In a recent interview with the Religious Studies Project, Mirjam Mencej, PhD, Professor of Folklore Studies and Comparative Mythology at the Department of Ethnology and Cultural Anthropology at the University of Ljubljana speaks about her ethnographic research and findings which are presented in her 2017 publication Styrian Witches in European Perspective: Ethnographic Fieldwork.
Dr Mencej’s research provides a unique perspective into cultural and social Witchcraft in the rural and isolated communities of Slovenia. She prefaces her discussion by stating a) that contemporary Witchcraft appears in many guises, b) how Witchcraft has become a commodity in modern times, and c) how, for many in the West, Witchcraft is now the trademark of radical feminists. Thankfully, Dr Mencej goes on to state how the above has nothing to do with actual Witchcraft.
Conducting ethnographic field research in isolated communities in Slovenia provides Dr Mencej and her investigators an exceptionally rich opportunity to examine the historical, anthropological, social, and cultural impact of both Witchcraft and Witchcraft discourse in a region where the commodification of Witchcraft has not taken root. Her field research allows scholars, researchers, and practitioners an alternative understanding to various forms of Witchcraft and exemplifies the power of Witchcraft discourse as a form of societal control.
The one response that Dr Mencej’s field research obtained that is truly linked to other societal assumptions of Witchcraft is that Witchcraft served as an explanation of a perceived ‘misfortune’. This perceived ‘misfortune’ caused by Witchcraft could be personal or practical such as a physical or mental illness in the family, failed crops, a broken fence, a lame animal, etc. In these rural communities, the origins of misfortune are social—envy often being cited as the main reason for accusations of Witchcraft against neighbours within the affected community.
The field research in Slovenia demonstrates how the community formed a consensus about Witchcraft and how Witchcraft discourse was used as a tool for social conformity and control. It is commonly understood that most of the individuals accused of Witchcraft over the centuries have been predominantly women. Argumentative, intelligent, inquisitive women were often accused as Witches by their fellow community members. Widows and unmarried women were a threat to the community as their social status was unclear in a rigid patriarchal society. Without a husband to protect them from social accusations, these women had no system to defend against these often-unsubstantiated allegations. This demonstrates how Witchcraft discourse was used as a powerful tool for the control of ‘rogue’ women with dubious social positions in the community. The folklore narratives these communities embraced and perpetuated served as a behavioural control mechanism. No one wanted to be accused of practicing Witchcraft, and, therefore, women who were labelled as ‘suspect’ would alter their behaviour to escape suspicion or accusation. The difficulty remains that a source for the perceived ‘misfortune’ must be found and eradicated. Believing an outside source as the responsible catalyst for one’s misfortune, the Neighbourhood Witch or Village Witch was often identified as the scapegoat.
The exceptional findings in the field research conducted by Dr Mencej is the role of the ‘Unwitchers’ or ‘Counter-Witches’ who functioned within these remote communities. As mentioned previously, Witchcraft, or individual Witches, were often blamed for causing another’s misfortunes. Threatened with losing what little social standing these women often held in their communities, the Unwtichers were fortune tellers who could counteract the perceived ‘misfortune’ or identify the responsible Witch. Unwitchers often granted the accusing member of the community the opportunity to come face-to-face with the agent of their misfortune. And while one might conclude that the Unwitchers were the natural enemies of local Witches, this is not the case. In fact, according to Dr Mencej, Unwitchers often assisted women in these times of economic insecurity by helping them maintain their social position (status) within their own community. The Unwitchers could accomplish this by helping to transfer the blame to another (often towards an outsider).
However, Unwitchers no longer exist in the region explored by Dr Mencej’s field research. Only the stories remain. The last known member of a famous Unwitcher family of fortune tellers passed away in the 1980’s effectively ending the Unwitcher’s role in the rural Slovenian communities.
Their position has been taken over by what Dr Mencej calls ‘New Age therapists’. In true psychological fashion, the New Age therapists redirects the blame for the perceived ‘misfortune’ from an outside force (e.g the local Village or Community Witch) to inner psychic forces—it is the ‘inner witch’ that is now to blame as the therapists help community members understand that individuals are responsible for their own misfortunes.
While the Witchcraft discourse continues in rural Slovenia, the understanding of perceived ‘misfortune’ and the ancient accusation of Witchcraft is being radically altered with the perception of the individual as responsible. This is a major shift in the Witchcraft discourse, and Dr Mencej’s field research is a valuable resource in understanding Witchcraft as a powerful tool for both social control and change.
