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Karl Marx penned one of the most famous anti-religious statements of all time: “[Religion] is the opium of the people.” Everyone’s heard that line, but much like Nietzsche’s “God is dead,” people have a tendency to take it at face value and are happy to reduce it to a slogan without looking much into the thought behind it. But I think it’s worth examining what led one of the most influential atheists in history to make such a remark and his view of religion that undergirded it.
At face value, the comment is straightforward enough: Religion is like a drug. It’s probably not good for you overall, but it makes your life easier. It’s a simple, quick solution to complicated problems. And like “God is dead,” the popular understanding of Marx’s line isn’t completely accurate. It’s not as bad as it is with Nietzsche, where people think he was celebrating the death of god and popping the champagne gleefully, which is nearly the opposite of what he intended to convey. But Marx’s actual view of religion isn’t as disdainful or dismissive or incomplete as it might sound.
Christopher Hitchens has objected that the misreading of the quotation makes it sound as if Marx thought religion was nothing more than an opiate. Marx did say that religion provides an escape from real life, and that it often functions as an opiate. But in the same paragraph, he also called religion “the spirit of a spiritless situation.” You could just as easily cherry pick that line and claim the point was that religion is all about giving hope to the hopeless. The point is that there’s a big difference between saying religion often serves as an opiate, which is true, and saying religion is just an opiate, which greatly oversimplifies religion as a natural phenomenon. In context, it’s clear Marx thought that religious people, confronted with the conditions of their existence, looked for something transcendent to make their lives worth living. He had sympathy and compassion for their situation and wanted to help them, but he thought that they were only treating their symptoms rather than looking deeper. Treating the symptom isn’t a bad start, but it’s only a start. Marx thought that religion can reduce pain, but don’t fool yourself and think that you’re solving the underlying problem just by treating the symptoms.
This all comes from a manuscript called Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of Right, which is Marx’s commentary on the philosopher Hegel’s 1820 work Elements of the Philosophy of Right. The essay begins with some of Marx’s thoughts on the social function of religion. According to the philosopher Peter Singer, Marx didn’t really argue for atheism; he just sort of assumed it and moved forward from there. He calls religion an “illusion” and says earlier in this manuscript that “Man makes religion, religion does not make man,” but his primary concern is with the function of religion. So let’s read the line in its context:
“Religious distress is at the same time the expression of real distress and the protest against real distress. Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, just as it is the spirit of a spiritless situation. It is the opium of the people. The abolition of religion as the illusory happiness of the people is required for their real happiness. The demand to give up the illusion about its condition is the demand to give up a condition which needs illusions. The criticism of religion is, therefore . . . the criticism of the vale of woe, the halo of which is religion. Criticism has plucked the imaginary flowers from the chain not so that man will wear the chain without any fantasy or consolation, but so that he will shake off the chain and cull the living flower. The criticism of religion disillusions man to make him think and act and shape his reality like a man who has been disillusioned and has come to reason . . .”
So as you can see there, Marx has great sympathy for religious people. They’re looking up for something transcendent to make bearable the awful the conditions of their real lives. He’s not just putting them down or saying they’re the equivalent of heroin addicts. To Marx, the religious impulse is primarily to make life meaningful and dignified, not just to escape by any means necessary. Though as the opiate line makes clear, escapism is a function that religion serves. And religion is like a drug, in a lot of ways; but it’s not just a drug.
This reminds me of Nietzsche’s disdain for alcohol. He said, “There have been two great narcotics in the history of Europe: Christianity and alcohol.” The reason Nietzsche didn’t like alcohol was because he thought it suppressed your will to improve, distracting you from your struggles and giving you a cheap shortcut for overcoming those problems. People drink for confidence in social situations, to deal with problems stemming from work or relationships, or to make their experience more interesting and worth having. Alcohol, in his view, kept you from having the chance to truly confront whatever is causing you to drink, and keeping you from ever benefiting from the personal growth that would result and robbing you of the overcoming of your particular struggle. Rather than trying to get whatever it is you want, you escape or you take a shortcut and get a less satisfying version of it. And likewise, Marx thought that in order to change our conditions and throw off chains that we’re bearing, we have to take away the opium and stop ignoring the heavy, ugly chain around our necks.
Let’s go back to that passage. “Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature . . . It is the opium of the people. The abolition of religion as the illusory happiness of the people is required for their real happiness.”
