CHAPTER 3
RULES, RECIPES, RUBRICS: A THEOLOGICAL ANATOMY OF CONTEMPORARY CHRISTIAN FUNDAMENTALISM
In 1853, an American writer by the name of Sarah Josepha Hale published the Woman's Record, a handbook of godly and exemplary women from ancient times to the present. Her entry on Eve concludes with a reminder to her readers that Adam and Eve were ‘created on Friday, 28 October 4004 BC’. The exact dating of Eve's birth will seem strange and risible to modern readers. Yet many nineteenth-century people in Britain and in America, and especially those with education, would have agreed that the world was a mere 6,000 years old, and that the opening chapters of Genesis were more historical than analogical. That said, it was actually during this period that significant amounts of scientific evidence – both geological and biological – were beginning to emerge and challenge the biblical account of a six-day creation. However, fundamentalism is not only about creationism or literal readings of the Bible or other religious tests. Where it is, such views are often a superficial or symptomatic (rather than causal) consequence of the belief system. Fundamentalism is, more particularly, a general and particular reaction (in the phrase of Martin Marty) to ‘the mixed offerings of modernity’. Fundamentalism is parasitic within modernity; it feeds off what it fights. And without opposition, it dies.1
In its own self-conscious rectitude, the phenomenon of modern Christian fundamentalism is more like a cry of despair than a shout of hope, which partly accounts for the narrow and negative nature of belief that this type of sectarianism normally breeds. As a subject, fundamentalism continues as a pervasive and absorbing presence throughout the media, reflecting its inculcation into society, and also the numerous struggles that churches have undergone in attempting to come to terms with the phenomenon.2 However, the phenomenon is much broader than that, and defies much of the normal criticism levelled at it, precisely because it continues to defy decisive definition. Fundamentalist types of faith do not only rest on the propagation of the ‘basics’; these beliefs also need to be defended, which is why the issues of power, purity and sectarianism are never far away from the study of fundamentalism. However, it would be a mistake to assume that purity and power are only issues for small and kraal-like religious groups. Purity and power are issues for all Christians and all churches, and fundamentalism, as a phenomenon or subject to study, is simply a concentration of a ‘problem’ that affects many different faiths, including all forms of Christianity – including those that espouse liberalism or openness. Boundaries of definition can quickly become borders marking territory and, ultimately, barriers.
Terms of Reference
As a term, ‘fundamentalism’ is arguably now so broad and pejorative as to be almost useless. Nevertheless, in connection with religion, the word still carries weight as a signifier of attitude, temperament, doctrine and ideology. But the use of the term is diverse and fissiparous. It can be linked to religious extremism within nationalist movements in almost any world faith. Equally, fundamentalism can be manifest in a variety of political movements (‘religio-political activism’). Jerry Falwell's ‘Moral Majority’ in the United States campaigned for a particularly conservative social outlook. Billy Graham has been a key confidant to Republican presidents such as Nixon and Reagan. In Central America, the Guatemalan government of Ríos Montt (1981) drew heavily on ultra-conservative Protestant outlooks to reform the nation. More broadly, the word is now used as a prefix – in a usually less than complimentary manner – to denigrate individuals and groups with some preponderance towards extremism, and occasionally violence. One issue for those working in the social sciences is the inaccurate, lazy and widespread use of the term, which strictly speaking only applies to a small group of Christians. But like so many words, it has come to mean more than it originally meant.
There is of course a great deal of literature on the subject from a variety of perspectives. There are trenchant defences of the term from scholars such as James Packer (Fundamentalism and the Word of God, 1958). Thorough histories of the term have also been undertaken (see Harriet Harris, Fundamentalism and Evangelicals, 1998). There is also an enormous range of analyses from the social sciences (see Lionel Kaplan, Studies in Religious Fundamentalism, 1987). Scholars such as James Barr, Scott Appleby, Martin Marty, Mark Noll and Nancy Ammerman are continuous contributors to debates about its origin, direction and ethos. Their critiques are broadly socio-theological, but extensive psychological and anthropological treatments are also available in abundance. Of special note is the five-volume series that undertakes a substantial global study of fundamentalism, edited by Martin Marty and Scott Appleby, which arose out of a major study called the Fundamentalism Project.
In terms of Christianity, fundamentalism is a recent movement, opposed to ‘the mixed offerings of modernity’. It takes its name from The Fundamentals, a series of pamphlets issued in the United States between 1909 and 1916, which sought to argue for and reassert conservative views on doctrine. A world conference on fundamentals was subsequently convened in Philadelphia in 1919, in reaction to liberally inclined theology. In part, this precipitated the formation of the Southern Baptist Convention. But fundamentalism has also spawned countless seminaries, ministries and new denominations.
