Faith by numbers: why religion still matters

A global poll emphasises the central and growing importance of religion to world society.

In the latest edition of IPSOS MORI's research journal, Understanding Society, Tony Blair talks about the central and growing importance of religion to global society.

The reasoning is compelling. In a world that may seem increasingly secular to many of us, it is easy to forget that religious belief is a central part of life for hundreds of millions of people. MORI's study in 24 countries showed that 69 per cent say they have a religion -- and of these, 40 per cent say it is very important to them.

And the importance of religion does not exist separately from other spheres of life -- it often has a direct impact on social, political and economic issues. For example, our recent election polling in Nigeria (which correctly predicted a comfortable victory for Goodluck Jonathan) showed that voting patterns very clearly followed religious lines. That's not to say religion was the only, or even the main, driver of the result -- but this strong link between faith and political outcomes is seen across a number of countries.

But the importance of faith is not just an issue for the present -- it seems set to become even more important in the future. It is trite to say that the world is going to look very different in 30 years -- but the scale of change and the importance of faith to understanding some key elements of this are difficult to overstate.

The growth of developing countries will change the social, political and economic landscape entirely -- and many of these emergent economies have faith as an important part of life. This doesn't just mean India -- for example, in Brazil 84 per cent say they have a religion, and 97 per cent of these say it is important to them. And as Blair also points out, the economic potential of Africa over the coming decades is huge, and in many African countries faith is much more central to social and political life.

We are also going to see significant shifts in the religious profile of the world with, for example, the Muslim population growing at twice the rate of non-Muslims and projected to make up over a quarter of the global population within the next 20 years.

The growing importance of religious understanding will not just result from the rebalancing of the world economy and changing population sizes -- we are also going to see greater contact between people of different faiths. Globalisation will continue to increase the interconnectedness of business and societies. There is also a high probability that political crises and climate change are going to mix populations even more. With all these forces at play, it will be vital for us all to increase our religious literacy and acceptance.

But when we look at current attitudes to religion, they demonstrate how conflicted we are globally. For example, a poll MORI conducted in 24 countries ahead of the Munk Debate between Mr Blair and Christoper Hitchens at the end of 2010 showed an almost perfect split in views on religion: 48 per cent believe that religion provides the common values and ethical foundation that diverse societies need in the 21st Century -- and 52 per cent that religious beliefs promote intolerance and exacerbate divisions.

The significant suspicion that religion arouses is seen in a number of studies. For example, the World Values Survey asked people across 55 countries who they would least like as a neighbour. The top answer, by some distance, was drug addicts -- but still one in five people said they would not like to be neighbours with someone from a different religion, twice the proportion that picked out people with a criminal record.

Maybe we shouldn't be too surprised by this as religion, by its nature, does bring certain types of division. In our most recent polling we asked whether people think their faith is the only path to salvation -- and a quarter of all those with religious beliefs agreed, rising to around 60 per cent in Indonesia, Saudi Arabia and Turkey. While this does not necessarily lead to separation, it does require serious consideration: how can people with religiously exclusive beliefs co-exist peacefully within politically pluralist societies? In the aftermath of the Arab Spring, this is not a theoretical question but an urgent one

But on the other side is religion's practical force for good. Around three in ten of the population across the 24 countries say that religion is an important motivator in their giving of time or money to those in need. This echoes the work of the Harvard academic Robert Putnam and colleagues, which shows that the religious in the US are three to four times more likely to be civically engaged, and that this is not just in supporting religious causes but secular ones too. The driving force for this turns out not to be faith in itself, but being part of a community. It is no wonder then that, in the UK, where the government is trying to create a "Big Society" of people taking more responsibility for looking after themselves and others, the potential religion provides has created a lot of interest among politicians and policy-makers.

However, our survey highlights how much this positive impact of religion varies across countries, as the range of those saying religion encourages them to give their time or money runs from 11 per cent in Sweden and 12 per cent in France to 84 per cent in Indonesia. As with many aspects of religion, the variety and complexity of local contexts is extraordinary.

This points to the biggest challenge, how to increase understanding across different faith groups, and this is one of the key areas where the Tony Blair Faith Foundation is focusing, including working with young people, schools and universities to increase interaction and positive activity. The scale of the task is daunting -- there are no issues with more entrenched positions than religion -- but one of the few things that those on different sides of the debate agree on is that religion itself is not going away any time.

 

Bobby Duffy is the Managing Director of the Ipsos MORI Social Research Institute (SRI). Ruth Turner is the Chief Executive of the Tony Blair Faith Foundation.

Getty.
Show Hide image

Andy Burnham and Sadiq Khan are both slippery self-mythologisers – so why do we rate one more than the other?

Their obsessions with their childhoods have both become punchlines; but one of these jokes, it feels to me, is told with a lot more affection than the other.

