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RELIGION,
CRIME &
PUNISHMENT
An Evolutionary Perspective

RUSSIL DURRANT
& ZOE POPPELWELL
Religion, Crime and Punishment
 Russil Durrant • Zoe Poppelwell

Religion, Crime and

Punishment
An Evolutionary Perspective
Russil Durrant Zoe Poppelwell
Institute of Criminology School of Social and Cultural Studies
Victoria University of Wellington Victoria University of Wellington
Wellington, New Zealand Wellington, New Zealand

ISBN 978-3-319-64427-1    ISBN 978-3-319-64428-8 (eBook)

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-64428-8

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017952555

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2017

This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether
the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of
illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and trans-
mission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or
dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed.
The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication
does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant
protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use.
The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book
are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or
the editors give a warranty, express or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any
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Cover illustration: Getty images/Mabry Campbell

Printed on acid-free paper

This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by Springer Nature

The registered company is Springer International Publishing AG
The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland
 Preface

This is a small book on a big topic. Much has been written on the subject
of religion from a diverse range of disciplines, including sociology, psy-
chology, evolutionary biology, political science, and religious studies.
Somewhat surprisingly, as we shall argue, criminologists have had very
little to say on the topic of religion. Our surprise is based on the fact that
religion is intimately bound up with notions of morality: all major reli-
gious traditions provide either explicit or implicit guidelines about the
‘right’ way to live and many people believe that religion plays an impor-
tant role in regulating social behaviour. We might expect, then, for reli-
gion to be a ‘variable of interest’ for criminologists in understanding both
crime, and our responses to crime. Religion also plays a prominent role
in the structuring of social groups and, although the role of religion in
inter-group conflict is much contested, again it is clearly a relevant factor
that should be of interest to those who study war, terrorism, and other
forms of inter-group conflict.
Inevitably the scope of this book means that we will be very much
adopting a bird’s eye view of the topics that we cover, although we will be
zooming in on particular details from time to time. Given the relative
dearth of relevant research on the topic in criminology, we think that this
is a useful approach and we hope that this book will serve both as a review
of the literature on ‘religion and criminology’ as well as a starting point
for further reading and research. One of the main aims of this book,
v
vi Preface

therefore, is to encourage more interest in the topic of religion among

criminologists and others interested in crime, punishment, and inter-
group relations.
We also bring a particular theoretical perspective to bear on the subject
matter. We argue in this book that the key to understanding religion’s
complex relations to both prosocial and antisocial behaviour is to con-
sider the evolutionary origins of religion, and how both genetic and cul-
tural evolutionary forces have shaped religion in ways that influence
various aspects of human behaviour and the development of social insti-
tutions. Although some might be disappointed that we do not afford
more space to some of the seminal thinkers in the field like Durkheim,
Parsons, or Geertz, recent work on the evolution and cognitive science of
religion has yielded a rich theoretical and empirical dividend and we
think that this focus is warranted. Even for readers for whom the evolu-
tionary perspective is unconvincing we hope that much of value can still
be drawn from the material presented and encourage those interested in
these topics to pursue them further.
In the opening chapter we provide a brief, global, snapshot of the
nature and extent of religion in contemporary society. We begin the
chapter with a brief discussion of what we mean by the term ‘religion’
and, while recognising that definitional issues have been a subject of
much scholarly debate, we argue here that although there may be no
‘necessary and sufficient’ conditions as to what counts as a religion we can
still identify a suite of beliefs and practices that form the basis for the
diverse range of activities and beliefs that people consider ‘religious’.
Arguably criminology (and other social sciences) have somewhat
neglected the role of religion in understanding crime and punishment,
but we make a case that the centrality of religion in many people’s lives
and its close relationship with notions of morality make it a topic that
deserves more prominence among criminologists.
The ubiquity of religion (broadly defined) cross-culturally and histori-
cally, and its importance in human social life, has suggested to many
scholars that religion and religious behaviour may have an evolutionary
basis. In the last decade there has been a substantial amount of work in
this area and, although there remains a lively debate regarding the evolu-
tionary origins of religion, there is something like an emerging consensus
 Preface
   vii

that humans, by virtue of their evolved cognitive capacities and biases,

‘naturally’ gravitate towards religious beliefs, ideas, and practices. Recent
work by Norenzayan and colleagues (Norenzayan, 2013; Norenzayan
et al., 2016) suggests that cultural evolutionary processes have operated
to favour constellations of specific religious beliefs and practices because
of their capacity to promote large-scale cooperation. In this chapter we
will provide a critical overview of the literature on the evolution of reli-
gion focussing both on the biological and cultural underpinnings of reli-
gious behaviour and how religion has come to play a central role in the
social life of most human societies. This chapter provides the key theo-
retical background for our analyses in subsequent chapters on how reli-
gion is related to crime, prosocial behaviour, punishment, and inter-group
conflict.
In a landmark piece of criminological research, Hirschi and Stark
(1969) concluded that religion was ‘irrelevant to delinquency’. This—to
many, somewhat surprising—conclusion has since been challenged by a
scattered but reasonably extensive literature that generally finds that reli-
gious involvement is negatively related to delinquency and criminal
behaviour (Johnson & Jang, 2012). A parallel body of research, largely
carried out by psychologists, supports the idea that there is a positive
relationship between religiosity and prosocial behaviour. In this chapter
we first provide a review of these literatures while highlighting some of
the inconsistences and methodological problems that have been found in
the relevant research. Drawing on the material provided in the previous
chapter we then outline how an evolutionary approach can be integrated
with mainstream criminological theories that focus on more proximate
mechanisms to explain the pattern of findings that have been obtained.
Specifically, a model is provided that demonstrates how the effect of reli-
gion on crime and prosociality is variously mediated by self-control,
social-bonding, the reduction of strain, and (supernatural) deterrence. By
integrating distal (evolutionary) with proximate explanations we argue
that a richer understanding of the relationship between religion, crime,
and prosocial behaviour can be obtained.
The idea that religion often plays an integral part in inter-group con-
flicts is well entrenched in the minds of scholars, policy-makers, and the
public alike. However, the nature of the relationship between religion
viii Preface

and different forms of inter-group conflict such as war, terrorism, and

genocide remains a matter of some debate: some have argued that reli-
gion plays a pivotal role in many such conflicts, whereas others have sug-
gested that the role of religion has been substantially overstated. In this
chapter we review the literature that has focused on the ‘dark side’ of
religion and its putative relationship with prejudice, inter-group conflict
(including terrorism), and war. We draw on the evolutionary approach to
understanding religion provided in Chap. 2 to argue that there are both
direct and indirect pathways that can account for the relationship between
religion and inter-group conflict. Religion can play a direct role in foster-
ing (or exacerbating) inter-group conflict when specific religious beliefs,
and the way that these are articulated by religious leaders, provide sup-
port for violence directed at other groups. Perhaps more importantly,
religion can also play a more indirect role in collective violence through
the promotion of within-group cohesion and cooperation which, in some
contexts, can be manifested as inter-group violence. In many respects, the
mechanisms that can promote prosociality among in-groups can—under
certain circumstances—contribute to out-group aggression and
violence.
The relationship between religion, punishment, and the legal system is
complex. A relatively small body of empirical research, mostly conducted
in the USA, has examined the relationship between religiosity and atti-
tudes towards punishment, particularly the death penalty (Unnever &
Cullen, 2006). Religion has historically also played a key role in the
development of legal systems in a range of different cultural contexts. In
this chapter, an evolutionary approach is employed to help us understand
the role that religion plays in both delineating what acts count as morally
wrong and hence are potentially subject to criminal sanctions, and how
such violations should be dealt with. In particular, following Haidt
(2012), we suggest that religion plays a particularly prominent role in
defining acts that violate notions of purity and sanctity especially those
that relate to sexual behaviour. Because religion functions to bind indi-
viduals into large, cooperative moral communities it also can play a key
role in regulating a range of behavioural acts that might be viewed as
threatening social cohesiveness even though they might not result in any
obvious harm to others.
 Preface
   ix