So in the same way a heroin addict might be “happy” in a certain sense, achieving happiness without opium is, in a sense, truer happiness. It’s a more desirable form of positive experience — it’s a better form of well-being.
He goes on, “The demand to give up the illusion about its condition is the demand to give up a condition which needs illusions.”
So criticizing the illusion isn’t an end, but a means to an end: to change the conditions that require being under an illusion in the first place. In our current civilization, to Marx, religion is necessary, in the same way opium might be necessary for someone who’s in pain. But if we altered the conditions that require illusions, the illusions would dissipate, and a better form of happiness, one that’s not grounded in otherworldly fantasies, can fill the vacuum.
“Criticism has plucked the imaginary flowers from the chain not so that man will wear the chain without any fantasy or consolation, but so that he will shake off the chain and cull the living flower. The criticism of religion disillusions man to make him think and act and shape his reality like a man who has been disillusioned and has come to reason . . .”
So if it’s not clear, the chain represents the conditions and the flowers that mask the chain are religion. We’re not plucking the flowers from the chain, removing the fantasy and consolation of religion, just to be cruel; though it may seem so at first, if we truly are taking away someone’s comforting illusion. They’re just trying to deal with the chains they’re bearing and you’re really forcing them to deal with the fact that things maybe aren’t great, and that retreating into the spiritual world isn’t the whole answer. But the point is to get over a barrier that’s preventing you from actually improving your life, whether or not you recognize religion as the barrier that it is.
Societal Health and Religion
When I was first reading Marx on religion in The Portable Atheist, the book of essays collected by Christopher Hitchens, I recalled something I first learned at a Christian university. I was dual enrolled during my last year of high school, and I took a sociology class. The professor, who was a Christian, nonetheless often raised uncomfortable questions for the students. Something he pointed to was the fact that there is an inverse correlation between religiosity and wealth. The richer you are, the less religious people are likely to be; the less wealth you have, the more religious people tend to be. And to the extent that rich people are religious, there’s a similar correlation with charismatic vs. legalistic — as wealth increases, charismatic practice decreases. So even if you are a rich religious person, statistically speaking, it’s far more likely that your interpretation of religion is very traditional and academic; the poorer you are, the more charismatic and literalistic you tend to be. These are only general trends and rough correlations; we can’t establish the arrow of causation from these data alone. But it is what you would predict on Marx’s idea that religion comes when you live in conditions that require an illusion. Reality is lacking, so you look to an otherworldly reality to improve your life. And these data show that as your material reality improves, you tend to either abandon the illusion or take it far less seriously than the literalistic adherents. Of course, it isn’t necessary to think that this is a conscious process going on in religious people to recognize that there’s something to it.
The most religious countries in the world are lower on indicators of health and happiness. The U.S. stands alone in the developed world in its religiosity, and we also stand alone in the developed world for our remarkably terrible scores on measures of societal health and happiness. There is an inverse correlation between societal health and rates of religiosity, belief in god, belief in an afterlife, and biblical literalism. The less religious western democracies are better when it comes to rates of infant mortality, homicide, suicide, STDs, teen births, divorce, corruption, incarceration, poverty, adjusted per capita income, wealth inequality, and overall life satisfaction. The United States stands out as a uniquely religious country and also has a uniquely awful performance on all those measures of societal health.
To quote the researcher Gregory Paul in 2010, “There is a growing body of research that is revealing the crucial role of socioeconomics in the origin and popularity of religion, as well as in creationism. In modern nations, non religion and the acceptance of evolution become popular when the middle class majority feels sufficiently secure and safe, thanks to low income inequality, universal health care, job and retirement security, and low rates of lethal crime. This has occurred to greater and lesser degrees in most first world countries. Religion thrives when the majority seek the aid and protection of supernatural powers.”
As the western world becomes less religious, every measure of human well-being improves. Or as Marx would think: As measures of well-being improve, religion declines. Correlation doesn’t equal causation; we don’t know which direction the arrow of causality goes and we don’t even know for certain that they’re related. But it’s a fact that as the western world becomes less religious, every measure of human well-being improves, and I don’t think these data would surprise Marx at all, since they’re exactly what you would predict on his explanation of the modern function of religion. As all measures of human well-being increase, religion declines, because the need for religion declines. We’re very religious here in the U.S., whereas in places like Sweden or Denmark, where there is a much stronger social safety net and uniquely high measures of societal health, religiosity is at historic lows.