The spiritual roots of Christian fundamentalism lie in revivalism, holiness movements, nonconformity and an assortment of sectarian responses to the world. In terms of more recent history, ‘fundamentalism’ has matured into a more comprehensive (post-modern) response that fights on various fronts, often in a sophisticated way (e.g. TV, radio, political lobbying, etc.). Similarly, Islamic fundamentalism fights against secularism, Western imperialism/colonialisation, social and economic injustice, nominal Islam, ‘impure’ Islam, Zionism/Israel and the power of the non-Muslim world. According to Jeff Haynes, there are now two types of fundamentalism.3 The first is concerned with the strict ordering of religion and society according to revealed texts. The second, where the boundaries and status of scriptures are less clear, fundamentalism tends to be concerned with cultural or national purity. So the history of fundamentalism is more about the use of a relatively modern term than it is concerned with tracing one particular movement. From the beginning, fundamentalism has been difficult to define; it is a spongy, imprecise word that covers a considerable variety of individuals, bodies and movements.
Some General Characteristics
The sheer breadth of Christian fundamentalism makes it a difficult movement to characterise. Indeed, because it is not one movement, but rather a term that describes diverse forms of behaviour, belief and practice that are widespread, extreme caution should be observed in using the word at all. Nevertheless, the Fundamentalism Project argues that there are nine characteristics that typify fundamentalism. Five of these are ideological in outlook: a reaction to the perceived marginalisation of religion; selectivity of religious essentials and issues; moral dualism; a commitment to an inerrant scripture and a tendency towards absolutism; millennialism and ‘messianic’ interests. The remaining four characteristics are organisational: an ‘elect’ membership (i.e. an elite, whose identity is clear); sharp delineation of boundaries (e.g. ‘saved’ and ‘unsaved’, ‘church’ and ‘world’, etc); authoritarian and charismatic leadership (i.e. anointed leader, guru, etc.); and behavioural requirements (e.g. abstinence, etc.). The vast majority of the expressions of fundamentalism from within the ‘Abrahamic’ faiths (i.e. Christian, Jewish and Muslim) exhibit these characteristics. Many expressions of fundamentalism that fall outside this category (e.g. Sikh, Hindu, Buddhist, etc.) also share most if not all of these characteristics. In a slightly different vein, Martin Marty sees fundamentalism almost entirely as a matter of ‘fighting’ – against the world and the devil, for a theocracy, with righteousness, and so forth. He also notes how the ‘mindset’ is reliant on control and authority, echoing the work of James Barr's critiques, amongst others.4
A common misconception about fundamentalism is that it is simplistic. On the contrary, the structure of fundamentalist thinking is, far from being simple and clear, highly complex, differentiated, accommodating and fluid. Exegesis (i.e. reading meaning ‘out of’ a text), eisegesis (i.e. reading meaning ‘in to’ a text), interpretation and exposition abound. The Bible can function almost totemically in some communities, whilst in others it provides illumination, inspiration and canonicity – but is rarely read or regarded as wholly inerrant. There is, in short, no precise agreement on the nature of the Bible and what it determines of itself for fundamentalists. Some have ‘high’ views of inspiration, but have abandoned inerrancy. Others qualify inerrancy, insisting that the doctrine only applies to original autographs, excludes grammatical errors or misspellings, and is exempted from lack of precision in certain matters, or apparent contradictions.
This leads scholars to identify at least five different versions of the doctrine of inerrancy: propositional (absolute); pietistic (i.e. a kind of spiritual biblicism); nuanced (some portions of scripture weigh more than others); critical (identifies non-essential errors); and functional (limited inerrancy, or particular infallibility). Each of these versions will produce a distinct kind of spiritual harvest. The freedom to interpret some parts of the Bible analogically instead of historically will open up particular vistas of meaning for the reader. Even in the most tightly defined fundamentalist communities, there is considerable divergence on what constitutes an inerrant bible. And bearing in mind that, for such communities, authority flows from the inerrancy of scripture (which is to say that ecclesial and ministerial authority is regarded as being under the Word), the patterns of authority and teaching in such communities will vary widely. Where there are similarities between them, they may be morphological rather than doctrinal (in other words a matter of style, not substance).
The role of women in faiths and society is an arena where fundamentalist views can be tested and studied comparatively. In Protestant Christian fundamentalism, the majority of churches and movements will not regard women holding spiritual authority or office to be either appropriate or biblical. But there will be some notable exceptions to this. For example, a small number of ‘House Churches’ will recognise women as having an Apostolic ministry of oversight and leadership, although this is still a relatively rare feature in the house church movement.
In Christianity, a more fundamentalist outlook tends to assign an apparently ‘traditional’ role to women – as wife, mother and homemaker5 – which some women may experience as ‘empowering’. In certain religious traditions, women will be barred from certain ritual activities such as public prayer, or will be required to carry out worship in a segregated arena. But at the same time, there are some scholars who take the view that women can be spiritually empowered by what is apparently manifest oppression. Ironically, the spirituality of women in fundamentalist communities can have a powerful leavening effect upon the overall polity of a movement, and several studies have shown that women can feel liberated and empowered by particular expressions of fundamentalism.