In the final chapter we consider the role that religion might play in the
rehabilitation of offenders and peace-making processes. Central to these
two endeavours is the idea of forgiveness, and moral repair. Arguably,
humans have evolved a capacity for forgiveness alongside our tendency to
seek revenge and retribution. The notion of forgiveness, repentance, and
redemption also feature prominently in many religious traditions. These
points suggest that religion might have a role to play in the rehabilitation
of offenders and their successful reintegration into society. Faith-based
correctional services have historically played a prominent role in the prison
systems of many countries and there is enough evidence to suggest that
they are promising strategies that can be employed alongside (or embed-
ded in) more mainstream approaches. Religion and religious leaders have
also played a prominent role in many peace-making efforts, although
many have questioned the place of religion in these endeavours.
Religion appears here to stay. The complex and varied systems that we
think of as ‘religion’ owe their existence to the way that evolutionary pro-
cesses have shaped the nature of the human mind, and have been further
shaped by thousands (perhaps tens of thousands) of years of cultural evo-
lution. Importantly, religion serves crucial functions in society: it helps to
bind individuals into morally cohesive communities through ritual, it
demarcates the normative boundaries of behaviour, and it provides a
form of ‘supernatural’ policing to promote cooperation, especially among
co-religionists. In all of these ways, religion intertwines with the secular
concerns of criminologists—crime, punishment, conflict, and the law.
It remains to thank the Editorial team at Palgrave Macmillan for their
encouragement and support in this project. We also highlight the sup-
portive atmosphere provided by the School of Social and Cultural Studies
at Victoria University of Wellington that has provided us with the time
and resources to complete this book. Thanks also to Molly Weenick who
provided research assistant work on Chap. 6 by reviewing the literature
on faith-based rehabilitation programmes. On a personal note, we thank
Carolina, Gabrielle, Mavis, Bea, and Leo.
Wellington, New Zealand Russil Durrant
2017Zoe Poppelwell
x Preface

References
Haidt, J. (2012). The righteous mind: Why good people are divided by poli-
tics and religion. London: Penguin.
Hirschi, T., & Stark, R. (1969). Hellfire and delinquency. Social Problems,
17, 202–213.
Johnson, B. R., & Jang, S. J. (2012). Crime and religion: Assessing the
role of the faith factor. In R. Rosenfeld, K. Quinet, & C. Garcia (Eds.),
Contemporary issues in criminological theory and research: The role of
social institutions (pp. 117–150). Belmont, CA: Wadsworth.
Norenzayan, A. (2013). Big gods: How religion transformed cooperation
and conflict. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
Norenzayan, A., Shariff, A. F., Willard, A. K., Slingerland, W. E., Gervais,
R. A., McNamara, R. A., et al. (2016). The cultural evolution of proso-
cial religions. Behavioral and Brain Sciences. Advance online
publication.
Unnever, J. D., & Cullen, F. T. (2006). Christian fundamentalism and
support for capital punishment. Journal of Research in Crime and
Delinquency, 43, 169–197. doi:10.1177/0022427805280067
Visit https://textbookfull.com
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 Contents

1 Why Religion Matters   1

2 Evolutionary Approaches to Understanding Religion  19

3 Religion, Crime, and Prosocial Behaviour  55

4 The Dark Side of Religion? Prejudice, Inter-Group

Conflict, and War  89

5 Religion, Punishment, and the Law 127

6 Religion, Rehabilitation, and Reconciliation 161

References 185

Index 221

xi
 List of Figures

Fig. 1.1 The ‘big four’ religious dimensions (Saroglou, 2011) 6

Fig. 1.2 Percentage of individuals who believe that God is necessary
and not necessary to be moral for selected countries.
Source: Pew Research Centre (2014, adapted from
figures on p. 2) 11
Fig. 1.3 The proportion of the world’s population for different
religious groups in 2010 and 2050 (estimated).
Source: Pew Research Centre (2015, based on
table on p. 8) 13
Fig. 3.1 Effect sizes for religious priming studies. Source:
Data from Shariff et al. (2015) 62
Fig. 3.2 An integrated model of how religion contributes to
prosocial behaviour and reduces crime 77
Fig. 4.1 Number of countries where religious groups have been
harassed, 2013–2015. Source: Pew Research Centre
(2017, p. 21) 92
Fig. 4.2 Key factors and processes in understanding the
relationship between religion, prejudice, and
inter-group conflict 116

xiii
 List of Tables

Table 1.1 Definitions of religion 5

Table 2.1 Evolutionary approaches to understanding religion 28
Table 2.2 By-product explanations for religion 31
Table 4.1 The role of religion in major conflicts in history 97
Table 5.1 Examples of government policies that restrict, regulate,
or control religion or religious practice (2008) in the
RAS database 136
Table 5.2 The role of religious belief systems on the nature and
scope of punishment based on moral foundations
theory147

xv
 1
Why Religion Matters

Introduction
No other subject divides opinion quite like religion. For religious adher-
ents, religion is a core feature of their life. It provides guidance and
instruction on the nature of the world and how to fashion a good life. It
offers succour in times of need, and hope in the face of catastrophe.
Religion imbues the faithful with a sense of purpose and meaning that
enhances self-worth and a sense of control over the world (Park,
Edmondson, & Hale-Smith, 2013). Religion plays a critical role in shap-
ing how individuals see themselves and their relations to others (Cohen,
2015). Indeed, religion is a central feature of day-to-day social life for
many, and offers opportunities to bond and connect with others. The
security and certainty afforded by religion provides, for many, the ulti-
mate source of meaning and value that may brook no compromise—
something they may be willing to die for (Atran, 2010). The apparent
role that religion plays in enhancing prosociality and promoting morally
worthy projects underlies adherents’ certainties about religion as a force
for good in the world.
For others, religion is the source of all that is wrong in the world—an
evil that ‘poisons everything’ (Hitchens, 2007). Christopher Hitchens

© The Author(s) 2017 1

R. Durrant, Z. Poppelwell, Religion, Crime and Punishment,
DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-64428-8_1
2 1 Why Religion Matters

(2007, p. 56) pulls no punches when he characterises religion as ‘violent,

irrational, intolerant, allied to racism … invested in ignorance and hos-
tile to free inquiry, contemptuous of women and coercive toward chil-
dren’. Hitchens is not alone in this portrayal of religion as a delusional
cancer that needs to be extirpated from society (Dawkins, 2006), with
Silverman (2015, p. 4) urging atheists everywhere to unite in the fight
against God: ‘religion is not just incorrect, it is malevolent. It ruins lives,
splits families, and justifies hatred and bigotry, all the while claiming to
be the source of morality … religion deserves to die.’ The apparent role
that religion plays in terrorism, war, the infliction of harsh punishments,
and prejudicial attitudes towards particular social groups offers abun-
dant evidence for many that religion is a source of great harm in the
world.
Then there are many for whom religion is of little interest: they pro-
fess no belief in God, gods, or other supernatural entities, religious
beliefs and practices offer no interest or guidance, and their day-to-day
lives are little touched by religion or the religious. For these individu-
als—most prominent among ‘WEIRD’ (Western, Educated, Industrial,
Rich, Democratic) societies (Henrich, Heine, & Norenzayan, 2010)—
religion is simply something that other people can choose to practice or
believe in as long as their beliefs and practices do not unduly impinge on
the lives of others. We suspect that most social scientists—including
most criminologists—fall clearly into this third group of individuals. As
Cullen (2012) notes, criminology and other social sciences are secular
humanist professions in which religion plays a relatively negligible
role—occasionally as an object of social scientific inquiry, but rarely if
ever as a formal component of professional life. Perhaps this is unsurpris-
ing as Western social scientists are especially unlikely to practice or
adhere to specific religions, and active or overt involvement in religious
life may even be an impediment to a successful career in the social sci-
ences (Johnson, 2011).
Although most criminologists and other social scientists are happy to
belong to the significant minority of atheists, agnostics, and the other-
wise religiously ‘unaffiliated’ (Pew Research Centre, 2015), religion as an
important subject of inquiry cannot be ignored. We may be living in a
secular age—the ‘age of nothing’ (Watson, 2014)—in ‘a world’, as Weber
 Introduction 3