In his recent podcast with the Religious Studies Project, Professor Juan Fonseca details the introduction, subsequent rise, and political and theological influence of two distinct forms of Non-Catholic Christianity in Peru: Protestantism and the Pentecostal Movement.
The Latin American religious, political, cultural, and social landscape was irrevocably altered (arguably destroyed) in the early-16th century by the invading Spanish Conquistadors who forced their Roman Catholic faith onto the indigenous people. Peru, which claimed its independence as a nation in 1821, has long-identified as a Roman Catholic nation. A 2007 census confirmed that 81.3% of Peruvians follow their own amalgamated form of Roman Catholicism which continues to be a blending of traditional Roman Catholic (and conservative) values mixed with polytheistic indigenous beliefs. And while the modern religious and political landscape of Peru was wholly shaped by the invasion of Roman Catholicism, the introduction of Non-Catholic Christianity through an influx of Protestant Missionaries in the early 20th century, would further alter the political and religious landscape of Peru creating an ultra-far-Right, militant conservative agenda.
Fonseca speaks about the missionaries believing themselves to be the ‘carriers of civilisation’ and offering a ‘confessional alternative’ to Catholicism. He relates how Protestant and then also Pentecostal missionaries brought with them an American ‘social gospel’ that sought out disenfranchised parts of the community and spoke loudly about feminist issues, trade unions, labour movements, and worked with the indigenous communities. Fonseca identifies the Protestant missionary social approach to religion, which started in the 1940s, as the ‘turning point to conservatism’ in Peru. Fonseca tells how this social gospel missionary movement was quickly followed by a massive influx of missionaries who had been expelled from communist countries. Already aligned with a social mission, they swiftly added their large numbers to the conservative majority. These missionaries, per Fonseca, ‘affected politics which became more conservative and fundamental’ guided by strict traditional theological values.
At the centre of these fundamental theological values are contemporary political issues such as abortion and gay marriage. Fonseca points out that conservative political pressure is ‘so strong it manages to neutralise all voices of sympathy’ to LGBTQ and feminist causes. He goes on to say that the ‘ultra conservative, militant core’ is a minority in Peru but is very powerful through its dominant media presence.
Is any of this starting to sound vaguely familiar?
If so, perhaps you are wondering where is the #Resistance?
Interestingly, theological opposition to the far-Right Protestant religious and political movement came from a Catholic. Father Gustavo Gutiérrez, a Peruvian philosopher, theologian, and Dominican Priest became a founder of Liberation Theology in Latin America through his 1971 book A Theology of Liberation: History, Politics, Salvation.
Quickly gaining momentum on the ground, Fonseca tells how progressives who had been ‘silenced for decades’ were beginning to build networks across Peru aligning themselves with other disenfranchised groups, liberal scholars and theologians like Father Gutiérrez who was welcomed to the Vatican by Pope Francis in 2015. However, while Liberation Theology remains a viable and growing field in theology and religious studies, its impact on the ground in Peru has dwindled. The far-Right’s hold on the political and religious climate of Peru brings with it what Fonseca refers to as ‘a common misconception that being Christian means being politically conservative’.
Olivia Singer writes:
Despite its ultimate fall in popularity, liberation theology changed the role of the Church in Peru and all of Latin America forever. By giving a voice and sense of empowerment to the impoverished, liberation theology held the Church accountable for the welfare of the lower class, recognizing the essential role of social justice in Christian teachings. This movement rethought the power structures of Latin American society and showed that religion could promote highly politicized campaigns.
I can’t help but see the parallels between the Peruvian religious and political history which Fonseca outlines in his interview and the events currently taking place in the United States where religion and politics are more intricately entwined than ever before by a minority Far-Right Conservative Christian movement and its dominant media presence. This intriguing parallel makes Fonseca’s interview timely and important as history repeats itself—and, in this case, religious-political movements are repeating themselves. So not only is Fonseca’s work a fascinating glimpse into this history of Peruvian religion and politics, it also serves as a cautionary tale for its northern neighbour with some timely and valuable reminders.