Invariably, the roles assigned to women are traced back to (apparent) scriptural norms, but this can lead to some peculiar anomalies. For example, in college and university Christian Unions (Inter-Varsity Fellowship in the United States and Universities and Colleges Christian Fellowships in the United Kingdom), women are often not allowed to hold authority at particular levels, and some will forbid women from addressing main meetings. This tradition is observed in spite of the fact that Christian Unions are not churches, and the scriptural injunctions pertaining to women holding authority only seem to be applicable in ecclesial contexts. Suffice to say, debate on the issue within any Christian Union would normally be seen as divisive. But Christian Unions are by no means unique in holding to a literalist or fundamentalist interpretation on the role of women. Within mainstream Christian denominations, some will assert that Jesus' choice of male apostles has always implied that women should not hold authority in churches. Some will go further, and argue that the maleness of Christ reveals an absolute truth about appropriate priestly representation.
Thus, a review of the authority of the bible in different denominations would reveal a similarly significant range of diversity. Some treat the sacred text as a ‘Rule Book’ (instructions to be followed, carefully), others as a ‘Guidebook’ (a few rules, many recommendations, warnings, suggestions, etc.), with most interchanging between the two. (But is it not the case that the parabolic tradition of Jesus gives the church precisely this permission to act so fluidly?). Ecclesial communities and fundamentalist movements are unavoidably hermeneutical rather than (vapidly) receptive. They are within the (ultimate) parable of Jesus Christ – experiencing God's story of incarnation, redemption and resurrection as it continues to unfold within them and around them: the Word made flesh. This makes them responsive and reflexive in character; their only difference, arguably, lies in the degrees to which differences and diversity are tolerated. It is a common misconception of Christian fundamentalism to imagine that it is merely concerned with rules. It is usually a more subtle blend of beseeching: rules, recipes and rubrics that share a common thread, namely protecting or removing the believer from the world, and at the same time offering them an alternative theological construction of reality that enables them to survive, and perhaps flourish.
So in talking about fundamentalism in this way, it is important to remember that although (allegedly) inerrant texts frequently play a major part in defining the movement and constituting its identity, other ‘agents’ may operate just as effectively as fundamentals. A pope or guru, a type of experience, or even a moral code, can all function just as programmatically. Fundamentalism remains a broad umbrella term for a cluster of movements that are habitually restless within the world. Fundamentalism seeks clarity in the midst of ambiguity. It strives to locate and celebrate certainty in the midst of doubt. It anticipates and expects faith to triumph over secular reason.
At the same time, it cannot be said that fundamentalism absolutely and necessarily resists modernity. Fundamentalists are remarkably adept at accommodating the world in order to achieve their higher religious, political and social purposes. Thus, whilst some may decry the influence of the media or the internet, it is precisely in such arenas that fundamentalists are also to be found at their most active. Fundamentalism, in other words, does not simply resist modernity; it also engages with it – radically – in order to achieve the restoration of a ‘purer’ form of faith that will provide a credible alternative to secularity. Fundamentalism therefore continues to be a diverse but pervasive spiritual force within most developed and developing societies at the beginning of the twenty-first century.
The Specifics of Fundamentalism and Scripture
As Marty and Appleby have pointed out in their landmark studies, there is not one single fundamentalism, but rather many different forms of fundamentalism. Each ‘species’ has a particular aspect to its character, and foci of concern that make it distinctive and separate from its neighbours. Moreover, as reactions to modernity, the fundamentalisms one encounters have, inevitably, accrued aspects of the very modernity they oppose. Thus, denigrations of the ‘godless’ media prompt an exclusively religious alternative. Similarly, the ‘Health and Wealth’ movement can be said, on one level, to compete with Americanised versions of pragmatism, consumerism and positive thinking.
Yet fundamentalism, despite the variety of expressions, does share one, broad and common concern, namely the place of scripture. Even if one accepts that the ‘value’ of the bible in fundamentalism fluctuates across expressions – ‘totemic’ in one place, through to literal forms of micro-management of believers' lives in another – scripture remains key to understanding the movement.6 One can see this clearly by looking at the different nuances that attribute power, authority and control to scripture, across the panoply of fundamentalist discourse. Generally, scholars agree that the (so-called) ‘five points’ or pillars of fundamentalism rest on the inerrancy of scripture, the virgin birth of Christ, his substitutionary atonement, his bodily resurrection and pre-millennialism – or a literal belief in the second coming of Christ. However, some Protestant fundamentalists substitute this last pillar or point with a literal belief in the authenticity of Christ's miracles. Even here, then, we can see that there is more or less complete homogeneity amongst fundamentalists about their five supporting pillars or key points – something that becomes even more apparent when ultra-conservative evangelicals are compared to fundamentalists.7 Here, the situation becomes even more complex, for the two are not the same, even though Barr8 would have us think so. The discrepancies emerge especially in relation to the defence of the authority or inerrancy of scripture:
The historical faith of the Church has always been that all the affirmations of Scripture of all kinds whether of spiritual doctrine or duty, or of physical or historical fact, or of psychological or philosophical principle, are without any error when the ipsissima verba of the original autographs are ascertained and interpreted in their natural and intended sense.9
