The Routledge Companion to the Study of Religion by John Hinnells

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Questioning modern notions of mysticism and spirituality

Although it is often difficult to distinguish between accounts of drug-induced and non-drug- induced mystical experiences, the debate about the role of drugs in the cultivation of mystical states suggests that the phenomena of the mystical is more than a matter of simply inducing an altered state of consciousness. As we have seen, the explicit identification of mysticism with extraordinary and transient states of consciousness is an approach that began in earnest with the work of William James at the beginning of the twentieth century and continues to the present day in debates concerning the relationship between mystical experiences and their interpretation and the question of the possibility (or not) of an unmediated or ‘pure’ experience of reality.

However, the modern privatisation of ‘the mystical’ has come under increasing criticism in some of the most recent scholarship in this field. The privatization of the phenomenon of mysticism is most obviously demonstrated in the emergence of ‘spirituality’ in the late twentieth century to denote some kind of interiorised experience or apprehension of reality. Such approaches are increasingly oriented towards the individual self rather than religious traditions as the source of their authority. Such contemporary shifts have affected the way in which we as ‘moderns’ understand the spiritual traditions of the past, in both the East and the West. Deny Turner (1994), Grace Jantzen (1995) and Richard King (1999) have all questioned the modern tendency to approach classical and medieval mystical texts as if they were offering psychological accounts of extraordinary experiences. Ineffability in the modern study of mysticism and spirituality has become a question of the indescribable nature of intense and private experiences rather than a reflection of the traditional exploration of the transcendental majesty of God or the ultimate reality. This reflects the tendency to read such historical material in terms of modern psychological theories of the self. This ‘psychologisation’ of the religious has been an important step in the unhinging of ‘the mystical’ from its roots in the world’s religious traditions, and its reformulation in terms of privatised and ‘custom-made’ spiritualities oriented towards the concerns of modern individual consumers searching for meaning in a marketplace of religions (Hanegraaff 1996; see also Carrette and King (2005) for a critical discussion of this trend). In response to such criticisms of modern forms of ‘spirituality’, some scholars (notably Forman 2004, Lynch 2007 and Heelas 2008) have argued that we are in fact seeing the emergence of a ‘progressive spirituality’ that is potentially transformative and socially-conscious rather than merely accommodating of contemporary consumerism and capitalism.

In her feminist analysis of Christian mysticism, Jantzen points to the shifting meanings of ‘the mystical’ throughout history, highlighting both the power struggles involved in all attempts to define the category and the ways in which women have been excluded by men from positions of authority in this process. Similarly, King (1999) offers an analysis of the colonial origins of the notion of ‘the mystic East’, arguing that the representation of Hinduism and Buddhism as mystical religions has functioned to reinforce Western Orientalist stereotypes of eastern religion and culture as world denying, amoral and lacking an impulse to improve society. This has allowed the West to define itself as progressive, scientific and liberal in contrast to the superstitious, tradition-bound and ‘underdeveloped’ Third World nations of Asia. In this regard the stability of the categories of ‘spirituality’ and ‘the mystical’ and the way in which they have been adopted has itself become subject to critical analysis as emphasis has shifted towards the power relations involved in attempts to classify particular

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religious figures, movements or traditions as mystical or spiritual in nature. At the same time, the emergence of contemporary forms of eclectic ‘religiosity’ in the Western world and the increasing popularity of the term ‘spirituality’ as an indicator of many people’s sense of the ‘transcendent’ in the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries is seen by some as the development of a kind of ‘post-secularity’ and has begun to attract the attention of sociologists of religion, seeking to map, classify and understand such contemporary trends in a way that moves beyond the secularisation debates of a previous generation of scholars.

Bibliography

Beer, Frances (1992), Women and Mystical Experience in the Middle Ages, Rochester, New York and Woodbridge, Suffolk: Boydell.

Bouyer, Louis (1990), The Christian Mystery: From Pagan Myth to Christian Mysticism, Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark.

Bynum, Caroline Walker (1982), Jesus as Mother: Studies in the Spirituality of the High Middle Ages, Berkeley: University of California Press.