- Religions can and do promote highly politicised campaigns and shape policy and society. While common knowledge, it is vital that we bear this important fact in mind with the current political and religious fundamentalist climate emerging around the globe, for it is the religious groups which are the true power behind the political face in the media. However, not all groups are equal, and the majority Christian voice can positively impact the minority far-right by reminding them of the importance of social justice in Jesus’ preaching.
- Minority groups can appear to be the majority voice if they dominate the media. Once, this meant that only the rich had a voice, but with the power of social media, the power centre has shifted and must constantly be utilised as a viable and positive tool for social and political change.
- Religious movements that use a ‘social approach’ are immensely more powerful at shaping politics and policies than faith traditions that utilise a ‘rational approach.’ The same would hold true for political movements. Take note, #Resistance fighters.
- Liberation movements arise from the strangle-hold of conservative fundamentalism, but they must stay in the public eye and be continually active to help influence politics and policies. Their chances of long-term success and relevance depends largely on their ability to network with other organisations and movements with whom they share common goals.
Fonseca’s interview outlines a complex political and religious history for Peru, but it also serves as a cautionary tale and guide for its northern neighbours.
Merinda Simmons and Michael J Altman’s discussion of their new Masters programme, Religion in Culture, at The University of Alabama left me feeling as if I had just listened to a 30 minute advert for their university rather than a purposeful discussion about the vital and expansive changes essential to advance higher education in the digital age. I had hoped for the latter, but instead, found the former. Perhaps this only reflects upon another difficulty with higher education in the West—turning departments into profitable business commodities. Nevertheless, Simmons and Altman do raise a vital consideration: that we, as academics and scholars, need to change the narrow and disciplinarian approach of graduate and post-graduate religious studies in our universities, and I couldn’t agree more.
What I may not necessarily agree with Simmons and Altman on, however, is their presentation of an academic challenge that appears to be in a vacuum neither discussing these issues as they relate to higher education in America, nor mentioning any other programmes that do so – implicitly implying that the University of Alabama is attempting a radical programme that no other university in the world is attempting, and that may not, in part, be true.
As I listened to Simmons and Altman discuss the importance of “Dorothea Ortmann and my response to her interview. Ortmann also discusses the important of a multidisciplinary approach combined with the use of the social sciences, including empirical data, to assist in the study of religious phenomena in her native Peru.
In my response to Ortmann, I briefly detail why a multidisciplinary approach and the use of social science data was fundamental to my own doctoral research. While I spoke in my response to Ortmann about the struggle to include such supporting data into my final thesis, I didn’t mention why I chose to pursue my doctoral research in Glasgow versus staying in the US.
The answer to that question is simple: I needed a multidisciplinary department that would support my pursuit of the questions raised in my Master’s thesis—questions that were literary, theological, thealogical, psychological, anthropological, cultural, and sociological. Theology and Religious Studies departments across the US have held close the traditional, monocular lens of disciplinary study, and those who wish to combine disciplines are most often encouraged to study subject matter more reductive and intransigent.
There is a level of multidisciplinary approach to academic enquiry that is far more prevalent in the United Kingdom. I chose the University of Glasgow as the centre for my doctoral research based not only on the great city and friendly people, but also on the University’s Centre for Literature, Theology, and the Arts. The Centre, founded by Professor David Jasper, afforded me the opportunity to pursue my queries where they led—through a range of disciplinary material including psychology, history, anthropology, sociological data, and governmental statistics. This multidisciplinary approach afforded me, as researcher, the opportunity to explore not only the original questions from the source material, but also to truly examine the sociological impact these modern faith traditions are having in the US and UK.
I wasn’t locked in a tower of theology and religious studies, I was let loose on the entire geography of academic and scholarly pursuit to roam the map where my queries took me. In the end, and only through such a wonderfully supportive multidisciplinary research programme, I could see results in three dimensions rather than one—living, breathing models rather than flat photographs. Identifying the thealogical and theological implications of these new faith traditions in the flat first dimension led to answers akin to a 3D model of the cultural and sociological impact they continue to have on modern faith traditions, practitioners, and seekers. In my opinion, multidisciplinary departments are vital to academic research and growth.
The new programme, Religion in Culture, does take a welcome and necessary step in this modern, digital age, by including both public and digital humanities to their foundational training alongside Social Theory. Given that social media is not only taking over our daily lives, but also shaping and altering our lives for good and ill, the inclusion of digital humanities and the prominence of social media is a wonderful approach to address and expand religious studies in the digital age.
