Материал: The Routledge Companion to the Study of Religion by John Hinnells

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Catholic Church faces in its current efforts to recruit nuns and priests is that the cost–benefit calculus has changed to the church’s disadvantage, as increased economic security in the wider society means that security no longer offsets the personal cost of celibacy.

In most mainstream religious organizations, production is by no means limited to paid professionals. All active members of the laity participate in production, as is seen most clearly in worship services and group rituals but is no less true of the social activities, study groups, friendship networks, and even the faith maintained by congregations. As these examples suggest, most of the benefits of religion are club goods (Iannaccone 1992). These are goods that are non-rivalrous, in the sense that one person’s use of them does not diminish another person’s use of them, but excludable, in the sense that people who do not belong to the “club” cannot use them. Above all, they are collectively produced.

Prior to the historical development of commercial markets and industries, much human wealth production took place in households, and Iannaccone has shown how the combination of the economic concepts of club good and household production combine to explain the amateur producer role in religious groups:

Churches as clubs. Club models of religion may be framed as an extension of the household production approach. The religious commodities that enter a household’s utility function now depend not only upon their own inputs of time, goods, and capital, but also upon the inputs of fellow church members. So, for example, the pleasure and edification that I derive from a worship service does not depend solely on what I bring to the service (through my presence, attentiveness, public singing, and so forth); it also depends on how many other people attend, how warmly they greet me, how well they sing, how enthusiastically they read and pray, how deep their commitment, and so forth.

(Iannaccone 1998: 1482)

Because both laity and clergy produce religious goods, both require religious capital (Iannaccone 1984; 1990), although clergy require more. James Coleman (1988) introduced the concept of social capital to rational choice theory, thereby increasing the social-scientific sophistication of the approach. Religious capital is the accumulated stock of skills, sensitivities, and social relationships that affect a person’s net benefits from religious activities. Capital is a stock that augments the flow of goods and services that people create with their inputs of time and money. In contrast to time and money inputs, capital is durable and remains useful over time. In fact, some religious activities tend to augment the very capital that makes them productive. Religious capital and religious production can thus be mutually reinforcing, some might even say addictive (Iannaccone 1984). As the entrepreneur model of cult formation above already noted, founders of religions tend to apprentice in other successful religions. Like all other forms of capital – physical, financial, human, and social – stocks of religious capital must be built up over time.

Investors

A distinctive feature of religious organizations is that they promise attainment of rewards, such as eternal life in Heaven, that cannot be delivered in the here and now. Notice the use of economic terminology when Stark and Bainbridge (1987: 36) defined these promises as compensators: “When humans cannot quickly and easily obtain strongly desired rewards they persist in their efforts and may often accept explanations that provide only compensators.

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These are intangible substitutes for the desired reward, having the character of I.O.U.s, the value of which must be taken on faith.” Consumers who give their church time and money in hopes of earning entry into Heaven are essentially investing in it. When they die, and “go to their reward,” then they believe they can cash in on this investment.

In the first formal economic model of religious activity, Corry Azzi and Ronald Ehrenberg (1975) placed heavy emphasis on the perceived supernatural benefits of religion. In particular, they saw the chief goal of religious activity as afterlife consumption, a supernatural return on natural investments. Religion requires major investments and promises the highest possible return, typically eternal life or some comparable form of transcendence. Like secular stocks and bonds, however, compensators come in all denominations – in the monetary sense of the term – both small and large. In their formal derivations, Stark and Bainbridge (1987:36, 39) distinguished specific from general compensators:

Compensators are treated by humans as if they were rewards.

For any reward or cluster of rewards, one or more compensators may be invented. Compensators vary according to the generality, value, and kind of the rewards for which they substitute.

Compensators which substitute for single, specific rewards are called specific compensators.

Compensators which substitute for a cluster of many rewards and for rewards of great scope and value are called general compensators.

...

The most general compensators can be supported only by supernatural explanations. Supernatural refers to forces beyond or outside nature which suspend, alter, or ignore physical forces.

Religion refers to systems of general compensators based on supernatural assumptions.

When Stark and Bainbridge coined the term compensator, they were thinking in terms of psychological compensation to assuage unsatisfied desires, but they could just as well have used the term compensation in the economic sense, as payment for work. Similarly, setting aside bad puns confusing profit with prophet, religion explicitly offers the hope of profit. The Bible often uses metaphors of profit and loss when discussing the benefits of religion. Here are just seven of the thirty-seven passages using the word profit in the King James Version:

Samuel 12:21 And turn ye not aside: for then should ye go after vain things, which cannot profit nor deliver; for they are vain.

