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It’s been a long process, but the scholarly article that I wrote to follow up on “The Myth of Christian Charity” has finally been published.

Roy Sablosky. 2014. Does religion foster generosity? Social Science Journal 51:545–55.

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Last year I heard some atheists say that Christians are more charitable than secularists. My gut told me that this could not be accurate, so I investigated. This investigation resulted in two blog posts: The Myth of Christian Charity, part 1 and part 2. After these were published, Gregory Paul alerted me to a book published in 2006, Who Really Cares, in which Arthur C. Brooks makes extremely strong claims about religion and generosity. Late in 2010 there appeared another book, Robert Putnam and David Campbell’s American Grace, which makes similar claims. I decided that, since the findings in these high-profile books were supposedly based on the statistical analysis of large-scale survey data—that is, they looked like science—they should be rebutted (if they are false) in the scientific literature. I did a ton of research, verified that they are false, and wrote a paper, which is now under review by a scientific journal. While we wait to hear about the paper, here is a layperson’s summary.

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Introduction

Religious representatives have always claimed that religion is a good thing, and that its many benefits include an improvement in morality. Religious people, they say, are kinder than the unchurched. Repetitions of this claim have embedded the phrase “Christian charity” in our language.

In recent years, professional scholars have reported finding empirical support for this traditional claim. Most prominent among these are Arthur C. Brooks (Who Really Cares? Who Gives, Who Doesn’t, and Why It Matters, 2006), and Robert Putnam and David Campbell (American Grace: How Religion Divides and Unites Us, 2010). In this post I will call these three men “the traditionalists.”

“When it comes to charity,” says Brooks, “America is two nations—one charitable, the other uncharitable”; compared to the non-religious, “religious people are, inarguably, more charitable in every measurable way.” (Emphasis in the original.) Putnam and Campbell vigorously agree:

Some Americans are more generous than others. … In particular, religiously observant Americans are more generous with time and treasure than demographically secular Americans. … The pattern is so robust that evidence of it can be found in virtually every major national survey of American religious and social behavior. Any way you slice it, religious people are simply more generous.

This would be an astonishing result, a stunning vindication for advocates of religion everywhere, if it were valid. But it is not.

Methodological Challenges

The traditional hypothesis is that religiosity fosters generosity. To support this claim scientifically, we would have to (1) measure many people’s religiosity and generosity, (2) show that, on average, those people who have more of the former also have more of the latter, and (3) show that the former causes the latter. (The claim is that being religious makes people generous, rather than that being generous makes people religious, or that some third factor causes the first two.) The traditionalists fail to accomplish all three of these goals.

The business of sociology depends almost exclusively on surveys. Rather than observing people’s thoughts and feelings—which is impossible—the sociologist surveys them about their thoughts and feelings. Behavior, too, is generally inquired about rather than observed. But there is a problem: survey respondents tend to give answers that are flattering rather than true. This is called social desirability bias. In any community, behaviors considered good will be over-reported, and those considered bad will be under-reported. The problem is especially severe with behaviors to which strong norms are attached. Being generous and being religious are ideal exemplars of this category.

“Generosity can be measured most simply by measuring gifts of time and money,” write Putnam and Campbell. But surveys do not measure such gifts—they measure reports of such gifts. And these reports are anonymous, unverified, and subject to strong social pressures.

For a measure of religiosity, most surveys use frequency of church attendance. That one goes to services regularly is easy to say, hard to verify, and subject to strong community norms. In decades of surveys, 40 percent of Americans have reliably reported going to church pretty much every Sunday. It turns out that about half of them are liars. In the 90s, scientists found ways to count how many people were really attending. The number is much closer to 20 percent than to 40 percent. (See for example C. Kirk Hadaway and Penny Long Marler, “How Many Americans Attend Worship Each Week? An Alternative Approach to Measurement,” Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 44(3):307-322 [2005].)