Yet the debate on the slight, subtle and nuanced difference between authority and inspiration remains a lively one for fundamentalists and conservative evangelicals, with the penumbra of opinion broader than some suppose. John Stott, a conservative evangelical, and not a self-identifying fundamentalist, asks a question of himself (‘are evangelicals fundamentalists?’) and so writes of scriptural authority in these terms:
The fundamentalist emphasizes so strongly the divine origin of Scripture that he tend to forget that it also had human authors who used sources, syntax, and words to convey their message, whereas the evangelical remembers the double authorship of Scripture […]. On the one hand, God spoke, deciding what he wished to say, although without crushing the personality of the human authors. On the other hand, men spoke, using their human faculties, though without distorting the message of the divine author.10
Here, Stott begins to stake out an interesting argument for conservative evangelicals. Authority – even the absolute authority of the bible – does not appear to need an inerrant scripture. Stott appears to accept that divine and human agencies are different, and that to attribute perfection to any source of revelation is to deny the inevitable role of human agency. Here, he at least shows that he might at least have some sympathy with the traces of Nancey Murphy's argument,11 which seeks to preserve some foundationalism, but without resorting to fundamentalism.12 Yet the argument amongst conservative evangelicals and fundamentalists relating to the identity of scripture – its source, authority and inerrancy – refuses to go away:
I cannot see how Billy Graham says he believes the Bible is the Word of God (He knows that all we know about Jesus Christ, His virgin birth, His incarnation, His vicarious blood atonement, His bodily resurrection, and His coming again, is what is clearly taught in the Word of God.) and can be sponsored by preachers who do not believe these fundamentals and give to these preachers the same recognition that he gives to God's faithful, sacrificing servants who refuse to compromise.13
Similarly, James Packer argues that to attribute authority to scripture, but not inerrancy, is to step on to a dangerous ground, in which the place and power of the bible is ultimately weakened:
God caused to be written precisely what He wished, and His words were in no way altered or corrupted by the human agent through whom they were written down; so that we have no right to say of anything in Scripture that it is merely a human idea and not part of God's word.14
The issue at stake here is perhaps less about the status of the bible and more about divine revelation. Fundamentalists appear to be arguing for a theory of revelation in which what God utters or imparts is received in its original perfect state. To believe that, there must be no human or cultural agency involved in the reification of that revelation. This, then, reduces the role of human agency to zero. It is merely a passive receptor. To put this in more modern idiom, we might say that this is a kind of ‘fax theory’ of scripture. It is penned in heaven, and received in its perfected state on earth (the ‘original autographs’ are therefore held to be perfect); but any errors – only minor ones being permitted – arise solely out of mistakes in copying or translation.
Of course, this is a fundamentalist theory of scripture. But it is not one that the bible claims for itself. One simply cannot rest an argument of biblical infallibility of 2 Timothy 3:16. All scripture may indeed ‘be inspired by God and profitable for reroof and teaching’, as the writer of the epistle notes. But the words ‘inerrant’ or ‘infallible’ are not used: ‘inspired’ (literally, ‘God-breathed’) is the chosen term deployed by the author of 2 Timothy. Moreover, the Bible, as book, has no self-conscious identity expressed within itself. Its very existence, as scholars have noted, is a consequence of Christianity, and not its cause. Christian faith existed before the scriptures reached the aggregate we now refer to as ‘the Bible’. Indeed, the intentional uses of the plural here – scriptures – is also material in understanding how fundamentalists try to ‘frame’ the Bible. By attributing a monological authority to the Bible, the dialogical dynamics are ignored. Christian orthodoxy is clear that scripture does indeed contain a record of what God says to humanity. But it is also a record of the reaction of humanity, and how humanity experiences that revelation, and in some cases replies (e.g. the psalms, Job, etc.). The Bible is scriptures (plural) – dynamic, dialogical and diverse. And just for good measure there are different varieties of the bible too, as Protestants, Catholics and other denominations will testify. So the fundamentalist framing of scripture as unilinear and monological is in fact reductive15 rather than orthodox. In trying to define and delimit God's revelatory power, in order to keep it both pure and concentrated, fundamentalists, by arguing that revelation is clear, comprehensible and controlling, ultimately compromise the very essence they seek to defend from modernity. Exactly the same theological dynamic – flawed faith, in reality – can be located in the other four pillars of fundamentalism. Power is the key, along with reification and conflation. If fundamentalists believe that the power of God is fully and absolutely reified in the bible, the interpreter of the bible will find their authority wholly confused and conflated with the authority (i.e. the Bible) to which they appeal.16 Thus, to dissent with the interpreter's authoritative view of scripture can be tantamount to disobeying God; to question the interpretation will be to risk excommunication and damnation.
But for others – usually of a more mainstream, broad or liberal persuasion – God acts and speaks through channels and agents that are part of the created order, and so not perfected. In this view, God works through culture, peoples and history, not over and against them. Correspondingly, the power of God is only ever known provisionally and not absolutely; it can only be encountered ‘through a glass darkly’, and not ‘face to face’. There is less emphasis on absolute reification, so less risk of divine–human conflations. So although the power of God may be pure and absolute at source, God invariably chooses to mediate that power through less than perfect agents (such as language, people, times and places). And this is because God's primary interest is in disclosing love in order to draw us into relationships, and not in unequivocal demonstrations of power, which would leave no room for a genuinely free response, but merely obedience in the face of oppression. This, of course, gets to the heart of the matter.
