Does religion have any relevance in modern society?

In an increasingly secular society, religion has lost much of the relevance it once held. Throughout much of Europe, religion and the state were once on par with each other. Rightly or wrongly, society would look towards the Church for guidance on matters of morality and governments too would look to the Church for direction and endorsement of government policy. In Islamic states and Muslim majority countries, this has been more enduring. Nonetheless, the role of religion in modern society has receded. Yet has this been to an extent that it no longer holds any relevance?

The 2011 census showed 14.1 million people in England and Wales identified themselves as having no religion. That’s around a quarter of the population. Of those that responded as following an “other religion”, the highest ranked ‘religion’ was Jedi Knight which came higher than more established religions such as Rastafarianism, Jainism and Scientology. If the census data is anything to go by, religion isn’t playing a role in as many people’s lives as it once did.

Religious celebrations have transcended religion and entered wider culture in the regions where they are most prominent. Christmas isn’t exclusively celebrated by Christians and more people exchange gifts than those who are aware of or celebrate its religious significance. Likewise, in India, Diwali isn’t celebrated merely by Hindus, Sikhs and Jains and the festivities are enjoyed by most of the population. In both instances, this isn’t a bad thing and shows how inclusive modern society has become. Although it also indicates the rise of secularism and illustrates how religion has become secondary to wider culture.

Religion has long been used as a social grouping to the benefit or disadvantage of states, individuals and religions themselves. But with social identifiers such as race, class and economic status that are typically more pertinent to people’s everyday lives, religion has become secondary in this context. Furthermore, religion has often been slow to move with the times and find contemporary relevance, instead attempting to apply teachings and beliefs in a context that isn’t applicable to modern society.

The Church’s recent frosty discourse over women bishops and gay marriage illustrates just this. That isn’t to belittle or reject their beliefs and principles over either. But there’s a distinct inability for the dialogue around both to consider that the teachings of the Church would have been authored at a time when it would not have been faced with either issue. Similarly, the patriarchy and misogyny that is present in many long established religions (largely by virtue of the time in which they were founded) hasn’t been fully rejected to suggest their views are befitting of modern society.

Where religion shows it is unable or unwilling to apply its teachings in a modern day context, it merely alienates non-believers and worshippers alike and this is largely the reason why it lacks the relevance it once held. However, despite fewer people aligning themselves to a religion, the ability of religion to shape the thoughts and actions of those who follow it remains strong. Particularly amongst those of a generation where religion played a greater role in shaping society and permeating culture, religion has the power to dictate to the minds of many. Throughout history, this hasn’t always been used for good but most religions have used their ability to influence for many benevolent causes and moral guidance. If religions were able to further this, while applying their respective teachings and principles in a modern context, surely religion would experience a resurgence in its relevance and provide viable alternatives to the rise of secularism.

It’s important to remember that religion is separate from faith. Religions are designed by man and how man interpreted his faith and how it should be practiced. Faith instead relates to belief, putting aside the constraints of religion. Religion therefore articulates, according to a respective religion’s architects, how one should live and apply their faith.

While faith is personal and somewhat intangible, religion can be (and throughout history has been) modified to what those with the power to do so decide. So why do religions so often struggle to adapt to become relevant in modern society when they aren’t as abstract as they’d like to suggest?

By their very nature, many religions are conservative. They propose things are done in the way they’ve always been done and often reject any questioning of that. And if they are willing to be subject to questioning, the responses can be – but not always – meaningless for anyone seeking legitimate answers. My experience as a child, and that of my peers from various religions, has largely been that questioning of religious practices was initially responded to with superficial answers. And upon further probing, they would often be frustratingly met with submission to the fact that there were no concrete answers to offer. In retrospect, when it comes to faith, that’s understandable. Although when it comes to religion, it’s something many have unwarrantedly come to expect.

There isn’t a total disconnect between religion and modern society. Even for many who consider themselves agnostic or disconnected with the religion they were brought up with, religion finds its relevance reasserted for rites of passage out of convention and tradition if nothing else. Therefore while it might be waning, religion hasn’t completely lost its relevance.

Despite fewer people aligning themselves with a religion, religion still offers an opportunity for organised worship and an articulation of faith that for many is invaluable. In every religion, there are morals and principles that can be applied to everyday life for the betterment of society and individuals. Religion isn’t always instep with modern society but it can serve a purpose in providing timeless moral guidance in a number of areas. The challenge facing religion is to modernise its approach and to pragmatically apply its teachings to contemporary living. Otherwise, secularism will further erode the relevance religion has in modern society and could consign it to a shadow of what it once was.