The traditionalists cite page after page of statistics showing a strong positive correlation between religiosity and generosity. But this tells us nothing of interest, because both attributes are likely to be over-reported, and in the case of generosity we don’t know by how much. Neither book mentions or addresses this enormous methodological problem.

In the measurement of generosity a more technical problem appears. Throughout both these books (and in the sociology-of-religion literature generally), the words generosity and charity are used interchangeably (as synonyms for altruism, benevolence, compassion, and so on). But charity has an additional sense. In the U.S. tax code, and in standard English, a charity is a nonprofit corporation; donations to such organizations are also called charity—a term easily confused with generosity.

Note, however, that generosity is not the same thing as donating to a nonprofit organization. These are different concepts. The first means, voluntarily helping others at some cost to oneself. The second means, giving money to an organization that qualifies as “not for profit” under the U.S. tax code.

Donations to one’s own church are tax-deductible. But that does not make them charitable, in the older sense of the word. They are membership dues for a social club. They do not benefit the wider community, as would, for example, donations to the Red Cross. They certainly should not be used as a proxy for the noble attribute we call generosity. Yet, this is exactly what Brooks and Putnam-and-Campbell do. In these books, the words charity and generosity are used to mean people’s (self-reported) charitable donations, including money given to their own church. Thus the measurement of generosity, which was already distorted by social desirability bias, is further distorted by a confusion of terminology.

Another technical issue relates to the measurement of religiosity. Is church attendance a good proxy by which to measure how religious people are? Perhaps not, if people report twice as much of it as they should. What else might we use? We could try frequency of prayer, or of Bible study, or how “certain” one is about the existence of God. And all these would be self-reports—but there is deeper problem here. How could we tell which of these things is more appropriate? In other words, what is religiosity?

Well, it is a matter of opinion. To verify this, notice that for any behavior (or attitude or quality) one party chooses as the epitome of religiosity, another party can say, “But that’s not really being religious,” and name some other behavior (or attitude or quality). There is no independent standard to which such claims be compared. If a man says, “I am highly religious,” nothing anyone else might say can prove him wrong. Even if they point out that he has previously described himself as an atheist, he can still say, for example, “I attend my wife’s church, and act as a deacon at the Sunday school”—or, “I have a very spiritual attitude toward life.” And no one can prove that these facts are less important to his religiosity than whether he professes to believe in God.

But if there is no evidence that can prove that a person is not religious, this means that we do not have a working definition of religiosity. And this means that the concept of religiosity is not useful in scientific research.

One finding is unimpeachable. People who go to church often give more money to churches than do people who go to church less often. But there is all the difference in the world between this finding and the claim that “Any way you slice it, religious people are simply more generous.”

Behavioral Observations

I mentioned that almost all sociological studies are based on data from surveys. There have been a few studies on religion and behavior where actual behavior was observed. (Brooks and Putnam-and-Campbell mention none of them.)

In the 1973 experiment of John M. Darley and C. Daniel Batson, the subjects (all students at Princeton Theological Seminary) “encountered a shabbily dressed person slumped by the side of the road.” Some were on their way to give a talk on the parable of the Good Samaritan; others had been assigned a topic unrelated to generosity. Those who (presumably) had generosity on their minds were not more likely than the others to stop and offer help to the slumped-over person. Also uncorrelated with their helping responses was their religiosity, as measured by a previous interview.

Some of the subjects were told, “Oh, you’re late. They were expecting you a few minutes ago. We’d better get moving.” This hurry condition had a significant effect on the subjects’ behavior. The authors conclude:

A person not in a hurry may stop and offer help to a person in distress. A person in a hurry is likely to keep going. Ironically, he is likely to keep going even if he is hurrying to speak on the parable of the Good Samaritan, thus inadvertently confirming the point of the parable. (Indeed, on several occasions, a seminary student going to give his talk on the parable of the Good Samaritan literally stepped over the victim as he hurried on his way!)