A variety of universities both in the US and the UK use social media as a tool for effective outreach. The Religious Studies Project in the UK and State of Formation in the US stand out as two exemplary religious studies projects, often, as with these two, in collaboration with other universities, (as opposed to individual departments or programmes) that utilise social media daily to reach and interact with their intended audience.
Moreover, the internet and social media have changed the way academics interact with each other and the outside world. Indeed, conferences are shared in situ with global audiences as participants and attendees share photos and quotes on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook. Most conference instructions come with suggested hashtags included, and no doubt both interest and future participation are increased through this social interaction through media. You can find a number of prominent scholars and activists on Twitter from second wave feminists such as Carol P Christ to modern thinkers and activists such as Gina Messina, Eboo Patel and Reza Aslan including Simmons and Altman (linked in the opening of this response). Ideas about religious studies, theologies, and modernity are exchanged, criticised, or retweeted daily. Blogs published and shared. Books reviewed and promoted. Therefore, teaching future academics and scholars how to successfully navigate social media in the digital world can only help to extend the reach and impact of our research, queries, and ideas. If only more universities would follow suit.
In the recent podcast interview, Dr Dorothea Ortmann discusses the theories behind her 2002 book Science of Religion in Peru. Ortmann speaks about using social sciences (such as anthropology and history) to investigate religious phenomena. Distancing herself from theological beliefs, Ortmann speaks about the importance of investigators in this field acknowledging their own religious affiliation (or lack thereof) as an integral component of the scientific study of religious phenomenon, and I couldn’t agree more. Theological research is often replete with the inherent religious bias of the investigator, and readers deserve to know which bias is being included to filter out much of the theological assumptions.
Ortmann goes on to discuss how investigators are using religious phenomena scientifically, citing religion as an object of investigation, and observing only the phenomena itself. She asserts that findings from these multidisciplinary investigations must be scientific and not theological. The main reason being that theology cannot be proved or unproved, but social science investigation can analyse the religious phenomenon unbiasedly, e.g. without the spin of theological beliefs included in the analysis.
As one who has studied contemporary Western religious phenomena from a multidisciplinary approach, I agree wholeheartedly with Ortmann’s assertion that ‘studying religion means studying it across a culture’. She speaks about studying the function of religion and its impact on society, community, and traditions within a culture. This multidisciplinary data can then be observed and proved scientifically which is something that theology cannot do. Theology is based on faith; science is based on observable (and thus predicable) facts. And while the relationship between science and theology has been tenuous at best, the time is long overdue for theology and religious studies scholars to accept that scientific study of religious phenomena and religious beliefs can offer a fruitful and bountiful area for theological discourse and rumination.
Ortmann also discusses how some fields of social science, such as psychology, also play an important role in the assessment of religious phenomena, but not necessarily from an unbiased perspective. She states that ‘observations can be made through psychology or pastoral behaviours from theology, but this investigation will be difficult to innovate.’ As a post-Jungian Depth Thealogian, I agree with Ortmann. While my own research was multidisciplinary including literature, thealogy, Jungian and post-Jungian psychology, phenomenology, sociology, archaeology, anthropology, and religious history, introducing many of these academic disciplines into my thealogical study was not a welcome interpretation in a theology and religious studies centre. I often heard two divergent and contradictory arguments in the department: 1) that I would be better examining religious phenomena and beliefs from an anthropological perspective and 2) that only through theology can one assess religious phenomenon and beliefs. This short-sighted approach by scholars from generations past is stunting rather than encouraging multidisciplinary investigations in theology and religious studies.
Ortmann also applies this scientific approach to study changes in religious affiliation, which in the case of Peru (also observable in the United States), includes the exponential growth of the (Jungian) Pentecostal Church. Assessing this area of behaviour scientifically rather than theologically or thealogically is crucial. Analysing religious affiliation, phenomenon, and experience from a social science approach can reveal far more than a narrow theological or thealogical analysis. Theologians and thealogians appear uninterested in examining religion as an ‘object of interest’ perhaps believing that this perspective denigrates the underlying theological beliefs of the phenomenon being investigated. When, in truth, social science and theology can offer much more when combined into a multidisciplinary approach. Religious behaviours, actions, beliefs, and their impact on society and culture can all be observed and proven (or disproven) through the social sciences. These observations can provide contemporary religious scholars with a plethora of viable data to either prove or disprove religious theories or enquiries.