Marx thinks that religion takes you out of this world and carries you off into a different world, much like any number of things might provide an escape. Your central focus, according to Christianity, should be on otherworldly concerns, and I’m not just talking about the afterlife. And as I mentioned, Nietzsche had a similar view. To Nietzsche, Christianity condemns earthly existence, demanding that we reject the natural world, and repent of nature as the price of admission to a different, superior plane of being, one that we can only partially grasp here on earth. He said in Thus Spoke Zarathustra, “I appeal to you, my brothers, remain true to the earth, and do not believe those who speak to you of otherworldly hopes! Poisoners are they, whether they know it or not. Despisers of life are they, decaying and poisoned themselves, of whom the earth is weary: so let them go!”
Everything Happens for a Reason
One of the reasons this analysis of the function of religion jumped out at me was because of my own experiences in the church. You’re encouraged to focus on otherworldly matters — not just heaven and paradise, but god’s plan for you and your development as a good Christian and so on. Additionally, caring very little about lowly, earthly matters is often considered to be a sign of a good Christian. Whether it’s not worrying for the morrow, or having peace in spite of a terrible storm, or having the “joy of the Lord” in some bad time, or believing that prayer counts as helping, or caring more about getting people “saved” than helping them materially…you’re essentially told that you’re not supposed to be bothered much by what’s happening around you in the real world. Even if you’re in the valley of the shadow of death, it’s a sign of wisdom and maturity to be at peace in bad circumstances. But if you’re actually trying to improve the world, this is absolutely counter-productive. The conditions that require an illusion will never change if everyone embraces the comforting illusion and pays no mind to the root problems that are causing the need for an opiate in the first place.
I would also say that this is related to the common religious refrain: Everything happens for a reason. No matter what trials and tribulations you endure, it’s because god is making you into a better person — the soul-building theodicy. He’s the potter and you’re the clay. This ‘everything happens for a reason’ mindset is sometimes a good recipe for personal happiness — though it often backfires — you’ll always be searching for opportunities for growth and overcoming and meaning in the midst of tragedies. Of course, you can still do this without having an irrational view of the world. But ‘everything happens for a reason’ is not a very good way to inspire change. In fact, in addition to being untrue, it prevents positive change.
Think about how many Christians believe the world will end in the next fifty years because Jesus is going to return, and the complacency their beliefs engender. Or their appeal to “god’s mysterious ways” or his “plan” when confronted with obvious evil, or their appeal to heaven as a way to ensure justice in the end. Or think about those who believe in the reality of karma. If you’re living in pain or poverty, it’s because of your actions in a past life. Why would you try to improve a universe that’s perfectly just? Anyone suffering deserves it; in fact, everyone gets exactly what they deserve. These non-naturalistic worldviews don’t just distract you from material reality in front of you, but actively get in the way of anyone trying to improve the world — the only world we have.
Christian Apologists and Marx
I have a couple closing thoughts regarding some of the things Christian apologists have to say on this subject.
A common take I’ve heard from Christian apologists who lecture about Marxism is that since atheists don’t believe in heaven, they have to try to bring utopia down to earth, which invariably leads to disaster. At face value, it seems reasonable to me to warn against unrealistic Utopian expectations for plenty of reasons, but what’s funny to me is that apologists here seem to be conceding, implicitly, that religion saps your will to improve life on earth. If atheists are over-inspired to improve this world since there is no world to come, it would seem to follow that conversely, those who believe the opposite would be under-inspired to improve the world, since utopia is right around the corner anyway. Though claiming that atheists are too enthusiastic about improving the world is nice to hear for a change, since what we usually hear from apologists is atheism means there’s no reason to be moral or do any good. I would assume they would still say that we have no reason to be good, but that we may behave morally anyway. But my main point is that religion creates obstacles that prevent us from improving the world, and not because it’s being misused. Any apologist who claims that atheists want to improve the world because of their atheism are implicitly recognizing that fact and contradicting themselves elsewhere.