In a 1975 experiment by Ronald E. Smith, Gregory Wheeler, and Edward Diener, students in a large introductory psychology class were given an opportunity to cheat on a class test. On another, apparently unrelated occasion, they were asked to volunteer to help out some developmentally disabled children. Meanwhile, also seemingly unconnected with these events, a questionnaire was used to measure the strength of their religious affiliations. On the basis of this questionnaire, the subjects were divided into four groups: “Jesus people” (a term current in the 1970s, and not considered derogatory), religious, nonreligious, and atheists. No differences in either the rate of cheating or the rate of volunteering were observed between the four groups.

In another experiment (Lawrence V. Annis, Psychological Reports, 1976) subjects completed a questionnaire designed to measure “degree of commitment to traditional tenets of Western religion,” “location of religious values in the individual’s hierarchy of values,” and “frequency of religious behaviors like church attendance and private prayer.” Later, with no apparent connection to the questionnaire, each subject “happened” to see a woman carrying a ladder. The woman went into another room and closed the door; a few moments later there was an audible crash, designed to sound as if the woman had perhaps climbed the ladder and then fallen off. The subject then either opened the door or did not. None of Annis’s three measures of religious commitment bore any correlation with the likelihood of a subject’s opening the door.

Conclusion

Scientists who have taken the traditional hypothesis seriously and tested it experimentally have come up empty-handed. No evidence has been found for the proposition that religiosity fosters generosity. And that is not surprising, when we consider that no one even knows what religiosity is. People who describe themselves as religious tend also to describe themselves as generous. But this relation does not obtain in their actual behavior toward other human beings.

Tom Flynn has a good piece on the myth of Christian charity in the latest Free Inquiry. Not as comprehensive as our report, but it’s worth reading.

Some weeks ago I was at a meeting of Sacramento Freethinkers Atheists and Non-Believers and someone said, “Why are religious organizations better at charity than secular organizations? And shouldn’t we try to pick up the slack? What can we at SacFAN do to promote ‘good works’?”

This remark bothered me for days, so much that I was forced to do the research and analysis necessary to determine whether there was any truth to it. There wasn’t. The truth is, religious organizations are not better at charity than secular ones.

In the first half of this report I showed that the widely cited statistics that seem to show that Christians give much more to charity than atheists do are fatally flawed, and do not mean what religious apologists want them to mean. Despite the claims, there is no evidence for this special generosity that is supposed to emanate from the Christian faith. This second half will show that the good works produced by secular institutions are astonishing in their scale. Religious contributions are trivial in comparison.

International, secular, charitable organizations

The first point that needs to be made is pretty obvious. If you don’t think that there are secular organizations out there doing beautiful things, let me remind you of a few examples.

UNICEF provides children in over 150 countries with health care, clean water, nutrition, education, emergency relief, and more. ($3 billion in 2008)

Oxfam works in nearly 100 countries to overcome poverty and injustice. ($772 million in FY 2008–09)

CARE, a humanitarian organization fighting global poverty, puts special focus on working alongside poor women because, equipped with the proper resources, women have the power to help whole families and entire communities escape poverty. CARE also delivers emergency aid to survivors of war and natural disasters. ($700 million in FY 2008–09)

The International Red Cross and Red Crescent Movement promotes humanitarian principles and values; provides disaster response; teaches disaster preparedness; promotes health and provides care. ($450 million in 2009 – and this does not include their 186 national societies)

Save the Children Federation works to ensure that children in need grow up protected and safe, educated, healthy and well-nourished, and able to thrive in economically secure households. ($400 million in 2009)

The International Rescue Committee responds to the world’s worst humanitarian crises and helps people to survive and rebuild their lives. ($240 million in FY 2009)

Doctors Without Borders/Médecins Sans Frontières is an international medical humanitarian organization working in more than 60 countries to assist people whose survival is threatened by violence, neglect, or catastrophe. ($168 million in 2008)

I adapted these descriptions from the organizations’ About Us pages. The dollar amounts are the annual program expenditures cited in their annual report – this is the amount that was spent on helping people, not organizational overhead. Compare these numbers with any religion.

