Humanism is not a religion (Part 1)

At the beginning of his excellent introduction to humanism, Stephen Law (2011a) lists some of the things that characterize a humanistic outlook, including a respect for science, and reason more generally, and a commitment to moral values. Nowhere do humanists describe themselves as having faith (of the religious kind) in anything. Humanism does not involve belief in the gods or in the supernatural. Humanism is not a faith position, unless “having faith” can mean waking up in the morning and believing that there is an independently existing world.

There is also a clue in the word itself, which provides a hint to the attentive reader that a humanistic worldview is primarily concerned with humans rather than gods or chipmunks or badgers. Of course, insofar as humans have to do with gods or chipmunks or badgers, so too do humanists take an interest in those species of both the natural and imagined worlds. (See the series “Why do you care so much?”.)

Given that this is all pretty straightforward and uncontroversial, I was surprised to read the following in this Face to faith piece (accessed 02.12.11) by Savitri Hensman:

Christian, New Age, humanist or whatever, all would be welcomed, provided they played down aspects of their faith that might pose a challenge to mammon’s dominance.

(I’m not sure which I find more offensive as a humanist, being accused of having faith or being lumped in with the New Agers.)

The odd meaning of this isolated quote is understood in context as part of Hensman’s theme, that if “mammon-worship were a dominant religion” then mammon would have its own priests. She clearly regards this idea as ludicrous – what possible connection could there be between mammon and religion? – and yet I have often been struck by the theological character of the world of finance. The following is from my review of The Big Short: Inside the Doomsday Machine by Michael Lewis (the quotes from pp. 79, 218, 229):

“Financial markets are a collection of arguments. The less transparent the market and the more complicated the securities, the more money the trading desks at big Wall Street firms can make from the argument.” Theologians, like bond traders, depend upon a “meaningless flow of words” to keep their delusions alive; the Church, like Wall Street, employs smart people who are “basically wrong about everything” and a little too keen on self-regulation. And, strangely, church and finance both cater in their own ways to personal greed. After all, what is credit but the promise of having what you can’t afford, and salvation the promise of what doesn’t exist, eternal bliss?