noted, ‘robbed of Gods’ (Weber, 1979, pp. 281–282), yet religion per-
sists. Indeed, it does more than persist—it thrives: currently some 84 per
cent of the world’s population identify with one or more religions, a fig-
ure that is set to increase to 87 per cent by 2050 (Pew Research Centre,
2015). Regardless of whether religion is, all things considered, a good or
a bad thing it is clearly an important component of most people’s lives
and thus an important phenomenon for social scientists of all stripes to
explore and to understand. As Bloom (2012, p. 181) argues, ‘it is impos-
sible to make sense of most of human existence, including law, morality,
war, and culture, without some appreciation of religion and how it
works’.
In this book we advance three main, inter-related arguments. First, the
subject of religion should be a more prominent feature of criminological
theory and research for the straightforward reason that many of the core
concerns of criminology—deviance, morality, punishment, rehabilita-
tion—are also, in one way or another, central to religion. Second, reli-
gion, while enhancing in-group cooperation, compassion, and
prosociality, can also promote out-group prejudice, intolerance, and con-
flict. Religion is, thus, not unlike those reversible figures beloved of per-
ceptual psychologists—at one moment an old woman, at the other a
young one—depending on just how you look at it. Third, and most
important, in order to understand why religion has this character and
how it influences crime, prosocial behaviour, inter-group conflict, pun-
ishment and other such topics we need to understand what religion is: we
need to understand the evolutionary origins and functions of religious
systems and to integrate this knowledge with more mainstream crimino-
logical theories and processes.
Religion is certainly a topic that divides opinion. Disagreements arise
not only, as we have noted, about the value of religion in the modern
world—is it a ‘good’ thing or a ‘bad’ thing—but also over what kind of
‘thing’ it is in the first place. It will be useful to start, therefore, with a
discussion of just what religion is. The relative neglect of religion in crim-
inology has been recently noted by a number of authors (Cottee, 2014;
Cullen 2012; Johnson & Jang, 2012; Sadique & Stanislas, 2016) and we
reinforce this point by highlighting why religion matters to the study of
crime, punishment, conflict, and rehabilitation.
4 1 Why Religion Matters

What Is This Thing Called Religion?

In April 2016, Toby Ricketts and Marianna Fenn were married aboard a
pirate ship in New Zealand in what was the world’s first Pastafarian wed-
ding. Donning colanders—the official headdress of the church—on their
heads, the couple exchanged rings constructed from pasta and offered
gastronomically themed vows to one another (Roy, 2016). Pastafarians
are adherents of the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster founded by
Bobby Henderson in 2005 as a parody religion for the purpose of chal-
lenging and spoofing religious ideas and practices. Thus, the church is
replete with deity—a spaghetti monster constructed from meatballs and
noodles—moral rules and practices (‘eight commandments’), religious
holidays, rituals, and symbols. In 2015, the church was officially recog-
nised in New Zealand and was approved to perform marriage ceremo-
nies. Whether or not you find the case of Pastafarianism as amusing or
deeply offensive, the establishment of the Church of the Flying Spaghetti
Monster challenges our notions of what should and what should not
count as ‘religion’.
The task of defining religion has proven an engaging but challenging
one. As illustrated in Table 1.1, numerous definitions have been offered
over the years from a diverse range of anthropologists, sociologists, psy-
chologists, and other scholars with little in the way of universal agree-
ment on just what should count as religion. Many definitions, such as the
one provided by Spiro (1966), emphasise the importance of belief in gods
and other supernatural entities. However, such beliefs, by themselves, do
not qualify as religion (think of belief in spirits, magic, Santa Claus and
the like) nor do they encompass various belief systems that are often
thought of as religions (e.g. on some interpretations, Confucianism, and
some forms of Buddhism). Harari (2014, 2015) argues for the impor-
tance of belief in a ‘superhuman order’ and thus embraces communism,
liberal humanism and other such belief systems as ‘religions’, but this
would seem to stretch the concept of religion too thinly. Other scholars,
such as Geertz, carefully avoid overt reference to supernatural entities in
favour of cultural and psychological features. Durkheim offers perhaps
the most widely used definition of religion as ‘a unified system of beliefs
 What Is This Thing Called Religion? 5

Table 1.1 Definitions of religion

Source Definition
Hawkins and Allen (1991, (1) The belief in a superhuman controlling power,
p. 1220) especially in a personal God or gods entitled to
obedience or worship. (2) The expression of this
in worship. (3) A particular system of faith and
worship. (4) Life under monastic vows. (5) A thing
one is devoted to
James (1902/1961, p. 42) The feelings, acts, and experiences of individual
men in their solitude, so far as they apprehend
themselves to stand in relation to whatever they
may consider the divine
Durkheim (1915/1995, A religion is a unified system of beliefs and practices
p. 47) relative to sacred things, that is to say, things set
apart and forbidden—beliefs and practices which
united into one single moral community called a
Church, all those who adhere to them
Geertz (1966, p. 4) (1) A system of symbols which acts to (2) establish
powerful, pervasive, and long-lasting moods and
motivations in men by (3) formulating
conceptions of a general order of existence and
(4) clothing those conceptions which such an
aura of actuality that (5) the moods and
motivations seem uniquely realistic
Spiro (1966, p. 96) An institution consisting of culturally patterned
interaction with culturally postulated
superhuman beings
Dennett (2006, p. 9) Social systems whose participants avow belief in a
supernatural agent or agents whose approval is
to be sought
Harari (2014, p. 210) A system of human norms and values that is
founded on a belief in a superhuman order

and practices relative to sacred things, that is to say, things set apart and
forbidden—beliefs and practices that unite into one single moral com-
munity called a Church, all those who adhere to them’. This definition
captures the idea that religion, although typically related to specific belief
systems, also play a crucial role in binding individuals into moral com-
munities through specific practices or rituals—for Durkheim (1915/1995,
p. 47) religion is ‘an eminently collective thing’.
Religion, then, is a notoriously slippery concept to define and most
scholars would agree that there are no necessary and sufficient conditions
6 1 Why Religion Matters

that allow us to unequivocally demarcate systems of beliefs and behav-

iours that count as ‘religion’ from those that do not (Droogers, 2009;
Oman, 2013). One of the main reasons why it is so hard to furnish a
satisfactory definition for ‘religion’ is because religion itself is a multidi-
mensional construct which embraces an enormous diversity of practices,
communities, and belief systems historically and cross-culturally
(Norenzayan, 2016). As Dennett (2006) notes, religion is not a natural
kind: a specific ‘thing’ that can be picked out from the world, but rather
is a constellation of phenomena. Thus, although religion may have a set
of typical characteristics or features (Oman, 2013), these features are
more or less important depending on the specific religion or religious
community under consideration. What we think of as religion, therefore,
consists of a number of key dimensions or attributes, underpinned by
core psychological, social, and cultural processes which collectively cap-
ture the multi-faceted character of religion in ways that can accommo-
date the substantial theodiversity that is found in the world.
One prominent dimensional model of religion is provided by Saroglou
(2011; Saroglou & Cohen, 2013; see Fig. 1.1), who proposes four key,
interconnected components of religion characterised as ‘believing’,
‘bonding’, ‘behaving’, and ‘belonging’. A universal dimension of reli-
gion, as many of the definitions in Table 1.1 suggest, is ‘belief in some

Bonding
Believing
(Collective and indivdual rituals
(Specific beliefs and cognitions)
that bond indivduals)

RELIGION

Belonging
Behaving (Identification with specific
(Specific moral rules and practices) groups, communities and
traditions)

Fig. 1.1 The ‘big four’ religious dimensions (Saroglou, 2011)

 What Is This Thing Called Religion? 7

kind of external transcendence’ (Saroglou, 2011, p. 1323), although the

specific details vary enormously across religious traditions. Many reli-
gions entail belief in a god or gods, spirits, ancestors, or otherwise non-
worldly entities and processes that may or may not intervene and
interconnect with the human world. Clearly there is an extraordinary
diversity of such processes and entities across religions from the omni-
scient and omnipotent God familiar to adherents of Abrahamic faiths
(i.e. Judaism, Christianity, Islam) to the more nebulous sense of an
underlying, impersonal life force that permeates existence that features
in various strands of Buddhism and other East Asian religious traditions.
As Saroglou notes, belief in transcendental entities and processes reason-
ably effectively helps to demarcate individuals who see themselves as
religious or spiritual from those that do not. Specific beliefs and belief
systems often also work to demarcate specific religious traditions from
each other and may turn on what seem to be quite substantive differ-
ences (e.g. monotheistic vs. polytheistic religions) or those that often
seem (from the outside at least) to be more trivial (e.g. the differences
that divide Sunnis from Shias or Roman Catholics from Eastern
Orthodox Christians).
Religion cannot be simply characterised as reflecting certain kinds of
beliefs about the world. The second dimension of Saroglou’s framework,
therefore, emphasises the importance of bonding in our understanding of
religion. More specifically, individuals engage in practices—usually in the
form of specific rituals—that facilitate bonding both with transcendental
elements and processes and with other religious adherents. Again, the
form of such practices is extraordinarily diverse across religious traditions
and embraces prayer, meditation, sacrifice, ceremony, pilgrimage, fasting,
and so on. Such rituals may often entail powerful emotional responses
from adherents that, in some cases, facilitate altered states of conscious-
ness. Whitehouse (e.g. Whitehouse, Francois, & Turchin, 2015;
Whitehouse & Lanman, 2014) provides a useful contrast between an
‘imagistic mode of religiosity’ that is characterised by infrequent but
highly arousing rituals (e.g. the collective fire-walking and body-piercing
rituals practice by some Hindu communities in Mauritius—see Fischer
et al., 2014) and the ‘doctrinal mode of religiosity’ that involves frequent,
routinised, but less emotionally arousing rituals (such as the five daily
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8 1 Why Religion Matters