But please remember to compare apples to apples. When it comes to the delivery of charitable services, a strongly religious organization necessarily embodies certain inefficiencies as compared to a secular one. For example, religious observances cost money, and those costs will have to be deducted from the charitable effort. More silver chalices, more ceremonial wine and wafers, more statues of Jesus means less medicine or food or whatever the charity was supposed to be about. Promulgation, too, siphons away resources from humanitarian projects. More priests on the plane to spread the Good News around means fewer doctors on the plane to treat malaria or tuberculosis or AIDS.

Evangelism is routinely considered part of the mission. When churches list their charitable efforts, I would bet you a million dollars that most of them include “spreading the Good News” on that list. But it is not charity, it is marketing.

When you donate to (or volunteer for) a church, the primary beneficiaries are the church and the people who run the church. This does not help children in Africa. It does not even help children in the church’s own neighborhood. You must keep these considerations in mind when comparing charitable work by religious organizations to charitable work by secular organizations.

Social welfare programs in the secular democracies

There are secular institutions bigger than UNICEF. Much bigger. They’re called countries.

Of course everything such entities do is not benevolent, but if you want to talk about good works, the world’s secular democracies perform charity on a fantastic scale. Think of all the taxpayer-funded social-welfare programs in these countries. Year after year, all over the world, citizens who are doing well enough that they have to pay taxes contribute trillions of dollars to their less-fortunate neighbors, no matter what anyone’s declared faith may be on either end of the transaction.

Here are some of the things we do here in the United States in a single fiscal year. (The following text is adapted from FY 2010 information at the Center for Budget and Policy Priorities.)

Social Security provides retirement benefits to retired workers (36 million of them, as of December 2009) and their eligible dependents. It also provides survivors’ and disability benefits. ($708 billion)

Medicare, Medicaid, and CHIP provide health care or long-term care to low-income children, parents, elderly people, and people with disabilities. ($753 billion for all three programs)

Safety net programs ($482 billion) provide aid (other than health insurance or Social Security benefits) to individuals and families facing hardship. In 2005, according to CBPP analysis, such programs kept approximately 15 million Americans out of poverty, and reduced the depth of poverty for another 29 million. The programs include:

  • earned-income and child tax credits, which assist low- and moderate-income working families
  • cash payments to eligible individuals or households, including Supplemental Security Income for the elderly or disabled poor and unemployment insurance
  • in-kind assistance for low-income families and individuals, including food stamps, school meals, low-income housing assistance, child-care assistance, and assistance in meeting home energy bills
  • other programs such as those that aid abused and neglected children.

If you even think about comparing these numbers to the efforts of any religion, or all religions together, you are going to feel kind of ashamed.

Someone will say, “But every taxpayer pays for these programs, the religious as well as the non-believers.”

Yes, but the point is that the whole arrangement is a result of secular thinking. The question in front of us right now has to do with the differences between religious and secular institutions. Is the organization responsible for the enormous expenditures on social welfare listed above a religious one, or is it secular? The government of the United States of America is almost perfectly non-religious. It was designed by secular humanists. It is the reification of a humanitarian social contract with no theological component. Religion had no role in the Constitution or the New Deal. None of our laws or institutions are based on the Christian Bible or any other “holy” book. And of course the social safety net has been relentlessly opposed by all major religions. There are people who claim that compassion is essentially a religious impulse, but this is upside-down and backwards. Around the world and across history, the societies that have provided such humanitarian structures for their citizens have all been secular. In fact it never happened until quite recently – when religion began to lose its hold on our imaginations. Religion makes democracy impossible.

Someone will say, “Your secular democracies, especially the United States, do terrible things – making war on innocent people, for example – as well as good.”