Job 21:15 What is the Almighty, that we should serve him? and what profit should we have, if we pray unto him?

Job 22:2 Can a man be profitable unto God, as he that is wise may be profitable unto himself?

Proverbs 11:4 Riches profit not in the day of wrath: but righteousness delivereth from death.

Jeremiah 7:8 Behold, ye trust in lying words, that cannot profit.

Matthew 16:26 For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?

James 2:14 What doth it profit, my brethren, though a man say he hath faith, and have not works? can faith save him?

468â Religions in the modern world

Profit refers to benefit from actions, especially from exchanges. Interestingly, Bible passages often employ the language of profit and exchange to justify religious behavior. Should you try to gain the whole world, even at the cost of your soul, or seek to preserve your soul while forgoing the opportunity to gain the world? Religion is like a life insurance policy. Indeed, Azzi and Ehrenberg (1975) explicitly modeled religion as an after-life insurance policy, and Viviana Zelizer (1978) has documented how the emergence of the life insurance industry stimulated debates about whether it was sacrilegious.

Many secular investments can be bought and sold, but this is not usually the case for spiritual investments in religion. Stocks, bonds, and most physical assets can readily be exchanged for money, which provides a simple means of calculating their current value and ultimate profitability. The same is not true for general compensators of religion, nor is it true for most investments in relationships or even one’s skills. To some extent, the difference is a matter of constraints on exchange and time. An owner of (term) life insurance cannot collect the death benefits while still alive, nor can the policy be redeemed in the event of some other person’s death. Similarly, my investments in church-going and Christian virtue do not yield a ticket to Heaven that I can sell to others. But a more fundamental difference separating religious investments from most secular investments is information. We can determine whether a life insurance company has fulfilled its obligations when other people die, whereas we have no objective information about a religion’s afterlife payouts to its investors, nor can we adduce much objective evidence for many other religious claims. The payoffs rest on faith.

This information problem helps us understand many seemingly strange features of religion, including the historical tension between pluralism and exclusivity (Iannaccone 1995). Stock market uncertainty prompts people to hedge their bets, investing in a diversified portfolio of assets. This same strategy arises in some religious markets especially those of Asia with the most familiar example being Japan where a given family might practice both Shinto and Buddhism, and more recently may even turn to Christianity for some services such as weddings. This risk reduction strategy leads to private production, diversified consumption, and fee-for- service transactions. In the west, however, the dominant strategy is quite different. The great monotheistic faiths – Judaism, Christianity, and Islam – reinforce trust through collective (club) production, exclusivity, and high levels of commitment. Collective production tends to reduce the perceived risk and raise the perceived value of religious activities, although also promotes free-rider problems in which some laity and even clergy may seek to gain religious rewards without making a commensurate investment (Iannaccone 2002).

Markets

Now that we have considered three main economic roles that people play in religion

– consumers, producers, and investors – we can examine how these roles fit together to create markets. To this point we have deferred discussion of Becker’s third basic assumption, which is often expressed as the principle that markets tend to reach equilibrium. We prefer a somewhat more cautious statement, but one that we think explains rather more:

Social outcomes constitute the equilibria that emerge from the aggregation and interaction of individual actions.

Whenever we see relatively stable social forms, they probably reflect a market of one kind or another that has achieved a fairly durable equilibrium. Hence, we begin our discussion of

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religious markets by considering forces that produce equilibrium, despite our awareness that real social units are never truly in equilibrium and that small changes can sometimes trigger radical transformations both in secular and religious markets.

In ancient days, and in less economically developed parts of the world today, religion was local and conducted by religious professionals who did not belong to geographically widespread organizations. Indeed, pagan really means local. The modern analogy would be highly specialized service professionals, like dentists or psychoanalysts, who may belong to loose confederations but operate as tiny local businesses. The decisive transition to a more modern model was taken by the Roman Catholic Church, which inherited bureaucratic forms from the Roman Empire and operated rather like an industrial corporation or firm (Ekelund et al. 1996).

In a free market with easy entry and innovation, producers will not thrive unless they adjust their products in response to changes in technology, customer wants, and market conditions. A minister, who sees empty pews on a Sunday morning, will try various tactics to increase attendance, such as church picnics, inviting celebrity preachers to visit, and calling on parishioners at their home to offer spiritual benefits. Other things being equal, a denomination as a unit will adjust itself to attract customers. As local churches and denominations compete with each other for customers, the market as a whole becomes more vigorous. Customers receive more benefits from religion and more readily invest in it.