Carrette, Jeremy and Richard King (2005), Selling Spirituality. The Silent Takeover of Religion, London and New York: Routledge.

Certeau, Michel de (1992), The Mystic Fable Volume 1. The Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, trans. by Michael B. Smith, Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Deikman, Arthur J. (1980), ‘Deautomatization and the Mystic Experience,’ in R. Woods (ed.) Understanding Mysticism, London: Athlone Press; Garden City, NY: Image Books.

––––Â(1982), The Observing Self: Mysticism and Psychotherapy, Boston: Beacon Press.

Evans, Donald (1989), ‘Can Philosophers Limit What Mystics Can Do? A Critique of Steven Katz’ in

Religious Studies 25: 53–60.

Forman, Robert K. C. (2004), Grassroots Spirituality. What It Is, Why It Is Here, Where It Is Going, Imprint Academic.

Hanegraaff, Wouter J. (1996), New Age Religion and Western Culture: Esotericism in the Mirror of Secular Thought, Numen Book Series, Leiden, New York, Köln: E. J. Brill.

Heelas, Paul (2008), Spiritualities of Life. New Age Romanticism and Consumptive Capitalism, Oxford: Blackwell.

Huxley, Aldous (1954), The Doors of Perception, London: Grafton Books (Collins). Inge, Dean (1899), Christian Mysticism, London: Methuen.

James, William (1977), The Varieties of Religious Experience, The Gifford Lectures 1901–2, Glasgow: Collins.

Jantzen, Grace (1995), Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Johnson, W. J. (1994), The Bhagavad Gita, Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press.

Katz, Steven (1978), ‘Language, Epistemology and Mysticism,’ in Katz (ed.) Mysticism and Philosophical Analysis, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

King, Richard (1999), Orientalism and Religion. Postcolonial Theory, India and ‘the Mystic East’, London and New York: Routledge.

King, Sallie B. (1988), ‘Two Epistemological Models for the Interpretation of Mysticism,’ in Journal of the American Academy of Religion 61(2): 275–9.

Lynch, Gordon (2007), The New Spirituality. An Introduction to Progressive Belief in the Twenty-first Century, UK: I. B. Tauris; US: Palgrave-Macmillan.

McGinn, Bernard (ed.) (1986), Meister Eckhart. Teacher and Preacher, London: SPCK and New York: Paulist Press.

Nygren, Anders (1953), Agape and Eros, Philadelphia: Westminster.

Otto, Rudolf (1932), Mysticism East and West. A Comparative Analysis of the Nature of Mysticism, New York: MacMillan, 1970; London: Quest Edition, 1987.

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––––Â(1959), The Idea of the Holy (original, 1917, Das Heilige), 2nd edn, London: Penguin.

Petroff, Elizabeth (ed.) (1986), Medieval Women’s Visionary Literature, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Pseudo-Dionysius (1987), The Complete Works, trans. by Colm Luibheid et al., New York: Paulist Press. Raphael, Melissa (1994), ‘Feminism, Constructivism and Numinous Experience’ in Religious Studies

30: 511–26.

Revised Standard Version of the Bible (1973), London/New York/Toronto: Collins.

Schimmel, Anne-Marie (1975), Mystical Dimensions of Islam (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press.

Sells, Michael (1996) Early Islamic Mysticism. New York: Paulist Press.

Smart, Ninian (1965), Reasons and Faiths. An Investigation of Religious Discourse, Christian and NonChristian, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Stace, Walter (1960), Mysticism and Philosophy, London: Jeremy P. Tarcher Inc. Tart, Charles (1969), Altered States of Consciousness, New York: Wiley.

Turner, Denys (1995), The Darkness of God: Negativity in Christian Mysticism, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Watts, Alan (1965), The Joyous Cosmology, New York: Vintage Books. Zaehner, R. C. (1957), Mysticism Sacred and Profane, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Suggested reading

Robert Forman (ed.) (1990), The Problem of Pure Consciousness, New York, Oxford University Press. Scholarly articles responding critically to the constructivist position of Katz and others.

Aldous Huxley, (1945) The Perennial Philosophy, New York: Harper Brothers.

Wide range of mystical quotations (in English translation) from the major religious Âtraditions, with commentarial remarks by Huxley. A classic anthology and example of the perennialist position.