prayers of devout Muslims). Both modes involve the use of ritual to bind
individuals into communities, although the imagistic mode works to
promote small, but strongly cohesive communities, whereas the doctrinal
mode binds larger aggregates of adherents together although less intensely.
Regardless, rituals promote the third key dimension of religion:
belonging.
Religion—quite strikingly in many cases—promotes a sense of belong-
ing as individuals come to see themselves as part of particular religious
groups, communities, and traditions. In this respect, specific religions
can be viewed as forms of culture (Cohen & Varnum, 2016): collections
of norms, values, beliefs, practices, and traditions that provide a source of
social identity and serve to demarcate some such groups from others.
Religion, as Durkheim highlighted, tends to bind individuals into par-
ticular types of community—moral communities—with specific rules
about behaviours that are and are not permitted (Graham & Haidt,
2010). The final dimension of religion in Saroglou’s model, thus, is behav-
ing. As we shall explore in more detail in the next section, religion is often
intimately connected with morality: the virtues that individuals should
aspire to, what acts are prohibited, and how they might be punished
(including ‘supernatural’ punishment).
It is clearly important to establish what religion is before we can evalu-
ate any particular claims about the relationship between religion, crime,
prosocial behaviour, or inter-group relations. The model offered by
Saroglou provides a useful framework for thinking about the key features
that are typically present in different religions, as well as a useful starting
point for thinking about the cognitive, emotional, motivational, and
social processes that underlie these features, of which we will have more
to say about in Chap. 2. There are obviously important differences among
religious traditions in the way that these four dimensions are manifest
and the religions present in many small-scale societies differ markedly in
some of these domains from those found amongst so-called ‘world’ reli-
gions (Peoples, Duda, & Marlowe, 2016). However, thinking of religion
in dimensional terms provides a more nuanced framework, as we shall
attempt to illustrate in this book, for linking religion to the phenomena
of interest to criminologists: crime, morality, punishment, and inter-­
group conflict.
 Religion, Morality, and Social Control: Why Religion Matters... 9

 eligion, Morality, and Social Control: Why

R
Religion Matters for Criminology
Criminologists have not had a great deal to say about the topic of religion.
Certainly, as we document in some detail throughout this book, there is a
reasonable body of research that has explored the relationship between
religion and crime (Johnson & Jang, 2012), and the role of religion in
desistance from offending has been a subject of interest to a number of
scholars (Johnson, 2011). However, as many criminologists have recently
pointed out, the topic of religion very much remains on the margins of
mainstream criminological thinking (Cottee, 2014; Cullen, 2012; DiIulio,
2009; Ronel & Yair, 2017; Sadique & Stanislas, 2016; Ulmer, 2012).
Cullen (2012) notes that religion rarely features among classic theoretical
works, theory textbooks, or monographs on the development of offend-
ing. To illustrate, Newburn’s (2013) truly monumental introductory crim-
inology textbook contains not a single indexed reference to religion or
religiosity in its 1082 pages. Similarly, Cottee (2014) found that between
1960 and 2014 the British Journal of Criminology has included only three
articles on the topic of religion and crime. As Ulmer (2012, p. 163) con-
cludes, ‘criminology has yet to locate religion centrally in the field’.
In some important respects, this neglect is surprising. Religion is an
important component of many people’s lives and plays a powerful role in
shaping behaviour and institutions that are relevant for understanding both
the causes of crime (Johnson & Jang, 2012) and our responses to crime (e.g.
Garland, 1990). Sadique and Stanislas (2016, p. 6), in the introduction to
one of the few books devoted to the topic of religion and crime, clearly
outline both the neglect of religion and why this neglect is unwarranted:

Despite the centrality of religious and related matters to the origins, devel-
opment and ideas which inform criminal justice systems in both early and
contemporary societies, there is a lack of literature, and books in particular,
on this important topic. This is particularly striking given how religion and
matters of belief impact on every aspect of criminal justice from the moti-
vations and constraints against offending, the response and understanding
or sensitivity of the police, courts, and their influence on witnesses, and
matters of punishment and governmental attitudes.
10 1 Why Religion Matters

Cottee (2014) argues that we need to take seriously the topic of theistic
violence. Others have called for a specifically ‘Jewish criminology’ (Ronel
& Yair, 2017), while Cullen (2012) urges more broadly for the develop-
ment of a ‘criminology of religion’. We concur with the general contours
of these suggestions and, in part, this book provides an extended argu-
ment for the greater consideration of the topic of ‘criminology and reli-
gion’ just as there is sustained interest in the subjects of ‘psychology and
religion’, ‘sociology and religion’, and ‘anthropology and religion’ (e.g.
Clayton & Simpson, 2006). We shall also argue that, although there will
be interest in the role of specific religious traditions in relation to crimi-
nological phenomena, it is important to recognise the extraordinary
diversity of religious thought (Norenzayan, 2016) and to ensure that this
diversity is better represented in criminological research.
We shall explore, at some length, what the empirical literature tells us
about the relationship between religion and crime, prosociality, preju-
dice, punishment, and inter-group conflict. We will also provide a frame-
work that can help us to explain why these relationships hold. It will be
useful first, however, to make a stronger prima facie case that the subject
of religion should play a more prominent role in mainstream crimino-
logical thought than it hitherto has. A useful starting point will be to
consider religion’s intimate relationship with morality (Cohen, 2015;
McKay & Whitehouse, 2015).
It is generally thought that involvement in religion enhances prosocial-
ity. This perspective is supported through a consideration of specific reli-
gious teachings: all major religions emphasise the importance of altruism,
charity, and the consideration of others (Durkheim, 1915/1995; Inaba &
Loewenthal, 2011). Christians are exhorted to ‘love your neighbour as
yourself ’ (Leviticus 19: 18), Muslims are reminded that ‘they give others
preference over themselves even though they were themselves in need’
(Qu’ran 59:9), Hindus are asked to ‘Speak the truth. Practice virtue’
(Taittriya Upanishad 1.11.1-6), and for Buddhists and Jains the notion
of ahimsa (non-violence) is a core value that threads its way through both
doctrine and practice (Amore, 2014; Vallely, 2014). Of course, it is
­relatively easy to find doctrinal support for the contextual use of violence
in these religious traditions as well, even in the case of Buddhism
(Jerryson, 2013). However, support for violence is typically framed in
 Religion, Morality, and Social Control: Why Religion Matters... 11

moralistic terms as something that is morally justifiable or even, in some

cases, obligatory (see Chap. 4). Religious traditions are also deeply con-
cerned with the moral regulation of behaviour through the promulgation
of specific norms, laws, or values (see Chap. 5) and how violations of
these should be met. In other words the intimate relationship between
religion and morality does not always result in ‘nice’ or universally benefi-
cial outcomes (McKay & Whitehouse, 2015).
Nonetheless, for many people the belief in God is seen as essential to
morality. In a study conducted by the Pew Research Center (2014), in
twenty-two out of the thirty-nine countries sampled the majority of
respondents claimed that it was necessary to believe in God to be moral.
As illustrated in Fig. 1.2, there is clearly substantial cross-national vari-
ability in this belief from a high of ninety-nine per cent in Ghana to a low
of fifteen per cent in France. It remains notable, however, that just over
half of Americans expressed the belief that it is necessary to believe in
God to be moral, and even in a strongly secular nation such as Britain
one in five respondents endorsed this claim. In a related set of findings,
atheists—those individuals who disavow any belief in God, gods, or other
such entities—are routinely viewed as being especially untrustworthy

Necessary to believe in God to be moral

Not necessary to believe in God to be moral
France 15 85
Britain 20 78
Australia 23 76
Canada 31 67
Russia 38 55
United States 53 46
South Africa 75 21
Brazil 86 13
Nigeria 91 8
Pakistan 98 1
Indonesia 99 1

Fig. 1.2 Percentage of individuals who believe that God is necessary and not
necessary to be moral for selected countries. Source: Pew Research Centre (2014,
adapted from figures on p. 2)
12 1 Why Religion Matters

