By Sue Passacantilli
Despite the rise of science and secularism, organized religion, particularly Western and Abrahamic faiths like Christianity, Judaism, and Islam, continues to exert immense influence on individuals and societies worldwide. From shaping political discourse to dictating moral codes, its reach is undeniable. But is this influence always benign?
This essay argues that organized religion, while often presented as a source of divine truth for its adherents, is fundamentally a human construct with a complex history. It has led to significant negative consequences and poses risks that demand critical examination. We’ll explore its origins as a means of social control, analyze the harm it has inflicted throughout history, assess the dangers of its unchecked power in the modern world, and finally, consider alternative paths to spiritual fulfillment that prioritize reason, compassion, and individual autonomy.
Origins as a Tool of Social Control
The earliest organized religions didn’t emerge solely from spiritual yearning; they were deeply entwined with the rise of centralized power. In ancient civilizations such as Mesopotamia, Egypt, and the Indus Valley, religious systems were meticulously crafted to reinforce political hierarchies and legitimize authority. Gods weren’t invoked as private sources of transcendence but as public affirmations of rule. Kings and pharaohs claimed divine sanction, and priesthoods became custodians of not only spiritual knowledge but also civic obedience. In these societies, religion wasn’t merely a personal belief system—it was a powerful mechanism for maintaining order and regulating behavior through divine surveillance.
Perhaps the most emblematic example is Hammurabi’s Code, inscribed in Babylon around 1754 BCE. Hammurabi declared that these laws had been bestowed upon him by Shamash, the Babylonian god of justice, thereby framing the legal code as a divine mandate rather than a human decree. The image of Hammurabi standing before Shamash, etched into the stele itself, visually elevated the law’s legitimacy by binding it to celestial authority. The Code governed issues ranging from property and trade to family and criminal justice, and its harsh penalties—like “an eye for an eye”—weren’t simply deterrents but reflections of cosmic balance. Justice was seen as divine reciprocity, and violating the law was tantamount to offending the gods themselves.
In ancient Egypt, the concept of Maat embodied truth, order, and divine equilibrium. The pharaoh, regarded as a living god, was tasked with maintaining Maat through just governance. Legal edicts issued by the pharaoh were seen as spiritual imperatives, and judges, often priests, were instructed to uphold these standards in their decisions. The vizier Rekhmire, under Thutmose III, recorded his duty to be impartial and reflect the divine wisdom of Maat in all judgments. In local settings, Kenbet councils, composed of elders and religious figures, handled minor disputes, merging communal norms with sacred oversight. Disobedience was more than a civic offense—it was a disruption of cosmic order.
These ancient legal-religious structures made law inseparable from morality and morality inseparable from religious dogma. Religion functioned as an instrument of social engineering, institutionalizing norms that were framed as sacred, thereby discouraging dissent and ensuring conformity. Obedience wasn’t just expected; it was sanctified.
Friedrich Nietzsche’s haunting question—“Is man merely a mistake of God’s? Or God merely a mistake of man?”—forces us to reconsider the origins of divine authority and whether it reflects genuine spiritual insight or simply projections of human need. Thomas Paine, echoing this skepticism in The Age of Reason, wrote that “It is from the Bible that man has learned cruelty, rapine, and murder; for the belief of a cruel God makes a cruel man.” Paine’s indictment highlights how institutionalized texts, when shielded from critique, have historically served to justify violence and suppress alternative perspectives. When religion is codified into law, it becomes more than belief—it becomes a scaffold for society, morality, and power.
Historical Harms and Conflicts
Organized religion hasn’t only shaped societies; it has scarred them. Major historical events like the Crusades and the Inquisition weren’t merely spiritual endeavors; they were deeply political and economic campaigns cloaked in religious rhetoric. The Crusades, traditionally described as holy wars to reclaim sacred territories, were motivated by a complex blend of faith, ambition, and desire for material gain. While many participants earnestly believed they were undertaking a divine mission, this conviction was often stoked by papal promises of spiritual rewards and absolution of sins.
Beneath the spiritual fervor lay strategic political goals: European monarchs and nobles viewed the Crusades as opportunities to expand their realms, assert dominance, and gain prestige. The promise of new land, wealth, and access to lucrative trade routes added powerful economic incentives. Even the Church benefited, using the movement to unify Christendom and bolster its supremacy over secular rulers. The First Crusade culminated in a gruesome massacre during the sack of Jerusalem, while the Fourth Crusade didn’t even reach the Holy Land—it ended in the plundering of Constantinople, a Christian city, explicitly exposing the secular aims masked by religious zeal.