Steven Katz (ed.) (1983), Mysticism and Religious Traditions, New York: Oxford University Press. Scholarly articles on various mystical traditions, mostly espousing the constructivist position.

Frits Staal (1975), Exploring Mysticism, Harmondsworth: Penguin.

Quality study, though rather difficult when dealing with Staal’s own specialist area of Hindu and Buddhist mysticism.

Richard Woods (ed.) (1980), Understanding Mysticism, London: Athlone Press; Garden City, NY: Image Books.

Chapter 20

New religious movements

Judith Fox

	So many people, so many opinions; his own a law to each.
â	(Terence 190–159 bce)

In April 2008 law enforcement authorities raided the Texan ranch of the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (the FLDS Church). A tip had been received that women and children inside the polygamous community were being abused. The group, which had broken away from the main Mormon Church in the 1930s, led an isolated existence. On the basis that they were in imminent danger, and under the watchful eyes of the media networks, who knew good television when they saw it, Child Protective Services took more than 400 children into custody. Over one hundred of the women voluntarily chose to leave the ranch with them. Stories rapidly circulated of under-age sex and marriage, and of harsh physical punishments being meted out, even to babies. But in addition to the debates over whether these individuals had ever really been under threat – on May 29 2008 the Texas Supreme Court ruled that all of the children must be returned as their removal had not been justified – there was another, more basic, question. How best to characterize this religious organization? For, as an article posted on the American news channel MSNBC’s website on April 9 2008 pointed out, there was no consensus between ‘the experts’ as to its status. Was it a cult, a sect or a new religious movement (NRM)?

The lack of agreement evident on this particular occasion mirrored a more general absence of agreement that has existed among those who study NRMs. The first reason for this is that that scholars on different sides of the question have come from diverse academic backgrounds, including sociology, psychology and the history of religion. These different disciplines, based on somewhat different presuppositions, have given rise to different approaches and degrees of contact that, in turn, have led at times to markedly different views.

Another reason has been that there are substantial dissimilarities between the many groups that have been labeled by scholars under the blanket heading of NRM. Some are breakaway groups from earlier religious organizations, others coalesce around new charismatic leaders. Most teach that it is wrong to injure either oneself or others. Several groups, however, mostly apocalyptic in tone, have been responsible for violence against both followers and outsiders, resulting in injury and death. The vast majority of people in NRMs have not been interested in indulging in any type of criminal activity. Nevertheless, there have also been a small number who have engaged in reprehensible and illegal activities. Most followers enjoy normal mental health, but some have suffered breakdowns and emotional trauma. Hence, scholars have found themselves in sharp disagreement when seeking to provide generalized

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answers about, for example, the social relevance of the groups and the degree of danger NRMs pose to their members and the rest of the world.

An additional reason for why consensus on such a fundamental question as ‘what is the nature of the beast/s we are studying’ has not been forthcoming is that the study of NRMs has taken place in a strongly contested and politically charged arena, contributing to the discord. NRMs have often been the sites of arguments that tend to provoke passionate debate, such as the nature of ‘free will’, ‘authenticity’ and even ‘religion’ itself. Among researchers, some of these debates have taken the form of methodological concerns. There have been emotionally charged exchanges, for instance, over the kinds of relationships that scholars should adopt with the groups with which they work; and allegations have been made that some academics have been either duped by or have become complicit with NRMs, and that their research has consequently lacked ‘objectivity’. Other arguments have centered on whether members of NRMs are ‘freethinking’ members of society, and so entitled to practice their religion as they see fit, or, alternatively, whether they are victims in need of rescue.

To shed further light on the difficulties in achieving academic consensus with regard to NRMs, this chapter will begin with a discussion of the widespread adoption by researchers of the category of ‘new religious movement’. This will be followed by a brief outline of some of the common characteristics of NRMs that have been identified by scholars, along with the explanations that have been offered for the emergence and features of NRMs. After this, we will take a closer look at the conditions under which scholarship in the field has taken place by examining in more detail the debates over the relationships scholars have had with NRMs that have occurred, as well as the impact the prevailing cultural milieu has had on their research. Finally, we will look at the rather different public perceptions of NRMs around the world, and close with the question of whether NRMs are as ubiquitous as has been suggested, or whether it may be more useful to understand them as emerging from and operating under very particular historical conditions.