(e.g. Gervais, 2013) and more likely to engage in immoral acts (even by
atheists themselves!) (Gervais, 2014). Indeed, as Gervais (2013, p. 366)
notes, explicit language ‘banning atheists from office currently exists in
six U.S. state constitutions’ and surveys find that, in the USA, atheists
and Muslims consistently receive the ‘coolest’ responses on ‘feeling ther-
mometer’ ratings (Pew Research Center, 2017).
Religion for many is inextricably linked with the moral domain. That
is not to say that religion is necessary for morality or essential for pro-
moting prosocial behaviour, but clearly many people believe that this is
the case. Moreover, for many, religion provides a strong source of guid-
ance about the kinds of acts that should and should not be permitted
and thus the acts which might deserve punishment by the state. Again,
we are not arguing that religion should be a guide in determining which
behaviours should be subject to criminal sanctions, but it is clear that
many individuals do. Perhaps though, it could be argued that religion is
of more importance historically in understanding aspects of human
behaviour of interest to criminologists, but in a secular world its impor-
tance is increasingly negligible. For many social scientists living in
largely secular countries it is easy to downplay the role that religion
plays in society. However, most people on the planet are—in some sense
or other—‘religious’: globally, individuals who identify as ‘atheists’
(those who do not believe in God) comprise a mere 7 per cent of the
world’s population (Keysar & Navarro-Rivera, 2013). The more inclu-
sive term ‘religiously unaffiliated’ which includes atheists, agnostics,
and people who do not identify with any particular religion describes a
significant minority—16.4 per cent of the global population, although
there are clear regional differences. As noted above, the global propor-
tion of the religiously unaffiliated is projected to significantly decline
over the next forty years to 13.2 per cent of the population (see Fig. 1.3).
It is impossible to predict the amount and scope of influence that reli-
gion will exert in the future, but clearly religion is not withering away
as the secularisation thesis suggests (see Kaufmann, Goujon, & Skirbekk,
2012).
Despite the enormous diversity of religious belief and practice, the
concept of religion can be arguably captured in terms of four fundamen-
tal dimensions: believing, bonding, behaving, and belonging that serve to
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to the actual burning of the body, have in the Samoan custom which
we have just named a remarkable coincidence in their favour.
The unburied occasioned great concern. “No Roman,” says Mr.
Turner, “was ever more grieved at the thought of his unburied friend
wandering a hundred years along the banks of the Styx than were
the Samoans, while they thought of the spirit of one who had been
drowned, or of another who had fallen in war, wandering about
neglected and comfortless. They supposed the spirit haunted them
everywhere night and day, and imagined they heard it calling upon
them in a most pitiful tone, and saying, ‘Oh! how cold; oh! how cold.’
Nor were the Samoans, like the ancient Romans, satisfied with a
mere tumulus-inanis (or empty grave), at which to observe the usual
solemnities; they thought it was possible to obtain the soul of the
departed in some tangible transmigrated form. On the beach, near
where a person had been drowned, or on the battle-field, where
another fell, might be seen sitting in silence a group of five or six,
and one a few yards in advance, with a sheet of native cloth spread
out on the ground before him. Addressing some god of the family, he
said, ‘Oh! be kind to us; let us obtain without difficulty the spirit of the
young man.’ The first thing that happened to light upon the sheet
was supposed to be the spirit. If nothing came, it was supposed that
the spirit had some ill-will to the person praying. That person after a
time retired, and another stepped forward, addressed some other
god, and waited the result. By-and-bye something came—
grasshopper, butterfly, ant, or whatever else it might be; it was
carefully wrapped up, taken to the family, the friends assembled, and
the bundle buried with all due ceremony, as if it contained the real
spirit of the departed.”
The burial, like all other customs of the New Zealanders, are very
singular. Very little, however, was known concerning them until a
recent date. At the time Captain Cook visited the country, everything
connected with the disposal of their dead was concealed from him by
the natives.
It is now known, however, that the dead bodies of slaves were
thrown into holes or into the sea, or buried under the poles
supporting houses; but the dead bodies of free persons were ever
held in high respect. It was only, however, at the death of chiefs that
the funeral rites of the people were celebrated. A chief on his death
bed was surrounded by most of his relatives, his last words were
treasured up, and the resignation with which the dying man
submitted to his fate suggested to the mind that he died of his own
will. The moment the vital spark fled, its departure was bewailed with
doleful cries: abundance of water was shed in the form of tears, and
the spectators groaned, sighed, and seemed inconsolable. But all
was hollow, except with the immediate relatives of the deceased,
and a specimen of the talent of the New Zealanders for
dissimulation. Men, women, and children cut themselves with shells,
and slaves were slain to attend on the dead in the next world, and in
revenge for his death. Since the introduction of fire-arms, guns are
fired off at the death of chiefs.
Twenty-four hours after death the body was washed and beaten
with flax-leaves, to drive away evil spirits. Priests then dressed the
corpse. The legs were bent, the body placed in a sitting attitude, the
hair tied in a lump on the crown of the head, and ornamented with
albatross feathers; garlands of flowers were wound round the
temples, tufts of white down from a sea-bird’s breast were stuck in
the ears, the face was smeared with red ochre and oil, and the whole
body, save the head, enveloped in a fine mat. In this condition,
surrounded with his weapons of war, the bones and preserved heads
of his ancestors, the dead chief sat in state; and as the complexion
of the skins of the natives alters little after death, there was a life-like
appearance in the whole scene. Certain birds were sacrificed to the
gods. Tribes from a distance visited the dead. Wisps of the long toitoi
grass placed in the dead warrior’s hands were grasped by friends,
and flattering laments, of which the following is a good specimen,
were sung in his honour:—
 “Behold the lightning’s glare:
It seems to cut asunder Tuwhara’s rugged mountains.
From thy hand the weapon dropped,
And thy bright spirit disappeared
Beyond the heights of Rauhawa.
The sun grows dim, and hastes away,
As a woman from the scene of the battle.
The tides of the ocean weep as they ebb and flow,
And the mountains of the south melt away,
For the spirit of the chieftain
Is taking its flight to Kona.
Open ye the gates of the heavens—
Enter the first heaven, then enter the second heaven,
And when thou shalt travel the land of spirits,
And they shall say to thee, ‘What meanest this?’
Say’st thou, the winds of this our world
Have been torn from it in the death of the brave one,
The leader of our battles.
Atutahi and the stars of the morning
Look down from the sky.
The earth reels to and fro,
For the great prop of the tribes lies low,
Ah! my friend, the dews of Kokianga
Will penetrate the body;
The waters of the rivers will ebb out,
And the land be desolate.”