Yes, but so do religious organizations. So that doesn’t get us anywhere. On the other hand, democracy is a humanitarian idea in its very essence. The only reason democracy exists is that it’s supposed to help everyone have a better life. You can’t say the same thing about religion. The purpose of religion is not to give people a better life, unless you mean after they’re dead.

Look through the holy books of the Big Monotheisms. There’s hardly a mention of how to have a decent life, or how to provide a decent life for others. The topic simply doesn’t come up.

The Q’uran’s primary message seems to be, “If you don’t believe this book, you’re going to Hell.” It’s all about pleasing Allah – which really means pleasing the author of the book and the head of the church, a guy called Muhammad. I don’t call that a good life. I don’t call that equality, or respect, or kindness. The Christian Old Testament – its first five books are also known as the Jewish Torah – glorifies and abjectly worships a creator-god who has no interest whatever in the welfare of human beings. The God of Moses and Abraham (and Muhammad) wipes out cities, tribes, and whole ecosystems when he’s in one of his moods. Obviously, compassion’s got nothing to do with it.

In the New Testament we do see an occasional glimmer of kindness, but it is rare. And Jesus never mentions justice (in the modern sense of fairness, as opposed to the older sense of retribution). Nor does he ever once use the word ‘democracy’. The authors of the holy scriptures seem to have been just fine with the prevailing social structure of that ancient era: absolute tyranny, with a man on the throne who can be as vainglorious, capricious and bloodthirsty as he likes. That is what Moses and Muhammad and all the other “prophets” advocated. There is not a single sentence in any of these books on how to set up a just society – one where everyone counts and everyone matters. But this is the entire object of the foundational documents of secular democracy.

Little wonder, then, that secular institutions provide so much more kindness to those who need it than religious institutions do.

Introduction

Proponents of religion, and especially of Christianity, insist that religion is essentially a good thing. It makes the world a better place, because it’s all about being good to people. For example, Karen Armstrong’s Charter for Compassion begins:

The principle of compassion lies at the heart of all religious, ethical and spiritual traditions, calling us always to treat all others as we wish to be treated ourselves. Compassion impels us to work tirelessly to alleviate the suffering of our fellow creatures, to dethrone ourselves from the centre of our world and put another there, and to honour the inviolable sanctity of every single human being, treating everybody, without exception, with absolute justice, equity and respect.

That’s a pretty paragraph – but the word ‘religious’ does not belong at the front of it. No religion has ever offered, or tried to offer, “justice, equity and respect” to “every single human being.” That is pure fantasy. To mention just one example out of millions, the Christian and Islamic scriptures require that women be given less respect than men. It’s right there in black and white. Apologists like Armstrong have been telling us since Day One that religion is a force for good – that it is the epitome of good – but this is simply and obviously and utterly false.

Armstrong’s proposal has a sinister side, because if you accept her version of “compassion” then you cannot accept secularism. If it were true that religion makes us better people, then to support secularism would be to push for a harsher, less compassionate world. But of course religion does not make us better people. This is a lie; yet it has been shouted so loudly, and repeated so faithfully, for so many centuries, that almost everyone believes it. Even many atheists do.

In a piece called 10 Things That Christians Are Better At Than Atheists, “Friendly Atheist” Hemant Mehta writes:

Christians give back to the community they love. It’s a part of their budget. Many atheists might pay their organizations’ membership dues, but they do very little else to support them.

Parenting Beyond Belief author Dale McGowan agrees:

When it comes to actual giving of actual money, there’s no contest: churchgoers have us licked. Even outside of church-based giving, the average churchgoer in the U.S. gives twice as much as the average non-churchgoing American. Obviously there will be notable exceptions … but the overall picture of giving by secular individuals needs improvement.

Keith Logan of Young Australian Skeptics asks, “Why do religious groups have a monopoly over charity?