The dominance of fundamentalist churches over their flocks is achieved through ‘governance by hermeneutics’, coupled with the intrusive pastoral surveillance normally found in weekly home groups and close-knit fellowship meetings. It is this, arguably, that scrutinises the lives and loves of individuals in congregations, and marks fundamentalist congregations out as distinctive. It has long been the case that in fundamentalist congregations, it is not the bible that has the final authority, but rather the interpreter. Moreover, for many fundamentalists, the bible has a totemic value too. They are ‘bible-carrying Christians’.17 To carry a bible – especially of a particular kind – is to carry a badge of identity.18 The bible is carried and applied as a toolkit or rule book; or as a pragmatic guidebook, useful for resolving immediate and pressing issues. The Biblicism is a worldview that ‘works’ within a particular form of ecclesial ethos.19 Paula Nesbitt has argued that the identity of scripture is what shapes ecclesial, social and moral horizons:
(the authority of the bible) could be used to countervail the relativism of cross-cultural alliances without affecting their strategic utility: symbolic authority. The symbol, as a locus of authority, has a tangible and timeless nature. Where the symbol is an authoritative part of the institutional milieu, either traditional or rational authority must acknowledge its legitimacy […] scripture is an authoritative symbol.20
Nesbitt points out that when scripture is itself canonised by fundamentalist ecclesial groups, it is the interpreter and the church that then go on to assume the mantle of absolute authority:
Scripture, when canonized as complete or absolute, becomes symbolic of a particular era or set of teachings and beliefs […] the use of scripture as symbolic authority can be constructed and constituted according to selecting those aspects or passages that address an issue at hand. Furthermore, scripture as symbolic authority can be objectified or absolutized, which transcends cultural boundaries in a way that other forms of authority can less easily do. The appeal of scriptural literalism provides an objectification of authority that is independent of the influence or control of dominant perspectives, social locations, and circumstances. As symbolic authority, it can be leveraged against cultural dominance as well as provide common ground for cross-cultural alliances.21
And yet within this, as we have seen, there remain issues for fundamentalists – not least scripture itself, where the precise nature of revelation – inspired, authoritative, infallible or inerrant are all terms with different weights and values – which need to be resolved within the wider movement. It is to this exercise that we now turn.
De-coding Fundamentalisms
What then, do forms of Christian fundamentalism have in common? How do the rules, rubrics and recipes within the movement function? Is the movement caught between treating the Bible as a rulebook, when most Western readers – even those within fundamentalist churches – regard it as a resource, and read it like a guidebook? One could point to the mechanistic logic that underpins the movement; a kind of anti-enlightenment pseudo-science that reconstructs religious belief as rationality rather than faith. And indeed, this is one relatively common feature of fundamentalism, namely its appeal to the faculty of reason, based on apparent evidence. Yet it is important to be cautious about any preliminary identification of common denominators that seem to capture the essence of fundamentalism. Because so many groups are now labelled ‘fundamentalist’, the concept has now arguably become so ‘spongy’ that it is in urgent need of redefinition. Conventionally, the word has usually been employed with reference to individuals or organisations that operate by ‘strict adherence to traditional orthodox tenets (e.g. the literal inerrancy of scripture) held to be fundamental to the Christian faith’, as well as ‘being opposed to liberalism and modernism’. Whilst this definition tells us something about part of the nature of fundamentalism, it does not go far enough. Fundamentalism is not simply a set of constructive propositions designed to oppose modernist thinking, and to advance what is held to be original orthodoxy. It is a relational phenomenon too, a way of being in the world, offering a social and mythic construction of reality for participants, which offers a secure identity, along with personal and corporate value. Increasingly, it is an expression of ‘furious religion’; a manifestation of militant, angry conservatism that protests about values and ideologies it sees as corrosive and sinful.
Martin Marty has noted some of this fury, and characterises fundamentalism as ‘a world-wide reaction against many of the mixed offerings of modernity’ appealing to those who look for ‘authoritarian solutions’ in relational problems. He notes that differing fundamentalist groups are often deeply hostile to each other, even if there is a measure of broad agreement on the nature and location of fundamental articles of faith. Marty's explanation for this is that fundamentalism appeals to a particular class and personality type. Indeed, he sees the actual fundamentals themselves as a smoke screen, and goes so far as to state that fundamentalists are not so much motivated by religious belief as by psychological disposition, social forces and historical circumstance. Noting that Catholic, Jewish, Christian and Islamic fundamentalists all share the same mindset, he states:
It is not productive to dwell on fundamentalist theology and point out its contradiction and errors. The [fundamentals] […] are merely tools, excuses or alibis for the fundamentalist mindset. Without the mindset, the doctrines wither.22
Marty's observations are useful. Yet his analysis still tends to treat fundamentalism as though it were a unified phenomenon, its many adherents believing roughly the same thing, behaving essentially in the same way – but just getting on badly with one another. This is problematic, since if we analyse how fundamentalists define and describe themselves, a wide polarity of views quickly begins to surface. For example, some self-defined fundamentalists believe the charismatic (or Pentecostal) movement is, at best, contrary to the will of God: ‘On the basis of Scriptural evidence we have concluded that […] the modern tongues movement is not of God’.
