Thousands of religious traditions have appeared over the course of human history but only a relative few have survived. Some speak of a myriad of gods, others of only one, and some recognize no gods at all. Volumes have been written attempting to prove the existence or nonexistence of supernatural being(s). So, if religion is not about God , then what is it about? In this provocative book, Loyal Rue contends that religion, very basically, is about us . Successful religions are narrative (myth) traditions that influence human nature so that we might think, feel, and act in ways that are good for us, both individually and collectively. Through the use of images, symbols, and rituals, religion promotes reproductive fitness and survival through the facilitation of harmonious social relations. Drawing on examples from the major traditions—Judaism, Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, and Buddhism—Rue shows how each religion, in its own way, has guided human behavior to advance the twin goals of personal fulfillment and social coherence. As all faiths are increasingly faced with a crisis of intellectual plausibility and moral relevance, this book presents a compelling and positive view of the centrality and meaning of religion.
Loyal Duane Rue is an American philosopher and writer whose research focuses on naturalistic theories of religion. He is Professor Emeritus in the philosophy and religion departments at Luther College in Decorah, Iowa.
Rue's Religion Is Not About God is one of those rare books that manages to be simultaneously reductive and generous — reductive in its method, genuinely generous in its conclusions. Published in 2005, it belongs to a particular moment in the naturalistic study of religion when scholars were beginning to feel confident enough in evolutionary biology and cognitive science to attempt a unified theory of what religion actually is and what it does, stripped of supernatural claims but without the contempt that characterized much of the New Atheist literature that would follow it. Rue is neither a debunker nor a believer in any conventional sense. He is, at bottom, a functionalist with real affection for his subject matter.
The central thesis is announced in the title itself and then unpacked with considerable care. Religion, Rue argues, is not fundamentally about God or the gods or any metaphysical claim whatsoever. It is about the management of human nature — specifically, about the challenge of getting individual organisms whose biology inclines them toward self-interest to live together in communities large and complex enough to be adaptive. The problem religion solves is what he calls the problem of personal wholeness and social coherence. Human beings need a story about who they are and how to live, and they need that story to be felt as cosmically authorized rather than merely humanly invented, because only a story felt as ultimate can motivate the sacrifices that community life demands.
This framing draws heavily on E.O. Wilson's sociobiology and the broader tradition of evolutionary ethics, but Rue is careful not to be crude about it. He recognizes that human biology is not a simple program but a set of evolved tendencies — toward both selfishness and cooperation, toward both tribalism and empathy — that are in permanent tension with one another. Religion, in his account, is the cultural technology developed over millennia to manage these tensions, to align personal interest with communal welfare, to make the individual feel that the good of the group is also, at some deep level, their own good. It does this through what Rue calls a "cosmic" narrative that integrates myth (the story of what is ultimately real), ritual (the embodied practice of that story), and experience (the felt sense of belonging to something larger than oneself).
One of the book's real contributions is its taxonomy of what religion must accomplish at both the personal and social levels. At the personal level, healthy religion should promote what Rue identifies as the classic goods of human flourishing: a sense of meaning, a capacity for ethical behavior, emotional resilience, a grounded identity. At the social level, it should foster cooperation, reduce defection, maintain trust, and regulate the inevitable tensions between individuals and groups. These are biological and psychological requirements before they are spiritual ones, and Rue's point is that the great religious traditions succeeded — often brilliantly — precisely because they addressed these requirements with enormous sophistication, regardless of whether their metaphysical claims were literally true.
This is where the book's genuine intellectual generosity shows itself most clearly. Rue is not interested in dismissing the wisdom encoded in religious traditions. He treats the mythologies, ethical systems, ritual structures, and contemplative practices of traditions as hard-won solutions to real problems, refined over generations of human experience. When Buddhism teaches non-attachment, or when Christianity insists on forgiveness, or when Islam emphasizes submission to a cosmic order larger than individual desire, these teachings are not merely arbitrary cultural products — they are responses to actual features of human nature and human social life that any honest accounting must take seriously. The naturalistic frame does not, for Rue, diminish the content of religious wisdom. It explains why that wisdom is the shape it is.