And a recent post on the Atheist Revolution blog makes the same mistake:

Foundation Beyond Belief is an organization designed to make it easier for people to support charities that do not proselytize. … Think of it sort of like a secular version of tithing. … Foundation Beyond Belief … helps to combat the stereotype that atheists do not support charities. Sure, one could contribute directly to any of the selected charitable organizations as an individual, but there is something to be said for larger donations coming from a secular group.

So even folks who are pretty comfortable with atheism are saying: “Look at all the religious groups doing ‘good works’. Why don’t secularists give back to the community they love (as Hemant Mehta puts it), the way religious folks do?”

But this is all upside-down. Religion doesn’t make you a better person, and religious people and institutions do not make the world a better place. In this post I will show that the statistical studies that supposedly demonstrate that religion has a positive influence in charitable giving do not hold up when examined carefully and without prejudice. Next time, I will show that secular people and institutions contribute enormously to the general welfare – probably much more than religious ones do.

Why the studies are misleading

Aren’t there scientific studies that show more charitable giving by Christians than by atheists? Only if the misleading interpretation of data from ideologically biased opinion polls qualifies as scientific study.

Mehta and McGowan cite studies by the Barna Group (see for example Trends in Tithing and Donating). The first thing to note about Barna is that they are evangelists. This does not immediately invalidate everything they say, but it should make us suspicious of their methodology, their results, and their reporting. Too strong, you say? Remember that an evangelist is basically a liar. If you haven’t read me before, that may sound pretty extreme, but it’s a simple fact. Evangelism is lying for a living. Helping churches prosper is central to Barna’s stated mission – and you can’t do that without lying.

In 2008, Barna’s president David Kinnaman described some of their study results this way: “Many of the most ardent critics of Christianity claim that compassion and generosity do not hinge on faith; yet those who divorce themselves from spiritual commitment are significantly less likely to help others.” In Kinnaman’s description, atheists are bad people by definition – no wonder they give so little to charity!

A set of Gallup polls, “Giving and Volunteering 1989–95”, is cited in Religion as social capital: producing the common good, edited by Corwin E. Smidt. I am going to quote from this book’s discussion of the Gallup data, and show how the authors are misinterpreting it. The passages are from Chapter 6, “Religion and Volunteering in America” by David E. Campbell and Steven J. Yonish, and Chapter 7, “The Religious Basis of Charitable Giving in America” by Roger J. Nemeth and Donald A. Luidens.

Campbell and Yonish say that according to the survey:

Americans volunteer more for religious organizations than any other type of group. This mirrors the finding of Nemeth and Luidens in the next chapter that Americans give more money to religious causes than any other type of charity. (p. 90)

First question: Why is a “religious cause” automatically considered a charity? Isn’t it misleading to give money to your church and call that “giving to charity”? I mean, think about where the money goes. You’re paying for your preacher’s salary, and the beautification of his workplace – what kind of charity is that?

The authors seem to be conflating the idea of a not-for-profit organization, contributions to which are tax-deductible, with the idea of a charity, contributions to which will actually help people who actually need it. Churches are statutorily not for profit, but that doesn’t mean that they do anybody any good. To me the word ‘charity’ means we’re talking about the more fortunate helping the less fortunate. But little, if any, of the money you give to your church goes toward helping people in need. It mostly goes toward the church: the land, the buildings, the stained glass, the silver chalices, the silk chasubles, the pastors’ salaries and offices and residences. None of this actually benefits anyone except the pastors – the professionals – the guys who set up this whole operation and registered it as a tax-exempt charity.

So look at the language again. “Americans volunteer more for religious organizations than any other type of group [and] give more money to religious causes than any other type of charity.” Campbell and Yonish take all the time and money that church-goers devote to their church and call it charity. I don’t think that’s the right word for it.

Church involvement provides a powerful impetus for individuals to engage in voluntary activity. But, if we look at volunteering from a slightly different angle, it also serves to channel volunteers into internal church-maintenance activity at the expense of more general-purpose volunteering. Among people who volunteer … more frequent church attendance leads to a lower probability of engaging in secular, informal, or advocacy volunteer activities. (p. 100–101)

People who go to church a lot volunteer a lot – but only for the church. They’re too busy to do “general-purpose” volunteering. Church participation makes them less generous with their time, not more. And what kind of work is it that they are volunteering for?