Meanwhile, Jerry Falwell, another self-confessed fundamentalist, points out in his The Fundamentalist Phenomenon that the Pentecostal-charismatic movement […] is based upon the fundamental doctrinal foundation'. Other fundamentalists deny the right of people like Billy Graham to own the title ‘fundamentalist’ – he is too liberal, they claim, and co-operates with Roman Catholics. James Packer, author of Fundamentalism and the Word of God (1958) would disagree, however. Although uneasy about the term ‘fundamentalist’, he nevertheless, as an evangelical, concludes that ‘evangelical doctrine is fundamentalist’, with the term ‘fundamental’ pervading most apologetic work done by self-confessed evangelicals, anxious to distinguish themselves from some fundamentalist doctrine. Carl F. H. Henry conducts a sustained attack on James Barr in volume 4 of his God Revelation and Authority (1979). He questions Barr's broad and tireless use of the term ‘fundamentalism’, but then warns his readers not to reject evangelicalism which affirms ‘the literal truth of an inerrant Bible’. It is difficult to see here what upsets evangelicals like Packer and Henry most about Barr's Fundamentalism: his critique, or merely his terminology?
Pursuing this question of terminology is important here, because it is an acute difficulty for many of its subjects, and with good reason. Fundamentalist attitudes can be found in a wide variety of individuals and communities, and yet few wish to own a title with such pejorative connotations. However, from our brief survey so far, the term ‘fundamentalism’ can at least be used to describe a set of common social, theological and ecclesiological outlooks, shared between traditional fundamentalists (i.e. Anti-Pentecostal), some evangelicals, and those from the charismatic movement or Pentecostalism. A good analogy might be to describe the ‘movement’ as a (dysfunctional?) family tree – all are connected and related, even if some members sometimes wish this were not so. What, then, unites these disparate family members? Five hallmarks suggest themselves.
Firstly, contemporary fundamentalism is a ‘backward-looking legitimation’ for present forms of ministry and belief. Present patterns of operation are justified in legalistic and historicist fashion via a claim on an exclusive validity for one line (or a very small core) of developments from Scripture, that refuses to recognise the diversity and development of others. In other words, an absolute authority must be established. This in turn affords participants a viable perception of reality in the modern world, a template through which experience can be processed. Some of these experiences themselves – as in the case of charismatics or Pentecostal – can then become actual fundamentals, although the validating line of interpretation – usually an interpretation of a text or texts, or possibly a written creed or articles of faith – often remains the supreme authority. This backward looking legitimation is subsequently represented by a myth or constellation of myths that are ‘at home’ in the modern age. The metaphor ‘home’ is not meant to connote an impression of happiness or comfort. Instead, it suggests that these mythic constructs provide a perception of reality that is more usually opposed to many aspects of Western culture. It is ‘at home’ however, because it eclectically ‘maps’ traditional Christian mythologies and symbols onto the modern situation, thus forming a basic comprehensive cognitive picture of how the world is, how it should be, and how it will be. This cognitive picture is comprehensive enough to influence, amongst other things, family life, the role of women,23 attitudes to politics, other faiths, ethics and questions about life after death.
Secondly, fundamentalism is dialectical: it exists in relation to and opposition to trends in society that it perceives as modernist (i.e. where the authority of the existing tradition is challenged), pluralist (i.e. the dissipation of ‘common beliefs’ and moral values related to religion, giving rise to competition in society between competing convictions; what was once implicit must now become explicit in order to survive), or compromised. Thus, it is programmatic; it aims at reversing certain traits and establishing a new type of order or perceptions of reality. This is most commonly expressed in the controlling symbol of ‘Holy War’ that is variously employed. It is a primary perceptual and conceptual lens through which the past, present and future is processed. Fundamentalists see their enterprise as a struggle, in which the order they seek to advance must overcome the present (ungodly) order. The trends of modernity that fundamentalists oppose are to be resisted precisely because they represent a threat to the authority that they place themselves under. Therefore, we can speak of fundamentalism being non-dialogical. It has nothing to receive from the world, since the world must receive them first, wholesale. Some sociologists of religion (such as Bryan Wilson) identify this phenomenon as sectarianism, which is usually quite correct. However, caution needs to be exercised in using that term, since it might indicate that fundamentalists are somehow retreating from the world. In fact the opposite is true; they are engaging with it most forcefully, yet with a faith that is committed to addressing a monologue to the world that arises out of their authoritarian dogma.
