I consider institutional parochialism as a tendency for scholars to study people in their own societies, or to study people with whom they share a cultural affinity. To be clear, I do not think that institutional parochialism is a condition specific to the sociology of religion. Institutional parochialism is a normative condition that is evident in many academic fields. In fact, it is likely that the sociology of religion is actually “more worldly” when compared to other sociological sub-disciplines. So, while many in the sociology of religion likely study Christianity because they have an affinity with the faith, I assume that similar trends (e.g., people studying people like themselves) exist in many other sub-disciplines.

The “Institutional Parochialism” study investigated the content of two journals, Sociology of Religion and The Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion (JSSR) from 2001-2008. Particular attention was paid to whether content changed in response to the 9-11 attacks and the subsequent invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq. It was assumed that interest in the Muslim Middle East had increased generally, and I wondered whether scholars within the sociology of religion would respond by producing more work associated with this area of the world.

I was aware of past criticisms concerning the insular nature of the sociology of religion, but the field was selected for study primarily due to its disciplinary focus. In effect, a sub-discipline that focused on religion seemed the most “logical” choice available to investigate whether a field could “pivot” and devote more attention to Muslim societies following the 9-11 attacks.

The study did demonstrate that scholars in the sociology of religion remain preoccupied with the Western Christian experience. For example, of the 409 articles published that explicitly studied aspects of a religious faith or a religious community, 82 percent (n = 335) included the study of Christian communities. Of these, 90 percent (n = 302) included the study of Western Christian communities. These rates are very similar to those reported in Smilde and May’s working paper.

There was no significant change in the study of Muslim communities during the time period investigated. Overall, 9.8 percent (n = 40) of the articles on faith communities included study of a Muslim community. Of these, 35 percent (n = 14) were non-comparative studies of a Muslim community that resided outside the West. More studies—nearly half of the total (n = 18)—investigated Muslim communities that resided in the West. Often, the substantive discussion of Islam in these articles, as compared to discussions of other faiths in the same article, was cursory.

Islam, while understudied, was the third most studied faith, behind Christianity and Judaism. The people of the Middle East were studied more often than some others, but this was because Israeli society was well represented. The most understudied region was Sub-Saharan Africa, in which there were only three non-comparative studies of a faith community published from 2001-2008. This represents less than 1 percent of all studies published during this period.

Notably, for much of the period studied, there was an explicit call by the editors and supporters of Sociology of Religion to diversify journal content. In this regard, Nancy Nason-Clark, the editor of Sociology of Religion for five of the years studied, actively encouraged “submissions that would enable our journal to reflect diversity across gender, ethnic, cultural, religious and career lines.” And there was evidence that the content of Sociology of Religion did become more diverse. The most notable difference was that Sociology of Religion was far more likely to include articles that employed feminist perspectives when compared to JSSR. Of course, as Rhys Williams, editor of JSSR for much of the period we studied, has pointed out in his recent post, the content of these journals are “social products” that the field, not the editors, produce. Indeed, Williams expressed some frustration with the “pro-religious” orientation of many of the papers he received during his editorship at JSSR.

Importantly, the content of both journals did change to reflect ongoing religious debates that were taking place in the West. For example, studies related to religion and homosexualities were published with significantly higher frequencies in both journals during 2001 and 2002 and were clearly related to topical issues being debated in the West at that time.

So what accounts for the changes that were made, and not made, in content areas within the sociology of religion? I believe that DiMaggio and Powell’s concept of “institutional isomorphism” best explains these patterns. Generally, normative isomorphic pressures tend to prevent change. This pressure is often tied to the professionalization process, which sets standards for membership in an academic community. For example, normative pressures are built into the acquisition of academic credentials, the graduate training process, and the requirements established for career advancement.

Related to these pressures would be the structural reasons why academics neglect other areas of the world. Most obviously, Western researchers have greater access to Western communities. Moreover, particularly as it relates to quantitative data, there are far more data collected in the West than in the global South. Still, if the study of Islam were normative within the sub-field, then greater resources would be devoted toward collecting data on Muslim communities throughout the world. Currently, there appears to be little normative pressure on scholars within the sociology of religion to study Islam.

But scholarship associated with the sociology of religion will change. For example, DiMaggio and Powell assert that fields often change in response to “mimetic” pressure. In this regard, when members are unsure of an organization’s future or legitimacy, they often imitate or mimic other organizations viewed as more successful and legitimate. So, perhaps because the study of gender is increasingly normative in all sub-fields of sociology, there is increased pressure on some within the sociology of religion to produce or accept work informed by feminist perspectives.

Smilde and May, in their working paper, offer compelling evidence that the sociology of religion—far from being marginalized by the broader field—has actually developed a program in which scholars have been successful in placing work in prominent journals. Generally, I see no reason why a “strong” program can not simultaneously be a “parochial” one. Indeed, the programs most associated with the sociology of religion may be successful, in terms of support from the larger field, because they are parochial. For example, a “narrow” program—both in terms of the questions asked and the areas studied—could focus the attention of an academic community and may also maintain or increase group cohesion. This might help explain why scholars within the sub-field have been successful at having their work placed in pre-eminent journals.

Some of Smilde and May’s findings indicate that there are normative isomorphic pressures within the sociology of religion that could cause the field to remain parochial into the future. In particular, if scholars in the field have considerable financial support for their programs then there is likely little institutional pressure on them—or the people they are training—to broaden the nature of their inquiries to other regions of the world.