In 1995, 82 percent of religious volunteers indicated that the work they did for their religious organization was … internal church maintenance activities. Such a high percentage suggests that there is a distinction to be made between nonreligious and religious volunteering. (p. 102)

Indeed there is. Internal church maintenance! – this is not feeding the hungry or sheltering the homeless. It’s not humanitarianism. It’s not generous, it’s inward-facing. It benefits, not people in need, but the church itself. The organization. The priests.

These results suggest that the form social capital takes within a church community does not have appreciably different effects from that found within secular voluntary associations, at least in regards to voluntarism. This is similar to Nemeth and Luiden’s conclusion in Chapter 7 that people who participate at least weekly in either religious or nonreligious organizations contribute equally to charity. (p. 105)

So, according to Campbell and Yonish, participation in religious organizations builds “social capital” in the form of relationships, norms, and habits; and participation in other kinds of organizations – the League of Women Voters, or a bowling league – has the same effect. Religious organizations are not actually better at this than other kinds of organizations.

We now move on to Nemeth and Luidens in chapter 7.

Although a forceful and cogent argument can be made that religion creates social capital in the form of charitable giving, it is a bit more difficult to generate an empirical verification of such a causal relationship. (p. 110)

This is hand-waving. They believe that religion is a positive influence, but they can’t demonstrate it. “Forceful and cogent” arguments can also be made that religion poisons everything it touches.

What the Gallup data show is that participation in social organizations of any kind has a positive influence. If these data mean that religion creates social capital, they also mean that bowling creates social capital. Nemeth and Luidens do not highlight this.

More people participate in religion than in bowling, but that doesn’t make religion more effective, only more popular. (Furthermore, religious participation is inflated by coercion. Millions of people go to religious services partly or only because if they don’t go someone will kill them. This is not true of bowling.) But Nemeth and Luidens really want to find something special about religion.

By varying the presence or levels of other variables (e.g. income), we hope to find whether religious membership influences giving in any discernable way, and if it does, whether the patterns can be explained in terms of relationships that are likely to be found exclusively among religious members. (p. 110)

Why would we expect that? What kind of relationship happens “exclusively among religious members”? (The obvious answer is pederasty – but that happens in the secular world too.) The passage reveals a huge assumption that underlies the whole book – and countless others. The authors want to verify, somehow, that religion is a qualitatively different type of enterprise. But there is no evidence to support this. It is simply assumed. And of course this makes the argument almost circular. Define churches as charitable organizations and you are halfway there.

In 1995, about one-half of all respondents reported making a contribution to religious organizations. This was nearly double the figure for health-related charities, which ranked second in terms of the number of contributions made. Moreover, the average amount contributed to religious organizations far exceeded the average given to any other charity. … In fact, the average amount contributed to religion is nearly double the level of giving to all other charities combined ($417 compared to $279)! (p. 111)

Remarkable – until you remember what religious organizations do with all that money. Nemeth and Luidens assume that religion is a good thing – that by contributing to a religious organization you enable it to do good things. But churches don’t do only good things. Many of the things they do are neutral, or bad.

Spending $417 a year on your church does not make you generous. And it certainly does not mean that you have a habit of taking effective humanitarian action. It only means that belonging to a church is more expensive than belonging to a bowling league.