Thirdly, although fundamentalism now enjoys considerable breadth of expression, including its own competing sectarian factions that deny each other the right to own the title, I nevertheless hold that there is a traceable phenomenon that we can call ‘fundamentalism’. By viewing it as a discrete set of cultural conventions or tendencies, a habit of mind, rather than a single movement or body, it is possible to discern a phenomenon that is widespread, yet with common features. It is an attitude, sometimes selective on subjects (e.g. sexuality) and found within traditions that are otherwise quite catholic or plural. These features generally include a hostile reaction to the mixed offerings of modernity, and to combat it, a set of ‘fundamentals’, such as a ‘core doctrine’, an absolute source of authority, a specific programme that is to be imposed rather than shared, and clear patterns for mediating authority and power. It might also be said to be a language, replete with authenticating procedures (e.g. ‘Have you been born again?’ or ‘Are you saved?’) that validates and recognises existing members, and sifts potential recruits. To respond to such questions quizzically or sarcastically is to speak a different language – one of questioning and doubt. For the believers who ask such questions, only certain types of answers, phrased in a range of quite particular ways, will suffice. In that sense, the questions are not, strictly speaking, open ones; they are, rather, modes of speech that will almost immediately establish rapport between the questioner and the responder.
Fourthly, fundamentalism, like liberalism, is not just a theological perspective localised to a particular denomination (or even religion, although here I am only concerned with Christian fundamentalism for the moment). It is a trans-denominational phenomenon that denotes standpoints, attitudes, patterns of behaviour and theological methods. Although it has its origins in the emerging evangelicalism of the eighteenth century and in the ‘historic fundamentalism’ of the early twentieth century, contemporary fundamentalism's chief nemesis is theological and ethical liberalism, which it opposes in varying degrees. In fact, what distinguishes fundamentalism from other similar faith perspectives is its opposition to liberalism: where opposition to liberalism is lacking, I hold that one cannot speak of true fundamentalism, but only of an analogue or close relative. At first sight, this might appear to rule out many charismatic or Pentecostal groups, but not so. These groups are just as anti-liberal; they simply construct their remedial programme differently. A good example of this is the British Evangelical Alliance, an umbrella organisation incorporating many different fundamentalist groups from different denominations, in order to bring a greater degree of pressure to bear on certain issues.
Fifth and last, fundamentalism is a cultural-linguistic phenomenon. All of the studies discussed regard fundamentalism as a primarily noetic phenomenon, concerned with certain beliefs and doctrines, and propagating informational propositions. We have already noted this problematic aspect in some scholarly treatments of fundamentalism, namely the habit of treating fundamentalism as a (primarily) credal phenomenon. For example, the doctrine of inerrancy does not just exist to counter the excesses of form-criticism and Darwinist ideas about the origin of humanity. It is more subtle than that. The cognitive approach does not do justice to the rich intricacy of the fundamentalist universe; it fails to attend to how a doctrine like inerrancy helps constitute a habit of mind, viable perceptions of reality, in short, a whole world. Stories also help constitute communities, not just propositions; it is often the group's own narrative that shapes its theology, as for example, in the case of fundamentalist Afrikaaners. Equally, fundamentalism cannot be regarded as just a matter of expressing experience. There is more to fundamentalism than a primordial religious feeling, which when articulated becomes thematised into a type of determinate ‘mystical’ language. For example, Methodists do not all seek to have their hearts ‘strangely warmed’ as Wesley did. It is the telling of the story, with its message of intervention and immanent change, the hope of transformation, and the renewal of inner beings, that helps place that story centrally in the Methodist tradition. The point of expressing experience belongs in a wider context.
So, fundamentalism should probably be best read (or de-coded) as a comprehensive interpretative schema, employing myths or narratives that structure human experience and understanding of the self and the world. This view recognises the power of language to shape, mould and delimit human experience, to the extent that it may be said that the way language itself is used can give rise to certain experiences. If fundamentalism can be seen as a cultural-linguistic system, the operating scaffold of symbolism within can be shown to be part of the idiom that describes realities, formulates beliefs and the experiencing of inner attitudes, feelings and sentiments: in short, a complete interpretative framework.
Moreover, like a culture or language, fundamentalism as a tendency is a communal phenomenon that shapes the subjectives of individuals and the objectives of communities, rather than being a manifestation of them. It comprises a vocabulary of discursive and non-discursive symbols, together with a distinctive logic or grammar in terms of which this vocabulary can be deployed. It is a form of life, with cognitive and behavioural dimensions; its doctrines, cosmic understandings, myths and ethics relating to the ritual practices, the sentiments and experiences evoked, the actions recommended, and the subsequent institutional form that develops. All this is suggested in comparing fundamentalism to a ‘cultural-linguistic system’.
With these five qualifying hallmarks in mind, the definition of fundamentalism proposed here is quite broad. Indeed, much of what could be described as Christianity fits the description: but this does not invalidate the definition. Much of Christianity is organised around fundamental articles or excluding creeds, and many scholars have affirmed that Christianity has been a form of fundamentalism for much of its history. So, is there anything that separates fundamentalism from ‘ordinary’ Christianity, that simply organises itself around a set of fundamentals? I would suggest there is, with the difference locating itself in a variety of arenas, of which I single out just three.