Labeling ‘new religious movements’

‘New religious movement’ (NRM) is the label generally used today by scholars in Europe and America to designate a religious group which has either arrived in the West after 1950, and so is new to Westerners, or that has originated in the West since that time. By contrast, in Africa as well as in South and Southeast Asia, most scholars have tended to use the end of the nineteenth century as the cut-off point between ‘new’ and ‘older’ religious movements. In Japan, which has seen successive waves of new religions since that time, there has been a further differentiation made, between the ‘new religions’ of the early twentieth century and the ‘new new religions’ that have emerged since 1970 or so. In other words, there has been no single understanding of which groups come under this umbrella designation. As a result, movements as disparate as Teen Witches, Kundalini Yoga, African Charismatic Churches, Satanism, Tibetan Buddhism and UFO groups, to name but a few, have all been classified as NRMs.

This confusion has its source in the reason why the phrase NRM was coined in the first place. It was not the result of the identification of common elements between different religious groups that primarily led to them being grouped together. Instead, scholars agreed upon the term because of their burgeoning anxiety over the disparate ways in which other terms that had been used until then to designate such groups were being deployed. In particular, it was employed to serve as a counter-measure to the pejorative associations that had became associated with the label ‘cult’.

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Until the introduction of the name NRM, sociologists of religion had been accustomed to using the terms ‘sects’ and ‘cults’ to talk about small religious movements. Even between sociologists, however, there were differing opinions as to how these terms should be defined (Dawson 2003). For example, the American scholars Rodney Stark and William Sims Bainbridge used the criteria of doctrinal distinctiveness to classify sects as breakaways from older religious groups. Cults, they said, were movements that drew their inspiration from somewhere besides the primary religion of the culture in which they were located, and so were culturally innovative. The Oxford sociologist Bryan Wilson, by contrast, defined cults and sects on the basis of their social organization. He characterized sects as exclusive and elitist groups offering salvation through membership, with lifestyles and concerns which were markedly different from those of mainstream society (1992). His student Roy Wallis followed with a redefinition of cults as loosely organized groups seen by their members to be just one of a variety of paths to salvation, rather than as the only path. According to Wallis, sects were usually authoritarian and run by a single leader. Cults, he argued, had no clear organizational boundaries and the locus of authority was vested in the members rather than in the leadership. Some cults eventually coalesced into sects, as, for instance, in the case of the self-help oriented Dianetics courses, which transformed into the Church of Scientology. However, many other cults simply dissolved after a short period of time.

Psychologists of religion tended to use the term ‘cult’ quite differently again. They applied it to designate authoritarian religious groups that combine group processes with hypnotic techniques, resulting in what has often been called ‘mind control’. It was this usage that found its way into popular discourse in the 1970s. The word ‘cult’ gradually took on more sinister connotations, no longer indicating just an enthusiastic and relatively unorganized following, but something deviant and potentially dangerous.

An active coalition of small groups in America and Europe, working against what they perceived as the exploitation of NRM members, became known as ‘the anti-cult movement’. These ‘anti-cultists’ adopted the definition that was in use among psychologists and, with the help of the media, disseminated their own experiences – and suspicions – to the public. Their narrative began to dominate newspaper, television and other media representations. Cults were suspect and subversive, and run by power-crazed leaders intent on exploiting the vulnerable. Those under their sway could be persuaded to do things that no thinking person would do voluntarily. Hapless followers who naively became involved with them were at risk of sexual and psychological abuse, coercion, financial destitution, and the break up of their families. They were ‘pseudo-religions’, moneymaking schemes or criminal ‘rackets’ operating under the guise of religion. The menacing associations that became linked to the term ‘cult’ were further legitimated and reinforced by the catastrophic events surrounding groups as diverse as the People’s Temple at Jonestown in Guyana, the Branch Davidians at Waco, members of the Solar Temple and Heaven’s Gate in North America and Europe, and Aum Shinrikyo in Japan.

