The article is itself slight—it begins by informing us that holidays is derived from holy days—but gains some traction by summarizing the work of Andrew Newberg, director of research at the Myrna Brind Center of Integrative Medicine at Thomas Jefferson University and author of How God Changes Your Brain.
Inherent brain biology as determined by genetics could play a role [in belief]. Some findings: A proposed “god gene” could predispose gene carriers to transcendental experiences, while those people with a more prominent brain fold called the paracingulate sulcus might be better able to separate real events from imagination.
“Clearly there are bits and pieces of our biology that make us prone to religious and spiritual ideas and beliefs,” said Newberg. “As with all characteristics of human beings, there’s a bit of a bell curve, with some finding it very easy to believe in these things and others finding it very hard.”
Paracingulate sulcus forsooth! Newberg’s fundamental error is in supposing that religious belief is predicated on imaginary events. This is ludicrously false in fact. Most belief arises from mundane cultural influences: parents instructing their children in the tenets of their faith and so forth. A not insignificant minority of religious come to it by way of direct reason and argument. Few among the religious admit to miraculous experiences.
But at least Newberg admits tacitly what has long been suspected: that many (academically trained) non-religious feel themselves not just superior in belief but suspect themselves biologically removed from ordinary folk. Article commenter James Scott summed up the attitude tersely, if in poor English:
May the non religious percentage continue to grow so we can get rid of these stupid deluded believes. [sic] and build a better World for Everyone.
Just as most people in the “bell curve” have near normal intelligence and only the very, very few are possessed of genius, all but the most advanced among us have ordinary paracingulate sulci. A minority, perhaps that 15% who on surveys claim to be non-religious, have more prominent brain folds. Perhaps—think of it!—some have evolved beyond the need for God: their God genes have mutated into Galileo genes. But that name won’t do: Galileo lived and died a devout Catholic.
Newberg’s hypothesis is, of course, logically possible. It could be that a gene or genes, perchance only activated under proper environmental conditions (such as found inside a university classroom), allow one to escape from the tyranny—and comfort—of belief. But in order to be damning of religion, these genes would have to be so powerful a rein on thought that those with Schwarzeneggerian paracingulate sulci would find it impossible to believe in God, no matter what evidence or argument is put to them.
If Newberg’s mutation merely makes it less likely but not impossible for his homo sapiens superior to be religious, then what has he proved? Genes which give one a certain proclivity are not proof of God’s existence or of God’s non-existence. They are not proof of the impossibility of the miraculous, for no such proof exists. They are not proof that one should or should not believe in God. They are not proof that atheism is a superior mode of living. Newberg’s “God gene”, in short, is not proof of much: to lump all religious experience is already a mistake, so widely varied have these practices been.
Which leads us to the second thrust of Newberg’s research:
Imaging studies have revealed that the brain’s frontal lobes, which are activated during prayer, increase in activity and thickness in people. The thalamus, a key relay that integrates sensory information, also showed changes in people who prayed for as little as 12 minutes a day for two months, Newberg explained.
“There’s this saying, ‘the neurons that fire together wire together,'” said Newberg. “The more you believe in it, the more that belief becomes your reality.”
Prayer thickens frontal lobes and alters thalami. Why? Is prayer, unlike ordinary thought, possessed of a supernatural property that rewards its practitioners with thicker lobes and thingy-er thalami? If not supernatural, then why doesn’t ordinary pondering thicken and change? If ordinary pondering thickens and changes too, then what does prayer have to do with it?
It might be so, ceteris paribus, that “neurons that fire together wire together” but the implication “The more you believe in it, the more that belief becomes your reality” is either false or trivial. Saul would have gained nothing from his trip to Damascus if his neurons were bound together so tightly to prevent his “reality” from changing. The same goes for, say, once-believer-but-now-atheist Richard Dawkins. How did he circumvent his brain’s wiring? And if St. Paul could, why can’t everybody alter their reality? There is more than enough observational evidence of conversions (one way or another) coming late in life to suggest everybody can rebel against their brain’s iron control.
Newberg’s proposition is also trivial in the sense that it posits what we already know: that, say, the more one studies mathematics the better at math they get; or the more history one studies, the more history ones remembers, and so forth.
Note: I haven’t read How God Changes Your Brain nor Newberg’s opus Principles of Neurotheology (principles?). So it always remains a danger that the reporter misrepresented Newberg’s hypotheses. But given the content on his website, this does not appear to be a danger.