Firstly, the fundamentals are held differently: doctrines tend to be ‘tight’, rigorously defined, and used as a controlling mechanism within for the establishment of ecclesial order. The doctrine of an inerrant Bible is a clear example, being a symbolic reminder of the closed and complete revelation that orchestrates relationships and doctrine. In contrast, non-fundamentalists generally recognise that their faith and ‘[religious] knowledge is incomplete’ (1 Corinthians 13:9), resulting in a commitment to dialogue and openness rather than monologue. Secondly, and linked to this, is the question over the nature of truth. Fundamentalists deny the ambiguity or contradiction of truth, seeking to press for a uniformity of truth that will effectively govern life. Truth, and the homogenous groups resulting from interaction with it, emerge as an exclusive concept, with no space for error, non-aligned interpretation of appropriate ambiguity. Non-fundamentalist Christians acknowledge the necessity of contradiction in truth, which generally gives rise to a higher degree of tolerance for plurality of truth-expression. Thirdly, non-fundamentalists also have a more substantial volume of truth on which to draw: history, creeds, liturgy and the like. This creates a larger framework of tradition, which gives for dialogue and difference; a capaciousness that can cope with contestability, if you will. The actual ‘size’ of Anglican tradition, for example, prevents its ‘members’ from being fundamentalist: there are 39 Articles, a Prayer Book, priests, deacons and bishops, besides a well-developed historical and cultural framework for processing awkward theological issues and complex ethical questions. Thus, Anglicans only start to behave like fundamentalists when they dogmatically insist on the sole primacy of one aspect of tradition, such as the Book of Common Prayer, and deny others.
Conclusion
The irony in the emergence of the fundamentalism ‘movement’ is that it remains a peculiarly modernist construction of reality. It is a kind of pseudo-science and quasi-rationality that abrogates its own self-consciousness. Despite its claims to purity, it is self-evidently a by-product of hybridity. It imagines itself to be amongst the purest expressions of faith; but in so doing, often substitutes a narrow heterodoxy for a broad orthodoxy. Thus, and in the case of Christian fundamentalism, it often refuses to recognise that the Bible is a consequence of Christianity, and not its major cause. In seeking to uphold the ‘plain meaning’ of scripture, there has to be some kind of denial that Christians do not disagree so much about what the Bible says as what it means, and what kind of weight to attach to the different passages, and their many nuances.
The emergence of fundamentalism as a major force within world religion is now well into its second century. The term ‘fundamentalism’ has successfully migrated and evolved from referring to a specific group of Christians in the early twentieth century, to defining more generic behavioural and ideological positions within other established religious traditions. Invariably, such positions involve hostility towards secular modernity, and to any (allegedly) compromised religious tradition. The term fundamentalism has now become an indicator: of fury, resistance, power and theocracy. Its detractors still cast it as an oppressive and simplistic form of religiosity. But its resilience, vibrancy and adaptability suggest that scholars need to take its cultural complexity and directive sagacity ever-more seriously. There is no sign that modernity will gradually dissolve emergent fundamentalisms. Indeed, some indications seem to point in the opposite direction.
Notes
1. G. Kepel, The Revenge of God (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1994).
2. S. Bruce, Fundamentalism (Oxford: Blackwell, 2000).
3. J. Haynes, Religion, Fundamentalism and Ethnicity (United Nations Research Institute for Social Development, 1995).
4. M. Percy and I. Jones, Fundamentalism, Church and Society (London: SPCK, 2002).
5. M. Bendroth, Fundamentalism and Gender: 1875 to the Present (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1993).
6. B. Malley, How the Bible Works: An Anthropological Study of Evangelical Biblicism (New York: Altamira Press, 2004).
7. H. Harris, Fundamentalism and Evangelicals (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998).
8. J. Barr, Fundamentalism (London: SCM Press, 1978).
9. A. A. Hodge and B. B. Warfield, ‘Inspiration’, The Presbyterian Review 6: 238 (2 April 1881).
10. J. Stott, ‘Are Evangelicals Fundamentalists?’ Christianity Today: 45–6 (8 September 1978).
11. N. Murphy, Beyond Fundamentalism and Liberalism (Valley Forge, PA: Trinity Press International, 1996).
12. P. Berger, Between Relativism and Fundamentalism (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010).
13. B. Jones Sr., Letter 6 March 1957, explaining why he cannot support Billy Graham. In the Fundamentalism File, Bob Jones University, cited in Harris, 1998.
14. J. I. Packer, ‘The Fundamentalism Controversy: Retrospect and Prospect’, Faith and Thought 90/1: 11 (1958); J. I. Packer, Fundamentalism and the Word of God (London: InterVarsity Press, 1958).
15. Murphy, Beyond Fundamentalism and Liberalism.
16. M. Percy, Words, Wonders and Power: Understanding Contemporary Christian Fundamentalism and Revivalism (London: SPCK, 1995).
17. D. Harrington Watt, Bible-carrying Christians (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002).
18. P. Bramadat, The Church on the World’s Turf (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000).
19. Malley, How the Bible Works.
20. P. Nesbitt, Religion and Social Policy (New York: Rowman and Littlefield, 2001).
21. Nesbitt, Religion and Social Policy.
22. M. Marty, Religion and Republic (Boston: Beacon Press, 1987).
23. Bendroth, Fundamentalism and Gender.
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