Most psychologists and a handful of sociologists are still happy to retain the label ‘cult’, and some continue to see it as analytically useful. By the 1980s, however, a feeling grew among other scholars in the field that the term ‘cult’ had become so politicized that it was unusable, and that the time had come for a new name for the groups they studied. Scholars of religion at the time often looked to how the people they studied represented themselves when attempting to choose an appropriate label. But, with groups from all major (and minor) religious, spiritual and alternative traditions being included in this category, there was consensus only in one important respect: by now, nobody – perhaps for obvious

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reasons – wanted to be called a member of a ‘cult’, or saw themselves as such. These days the term ‘cult’ is still sometimes used in mainstream society to describe groups such as direct marketing companies like Amway, therapeutic and self-help organizations and other small religious and political groups with charismatic leaders. It has even been deployed in relation to Al-Qaeda (see Gallagher 2007). However, among academics themselves the term ‘new religious movement’ – chosen for its apparent neutrality – is now more frequently used, with only a few preferring to continue to use the terms ‘cult’ and ‘sect’.

Some pros and cons of the new label

The adoption of the phrase ‘new religious movement’, however, generated its own issues, the first of which hung on the word ‘new’. As well as the confusion that was experienced over dating, it was not always obvious to scholars at what point in the development of a religion that something ‘new’ had evolved. When a church splintered, for instance, and new breakaway groups were formed, were the latter ‘NRMs’? Should the term still be used even if the ‘new’ splinter group retained much of the original doctrine and practice? Similarly, it was often also unclear at what point a ‘new religious movement’ became a ‘not so new religious movement’. Was it when the founder died, when records started to be kept and a complex organization emerged? Was it when a new wave of religious movements became apparent in that region? Or was it when a second and third generation was established, or when a movement was no longer associated with controversy? Protests over the use of the word ‘new’ were also made by a number of the groups usually put into this category. The International Society for Krishna Consciousness (ISKCON), for example, argued that it was only new in the West, and could trace its origins back to sixteenth-century Bengal, and even earlier. Like a number of other groups, ISKCON did not accept that they were ‘new’, and complained that the label was misleading.

There were also objections to the description ‘religious’ being applied to some of the movements placed in this category, as they did not normally describe themselves in those terms. For example, followers from South Asian groups such as the Brahma Kumaris, and followers of gurus such as Sathya Sai Baba, Mother Meera and Amritanandamayi protested that they belonged to ‘spiritual’ movements. For a short while in the 1980s, followers of the guru Osho Rajneesh presented themselves as members of a religion, Rajneeshism. The religion was probably deliberately created to assist wide-scale entry into the United States. But for most of the history of his movement, his followers did not articulate their affiliation in religious terms, and Osho spent a good deal of his life denouncing ‘religion’. Falun Gong, a movement that recently gained a high profile in China for publicly protesting against the government, identified itself on its official web page as an organization whose members ‘simply seek to maintain a strong and healthy body, improve their Xinxing (heart-mind- moral nature) and be good people.’ Denounced as a cult by the authorities, the organization strongly rejected the claim that it was either a cult or a religion. This raised the question in some minds of whether it was appropriate and even ethical to label a group as religious if the group itself did not do so.

Scholars also noted that the phrase ‘new religious movements’ began to accumulate many of the negative connotations previously ascribed to ‘cults’. Opponents of the phrase charged that academics introduced it in order to deflect what they considered to be legitimate criticism about these movements. In the face of such considerations, one suggestion was that scholars of religion abandon the label and return to using the technical terms ‘sect’ and

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‘cult’, once having first agreed on their definition. However, most believed that it would be impossible to turn back the clock in this manner. Another proposal was to extend the phrase ‘religious minority’ to cover NRMs as well as diaspora communities (Introvigne 1997). But, though this might have had legal advantages, the suggestion had drawbacks of its own. Some groups described as ‘religious minorities’ in Europe – especially Islamic communities – have experienced themselves as threatened, marginalized and vulnerable. Hence, being called a ‘religious minority’ might not necessarily have placed those previously designated as ‘cults’ and ‘NRMs’ in a more comfortable position in relation to the mainstream. Further, since the meanings of terms are never definitively fixed, pejorative connotations could have been taken from the term ‘NRM’ and applied to ‘religious minority’, just as has happened between the terms ‘cult’ and ‘NRM’. There are also groups who, despite being comparatively small, do not recognize themselves as a ‘minority’. Instead, they believed that the truths that they have discovered will affect the majority of humankind in the longer term.

