The Religious Personality Matrix
I've always been fascinated by diagrams. From the periodic table to the eight trigrams, diagrams convey significance, and hence importance and even truth, regardless of whether the thing diagrammed is actually important or the way it's been diagrammed is accurate.
Another thing I've always been fascinated with is religion, particularly, as William James put it, the varieties of religious experience. And by "always" here I mean "since I was seven", which is when I invented my own religion called, unoriginally, Robinism. What interests me most is not the details of any one religion (though these are often fascinating) but the ways that very different religions can engender very similar experiences. Equally interesting is the fact that one religion can attract very different personalities and result in very different behaviours. A Kabbalist, a Sufi and a Christian mystic may have a lot in common, and so do an ultra-Orthodox Jew, a Salafist and a Christian fundamentalist, but the two groups are diametrically opposed. I concede that there are mystical groups who are also very orthodox, such as the Naqshbandi and the Hasidim, but they are less common.
Putting the two together, I want to attempt a diagram of religious personality types. I've arranged them in a quadrant partly because squares are easy to draw, and partly because the axes represent two types of spectrum: individual/social (horizontal) and optimistic/pessimistic (vertical). The first is fairly obvious; the second only occurred to me while writing this, and an explanation will have to wait until the conclusion. In the squares this creates, we have four personality types: the Mystic, the Philanthropist, the Legalist and the Sentimentalist.
The Mystic
Let's start in the top left corner with the mystic. This is a familiar figure in almost all religions: there are Christian mystics like Theresa of Avila and Julian of Norwich, Muslim mystics like Rumi and Ibn Arabi, Jewish mystics like Abraham Maimonides and the Baal Shem Tov, and Hindu, Buddhist and Daoist mystics by the truckload - in fact it is fair to say that the latter religions have mysticism as their main focus. The mystic's focus is him- or herself, which is not to say they are self-centered, but that the self is what they are working on most.
Much has been written on the similarities between mystical traditions in different religions and esoteric movements, to the extent that some have proposed a "perennial philosophy" whereby the seemingly huge differences between the "outer" doctrines of religions mask an "inner" core which is essentially the same across the world and throughout the ages. It is a seductive view that has attracted criticism as well as praise; there is an interesting debate between Jonathan Weidenbaum and Zevi Slavin of the excellent Seekers of Unity channel on this topic. But even if we don't go this far, there are some obvious similarities in the people who are attracted to mysticism, the techniques they use, and the states of consciousness that, if all goes well, they experience. Central to all of this is the view that there is something fundamentally wrong with our normal mode of being, but through either the disciplined use of certain techniques or a sudden revelation, we can move to a different and infinitely better mode. This is often represented as a metamorphosis or journey; for example:
So much has been written on this topic that I need say no more and can go on to our second type.
The Philanthropist
In the top right quadrant, we have the Philanthropist. I am not talking here about a billionaire donating a fraction of their wealth to worthy causes, but rather someone who is motivated primarily by love of humanity. Mother Theresa has come to exemplify this type to an almost annoying extent. (I confess that I couldn't stand Mother Theresa until I found out how she lost her faith and carried on helping the sick and dying as though nothing had happened, which increased my appreciation of her no end.) Less dramatically, religion inspires countless people to go out and help other people - or alternatively, people who are motivated to help people often choose religion as a convenient vehicle. Although believers behaving badly makes the headlines, it's worth remembering that for every paedophile priest, terrorist imam or greedy guru, there are hundreds of pious people devoting their lives, or at least their spare time, to feeding the hungry, tending to the sick or comforting the bereaved.