Every industry produces a range of products, brands, and firms, and there is some degree of segmentation in all markets. Earlier we explained that this results primarily from differences in the resources the various customers possess, and in other external factors, rather than differences in their fundamental preferences. However, to the extent that differences in fundamental preference do exist, they tend to reinforce market segmentation. Throughout the modern world, competing denominations offer different and distinctive bundles of goods and services tailored both to the different external conditions and internal tastes of their customers.

Social class has long been of major concern of sociologists of religion. Economists, by contrast, emphasize that individuals with different levels of income and education naturally demand different combinations of goods and services. Put crudely, poor people are attracted to deviant sects, whereas rich people flock to mainstream churches and denominations (Pope 1942). Earlier we noted that people with lower wage rates will tend to invest proportionately more time rather than money in religion, compared with rich people who invest proportionately more money. To the extent that prosperous people can afford to buy more of their ordinary rewards from secular business, they will demand less from their churches. People who are not prosperous will need to create many of the same rewards as club goods within their congregations. Thus, sects tend to attract customers from the margins of society

– the segments poorly served by commercial markets and secular governments (Iannaccone and Berman 2006).

The diversity of firms in a free religious market will serve the needs of a larger fraction of the population, but there is also a second economic reason why a free market better mobilizes the population for religion. By the sheer fact of needing to compete with each other, clergy in different denominations will be forced to seek customers more vigorously. This was explicitly explained half way back to Adam Smith by social scientist of religion, William Folwell Bainbridge (1882b) in his observational study of American Protestant missions in Asia. Some leaders of international missions wanted to divide the Orient up among denominations, so they would not get in each others’ way, but his research visiting

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missions in Japan, China, Burma and India suggested to him that this was a mistake. In another book from the same research (Bainbridge 1882a), but focusing on northern Baptist missions, he explained it was usually worthwhile concentrating efforts in areas where local religions were weak and potential customers could more readily be won over. Although he expressed this idea in terms of the military concept of concentration of forces, it could as easily be expressed in terms of concentrating marketing of a new religious product on early adopter market segments, comparable to those who first tend to buy new technologies (Katz and Lazarsfeld 1955; Rogers 2003).

Two decades ago, one of the first debates in the revived economics of religion centered on two opposing arguments about the relationship between religious pluralism and commitment (Warner 1993). In a series of publications, Roger Finke, Rodney Stark, and Laurence Iannaccone pictured religion as a market economy in which denominations compete with each other for members (Finke and Stark 1988, 1989a, 1989b, 1992; Finke 1989; Iannaccone 1991). Different individuals and groups in society have different needs, cultures, and nonreligious affiliations, so therefore religious pluralism should increase commitment by offering each person the style of religion that suits him or her best. In their empirical work, they tried to show that rates of church membership are higher where there are more denominations in the religious marketplace.

In contrast, other researchers argued that religious pluralism has a negative effect on church membership (Breault 1989a, 1989b; Land et al. 1991; Blau et al. 1992; Blau et al., cf. Christiano 1987). Religious monopoly might be associated with higher rates of religious involvement, if individual affiliations are chiefly the result of social influence, and if social influence is most effective when it is monolithic.

Thus, the narrow debate over denominational diversity and religious mobilization contrasted two distinctive general models of group process. The diversity-mobilization argument conceptualized group affiliation in terms of individual choices among competing suppliers, with individuals maximizing their satisfaction by selecting the suppliers that best meet their personal needs. The monopoly-mobilization argument saw affiliation in terms of the net power of social influences operating within a diffuse social network, wherein persons are more strongly impelled to join a group the greater the proportion of their consociates who are members. Empirical evidence at first seemed contradictory. It is possible to resolve this debate, first by acknowledging that both perspectives are correct, representing real competing forces in social life that produce different empirical outcomes depending upon which force is stronger under the circumstances (Bainbridge 1995). But the second theory like the first can be conceptualized in terms of the economics of religion.

If we realize that the customers of religion are also investors, then we can ask where they get the confidence to invest in one brand of religion or another. Brand loyalty is a very real phenomenon in commercial markets, as anyone would know who has compared the cost of national brand products in the grocery store with generics. Brands benefit from advertising, from personal testimonials, and from the perception that they must be good or they would not have survived in the market. Major brands really do have an advantage, whether they are breakfast cereals or churches, but market segmentation also works against them.

Note that one firm can have many brands, as General Motors sold both Pontiacs and Chevrolets built from similar designs with many of the identical parts. Thus, for example, the Roman Catholic church could have an ethnic Irish church in one part of Chicago, and an ethnic Polish church in another part, enjoying the benefits of diversity while remaining a single organization. On a higher level of abstraction, one could describe all Christian