British born and bred, but not British

Being asked “where are you from?” is something most British born ethnic minorities have been asked at some point. It’s a common feature of small talk but there was a time that this could have equally been a loaded question (and a prelude to being subject to some casual or candid racism) as it could be out of genuine interest. But as race relations have improved, most would argue it’s now more likely to be the latter.

For many, the generic response to that question is a caveated reply of “I was born here” or “I’m British”, followed by “but my parents are from…”. There’s a sense of having to fully account for your identity in being British but also reflecting the culture of your heritage. It’s not a rejection of either culture but more an attempt to balance them, illustrating the difficulty sometimes presented in being born of a diaspora that isn’t the land of your birth.

Growing up, this was a common response from my peers and I as we struggled to articulate that in essence we were from more than one place. As an adult, I’m able to better articulate those sentiments but I have found myself sometimes calling upon variations of “I’m British but my parents are from...”. Nonetheless, I have found that stopping at “I’m British”, or even claiming my parents’ nationalities as my own, is something I’m more comfortable with unless I’m prompted for more information. That isn’t because I feel any less black, Caribbean or British. If anything it’s the opposite. I don’t feel I need to justify my identity because I am sufficiently assured of it, regardless of what my response is.

However, for some, their experiences are seemingly not the same. Being British born and bred is something they reject. The UK is the place they merely live rather than a source of their identity. Stating that they were born in the UK is done so reluctantly and the emphasis is hurriedly placed upon the place they truly identify with. But why would someone born in the UK reject being British and in some cases do so with perceptible disdain?

Not to evoke Norman Tebbit’s “cricket test” but support for a national team can sometimes be a gauge of how people identify themselves. During the London Olympics, there was an apparent and uncontrived patriotism for the British athletes. People associated with them and wanted them to do well. Like many born in the UK, but with different a cultural background, this was no different for me. Though in addition, I supported the athletes of Jamaica and Barbados as the nations of my parents and places I equally identify with.

Conversely, not all British born ethnic minorities shared my support for Team GB. I found it difficult to understand why some people, born, educated, living and working in the UK all their lives, would openly wish failure upon British athletes and want the games, as a representation of the UK, to fail. Of course, someone choosing to not support a national team may have no bearing on their patriotism whatsoever. Yet when that stance is tinged with contempt and extended to broader British society, it suggests something more telling.

For the generations of ethnic minority communities that experienced racism at its peak in the UK, an aversion towards some aspects of British society can be deep rooted. As I wrote in a previous post, the attitudes of said generation, while not endorsed, can therefore be understood. Though for younger generations, who admittedly are still faced with institutionalised racism, what’s their excuse?

Some ethnic minority communities in the UK have a degree of insularity. As a result, this creates a bubble around them, preventing any other cultural influences from permeating their lives. Language, attitudes, exposure to cultural media and other cultural manifestations, all provide tangible factors to reinforce the influence of their culture and in some cases rejecting that of British culture in doing so. This almost creates a cultural microcosm that exclusively represents the ideals of the diaspora.

For many, despite not being born there themselves, there’s an inherent connection with the land of their heritage. That bond can be strong enough that it supersedes the more tangible link with one’s place of birth. Although unlike how I feel the connection to my Caribbean heritage is balanced with British culture, for others that balance either isn’t desired or is rejected.

For others, there’s an external or internal pressure to reflect the culture of their family and wider community. Externally, an attempt to fully assimilate this may take priority over a desire to achieve a culturally balanced identity. Similarly, and particularly for those within the second generation of a diaspora, there can be an internal conflict in seeking to ensure their ‘original’ culture doesn’t become diluted by that of another. In the process, any sense of being British might be rejected as it’s perceived as a threat to avoiding just that.

An argument can be made that place of birth and residence is circumstantial and has no correlation with identity. And as experiences can shape identity, a sense of ‘Britishness’ isn’t guaranteed merely by virtue of living in the UK. However, that argument undermines the notion of national identity and there are certainly precedents to refute it.

In a diverse society such as the UK, there will be always be people who rightly or wrongly don’t feel any connection to the county of their birth. Yet in critiquing multiculturalism as a social experiment, it cannot guarantee the cohesiveness it promotes and aims to achieve.

The culture of someone’s ethnic background needn’t be and shouldn’t be secondary to that of British culture, nor should it be vice versa. It is possible for both to coexist but some clearly choose for that not to be the case.