Often this becomes a summons to a quest for social justice. Mozi (Moh Tzu) was to my knowledge the first to found a social movement like this (the utopian Mohists, who despite their current obscurity, were very influential during the Warring States period). More modern and better-known figures include Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King. Sometimes this can cross the line into militancy, but I would argue that it is still possible to, in the words of the Mahabharata, fight with love in your heart, and it is this that differentiates militant philanthropy from religious terrorism and imperialism. We see this more clearly in the secular field: consider George Orwell, who went and fought in Spain to defend democracy and common decency, not because killing fascists is fun. In a religious context, we might take the figure of Ali, the cousin and son-in-law of the prophet and also the fourth caliph (for Sunni Muslims) or first imam (for Shia Muslims). There is a story that in a battle he had thrown his opponent to the ground and was about to run him through when the man spat at him. Ali lowered his sword, and when his surprised adversary asked why, replied "I was about to kill you in the cause of God, but if I had continued, I would have acted out of anger."
The Legalist
Like Mohism, Legalism was a philosophy that arose in China in the Warring States period, a chaotic time that also gave birth to Daoism. It takes the view that human beings are naturally selfish and will only behave morally through desire for rewards and fear of punishment. And punish they did. When the first emperor, Qin Shi Huang, brought the Warring States period to an end, Legalism became the official philosophy of the new empire. Punishments included being killed in nasty ways such as being cut vertically in half or being pulled apart by horses, though lesser offences might merit a less severe punishment such as amputation, castration or even just hard labour or a fine, which presumably you would pay joyously given what might have happened to you. In the case of serious crimes, not only the culprit but also their entire family would be executed. The law also required that no crime go unpunished, leading to confessions being extracted under torture by officials who feared being punished themselves for failing to solve a crime. Oh yes, and they burned books too, though the famous story about burying 460 Confucian scholars alive is probably apocryphal.
Given that Legalism was a largely secular philosophy and its biggest modern admirer was Mao Zedong, we might ask what on earth this could have to do with religion. Well, if we view religion as essentially about the Law, it risks falling into legalism. From Puritans to Salafists, legalists have infected all religions, though some are more prone to it than others. The term "legalists" (Arabic fuqaha) actually occurs in Islam, and many Muslim authors have blamed them for the ossification of their religion. We're talking about the kind of people who think there is a pit of Hell reserved for people who neglect to wash their heels while performing ritual ablutions.
As for Christianity, it is ironic that it has more than its fair share of legalists, given that the crucifixion both shows where legalism takes you and contains its ultimate antithesis. The contemporary Sufi teacher Çağrı Dörter while talking to a guilt-ridden Catholic friend reminded him of Jesus's words on the cross, "Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do." He asked if a God who would forgive you for torturing and killing his only begotten son is really going to send you to Hell for some itty-bitty sin.
Historical manifestations aside, legalism is essentially a psychological problem, and one which some mystics have identified. In Sufism and Daoism, the second stage of human development is known as nefs-i levvame (judging soul) or jun zi (noble one). Here we progress from an impulsive state (nefs-i emare/meng ren) where we respond automatically to stimuli, to living according to principles. Both traditions observe that people going through this stage tend to have inflated egos (because they feel they have overcome their base nature) and are prone to anger (because they think other people haven't). It's a necessary stage, but if you get stuck there, it doesn't end well.
The Sentimentalist
The reward of rigid adherence to discipline and laws is a sense of satisfaction with oneself. You don't need to be religious to observe that; just think of how good it feels to complete a painful workout or strict dietary regime. Some of that is purely physiological, but a lot of it is the sense that because you've stuck with the programme, you are a good person. On the other hand, following the letter of the Law is just as onerous as the discipline you need to become a mystic. Wouldn't it be nice if you could combine them in such a way that you go to feel good about yourself without having to work too hard?
Enter the Sentimentalist. Sentimentalism as I'm describing it here is essentially religious kitsch, an idea I floated in "Harry Potter and the Spitting Haredim". There I said that I wasn't talking about "plastic Virgin Mary table lamps or glow-in-the-dark crucifixes", but here this is precisely the kind of thing I want to talk about, along with crystals, luxury yoga retreats and Tantrik sex toys. Not that there is anything wrong with such things in themselves; the problem is their use to produce certain feelings as a substitute for real spiritual growth. The sentimentalist does not want to be religious; they want to feel religious (or enlightened or whatever).