Andy Burnham is a man whose policies and opinions seem to owe more to political expediency than they do to belief. He bangs on to the point of tedium about his own class, background and interests. As a result he’s widely seen as an unprincipled flip-flopper.

Sadiq Khan is a man whose policies and opinions seem to owe more to political expediency than they do to belief. He bangs on to the point of tedium about his own class, background and interests. As a result he’s the hugely popular mayor of London, the voice of those who’d be proud to think of themselves as the metropolitan liberal elite, and is even talked of as a possible future leader of the Labour party.

Oh, and also they were both born in 1970. So that’s a thing they have in common, too.

Why it is this approach to politics should have worked so much better for the mayor of London than the would-be mayor of Manchester is something I’ve been trying to work out for a while. There are definite parallels between Burnham’s attempts to present himself as a normal northern bloke who likes normal things like football, and Sadiq’s endless reminders that he’s a sarf London geezer whose dad drove a bus. They’ve both become punchlines; but one of these jokes, it feels to me, is told with a lot more affection than the other.

And yes, Burnham apparent tendency to switch sides, on everything from NHS privatisation to the 2015 welfare vote to the leadership of Jeremy Corbyn, has given him a reputation for slipperiness. But Sadiq’s core campaign pledge was to freeze London transport fares; everyone said it was nonsense, and true to form it was, and you’d be hard pressed to find an observer who thought this an atypical lapse on the mayor’s part. (Khan, too, has switched sides on the matter of Jeremy Corbyn.)

 And yet, he seems to get away with this, in a way that Burnham doesn’t. His low-level duplicity is factored in, and it’s hard to judge him for it because, well, it’s just what he’s like, isn’t it? For a long time, the Tory leadership’s line on London’s last mayor was “Boris is Boris”, meaning, look, we don’t trust him either, but what you gonna do? Well: Sadiq is Sadiq.

Even the names we refer to them by suggest that one of these two guys is viewed very differently from the other. I’ve instinctively slipped into referring to the mayor of London by his first name: he’s always Sadiq, not Khan, just as his predecessors were Boris and Ken. But, despite Eoin Clarke’s brief attempt to promote his 2015 leadership campaign with a twitter feed called “Labour Andy”, Burnham is still Burnham: formal, not familiar. 

I’ve a few theories to explain all this, though I’ve no idea which is correct. For a while I’ve assumed it’s about sincerity. When Sadiq Khan mentions his dad’s bus for the 257th time in a day, he does it with a wink to the audience, making a crack about the fact he won’t stop going on about it. That way, the message gets through to the punters at home who are only half listening, but the bored lobby hacks who’ve heard this routine two dozen times before feel they’re in the joke.

Burnham, it seems to me, lacks this lightness of touch: when he won’t stop banging on about the fact he grew up in the north, it feels uncomfortably like he means it. And to take yourself seriously in politics is sometimes to invite others to make jokes at your expense.

Then again, perhaps the problem is that Burnham isn’t quite sincere enough. Sadiq Khan genuinely is the son of a bus-driving immigrant: he may keep going on about it, but it is at least true. Burnham’s “just a northern lad” narrative is true, too, but excludes some crucial facts: that he went to Cambridge, and was working in Parliament aged 24. Perhaps that shouldn’t change how we interpret his story; but I fear, nonetheless, it does.

Maybe that’s not it, though: maybe I’m just another London media snob. Because Burnham did grow up at the disadvantaged end of the country, a region where, for too many people, chasing opportunities means leaving. The idea London is a city where the son of a bus driver can become mayor flatters our metropolitan self-image; the idea that a northerner who wants to build a career in politics has to head south at the earliest opportunity does the opposite. 

So if we roll our eyes when Burnham talks about the north, perhaps that reflects badly on us, not him: the opposite of northern chippiness is southern snobbery.

There’s one last possibility for why we may rate Sadiq Khan more highly than Andy Burnham: Sadiq Khan won. We can titter a little at the jokes and the fibs but he is, nonetheless, mayor of London. Andy Burnham is just the bloke who lost two Labour leadership campaigns.

At least – for now. In six weeks time, he’s highly likely to the first mayor of Greater Manchester. Slipperiness is not the worst quality in a mayor; and so much of the job will be about banging the drum for the city, and the region, that Burnham’s tendency to wear his northernness on his sleeve will be a positive boon.

Sadiq Khan’s stature has grown because the fact he became London’s mayor seems to say something, about the kind of city London is and the kind we want it to be. Perhaps, after May, Andy Burnham can do the same for the north – and the north can do the same for Andy Burnham.

Jonn Elledge edits the New Statesman's sister site CityMetric, and writes for the NS about subjects including politics, history and Daniel Hannan. You can find him on Twitter or Facebook.