Dead chiefs sat in state until they gave out an ill odour. Then their
bodies were wrapped in mats, put into canoe-shaped boxes along
with their meris, and deposited on stages nine feet high, or
suspended from trees in the neighbourhood of villages, or interred
within the houses where they died. Here, after daylight, for many
weeks the nearest relatives regularly bewailed their death with
mournful cries. Persons tapued from touching the dead were now
made clean. Carved wooden ornaments, or rude human images
twenty or forty feet high, not unlike Hindoo idols, were erected on the
spots where the bodies were deposited. Mourning head dresses
made of dark feathers were worn; some mourners clipped half their
hair short, and people talked of the dead as if they were alive.
 The bodies were permitted to remain about half a year on the
stages, or in the earth, after which the bones were scraped clean,
placed in boxes or mats, and secretly deposited by priests in
sepulchres, on hill tops, in forests, or in caves. The meris and
valuable property of chiefs were now received by their heirs. To
witness this ceremony of the removal of bones neighbouring tribes
were invited to feasts, called the hahunga; and for several
successive years afterwards hahungas were given in honour of the
dead, on which occasions skulls and preserved heads of chiefs were
brought from sepulchres, and adorned with mats, flowers, and
feathers. Speeches and laments delivered at hahungas kept chiefs’
memories alive, and stimulated the living to imitate the dead.
In Borneo when a Dayak dies the whole village is tabooed for a
day; and within a few hours of death the body is rolled up in the
sleeping mat of the deceased, and carried by the “Peninu,” or sexton
of the village, to the place of burial or burning. The body is
accompanied for a little distance from the village by the women,
uttering a loud and melancholy lament. In one tribe—the Pemujan—
the women follow the corpse a short way down the path below the
village to the spot where it divides, one branch leading to the burning
ground, the other to the Chinese town of Siniawau. Here they mount
upon a broad stone and weep, and utter doleful cries till the sexton
and his melancholy burden have disappeared from view. Curiously
enough, the top of this stone is hollowed, and the Dayaks declare
that this has been occasioned by the tears of their women, which,
during many ages, have fallen so abundantly and so often as to wear
away the stone by their continual dropping.
In Western Sarawak the custom of burning the dead is universal.
In the district near the Samarahan they are indifferently burnt or
buried, and when the Sadong is reached, the custom of cremation
ceases, the Dayaks of the last river being in the habit of burying their
dead. In the grave a cocoa nut and areca nut are thrown; and a
small basket and one containing the chewing condiments of the
deceased are hung up near the grave, and if he were a noted warrior
a spear is stuck in the ground close by. The above articles of food
are for the sustenance of the soul in his passage to the other world.
 The graves are very shallow, and not unfrequently the corpse is
rooted up and devoured by wild pigs. The burning also is not
unfrequently very inefficiently performed. “Portions of bones and
flesh have been brought back by the dogs and pigs of the village to
the space below the very houses of the relatives,” says Mr. St. John.
“In times of epidemic disease, and when the deceased is very poor,
or the relatives do not feel inclined to be at much expense for the
sexton’s services, corpses are not unfrequently thrown into some
solitary piece of jungle not far from the village, and there left. The
Dayaks have very little respect for the bodies of the departed, though
they have an intense fear of their ghosts.
“The office of sexton is hereditary, descending from father to son;
and when the line fails, great indeed is the difficulty of inducing
another family to undertake its unpleasant duties, involving, as it is
supposed, too familiar an association with the dead and with the
other world to be at all beneficial. Though the prospect of fees is
good, and perhaps every family in the village offers six gallons of
unpounded rice to start the sexton in his new and certainly useful
career, it is difficult to find a candidate. The usual burying fee is one
jav, valued at a rupee; though if great care be bestowed on the
interment, a dollar is asked; at other places as much as two dollars is
occasionally demanded.”
On the day of a person’s death a feast is given by the family to
their relations: if the deceased be rich, a pig and a fowl are killed; but
if poor, a fowl is considered sufficient. The apartment and the family
in which the death occurs are tabooed for seven days and nights,
and if the interdict be not rigidly kept, the ghost of the departed will
haunt the place.
Among the Sea Dayaks, as we are likewise informed by Mr. St.
John, human bodies are usually buried, although, should a man
express a wish to share the privilege of the priests, and be, like
them, exposed on a raised platform, his friends are bound to comply
with his request.
Immediately after the breath has left the body, the female relations
commence loud and melancholy laments; they wash the corpse and
dress it in its finest garments, and often, if a man, fully armed, and
bear it forth to the great common hall, where it is surrounded by its
friends to be mourned over. In some villages a hireling leads the
lament, which is continued till the corpse leaves the house. Before
this takes place, however, the body is rolled up in clothes and fine
mats, kept together by pieces of bamboo tied on with rattans, and
taken to the burial-ground. A fowl is then killed as a sacrifice to the
spirit who guards the earth, and they commence digging the grave
from two and a half to four and a half feet deep, according to the
person’s rank: deeper than five feet would be unlawful. Whilst this
operation is going on others fell a large tree, and cutting off about six
feet, split it in two, and hollow out the pieces with an adze. One part
serves as a coffin and the other as the lid; the body is placed within,
and the two are secured together by means of strips of pliable cane
wound round them.
After the coffin is lowered into the grave, many things belonging to
the deceased are cast in, together with rice, tobacco, and betel-nut,
as they believe they may prove useful in the other world.
It was an old custom, but now falling into disuse, to place money,
gold and silver ornaments, clothes, and various china and brass
utensils in the grave; but these treasures were too great temptation
to those Malays who were addicted to gambling, and the rifling of the
place of interment has often given great and deserved offence to the
relations. As it is almost impossible to discover the offenders, it is
now the practice to break in pieces all the utensils placed in the
grave, and to conceal as carefully as possible the valuable
ornaments.
The relatives and bearers of the corpse must return direct to the
house from which they started before they may enter another, as it is
unlawful or unlucky to stop, whatever may be the distance to be
traversed. Sea Dayaks who fall in battle are seldom interred, but a
paling is put round them to keep away the pigs, and they are left
there. Those who commit suicide are buried in different places from
others, as it is supposed that they will not be allowed to mix in the
“Seven-storied Sabayau,” or Paradise, with such of their fellow-
countrymen as come by their death in a natural manner, or through
the influence of the spirits.
Black is the sign of mourning among the Indians of North
America, as among us; but among these savage populations grief is
manifested by other signs than the gloomy colour of the dress. The
Crows cut part of their hair on the death of a relation. The widows of
the Foxes, as a sign of mourning, remain several months without
changing their clothes, or paying any other attention to their dress.
This custom is common to many tribes of the north. Among the
Shahonees and several other of the western population, those who
have lost one of their relatives manifest their grief by inflicting on
themselves mutilations and wounds. The mourning of an Indian for
the loss of a relative continues for at least six months. It generally
consists in neglecting his person, and painting his face black. A
widow will generally mourn the loss of her husband for a year. During
all this time she appears sincerely affected, never speaking to any
one unless she is forced to do so from necessity or propriety. She
always seeks solitude, and desires to remain alone, in order to