I personally agree that a more diverse program of study—one that includes more non-Western groups and non-Western faiths—would create a more interesting and complete body of work within the sociology of religion. Moreover, one sign that this may be possible is the ongoing discussion at The Immanent Frame, which could represent a form of mimetic isomorphic pressure that, if supported by others, would substantively change the scholarship being produced in the field. The contributors to the discussion are clearly an accomplished group with an extraordinary diversity of interests. Hopefully, others in the sub-discipline will appreciate and respond positively to this call to broaden inquiries associated with the sociology of religion.

Can this analytic framework be applied outside of the North Atlantic world, particularly to Asian societies?  Taylor himself would not claim to have created a framework for a universal theory of comparative religion.  But this framework, grounded in a particular cultural and historical experience, may nonetheless be useful for cross cultural comparisons.  The conditions for its comparative use, however, would be as follows.  First, we acknowledge its limitations from the outset.  Second, we apply it as a first draft approximation to understanding the historical transformations of religion in another culture to see if there is at least a rough fit with these processes. Third, we are careful to see how it doesn’t fit and then use this discrepancy as a stimulus to expand our horizons. This can set into motion not an objectifying, essentializing gaze upon cultural difference, but a fruitful dialogue across cultures.

This is the approach I will try to take in this post, as I explore the fit between Taylor’s framework and contemporary developments in East and Southeast Asian societies, concentrating mainly on the political and religious transformations taking place in these societies in the aftermath of the Cold War.

In form, all modern East and Southeast Asian governments are secular in the first sense of the term defined by Taylor.  They are based on constitutions that do not ground the state’s legitimacy on beliefs in realities that transcend this world and do not privilege any particular kind of religious belief.  They relegate religious belief to the private sphere. Even the constitution of the People’s Republic of China guarantees freedom of religious belief as long as it is kept private—so private that it is not expressed in any venue that is not approved and regulated by the state.  East and Southeast Asian governments arrived at their present-day secular constitutions through various, often tortuous, paths throughout the course of the 20^th century, but, in formal terms at least, they conform to North Atlantic models of state neutrality with respect to religion.  This is an example the sociologist John Meyer and his collaborators would call global “institutional isomorphism,” a tendency of political, economic, and cultural institutions around the world to assume a uniform style of formal organization (based on Western templates).

But the secular form of Asian political institutions often masks a religious spirit.  Some examples:  Japan has a secular constitution, but many of its government leaders have felt compelled to pray for the spirits of the war dead at the Yasakuni shrine.  The pressure to visit the shrine comes from nationalistic constituencies within Japan, but it is indeed a pressure to worship at a Shinto shrine, presided over by a priest, which purports not just to memorialize the names of the dead but actually to contain their spirits.  (Japan’s Asian neighbors are more upset about this than Americans. Could this be because Asians take more seriously the living presence of spirits of the dead?)  Through its “Vigilant Center” at the Ministry of Culture, the government of Thailand is supposed to protect the nation’s culture and values by, among other things, keeping people from using images of the Buddha for profane purposes. The Indonesian government is based on a national ideology of “Pancansila,” which proclaims a national unity based upon mutual tolerance among believers in an “Almighty Divine.” And even the government in China, which is supposedly led by the atheist Communist Party, takes it upon itself to carry out religious functions.  It has claimed the right to determine who is the true re-incarnation of the Panchen Lama (and will undoubtedly do the same for the next re-incarnation of the Dalai Lama).  It claims to be able to determine the difference between true religion and “evil cults,” and tries to root out even private belief in “evil cults” like Falungong.  Moreover, the Chinese government invests enormous amounts of money in spectacular public rituals, like the opening ceremonies of the Olympics, which are redolent with symbols of Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism.

Often, the secular political form is what outsiders see, while the spirit is what insiders apprehend. In the 1950s and 1960s, Western scholars took the formal structure of Asian states as evidence of “modernization,” a universal process of (among other things) secularization that was transforming the whole world.  Even communist China was seen as an example of modernization, although one that had perversely gone astray.  Inside all of this putative political modernization, however, other meanings were being constructed. Emerging and consolidating states were being seen as necessary mediators between citizens and cosmic forces that transcended the visible world.  States contained sacred power—power that could be benevolent but could also turn demonically ferocious, as did the cult of Mao Zedong during the Chinese Cultural Revolution.

Political secularization, in Taylor’s sense, therefore is a reasonably accurate way to describe the formal structure of most East and Southeast Asian states.  But it doesn’t adequately describe the interior spirit of these states, which must be comprehended through a closer examination of how these states have developed within modern history.  Taylor’s account of political secularization does, however, help us pose the questions of how the external forms and interior spirit of modern Asian states have interacted with one another and what have been the practical consequences of this interaction. It would be beyond the scope of this post to give a full account of the development of Asian states.  But as we consider the development of the social and cultural life within some Asian societies, we can get some sense of how these societies and cultures have been influenced by the interplay between secular form and religious substance within their states. In my next two posts, I will explore the extent to which Asian states and societies have followed Taylor’s path to social and cultural secularization.

[Editor's note: This post draws from a draft chapter for the SSRC's forthcoming publication, Rethinking Secularism, co-edited by Mark Juergensmeyer, Craig Calhoun, and Jonathan VanAntwerpen.]