Despite such problems associated with ‘new religious movement’, advocates for the scholarly retention of the phrase pointed out that the label was still not as negatively charged as ‘cult’. The phrase, they said, spoke to the fact that, although many groups defined in this way have their roots in older traditions, almost all do see themselves as new in some way. Indeed, it is this experience of newness that allowed them to offer their own unique message to humanity. Eileen Barker is one of a number of sociologists who has argued that many of these movements, whether they see themselves as ‘religious’ or not, also exhibit characteristics that are usually associated with ‘new religion’. These characteristics include communal ownership of property, charismatic leadership, relationships based on personal trust rather than on institutional regulation, a message of salvation, liberation or transformation, a high turnover of members, and deviance from the wider community. In her view, therefore, the label ‘new religious movement’ does have some analytical merit (Barker 2004). In the face of all these considerations, and despite its methodological problems, ‘new religious movement’ has indeed prevailed as the label most commonly employed by scholars of religion.

Characteristics of NRMs

If there has been considerable debate over the labeling of NRMs, there has been less disagreement over the characteristics scholars have commonly ascribed to such groups. In some countries, especially but not exclusively in Southeast Asia, groups with millions of members have been classified as new religions. However, NRMs are usually characterized as small, the majority of them having no more than a few hundred members, and the larger ones usually being able to claim only memberships in the tens of thousands. Their converted are attracted for disparate reasons, depending on the particular movement. Some speak of the sense of purpose and community their membership gives them, and the opportunity to develop spiritually that they have not found elsewhere. Others say they are attracted by the promise of healing or prosperity, or stronger religious experiences than they have had before. Members talk of the feeling that they had of ‘coming home’ when they first made contact with the NRM, and of the trust they have in the claims of their leader.

The connection felt with a leader of an NRM is usually also seen as a very influential factor in conversion. Followers of NRMs commonly consider their leaders divine or enlightened or, at the very least, much closer to such a state than they are themselves. They are often thought to possess the ability to work miracles and heal the sick. Frequently being skilled orators, they are seen as having a singular capability to articulate the will of the divine, and have

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a charismatic and convincing allure for their followers. Often capricious in behavior, and contradictory in teaching, many appear to revel in flouting rules and in inconsistency, or in pushing their followers beyond what is considered ‘normal’. Paradoxically and simultaneously, nevertheless, their word is usually final and absolute, and they can be accorded tremendous control over aspects of their followers’ lives. Leaders can be given the power to regulate matters of dress, diet, hygiene, finances, friendships and family relationships, sexual relations and marriage, procreation and even – in rare instances – to decide whether it is time for their followers to end their mortal existence.

The coupling of stringent regulation and effervescent spontaneity characteristic of many NRMs has been seen to come about through the relationship between the members and the leader. The devotee trusts that the leader is able to deliver the promised spiritual rewards. It is thought that it is this sense of trust that encourages them to offer their wholehearted commitment. It is as a result that relations with leaders are often experienced as personal and intimate by members, even if they have never met the head of their movement in person. Members’ commitment may be reinforced if the religion offers them ways of looking at the world that are radically different from the mainstream. These new perspectives sometimes undercut commitment to concerns other than those of the movement, and promote rupture between new and old.

Scholars say that this rupture may be reinforced by other attributes commonly found in NRMs. One is that these groups are rarely just about accepting received wisdom from others. Instead, they usually offer powerful new experiences to followers. These experiences convince members of the truthfulness of the teaching and the significance of the path. Following the example of the leadership, converts often adopt a vocabulary only used in their movement, allowing them to share the unique experiences of membership with each other. Their sexual norms are also often observed to be different from those of the mainstream, whether they advocate celibacy, arranged marriages for Westerners, polygamy in a monogamous society, or complete sexual ‘freedom’ (Chryssides and Wilkins 2006).