Sentimentalism does not end with the religious paraphernalia. More advanced sentimentalists may indeed have mystical experiences but the same problem exists: for the sentimentalist, the primary function of ecstasy is not to further our development as human beings, nor even to be satisfying in themselves, but to produce pleasant emotions in their aftermath (and they certainly do that). Consider the luxury yoga retreat I mentioned. As I said, there is nothing wrong with going on a luxury yoga retreat, and I for one would prefer it to a Spartan yoga retreat. But the sentimentalist would go there primarily for the feeling of having been on a yoga retreat, and if they were to have some kind of mystical experience, its main effect would be on their Instagram feed.
The same is true for the consumption of spiritual literature. Yannis Toussulis talks disparagingly about the "Rumi craze" during which Rumi was for a while the most popular poet in the United States and "the premises of Sufism were almost completely reversed in the interests of spiritual consumerism. In the process, the actual discipline of the Sufi path was utterly neglected, replaced by a more marketable sentimentality that fit New Age expectations."
Now this may seem a little harsh. Sentimentalists who border on Legalism are a curse, but those who border on genuine mysticism - what my taijiquan teacher calls "spiritual tourists" - may well wise up and cross that border. The only danger is that there are so many of them, to the extent that sometimes it is hard to move along a spiritual path because of the crowds of people taking photographs.
Along the lines
We might term the archetype mid-way between the Sentimentalist and the Mystic, the Romantic. This personality is seen most clearly in New Age circles. Romantics are not merely interested in the physical and cultural paraphernalia of the spirituality; they are prepared to do some work, but the emphasis is still on the emotions the work provides in the short term. The Mystic is on a quest for enlightenment, union with God or suchlike, and in this process experiences a variety of emotions and, ecstatic states. Like the Sentimentalist, the Romantic inverts this: the goal is to have these experiences, and the spiritual path is simply a means to achieve them. The difference is that the Romantic is far more determined; in fact it is their very emotionality that drives them forward along their spiritual path - or off the path and into the woods. Because of their emotional focus, Romantics are often led about by their emotions and will follow whatever path suits their mood at the time. In particular, they are captivated by bright, shiny spiritual things: ancient wisdom, earth mysteries, angels and aliens.
In the middle of the top line, we have the Prophet. I'm using this term very loosely, not in the strict sense of someone who has been given a revelation from God for the benefit of humankind. This personality type includes anyone who is motivated both by mystical experience and a mission to help humanity in ways other than the mystical. The archetype would I suppose be Moses, talking to God and delivering his people from bondage, but a contemporary example might be Thich Nhat Hanh. While he is remembered largely as a charismatic meditation teacher and a lucid author, we shouldn't forget that what propelled him to spiritual stardom was his opposition to the Vietnam war; it was only when he was expelled from Vietnam that he settled in France. He was not just a monk who got involved in politics; his spiritual and social activism were two aspects of the same thing.
Moving down the right side of the square, we have the Crusader. Again I'm using the word in its loose and popular sense rather than referring to the people who drenched the Holy Land in blood. We have seen how the Philanthropist can be drawn to activism and even militancy, and this can tip over to bring them toward Legalism. To get an idea of the crusading spirit, let's look at the American Temperance movement.
Because Prohibition was such a disastrous failure, it is tempting to see those who lobbied for it as puritans attempting to force their grim view of morality on the public -- straight-up Legalists, in other words. While there is a grain of truth in this caricature, it oversimplifies the early Temperance movement. For a start, alcoholism was a serious problem in nineteenth-century America. Convenience stores in the West would often have open barrels of whisky which customers would serve themselves from using a ladle, and it was common to see people passed out on the street before midday. Alcohol fueled violence in an already violent society, and families were torn apart by alcoholism.