For example, I conducted a recent study on contemporary Pagan religious experience. I could posit all the theories I could imagine, but without sound data from the social sciences, including census data from both the US and the UK on religious affiliation, PEW data on the shifting Christian identity in the US, and social science surveys of contemporary Pagans, I could not prove that religious identity in the US and UK are changing. The addition of social science data into my doctoral dissertation was certainly a contentious point in my theology and religious studies department. Some colleagues were in favour of my including scientific data to support my theories and claims, while others were quite incensed that I would introduce social science data into a thealogical enquiry. In the end, I was asked to strike all this data from my dissertation. I could not agree with this short-sighted fear of combining viable social science data with thealogy, and refused to remove the workable data completely (now banishing my data to a footnote instead of a chapter proving my theories). The field of theology and religious studies can no longer exist in a vacuum avoiding every other academic discipline based on ungrounded fears. I’ve found that social science data and religious enquiry can form a highly beneficial relationship especially when enquiring about religious affiliation, praxis, and phenomena. The future of theology, thealogy, and religious studies must be multidisciplinary and must include social science data if we are going to move beyond ‘belief’ to real analysis and assessment of contemporary religious phenomenon.
Ethan Doyle White, a PhD student in Anthropology of Religion at University College London, recently discussed his research into his 2015 book Wicca: History, Belief, and Community in Modern Pagan Witchcraft. In this interview with the RSP, Doyle White states that he wrote this text ‘[…]to summarise the state of all previous research on Wicca […]’ and to fill an obvious gap in academic scholarship. While I applaud his attempt to write an initial definitive text, and certainly agree with him that there is a crucial lack of scholarship on Wicca and contemporary forms of Paganism, Doyle White posits a number of understandings that, as both a Pagan scholar and Pagan Minister, I must open for further discussion and interpretation.
In his opening response, Doyle White cites that ‘Wicca is the largest religion within contemporary Paganism’ citing unnamed ‘sociological, anthropological and ethnographic’ evidence. Doyle White’s statement reveals two distinct problematic issues. Firstly, Doyle White appears to be confusing the difference between Witchcraft and Wicca often presenting them as one in the same when they are quite different traditions. Although Doyle White is correct in his historical connection between Jules Michelet, Margaret Murray, and Gerald Gardner in the foundation of Wicca in the early twentieth century, he appears to have missed a vital point. Gardner was the first to write down a dogma for the Wiccan tradition—a literal guide for adherents as to structure, form, ritual, and beliefs. A majority of contemporary Wiccans are Gardnerian Wiccans and follow (and in some cases modify) the templates Gardner constructed. High Priestess Phyllis Curott is a prominent contemporary Wiccan who has worked with the UN, the Parliament of World Religions, and Harvard’s Religious Pluralism Project. However, there are a number of contemporary Witchcraft traditions that pre-date Gardner such as the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn (founded in 1888) and the Ancient Mystical Order Rosae Crucis (who trace their historical roots to 1500 BCE). There are contemporary covens (or loosely-organised groups) of Witches both in the US and in the UK that do not self-identify as Wiccan; these Witches (both male and female) perform rituals and spellcasting either in solitary practice or within a coven or loosely-organised group. None of these traditions should be confused with or categorised with Wicca; they are various forms of Witchcraft.
Another complication with Doyle White’s statement that ‘Wicca is the largest religion within contemporary Paganism’ lies in the classification ‘Wicca’ and the opportunity to use it as a self-identifying label within available contemporary sociological data. Religious identifications that are alternative to the major world religions are relatively new to census questionnaires. However, there is a stark difference between the available options on religious identity in the 2012 US Census than there are in the 2011 UK Census. The US lists only four options: Wiccan, Pagan, Spiritualists, and Other; whereas the UK includes religious affiliations such as Wicca, Druid, Spiritualist, Heathen, Satanism, Witchcraft, New Age, Shamanism, Pagan, Pantheism, and the highly-popular Jedi Knight. What this implies is that the data from the US is skewed if adherents from a wide variety of traditions have only four limiting options to choose from; a practicing Witch can tick either ‘Wicca’ or ‘Pagan’ as a self-identifying religious affiliation. Whereas, in the United Kingdom much more data is available as to specific religious affiliation including a variety of new religious movements. Voices from the Pagan Census: A National Survey of Witches and Neo-Pagans in the United States (2003) by Helen Berger, Evan Leach, and Leigh Shaffer, included six ‘Neo-Pagan’ movements, three of which predominated the survey: Wiccans, Pagans, and Goddess-worshippers, but also included Druids, Shamans, and the eclectic Unitarian Universalist Pagans. Ultimately, the US Census forces practitioners to choose between self-identifying as either Wiccan or Pagan obfuscating the data’s accuracy through the limitation of choices. In essence, the Wiccan community is, perhaps, much smaller than Doyle White asserts.