The subtitle's mention of "what to expect when they fail" is where the book becomes most diagnostically interesting. Rue is writing in a moment of religious transition in the West, and he is concerned about what happens when the narratives that have managed human nature for centuries lose their authority. His argument here is subtle and somewhat uncomfortable for both religious and secular readers. He does not think that science can simply replace religion, because science does not — indeed, by its own methodological commitments, cannot — provide the kind of cosmically authorized narrative that motivates the deepest forms of human commitment. Science can tell us what is; it cannot, without importing values from outside itself, tell us what matters or how to live together. The secular liberal hope that enlightened reason alone can sustain the moral and social goods that religion once provided is, in Rue's account, probably overoptimistic.
When religious traditions fail to provide personal wholeness and social coherence — whether because their metaphysical claims have become incredible, their institutional authority has collapsed, or their ethical frameworks no longer map onto the actual conditions of modern life — the consequences are predictable and serious. Individuals lose their sense of meaning and coherence. Communities lose their binding narratives and the trust and cooperation those narratives sustained. What rushes in to fill the vacuum is typically either a degraded substitute religion (nationalism, consumerism, various forms of political messianism) or a kind of chronic existential restlessness that no amount of therapy or entertainment can quite address, because the need being unfulfilled is not psychological in the clinical sense but biological in the deepest sense — a need wired into the kind of animal we are.
There is a melancholy running through this part of the argument that Rue does not fully resolve. He seems genuinely uncertain about whether any narrative can be constructed that is both scientifically credible and motivationally powerful enough to do what religion has done. He gestures toward the possibility of what he calls a "cosmic" naturalism — a narrative centered on the story of the universe itself, from the Big Bang through biological evolution to the emergence of human consciousness — that might carry enough grandeur and enough connection to biological reality to serve the necessary function. This anticipates thinkers like Thomas Berry and later writers like David Christian with his "big history" project, but Rue is more cautious than his successors. He knows how hard it is to make a story feel sacred rather than merely factual, and he is honest about the gap between admiring the universe's grandeur and actually being moved to sacrifice for your community by it.
One of the book's limitations is that it is almost entirely focused on the Western religious imagination and, within that, on a fairly traditional sociobiological framework that has been complicated considerably by subsequent work in cultural evolution, niche construction theory, and the cognitive science of religion. Scholars like Harvey Whitehouse, Pascal Boyer, and David Sloan Wilson have added layers of nuance to the question of how religion works biologically and socially that Rue's framework doesn't fully anticipate. His understanding of ritual, for instance, is somewhat schematic compared to what later cognitive anthropologists have developed. And his account of the self-interested individual whose nature religion must manage sits somewhat uneasily with more recent work suggesting that human sociality is not simply a constraint on biological selfishness but is itself a deep biological endowment.
What Rue accomplishes is to ask a question that most religious studies scholarship is too reverent to ask and most atheist criticism is too dismissive to ask well: what are religious traditions actually for, in the most basic sense, and what do we lose when they stop working? The answer he develops — that they are for the alignment of our deeply ambivalent biological nature with the requirements of a good life and a viable community — is not the whole truth, but it is more of the truth than most accounts acknowledge. And his insistence that we take the failure of religious traditions seriously, not as intellectual liberation but as a genuine crisis of human functioning, feels, if anything, more urgent now than when he wrote it.
American novelist and professor of philosophy Rebecca Newberger Goldstein has chosen to discuss Loyal Rue’s Religion Is Not about God on FiveBooks as one of the top five on her subject - Reason and its Limitations, saying that:
“…I like this book’s title, which is itself a proposition. The explanatory model Rue employs comes from evolutionary psychology. He is trying to account for what, if any, adaptive purpose religion has. Why does almost every society, as soon as it gets to a certain level of complexity, construct some sort of religious mythology, one which merges both cosmology and morality? …”
So, I learned from this that non-fiction smart books (as in, not history or biography/memoir) can have twist endings. It would have been nice if Paganism was talked about more, especially towards the end, but I do understand why it wasn't.