abandon herself more freely to her affliction. After her mourning is
over, she resumes her best garments, and paints herself as
coquettishly as possible, in order to find another husband.
The customs observed in the burial of the dead differ in different
tribes. The only observance common to them all is the singular one
of painting the corpses black. The Omahas swathe the bodies with
bandages made of skins, giving them the appearance of Egyptian
mummies. Thus enveloped they are placed in the branches of a tree,
with a wooden vase full of dried meat by their side, and which from
time to time is renewed. The Sioux bury their dead on the summit of
a hill or mountain, and plant on the tomb a cedar tree, which may be
seen from afar. When no natural elevation exists, they construct a
scaffolding two or three yards high.
The Chinooks, says the Abbé Dominech (from whose account of
Indian burial customs this description is chiefly derived), and some
other populations of Columbia and Oregon, have a more poetical
custom. They wrap the bodies of their dead in skins, bind their eyes,
put little shells in their nostrils, and dress them in their most beautiful
clothes; they then place them in a canoe, which is allowed to drift at
the pleasure of the winds and currents, on a lake, a river, or on the
Pacific Ocean.
When there is neither lake nor river nor sea near the village, the
funeral canoe is attached to the branches of the loftiest trees. These
aërial tombs are always so placed that the wild animals cannot reach
them; the favourite spots are solitary and wooded islands. These
sepulchral canoes are often moored in little bays, under shady trees
whose thick foliage overhang them like a protecting dome. There are
islands on the large rivers of Columbia where as many as twenty or
thirty of these canoes are attached to the cedars and birches on the
banks.
Not far from Columbia is a rock which serves as a cemetery for
the people of the neighbourhood. One perceives, on examining this
village of death, that the tribes of fishermen bestow the same
religious care on the dead as do the various tribes of hunters. In one
case, as in the other, the favourite objects he used while alive are
placed by his side in death. In Columbia, the oar and the net lie by
the fisherman in his funereal canoe; in the Great Prairies, the lance,
the bow and arrows, and often the war-horse, are buried in the grave
with the hunter. To the east as to the west of the Rocky Mountains,
the savages venerate, respect, and take care of their friends and
relatives even after death. The lamentations and prayers of the
survivors are heard each day at dawn and dusk wherever there are
tombs.
In New Mexico the whites have singularly modified the customs of
the Indians; what remains of their ancient practices bears the
impress at once of the superstitious character of the natives, and of
the habits of the Spaniards. Thus, the inhabitants of Pueblo de
Laguna, who are half Christians, half followers of Montezuma, wrap
the body of the deceased in his ordinary garments, lay him in a
narrow grave of little depth, and place bread and a vase of water
near him. They then throw huge stones upon him with such violence
as to break his bones, with the notion that any evil spirit remaining in
the carcase may be driven out in the process.
 The Sacs and Foxes place their dead, wrapped in blankets or
buffalo skins, in rude coffins made out of old canoes or the bark of
trees, and bury them; if the deceased was a warrior, a post is
erected above his head, painted with red lines, indicating the number
of men, women, and children he has killed during his life, and who
are to be his slaves in the land of shadows.
The Tahkalis burn the bodies of their dead. The medicine-man
who directs the ceremony makes the most extraordinary
gesticulations and contortions, for the purpose, as he pretends, of
receiving into his hands the life of the deceased, which he
communicates to a living person by laying his hands on his head,
and blowing on him; the person thus endowed takes the rank of the
deceased, whose name he adds to that he bore previously. If the
dead man had a wife, she is obliged to lay down on the funeral pyre
while it is set on fire, and to remain there till she is almost suffocated
with smoke and heat. Formerly, when a woman endeavoured to
escape this torture, she was carried to the fire and pushed in, to
scramble out how she might. When the corpse is consumed it is the
duty of the widow to collect the ashes, place them in a basket and
carry them away. At the same time she becomes the servant of her
husband’s family, who employ her in all sorts of domestic drudgery,
and treat her very ill. This servitude continues during two or three
years, at the expiration of which period the relatives of deceased
assemble to celebrate the “feast of deliverance.” At this solemnity a
pole five or six yards in height is fixed in the ground, to sustain the
basket containing the ashes of the deceased, which remain thus
exposed till the pole, destroyed by time and the elements, falls down.
The widow then recovers her liberty, and can marry again.
Mr. Paul Kane, in his “Wanderings of an Artist,” describes much
such a ceremony as observed by him in New Caledonia, which is
east of Vancouver’s Island and north of Columbia. Among the tribe
called “Taw-wa-tius,” and also among other tribes in their
neighbourhood, the custom prevails of burning the bodies, with
circumstances of peculiar barbarity to the widows of the deceased.
The dead body of the husband is laid naked upon a large heap of
resinous wood; his wife is then placed upon the body, and covered
over with a skin; the pile is then lighted, and the poor woman is
compelled to remain until she is nearly suffocated, when she is
allowed to descend as best she can through the flames and smoke.
No sooner, however, does she reach the ground, than she is
expected to prevent the body from becoming distorted by the action
of the fire on the muscles and sinews; and wherever such an event
takes place, she must with her bare hands restore the burning body
to its proper position, her person being the whole time exposed to
the intense heat. Should she fail in the performance of this
indispensable rite, from weakness or the intensity of her pain, she is
held up by some one until the body is consumed. A continual singing
and beating of drums is kept up throughout the ceremony, which
drowns her cries.
Afterwards she must collect the unconsumed pieces of bone and
the ashes, and put them in a bag made for the purpose, and which
she has to carry on her back for three years; remaining for a time a
slave to her husband’s relations, and being neither allowed to wash
nor comb herself for the whole time, so that she soon becomes a
very unpleasant object to behold. At the expiration of three years a
feast is given by her tormentors, who invite all the friends and
relations of her and themselves. At the commencement they deposit
with great ceremony the remains of the burnt dead in a box, which
they affix to the top of a high pole, and dance round it. The widow is
then stripped and smeared from head to foot with fish-oil, over which
one of the bystanders throws a quantity of swans’-down, covering
her entire person. After this she is free to marry again, if she have
the inclination and courage enough to venture on a second risk of
being roasted alive and the subsequent horrors.
It has often happened that a widow, who has married a second
husband in the hope perhaps of not outliving him, commits suicide in
the event of her second husband’s death, rather than undergo a
second ordeal.
 A Mandan Chief.
Among the Mandans, another tribe of North American Indians,
burial is unknown. A tract of land is set apart, and is known to all the
tribes as the “village of the dead.” When a Mandan dies he is
wrapped in the hide of a freshly-slaughtered buffalo, which is
secured by thongs of new hide. Other buffalo skins are soaked until
they are soft as cloth, and in these the already thoroughly enveloped
body is swathed till the bulk more resembles a bale of goods packed
for exportation than a human body. Within the bundle are placed the
man’s bow and quiver, shield, knife, pipe and tobacco, flint and steel,
and provisions enough to last him some time “on his long journey.”
Then his relatives bear him on their shoulders, and carry him to the
cemetery, “where,” says Catlin, “are numerous scaffolds, consisting
of four upright poles some six or seven feet in height. On the top of
these are small poles passing around from one corner post to
another; across these are placed a row of willow rods, just strong
enough to support the body.”

