God. Spirit. Divine.
Could it be that these three words (and others like them) have a singular strength for bolstering our powers of self-control? Even among nonbelievers? And with demonstrated effects as great as a 91 percent boost?
If it sounds too good to be true, guess again.
It’s studies such as these that I’m always on the lookout for as a classroom educator and teacher trainer. Any tips or insights that might help to bring out the best in students—both in the classroom and, better yet, throughout the whole of their lives—are gems I’m thrilled to find and hold on to tightly.
Challenges with students exercising what are technically referred to as “regulatory functions”—such as curbing an impulse or delaying gratification—are a growing area of concern among teachers and administrators alike, not to mention parents on the home front.
Anything that nudges children toward better self-mastery and wiser conduct is a welcome offering.
The only problem is, this need gives rise to what sometimes seems an endless parade of novel approaches whose greatest virtue is that, well, it’s something not yet tried. Hardly grounds for optimism. Not surprisingly, most are forgotten in a few years as their outcomes pale in comparison to their claims. Novelty sells—in the world of education, just as elsewhere.
This is where the work on religion and self-control comes in; it has tremendous import. We’re not talking flavor of the week here, but rather, the stuff of civilization; ideas and beliefs that have withstood the test of time (we’re talking millennia). It’s only fitting that they get their due in the scientific literature. It’s a rare but exciting moment when the two align.
The work I’m referring to was done by a team of four researchers at Queen’s University in Ontario, Canada.
Their findings, which were published exactly 10 years ago, have tremendous relevance to the present, even if it seems they have largely been overlooked or forgotten in the decade since. They certainly haven’t made their way into any teacher training programs I’m aware of.
In the judicious words of the study’s own authors, their findings “offer strong and direct evidence for the replenishing effect of religious concepts on self-control.”
“Religious beliefs refuel self-control resources,” they tell us, and “may provide important psychological ‘nutrients’ necessary for a variety of socially beneficial behaviors.”
What emboldened the team to make such grandiose claims? Particularly when the group would seem to be strikingly nonreligious itself? (Their research frames all of this within an evolutionary psychology framework, ironically.)
First, the four experiments that were conducted were designed in a fastidious way so as to isolate causality and determine if religious concepts played a causal role in shaping behavior. Previous research had been largely theoretical and involved, at most, “correlational designs,” which is far from establishing cause and effect.
This one did, and was able to empirically rule out other possible explanations—such as chance, personal beliefs, morality (more generally), and even fear of death (which some might associate with religion). It was religious terms alone that did the heavy lifting.
Second was the striking outcomes of the studies. It wasn’t just that religious concepts had some kind of effect, perhaps tenuous or minor. It was a sizable effect—huge, even.
In the first experiment, which involved subjects’ ability to exercise willpower (in this case, by “enduring discomfort” in the form of drinking an intentionally repulsive vinegar-and-orange-juice concoction of the researchers’ own making!), those who were “primed” with religious concepts did 91 percent better than those in the control group. (To clarify, “priming” means surreptitious exposure to certain words—like “God” or “the divine”)
That’s almost double the strength of will, from just a moment’s exposure to a sacred term or concept.
The subsequent experiments similarly bore out the positive power of religious terms, such as when measuring subjects’ ability to delay gratification (another form of self-control) and work away at an impossible puzzle after having first been, by design, mentally “depleted.”
In these two experiments, those being exposed to religious terms did 76 percent and 70 percent better, respectively.
Thirdly, and perhaps most incredibly, was that the participants represented a wide swath of beliefs and religious backgrounds—ranging from Catholics and Protestants to Buddhists, Muslims, and atheists as well as agnostics. The latter two, in fact, made up 34 percent of participants in each of the experiments. (It bears repeating: this was a very thoughtfully designed study.)
In other words, the observed effects weren’t just a reflection of participants’ firm religious beliefs or prior commitments.
Just the opposite, in fact, “the pattern of results did not vary with religious affiliation in any of the studies,” the researchers observed. “Moreover, results for religious and nonreligious participants showed the same pattern.”
To put that in other terms, even a self-avowed atheist would experience a near doubling of fortitude or self-control just by being unknowingly exposed to a term like “spirit” or “God.”
It’s rather ironic, then, at a time when educators are being trained to bend over backward not to “trigger” individuals with different beliefs or worldviews.
And how tragic, by extension, that in so many forums—such as public schools—educators and staff must tip-toe around such terms and beliefs, even if both they and many of their constituents share in them.
They are being deprived, as it were, of what can now be described as real, measurable, and immediate benefits to their psychological wellness and personhood.
If there were a little more of “the divine” in the classroom, there might be fewer trips to the principal’s office for breakdowns in self-control.
The study, as a whole, would seem to be a stunning vindication of what many parents and persons of faith have known all along (and long been left pining for affirmation of in our increasingly secular world): that religion has a part to play in all this, and a decidedly positive one.
To that, I say, Amen.
Let’s just hope I don’t get fired for it.