Religious members are (by a margin of 20–25 percent) more likely to contribute to charities than are non-members … . … But what about charities that are specifically nonreligious in nature? … Religious members are not only more likely than non-members to contribute to nonreligious organizations, but they are more likely to contribute in greater amounts. (p. 111–112)

This is almost interesting. But remember three things.

a. Very few organizations are “specifically nonreligious”. They’re not opposed to religion, they just don’t emphasize it. When Nemeth and Luidens write “nonreligious” charities they just mean all charities, including the specifically religious ones. Note that in general, people who want to, say, feed the hungry don’t found a church. Instead they’ll start an organization dedicated to feeding the hungry. So in general, contributing to a church is going to be a less effective way of helping people. There are organizations set up specifically to help people; churches exist for other reasons.

b. On the other hand, since religion has a (false) reputation for doing good things, it tends to attract people who want to do good things. Someone might form (or join) a church because they have been told that this is the best way to feed the hungry. But such people are not generous because they’re in church, they’re in church because they’re generous (and because they have been misled). When church members do good works, it’s because they are generous, not because they are religious. They joined the church because the church said, “we are a great place for generous people.” But there are much better places for generous people than a church.

c. It’s well established that people don’t go to church nearly as often as they say they do. About half of these “at least weekly” churchgoers are liars. Might they also be exaggerating their levels of charitable contribution? This would severely compromise the Gallup data!

If religion’s influence on charitable giving results from relationships embedded in religious organizations (as the social capital model would suggest), then one would expect that those members who participate more in the life of their church or synagogue will be more strongly influenced by these relationships. In other words, we would expect greater religious participation to be associated with greater support of charities. … Roughly two-thirds of those who attend church on a weekly basis make contributions to nonreligious charities; in contrast, only 57 percent of those attending church less than one or two times a month do so. But this is exactly what one might expect with regard to social capital – the norms and expectations of a group are likely to be strongest among those who interact frequently and on a regular basis. (p. 113)

Now this is a strange one. As we saw earlier, the Gallup data provide no evidence that religious organizations promote benevolence to a greater degree than other kinds of organizations. Nemeth and Luidens could have written this:

If religion’s influence on charitable giving results from relationships embedded in any kind of organization … , then one would expect that those members who participate more in the life of their organization of whatever kind (especially if it describes itself as benevolent) will be more strongly influenced by these relationships. In other words, we would expect greater participation in almost any organization to be associated with greater support of charities.

But Nemeth and Luidens miss this. They are blinded by their assumption that there is something magical about specifically religious institutions.

Weekly participation in either religious or nonreligious organizations substantially increased the likelihood of giving to charities. Indeed, weekly participants in either religious or nonreligious organizations contribute to charities in nearly the same proportions. … However, weekly participants in religion gave nearly twice as much of their income to charities as did weekly participants in nonreligious organizations. (p. 118)

This is the bottom line, and the description is misleading. To see why, you have to look at the chart (Table 7.5, page 117).

This table compares the charitable contributions of four types of people. The type 2 person participates at least weekly in some non-religious organization. Type 3ers participate at least weekly in a religious organization. Type 4 folks do both; Type 1, neither.

The middle four lines deal with contributions to “all charities.” Frequent participants in religious organizations (orange oval) contributed more of their household income than did those in nonreligious organizations (green) – 2.3% compared to 1.3%. But “all charities” includes religious institutions, which usually means that your contributions support the church rather than people who need help.

The last four lines are about contributions to “nonreligious” charities – that is, the ones that actually are charities. Frequent participants in nonreligious organizations (blue) contributed more of their household income to nonreligious charities than those in religious organizations (red) – 0.9% compared to 0.5%. People who did both (purple) spent the same amount; that is, church attendance didn’t increase it.

Contrary to the authors’ description, the Gallup data do not show a positive correlation between participation in a religious organization and charitable contributions to the general welfare. Even if they did, this could be explained by the phenomenon mentioned earlier: the practically universal belief that a church is a good place to do humanitarian things seems likely to lead to generous people joining churches! But the Gallup data do not support this, either.

Bottom line: it has not been convincingly shown that religious people are statistically much more likely to support those less fortunate than themselves with charitable contributions of time or money.

In Part 2 of this piece I will show that secular institutions do in fact accomplish this. They don’t just talk about it. They actually help people who need help. A lot of people. Every day.