Mandan Place of Skulls.

On this scaffold, and with his feet towards the rising sun, the
Mandan is laid, and he is not disturbed till the scaffold poles decay,
and the buffalo coffin, still containing the Mandan’s bones, falls to the
earth. Then the relatives of the deceased, having received notice of
the circumstance, once more assemble at the cemetery and, digging
a hole, bury the bones—all except the skull; for this is reserved a
separate ceremony.
Apart from the willow biers may be seen circles of skulls,
numbering from fifty to a hundred, each about nine inches from its
neighbour, and with the face turned towards the centre. In this
ghastly cordon room is made, and the newly fallen skull added
thereto, and ever after regarded with the rest as an object of
veneration, not only by those who can claim with it family
acquaintance, but by the whole tribe. “Very frequently,” says Catlin,
“the traveller may observe a wife, or maybe a mother, of this sad
remnant of mortality sitting down by the side of the skull of its
departed husband or child, talking to it in the most endearing tones,
and even throwing herself down to embrace it, the while bewailing
with loud and incessant cries; very often too they will cut and hack
themselves with knives as a punishment for any offence they may
have given their relative while alive.”
Among the Ojibbeways, as soon as the man is dead, they array
him in his best clothes, and as soon as possible place him in a coffin.
If this latter article is not available, he is wrapped in the best skins or
blankets the tent furnishes. A hole about three feet deep is dug, and
generally within twelve hours of his decease the man is buried, with
his head towards the west. By the side of his body is placed his
former hunting and war implements, such as his bow and arrow,
tomahawk, gun, pipe and tobacco, knife, pouch, flint and steel,
medicine-bag, kettle, trinkets, and other articles which he carried
with him when going on a long journey. The grave is then covered,
and on the top of it poles or sticks are placed lengthways, to the
height of about two feet, over which birch bark or mats form a
covering to secure the body from the rain. The relations or friends of
the deceased then sit on the ground in a circle round the head of the
grave, when the usual offering to the dead, consisting of meat, soup,
or the fire-waters, is made. This is handed to the people present in
bowls, a certain quantity being kept back for a burnt offering. While
this is preparing at the head of the grave, the old man, or speaker for
the occasion, makes a prayer to the soul of the departed,
enumerating his good qualities, imploring the blessing of the dead
that his spirit may intercede for them, that they may have plenty of
game; he also exhorts his spirit to depart quietly from them. They
believe that the soul partakes of a portion of the feast, and especially
that which is consumed by fire. If the deceased was a husband, it is
often the custom for the widow, after the burial is over, to spring or
leap over the grave, and then run zigzag behind the trees, as if she
were fleeing from some one. This is called running away from the
spirit of her husband, that it may not haunt her. In the evening of the
day on which the burial has taken place, when it begins to grow dark,
the men fire off their guns through the hole left at the top of the
wigwam. As soon as this firing ceases, the old women commence
knocking and making such a rattling at the door as would frighten
away any spirit that would dare to hover near. The next ceremony is
to cut into narrow strips like ribbon, thin birch bark. These they fold
into shapes, and hang round inside the wigwam, so that the least
puff of wind will move them. With such scarecrows as these, what
spirit would venture to disturb their slumbers? Lest this should not
prove effectual, they will also frequently take a deer’s tail, and after
burning or singeing off all the hair, will rub the necks or faces of the
children before they lie down to sleep, thinking that the offensive
smell will be another preventive to the spirit’s entrance. “I well
remember,” says the Rev. Peter Jones, a Christianised Ojibbeway
and missionary, “when I used to be daubed over with this
disagreeable fumigation, and had great faith in it all. Thinking that
the soul lingers about the body a long time before it takes its final
departure, they use these means to hasten it away.
“I was present at the burial of an old pagan chief by the name of
Odahmekoo, of Muncey Town. We had a coffin made for him, which
was presented to his relatives; but before they placed the body in it,
they bored several holes at the head, in order, as they supposed, to
enable the soul to go in and out at pleasure.
“During the winter season, when the ground is frozen as hard as a
rock two or three feet deep, finding it almost impossible to penetrate
through the frost, having no suitable tools, they are obliged to wind
up the corpse in skins and the bark of trees, and then hang it on the
fork of a large tree, high enough to be beyond the reach of wolves,
foxes, and dogs, that would soon devour it. Thus the body hangs till
decomposition takes place, and the bones, falling to the ground, are
afterwards gathered up and buried.
“Immediately after the decease of an Indian all the near relatives
go into mourning, by blackening their faces with charcoal, and
putting on the most ragged and filthy clothing they can find. These
they wear for a year, which is the usual time of mourning for a
husband or wife, father or mother.
“At the expiration of a year the widow or widower is allowed to
marry again. Should this take place before the year expires, it is
considered, not only a want of affection for the memory of the dead,
but a great insult to the relations, who have a claim on the person
during the days of the mourning. The first few days after the death of
the relative are spent in retirement and fasting; during the whole of
their mourning they make an offering of a portion of their daily food
to the dead, and this they do by putting a part of it in the fire, which
burns while they are eating. I have seen my poor countrymen make
an offering of the fire-waters to the departed: they deem this very
acceptable, on account of its igniting the moment it touches the fire.
Occasionally they visit the grave of the dead, and there make a feast
and an offering to the departed spirit: tobacco is never forgotten at
these times. All the friends of the dead will for a long time wear
leather strings tied round their wrists and ankles, for the purpose of
reminding them of their deceased relative.”
It is a custom always observed by widows to tie up a bundle of
clothes in the form of an infant, frequently ornamented with silver
brooches. This she will lie with and carry about for twelve months, as
a memorial of her departed husband. When the days of her
mourning are ended, a feast is prepared by some of her relatives, at
which she appears in her best attire. Having for the first time for a
twelvemonth washed herself all over, she looks once more neat and
clean.
The Shahonees bury their dead with everything belonging to
them. The Comanches generally bury a warrior with his arms and his
favourite horse; formerly his wives also shared the same fate, but
this custom has disappeared. Whilst the Sioux put striking marks on
their tombs that they may be easily distinguished, the Comanches
cover them with grass and plants to keep them concealed. Among
the tribes of the west the warriors are still sometimes buried on
horseback, wrapped in their richest dress, with bow in hand, buckler
on arm, the quiver full of arrows slung behind, the pipe and the
medicine-bag hanging to the belt, and supplied with a provision of
tobacco and dried meat sufficient for the voyage to the enchanted
prairies.
The Assineboins, like several other tribes of the great American
desert, never bury their dead, but suspend them by thongs of leather
between the branches of the great trees, or expose them on
scaffoldings sufficiently high to place the body out of reach of the
voracious wild animals. The feet of the corpse are turned towards
the rising sun; and when the scaffoldings fall through old age, the
bones are collected and burned religiously within a circle formed of
skulls. The sacred deposit is guarded, as among the Mandans, by
medicine-trees or posts, from which amulets or medicine-bags are
suspended.
On the death of a member of their tribe, the Potowatomies, the
Ottawas, and several other people of the north, distribute all the
things which belonged to the deceased to his friends. Some of them
are Catholics, and these fix on the tomb a great pole, at the summit
of which floats a banner ornamented with a black cross. Among
these same tribes, when a married man or woman dies, the survivor
pays the debt of the body by giving money, horses, and other
presents to the relatives of the deceased. The Ottawas sacrifice a
horse on the tomb of the dead; they strangle the animal by means of
a noose, then cut off its tail and suspend it to stakes fixed on the
tomb. The women of the Crows also pay the debt of the dead by
making incisions deep in their own flesh. The Chippewas are in the
habit of lighting large fires on the tombs of members of their family
for several nights after the funeral.
As to the origin of this last-mentioned custom nothing is known;
but there exists among the Chippewas a legend which may be worth
the reader’s perusal as throwing some light on the subject.
 “Once upon a time, many years ago, a war raged between the
Chippewas and their enemies, and the lands of the hostile tribes
were red with blood. It was then that a party of the Chippewas met a
band of their foes upon an open plain in the country of the Great
Lakes. Meteewan, the leader of the Chippewas, was a brave; his
martial deeds were the song of every youth who looked to obtain
renown in the warpath; and the young squaws talked of them at the
fires. And never did the chief act with more bravery or prudence than
on this occasion. After he had, by the strength of his arm, turned the
battle against his enemies, and while he was giving the great shout
of victory, an arrow quivered in his breast, and he fell upon the plain.
No Indian warrior killed thus is ever buried. According to old custom,
he was placed in a sitting posture upon the field of battle, his back
supported by a tree, and his face turned towards the path in which
his enemies had fled. His spear and club were placed in his hands,
and his bow and quiver leaned against his shoulder. So they left him.
 “He heard them recount their valiant deeds.”
“But was he gone to the land of spirits? Though he could not
move, nor speak, he heard all that had been said by his friends. He
heard them bewail his death and could not comfort them; he heard
them speak of his great deeds; he heard them depict the grief of his
wife when she should be told he was dead. He felt the touch of their
hands, but his limbs were bound in chains of strength, and he could
not burst them. His thoughts flowed as free as the great rivers; but
his limbs were like the fallen branches. His anguish, when he felt
himself thus abandoned, was heavy; but he was compelled to bear
it. His wish to follow his friends who were about to return to their
wigwams so filled his mind, that, after making a violent exertion, he
rose, or seemed to rise, and followed them.
But he was invisible; they neither saw his form nor heard his
voice. Astonishment, disappointment, rage filled him, while he
attempted to make himself heard, seen, or felt, and could not; but
still he followed on their track. “Wherever they went, he went; when
they walked, he walked; when they ran, he ran; when they built their
fires, and sat down, his feet were in the embers; when they slept, he
slept; when they awoke, he awoke. He heard them recount their
valiant deeds, but he was unable to tell them how much his own
exceeded theirs; he heard them paint the joys which awaited their
return to their wigwams, but could not say how much peace and how
much love was in his.
“At length the war-party reached their village, and the women and
children came out to welcome their return. The old warrior whom
weakness had compelled to throw down the bow and the spear, and
the eagle-eyed boy who was fast hastening to take them up, did
each his part in making joy. The wife came forward with embraces,
the timid maiden with love weighing on her eyelids, to meet their
braves. And if an old warrior found not his son, he knew he had
fallen bravely, and grieved not; and if the wife found not her
husband, she wept only a little while: for was he not gone to the
great Hunting Grounds?
“Still no one seemed conscious of the presence of the wounded
chief. He heard many ask for him; he heard them say that he had
fought, conquered, and fallen, pierced through his breast with an
arrow, and that his body had been left among the slain.
“‘It is not true,’ replied the indignant chief with a loud voice. ‘I am
here; I live! I move! See me! touch me! I shall again raise my spear
and bend my bow in the war path; I shall again sound my drum at
the feast.’ But nobody knew of his presence; they mistook the
loudest tones of his voice for the softest whisperings of the winds.
He walked to his own lodge; he saw his wife tearing her hair, and
bewailing him. He endeavoured to undeceive her, but she also was
insensible to his presence or his voice. She sat despairing, with her
head upon her hands. He told her to bind up his wounds, but she
made no reply. He then placed his mouth close to her ear and
shouted, ‘Give me food.’ The wife said, ‘It is a fly buzzing.’ Her
enraged husband struck her upon the forehead. She placed her
hand to her head and said, ‘It is a little arrow of pain.’
“Foiled thus in every attempt to make himself known, the chief
began to think upon what he had heard the priests and wise men
say, that the spirit sometimes left the body, and might wander. He
reflected that possibly his body had remained upon the field of battle,
while his spirit only accompanied his returning companions. He
determined then to return upon their track, though it was four days’
journey. He went. For three days he pursued his way, and saw
nothing; but on the fourth, at evening, as he came to the skirts of the
battle-field, he saw a fire in the path. He walked on one side to avoid
stepping into it, but the fire also went aside, and was still before him.
He went another way, but the fire still burned in his path. ‘Demon!’ he
exclaimed at length, ‘why dost thou keep my feet from the field of
battle, where my body lies? Knowest thou not that I am a spirit also,
and seek again to enter that body? Or dost thou say I shall return
and do it not? Know that I am a chief and a warrior, well tried in
many a hard battle—I will not be turned back.’
“So saying, he made a vigorous effort, and passed through the
flame. In this exertion he awoke from his trance, having lain eight
days on the field. He found himself sitting on the ground, with his
back to a tree, and his bow leaning against his shoulder, the same
as they had been left. Looking up, he beheld a large canieu, a war-
eagle, sitting upon the tree above his head. Then he knew this bird
to be the same he had dreamed of in his youth, and which he had
taken as his guardian spirit, his Manitou. While his body had lain
breathless, this friendly bird had watched it. He got up and stood
upon his feet; but he was weak, and it was a long time before he felt
that his limbs were his. The blood upon his wound had stanched
itself; he bound it up. Possessing, as every Indian does, the
knowledge of medicinal roots, he sought diligently in the woods for