The Inquisition, particularly in its Spanish and Papal forms, offers another chilling example of institutional religion weaponizing faith for control. At its core was a profound fear of heresy—not only as a spiritual deviation but as a direct challenge to ecclesiastical and political authority. The Church saw doctrinal purity as essential for its survival, and any deviation threatened its claim to divine legitimacy. Thus, heresy became synonymous with rebellion. The Inquisition was engineered to enforce uniform belief, employing surveillance, coercion, and torture to suppress dissent. It disproportionately targeted Jews, Muslims, and Protestants—not just for theological reasons, but also to solidify national and religious identity in post-Reconquista Spain. Social engineering played a central role: religious orthodoxy became a means of homogenizing the population under Catholic rule. Monarchs found the Inquisition a useful tool for eliminating opposition, cloaking political suppression in the sanctity of faith. Public spectacles like the auto-da-fé reinforced obedience through fear, making salvation contingent on submission.
Richard Dawkins, in The God Delusion, famously described the God of the Old Testament as “a petty, unjust, unforgiving control-freak… a capriciously malevolent bully.” Though intentionally provocative, his critique draws attention to the dangers of institutionalized belief—how sacred texts and doctrines, once embedded in systems of power, can become instruments of cruelty. Similarly, Napoleon Bonaparte’s assertion that “Religion is what keeps the poor from murdering the rich” reveals a more cynical view: religion not as a moral compass, but as a societal pacifier, preserving hierarchies and muting dissent. These historical episodes illustrate that organized religion, far from being a universal balm, has often served as a catalyst for division, violence, and authoritarian control.
Why Organized Religion Endures Despite Secularism
Despite the rise of secularism and scientific rationality, organized religion has endured—and in many regions, even flourished—due to its multifaceted role in fulfilling deeply rooted human needs. While critics rightly scrutinize its historical and political abuses, religion’s resilience is partly explained by its unparalleled capacity to offer meaning, belonging, and psychological stability. In times of uncertainty or suffering, religion provides a structured worldview that assures adherents of cosmic order and moral purpose, offering comfort in the face of death, injustice, or randomness. For many, faith communities serve as crucial social safety nets—providing charity, companionship, and guidance in ways secular institutions often struggle to replicate.
For instance, throughout history, religious institutions have often been at the forefront of social welfare, establishing the first hospitals, orphanages, and schools, and continuing to operate food banks and aid organizations today. Religious rituals, holidays, and sacred texts also create a powerful sense of continuity and identity across generations, fostering not only individual solace but strong communal cohesion.
In this light, the persistence of religion can’t be attributed solely to dogma or coercion, but to its symbolic richness and emotional resonance. The challenge, then, is not merely to reject religious institutions for their excesses, but to understand the existential vacuum they often fill. Any secular alternative aspiring to replace organized religion must grapple with these fundamental human functions—offering connection, ceremony, and a shared moral language—without reverting to authoritarian or exclusionary structures.
Modern Dangers of Institutional Power
In the contemporary world, organized religion continues to wield significant influence—often in ways that challenge democratic principles and individual freedoms. Religious institutions actively lobby for legislation that aligns with their moral doctrines, particularly on issues like reproductive rights and LGBTQ+ equality.
One of the most visible examples is the role of Evangelical Christian and Catholic organizations in shaping abortion policy in the United States. Following the Supreme Court’s decision to overturn Roe v. Wade in 2022, religious lobbying intensified across multiple states. Groups such as the Alliance Defending Freedom (ADF) and the Family Research Council (FRC) have supported laws that ban or severely restrict abortion access, often without exceptions for rape, incest, or maternal health. These organizations frame abortion as a moral and religious crisis, equating it with murder and advocating for fetal personhood amendments. In states like Texas and Mississippi, religious activists have successfully lobbied for near-total bans, and in some cases, have influenced the removal of medical exceptions, leaving women with life-threatening pregnancies without legal recourse.
Similarly, religious institutions have been central to opposition against LGBTQ+ rights, particularly through legal challenges and lobbying efforts that invoke religious liberty. In the landmark case Fulton v. City of Philadelphia, Catholic Social Services argued that their refusal to place foster children with same-sex couples was protected under the First Amendment. The Supreme Court ruled in favor of the agency, setting a precedent that allows religious organizations to bypass anti-discrimination laws in certain contexts. Other cases, such as 303 Creative v. Elenis, involved Christian business owners seeking exemptions from serving LGBTQ+ clients, claiming that doing so violated their religious beliefs.