Gordon Melton has gone so far as to argue that these differences from the ‘mainstream’ are what constitute NRMs as a category: ‘What new religions share is a common deficiency that pushes them into contested space at the fringes of society. New religions are assigned their fringe status by the more established and dominant religious culture, and by various voices within the secular culture (government officials, watchdog groups, the media, etc.)’ (Melton 2004, 73). However, not all NRMs that have been studied have been found to be new in all senses. Many ‘break-away’ NRMs continue with at least some of the practices of the groups from which they have split. Others combine elements from multiple traditions in order to highlight the way they see themselves as embracing, and thereby transcending, all other religions. Having said that, the theme of rupture is often continued in teachings relating to the rapidly approaching emergence of a new social order, with which the group in question is associated in some significant way. A number also develop political agendas that explicitly challenge social norms, and are public and active in their pursuit. NRMs usually hope to enjoy a reputation based on their spiritual contribution to humanity. At least some, however, are more likely to have one founded unwittingly on whether their behavior can be tolerated by the wider society in which it is located.

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The academic study of NRMs

A recent and useful overview of research on NRMs is Cults and New Religious Movements: A Reader (Dawson 2003), a compilation of some of the most influential articles written by contemporary scholars in the field. The voice that scholars of NRMs have perhaps drawn on most heavily is that of the early sociologist Max Weber (1864–1920). His writings (e.g. Weber 1968) have been brought to bear on the question of why the number of NRMs in the West appeared to increase substantially in the 1960s, and beyond; on the dynamics involved in conversion to NRM; and with regard to how commitment is maintained. Most studies of charismatic leadership, the most common form of leadership found in NRMs, have used Weber’s portrayal of charismatic leaders as revolutionary and set apart by what are seen as exceptional qualities. Bryan Wilson relied heavily on Weber’s portrayal of modernity and its rationalizing momentum for his own argument that NRMs are examples of private forms of religion. Wilson argued that privatised forms of religion appear when religion disappears from the public sphere, this disappearance being due to processes of modernization. Following Weber, he also said that such groups tend to emerge during times of social and political unrest, or when a country is subjected to foreign invasion. Other scholars have utilized Weber’s notion of ‘routinization’ – the premise that practices tend to become routine and fixed over time – to try to understand how and why groups become increasingly institutionalized.

The most popular typology of NRMs so far devised has been that of Roy Wallis (Dawson 2003). Here Weber’s influence is also discernible, especially in Wallis’ assumption that groups tend to become increasingly more accommodating towards the mainstream over time. Additionally, Wallis divided his typology into three ‘ideal types’, another Weberian strategy. Earlier typologies were primarily descriptive, concentrating on the classification of groups in terms of doctrine. By contrast, Wallis sought to put together a predictive typology that could be used to forecast what kinds of features, such as recruitment patterns, different NRMs would be likely to display.

The first type he proposed was that of world-rejecting groups, which perhaps most closely conforms to popular images of new religions. World-rejecting groups, according to Wallis, typically took the form of closed communities of followers who believe that the outside world is impure, degenerate and sometimes dangerous, and that contact with it should be minimized. These communities tended to be run along authoritarian lines, and the needs of the group took precedence over those of the individual member. Income and property were often shared. Such movements usually anticipated an imminent transformation of the world, followed by a ‘new world order’ in which they would play a significant role. Wallis included ISKCON and the Children of God as examples.

Wallis’ second type was that of world-affirming groups. These were not so recognizably religious, and were more individualistic than the first category. These groups may have had reservations about the existing social order. However, unlike their world-rejecting counterparts, they did not tend to view themselves as a refuge of purity in an impure world. Groups located in this category were oriented towards the attainment of ‘human potential’ through the release of the innate divinity or creativity of the person. They included seminaroriented organizations such as The Forum and Insight. The last category identified by Wallis contained world-accommodating groups. These were movements who did not necessarily see themselves as an all-encompassing or unique path. Instead, they offered highly experiential techniques that could be utilized by people in order to revitalize their spirituality more generally. Wallis included organizations such as the charismatic churches and Subud in this category.