While accurately discussing the range of theological principles found in Wicca (from ditheism and polytheism to feminist monotheism), Doyle White includes atheists and agnostics into this theological array stating that this category includes those working with Jungian archetypes. My own doctoral research into the significance of Jung and post-Jungian theory to the development of the Western Goddess Movement contradicts Doyle White’s assessment. In fact, while the Jungian Goddess archetype can be traced back in the US to the 1920s and M Esther Harding (a devout student of Jung’s), evidence indicates that post-Jungian Jean Shinoda Bolen created a bridge from theory to religious praxis back in 1994 with her rebirth memoir Crossing to Avalon. Jung’s influence on Western faith traditions from the Catholic Charismatic movement to the development and advancement of Bolen’s post-Jungian Goddess Feminism, as a faith tradition which openly espouses a monotheaistic paradigm, stands in direct contradiction to Doyle White’s assertion that all post-Jungians are atheists or agnostics. While some post-Jungians remain purely analytical, a vast majority of contemporary post-Jungian Goddess adherents have crossed the bridge from analytics to praxis and consider themselves perhaps more ‘spiritual’ than ‘religious’.
When speaking of spellcasting, Doyle White states it is often used ‘in a negative sense’ preserving fictional caricatures of Witches dichotomously as evil or good. The perpetuation of these divergent and inaccurate stereotypes can only further hinder critical scholarship in this field. Phyllis Curott attempted to educate and change ‘the world’s prejudice’ in her 1998 memoir, Book of Shadows.
In closing, Doyle White calls for new terminology, preferring the Academic Study of Paganism, and I agree. Pagan Studies is problematic as a label and is often exclusionary, but I disagree with Doyle White when he states that we must stop accepting Pagan definitions from Pagans. Admittedly, definitions from lay adherents are often idealised and problematic, however, some of Doyle White’s statements exemplify the crucial need for viable Pagan scholarship from within the community that is analytically useful to scholars. Advancement of this scholarly pursuit requires the implementation of Academic Study of Paganism departments in which a multidisciplinary approach is beneficial, but must also include practicing Pagans. Ultimately Doyle White makes a good contribution to Pagan scholarship, but he exemplifies the need for Pagan academics and critical Pagan analysis.
Berger HA, Leach EA and Shaffer LS (2003) Voices from the Pagan Census: A National Survey of Witches and Neo Pagans in the United States. Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina Press.
Bolen, JS (1994) Crossing to Avalon: A Woman’s Midlife Pilgrimage. New York: Harper Collins.
Curott P (1998) Book of Shadows: A Modern Woman’s Journey into the Wisdom of Witchcraft and the Magic of the Goddess. New York: Broadway Books.
Harding ME (1971) Woman’s Mysteries: Ancient and Modern. Introduction by CG Jung. Boston: Shambhala Publications.
‘Iolana P (2016) Jung and Goddess: The Significance of Jungian and post-Jungian Theory to the Development of the Western Goddess Movement. An unpublished Thesis. University of Glasgow.
Office for National Statistics (ONS) (2004) ‘Focus on Religion’ Available at: http://www.ons.gov.uk/ons/rel/ethnicity/focus-on-religion/index.html
_____. (2012) Religion in England and Wales 2011. Available at: http://www.ons.gov.uk/ons/rel/census/2011-census/key-statistics-for-local-authorities-in-england-and-wales/rpt-religion.html
U.S Census Bureau (2012) Statistical Abstract of the United States, Table 75. Self-Described Religious Identification of Adult Population: 1990, 2001, and 2008. Available at: http://www.census.gov/compendia/statab/2012/tables/12s0075.pdf
Doyle White E (2012) In Defence of Pagan Studies: A Response to Davidsen’s Critique. In: The Pomegranate: The International Journal of Pagan Studies, Vol 14, No 1 (5-21).