Many of the founders of the Temperance movement saw it as progressive, a way to free people from slavery to an addictive drug that was ruining their lives. The language here is not accidental; many of the early Temperance campaigners were also abolitionists and, since the majority were women, feminists. Susan B. Anthony is the most famous example of a leader in all three movements, but these causes were not only led by women. One of the most famous figures at the time was Gerrit Smith, who became the richest man in New York State on inheriting his father's ill-gotten gains. He campagined tirelessly not only against alcohol but against slavery and for women's rights. This was no mere feel-good philanthropist; he was indicted for bankrolling John Brown's ill-fated attempt to sieze the armoury at Harper's Ferry and start a slave rebellion. And all of this was fuelled by faith: Anthony was a Quaker; Smith founded the Church at Peterboro, a non-denominational institution open, significantly, to all non-slave-owning Christians.
Mid-way between the Legalist and the Sentimentalist, we hit the nadir of the personality matrix with the Televangelist. This person combines the fanaticism of the Legalist with the self-indulgence of the Sentimentalist. Of course they don't have to be televangelists, or even Christians -- look at Andrew Tate, who converted to Islam not long before his arrest for rape and human trafficking. The Islamic world, just like the Christian world and the Hindu world, is full of people who loudly proclaim their religion to make themselves feel better about their luxurious lifestyle. There's even a chapter of the Qur'an dedicated to them (Surah al Ma'un).
Run-of-the-mill religious conservatives tend to be a less blatant form of the Televangelist type. They want a religion that will make them feel good about themselves, but, unlike the pure Sentimentalist, they also want a bit of discipline -- just not to the extent that it would cause them serious inconvenience or hurt their bank balances.
Along the Axes
I may be pushing the geometry too far here, but I'd like to speculate about what's going on with the axes of this diagram. The x axis, as I mentioned, goes from individual to social. The pure Mystic is nowhere happier than in a cave in the mountains, an extreme example being Tenzin Palmo (formerly Diane Perry), who spent twelve years in solitary meditation in the Himalayas: "I think the best place in the world to be is sitting in a meditation box in a cave. I couldn't think of a nicer place to be." The pure Philanthropist, in contrast, lives entirely for others. But as we've seen, it is possible and even common to combine the two. The Sufi concept of being "alone in the crowd" is not a description of urban alienation but the idea that you can be wholly with other people and wholly absorbed in your internal, spiritual life.
With the y axis, you are somewhere on a scale -- the more you are of one, the less you are of the other. I was originally going to describe the vertical axis in terms of pure and degenerate forms of the archetypes, but while writing, this idea struck me as rather simplistic, not to mention judgemental. I think what really differentiates these personality types is that though mystics and philanthropists frequently go through periods of despair, the view at the top of the matrix is essentially optimistic: there is a faith that human beings are essentially good. We are a long way from being perfect, but we can improve ourselves, and other human beings are worthy of our love -- and our practical assistance.
The bottom of the matrix, in contrast, represents a deeply pessimistic outlook. It is explicit in legalism that people are bad, and it is implicit in sentimentalism that the world is a bad place. Spiritual kitsch, like its mundane counterpart, is often a kind of defence against a world that is seen as harsh and dangerous. This is why these days I don't criticise it so much. As a substitute for genuine art or genuine spirituality, kitsch is obviously bad, but often it's all people have, and if they gain some kind of comfort from it, who am I to criticise? I may, when speaking generally, disparage the belief that we will be saved by angels from Sirius, but if that is all that's keeping someone going, I would no more tear down that belief than I would laugh at the china ducks on their wall.
So that's the religious personality matrix. Like other systems from star signs to Myers-Briggs, it's a fun way to classify people that may not be entirely accurate. The value in such methods is not that they produce reliable results but that, if they work well, they make us think about people -- and maybe even sympathise with them a bit more.