found within the straightforward anthropological approach which he advocated for in our panel, only turned around in a reflective manner. That is, where we seek out and promote the pragmatic objectivity in permitting each of our subjects to define themselves in their own terms, there is an equal pragmatism in introspectively allowing ourselves to do the same with our own language. While this approach might develop a rather vast terminological discourse, it also breeds a sense of diversity, which, through an anthropological lens, is more beneficial than it is detrimental to our conclusions.

In fact, when we take a further step back, and view the academic discourse itself as an anthropological subject, these terminological differences become their own types of individual identities. In this way, our debates over terminology become differing voices all contributing to a discourse that together comes to represent a cultural whole. Thus, our differences of opinion become less problematic, and more representative, a polyvocality that together create a group identity filled with different individual ones. Then, and just like we would with our subjects, viewing this discourse objectively fosters a much more nuanced insight into this culture than, say, an argument that one subject embodies his or her culture more than another.

In the end, then, I believe the polyvocality of our discourse is indeed a benefit, particularly because we aren’t all talking about the same thing. Our disagreements and debating and arguing over the proper term usage contributes more and more to the discourse upon which our identity, as an academic endeavor, is formed. Thus, while we might quarrel amongst each other over whether or not our terminology is correct, or whether it better represents our subjects, as subjects ourselves, these discussions are in their own way leading toward a process of identification, and thus a sense of academic congruity. From this third level, then, looking down at ourselves as we look down on our subjects, each layer embodying a unique cultural character, we can better make sense of what it is that we’re studying, as we study it. To do otherwise, to me, seems a bit too much like a one-sided debate.

Suggested Reading

Johannes Quack, Disenchanting India: Organized Rationalism and Criticism of Religion in India (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012).

Johannes Quack and Jacob Copeman, “’Godless People’ and Dead Bodies: Materiality and the Morality of Atheist Materialism,“ Social Analysis, Vol. 59, Iss. 2, 2015.

http://www.nonreligion.net/?page_id=35

http://nsrn.net

http://www.everythingisfiction.org/

Lois Lee, Recognizing the Non-Religious: Reimagining the Secular (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015).

Ethan G. Quillen, “Discourse Analysis and the Definition of Atheism,” Science, Religion, and Culture, Vol. 2, Iss. 3, 2015.

[1] https://hig-se.academia.edu/IngelaVisuri