These legal victories have emboldened religious lobbying groups to push for broader “Religious Freedom Restoration Acts” (RFRAs) at the state level. While originally intended to protect minority faiths, these laws are now often used to justify discrimination against LGBTQ+ individuals in areas like healthcare, education, and employment. For example, some states allow therapists or teachers to refuse services to LGBTQ+ youth based on religious objections, even when such refusals violate institutional nondiscrimination policies.
Bertrand Russell, a staunch advocate of rational inquiry, observed, “Religion is based, I think, primarily and mainly upon fear.” He argued that religious belief often arises not from evidence or reason, but from existential anxiety and the human desire for certainty. This fear-based foundation can lead to intolerance. When religious dogma is treated as absolute truth, it leaves little room for pluralism or dissent.
George Carlin, with characteristic wit, noted, “I’m completely in favor of the separation of Church and State. These two institutions screw us up enough on their own, so both of them together is certain death.” His humor belies a serious concern: when religious institutions gain political power, the result is often authoritarianism disguised as moral governance. In some regions, religious extremism has led to terrorism and sectarian violence. The danger lies not in belief itself, but in the institutionalization of belief as unchallengeable truth.
Toward a More Liberated Spirituality
Rejecting organized religion doesn’t mean rejecting spirituality. In fact, many individuals find deeper meaning and connection outside institutional frameworks. Secular humanism, nature-based spirituality, meditation, and philosophical inquiry offer paths to transcendence that prioritize autonomy and compassion.
Deepak Chopra distinguishes between religion and spirituality: “Religion is believing someone else’s experience, spirituality is having your own experience.” This shift—from external authority to internal exploration—marks a profound evolution in how we seek meaning.
Carl Sagan, in Pale Blue Dot, wrote, “Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality.” For Sagan, awe and wonder arise not from dogma but from the vastness and beauty of the cosmos—a spirituality rooted in reality.
Spirituality, when divorced from rigid doctrine, becomes a deeply personal journey. It encourages introspection, empathy, and ethical living without coercion. Practices like mindfulness, journaling, and philosophical reflection allow individuals to cultivate inner peace and moral clarity without intermediaries.
As Thomas Jefferson asserted, “Question with boldness even the existence of a god.” This call to intellectual courage invites us to examine inherited beliefs and forge our own understanding of existence.
In this liberated model, spirituality becomes inclusive rather than exclusive. It welcomes doubt, celebrates diversity, and honors the complexity of human experience. It is not a system to be obeyed, but a path to be walked—one that evolves with each step.
While secular spirituality offers personal freedom and introspective depth, critics often point out that it can lack the communal bonds and time-honored rituals that organized religion provides. Traditional religious institutions have long served as hubs of social connection, shared values, and intergenerational continuity. However, this sense of belonging isn’t exclusive to religious frameworks.
Many individuals are now finding community through secular congregations like Sunday Assembly, which mimic the structure of religious gatherings—complete with music, storytelling, and shared reflection—without invoking the divine. Others turn to meditation groups, ethical societies, or nature-based retreats, where collective practice fosters connection and shared purpose. Online platforms have also become fertile ground for spiritual communities, allowing people to engage in dialogue, rituals, and support networks across geographic boundaries.
As for tradition, new rituals are emerging—rooted in seasonal cycles, personal milestones, or collective values—that offer continuity and meaning without dogma. These evolving practices reflect a desire not to abandon tradition, but to reimagine it in ways that honor authenticity and inclusivity.
Conclusion
Organized religion, with its rituals and revelations, undeniably offers comfort and community to countless individuals. Yet, our exploration has illuminated its deeply human origins, its historical complicity in profound harms, and its continued entanglement with political power. When personal belief becomes institutionalized dogma, it risks becoming rigid, coercive, and resistant to the very human flourishing it often claims to foster.
The critical examination of these structures reveals the profound importance of distinguishing between genuine personal faith and the often-oppressive grip of institutional authority. The former can uplift and guide; the latter, as history shows, frequently seeks to control and suppress.
By embracing reason, empathy, and above all, individual autonomy, we empower ourselves to forge spiritual paths untethered from external mandates. These paths honor our inherent humanity, encourage ethical living, and allow us to reach for transcendence on our own terms. As Carl Jung wisely observed, “Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.”
In awakening to our own inner truths, we reclaim the sacred from the hands of hierarchy and return it to the realm of personal meaning. That, perhaps, is the most divine act of all.
*This essay was written by Sue Passacantilli and edited by Intellicurean utilizing AI.
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