Marx’s analysis of the function of religion that we’ve outlined throughout the episode has the unfortunate side-effect of vindicating Christian apologists in one area, which I’m loathe to do, but I have to concede one particular point. Way back around episode nine, we talked about how apologists love to conflate atheism with Marxism and several other boogeymen they like to clutch their pearls over. At the very least, they’ll assert that atheism leads to Marxism naturally. Anyone can clearly see that there is a very prominent and influential faction of atheists who are actively anti-Marxist, anti-communist, etc. (including Sam Harris, one of the most prominent atheists in the world right now). Atheism is not a system of thought and doesn’t entail any political or economic position. But it would seem that Marx thought atheism or irreligiousity will lead a lot of people to become more class conscious. When you’re not distracted with otherworldly matters, there’s more room to worry about worldly matters. And more importantly, when you don’t think every problem is ultimately spiritual or that Jesus is the answer to everything, your analysis of your problems and the solutions that appeal to you will be far more grounded in material reality, and exclude any non-physical elements like gods and spirits who would enforce some kind of spiritual order in the world, who could be considered as influential as class and wealth in shaping the social and political landscape. Unfortunately, conceding this point means that apologists are sort of right in that atheism leads to Marxism for many people, or at least that Marx thought it would.
However, not all religious people deny the importance of material conditions and escape inward, or only care about spiritual life to the exclusion of external reality. And there’s one particular strain within the Christian tradition that I’ve talked about on the podcast before. And maybe it’s because of my evangelical upbringing, but it still seems like a funny novelty. I’m speaking of Christian communism, which arguably goes back to the original church described in the book of Acts. This is Acts 4:32-35 describing the activity of the early church:
“No one claimed that any of their possessions was their own, but they shared everything they had. . . . God’s grace was so powerfully at work in them all that there were no needy persons among them. . . those who owned land or houses sold them, brought the money from the sales and put it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to anyone who had need.”
Christian communists argue that Jesus taught communism and that the Apostles and the early church practiced it. They harmonize Marxist and Christian doctrines; and it’s not that hard to do. When you look at what Jesus said about the poor and what he said about the rich, along with the activities of the early church in Acts, it’s nearly impossible to think that the opposition to Marxism held by many Christian apologists is informed by the New Testament or the teachings of Jesus. Jesus also yelled at plants and thought the end was nigh, but I personally love reminding my Evangelical family that the people who were closest to the teachings of Jesus and the Apostles started a commune.
Christopher Hitchens
Since we’re on the subject, I wanted to mention a Marxist who’s featured on the podcast often. I didn’t know that Christopher Hitchens was a Marxist for the first year or so I listened to him on YouTube, but it was interesting to find out and I thought maybe a couple of you would also be interested.
He said that he became a Marxist in his teenage years, and after going to Oxford, further developed his views, becoming an active Trotskyist and anti-Stalinist. He became a socialist “largely [as] the outcome of a study of history, taking sides … in the battles over industrialism and war and empire.” He was also drawn into the political left by his anger over the Vietnam War, nuclear weapons, racism and “oligarchy”, including that of “the unaccountable corporation.” In 2006, Hitchens commented on his political philosophy by stating, “I am no longer a socialist, but I still am a Marxist”. And in 2010, he stated that “I still think like a Marxist in many ways. . . . I consider myself a very conservative Marxist.” In his memoir Hitch-22 (which I’ve only just started – I’m about a quarter of the way through), he discusses his lengthy history as a socialist: writing for Marxist publications, engaging in demonstrations and getting arrested somewhat frequently, traveling to Cuba, and much else well into adulthood and his career as a journalist.
The journalist Andrew Sullivan wrote about Hitchens’ last words shortly after he died in December of 2011: “As he lay dying, he asked for a pen and paper and tried to write on it. After a while, he finished, held it up, looked at it and saw that it was an illegible assemblage of scribbled, meaningless hieroglyphics. “What’s the use?” he said to Steve Wasserman. Then he dozed a little, and then roused himself and uttered a couple of words that were close to inaudible. Steve asked him to repeat them. There were two: ‘Capitalism.’ ’Downfall.’ In his end was his beginning.”
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Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of Right — Karl Marx [text]
Philosophize This — Marx and Religion [text]
Societal Health and Religion – Greg Paul, Journal of Religion and Society [PDF]
Summary of Greg Paul’s Paper Mentioned Above – Matthew Provonsha [Skeptic]
Peter Singer on Hegel and Marx [YouTube]
Richard Wolff on Marxism [YouTube]
Marxism – Richard Wolff and Chapo Trap House [YouTube]
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