What were your reasons to have, or not have children?
In a century marked by declining birth rates, understanding why people choose parenthood, or opt out, has never been more compelling.
Having Children Was The Pragmatic Choice in Ancient & Agrarian Societies
Child Labour For most of human history, having children was not sentimental, it was pure survival. Families had as many children as they could feed because children were the workforce. They farmed, herded, collected water, cooked, and kept households running. More kids meant more hands.
Companionship & Elder Care In later life, you were cared for by your children and grandchildren. A large family meant stronger clan alliances and more security. Children also carried the family stories, customs, and identity forward.
Continuation of Assets & Name Parents accumulated land and resources knowing they would be inherited by their children. Why spend a lifetime building only to have it seized by the state? Children ensured continuity, financial, cultural, and personal.
So… Why Have Children Today When the Traditional Benefits No Longer Apply?
The old reasons to have children don’t fit the modern world.
Child labour? Gone (thank goodness).
Adult children caring for elderly parents? Rare, and often resisted.
Inheritance? Most millennials can barely afford rent, let alone anticipate receiving property.
Family names? Less meaningful in the anonymity of large cities.
So if the ancient motivators are obsolete, what now?
The Costs of Having Children Today
When potential-parents consider whether to have children, many are forced to weigh up the perceived costs with the potential benefits. It makes for confronting reading to realise just how high the costs can be.
Financial Costs Working 45+ hours a week often means funnelling money straight into childcare, groceries, rent, school fees, transport, clothing, birthdays, holidays, the list never ends. Children are the investment.
Social & Relationship Costs With communities more fragmented and families scattered, parents shoulder nearly all the work alone. Friendships slip away. Relationships strain under exhaustion, limited time, and divided attention. Single parents carry an even heavier load.
Personal Costs Women still bear the physical price of pregnancy and childbirth. Careers stall, bodies change, and time evaporates. And for parents of all genders, hobbies, passions, and creative pursuits shrink dramatically, there are simply fewer hours in the day.
Environmental & Overpopulation Guilt Modern parents carry a new kind of emotional burden: the guilt of adding another carbon-emitting human to an already strained planet. Overpopulation, climate change, and resource scarcity can make the choice to have children feel morally complicated. For many, this quiet but persistent guilt becomes yet another hidden cost of modern parenting.
What others costs do you think potential-parents have to consider?
In the 21st Century, Having Children Has Become a Philosophical Choice
Yes, the costs to have children are huge. So why then do people continue to have children? We no longer have children to harvest crops or guard the homestead. Instead, the focus in now on the existential reasons. Meaning, purpose, continuity, and the emergence of a new consciousness.
The Creation of Consciousness
To have a child is to bring a new awareness into the universe. A mind that thinks, feels, imagines, wonders, and becomes. In a cosmos where consciousness is rare, helping create and shape one is profoundly life-affirming.
A Different Kind of Continuity
Parents today pass on values, stories, lessons, humour, curiosity, and moral frameworks. Instead of continuing a bloodline merely for land or labour, they cultivate identity and character, shaping a person who will influence the world in their own way.
Meaning & Purpose
Children bring joy, surprise, wonder, and a fresh lens on life. They pull us into the future. They make us consider what kind of world we want to leave behind. For many, raising children feels like contributing to humanity itself.
Changing motivations and shifting societal expectations mean fewer people feel obligated to become parents.
Those who were only marginally interested in parenthood are increasingly choosing not to have children.
As a result, the children who are being born tend to have parents who made an intentional, thoughtful choice.
These parents accepted the significant financial, personal, and environmental costs — and chose parenthood anyway.
And for those who opt out, it represents a conscious, responsible recognition of their own values, limits, and life priorities — a choice that benefits both themselves and society.
Not a Medium member? Read the article for free here
What were your reasons to have, or not have children?
In a century marked by declining birth rates, understanding why people choose parenthood, or opt out, has never been more compelling.
Having Children Was The Pragmatic Choice in Ancient & Agrarian Societies
Child Labour For most of human history, having children was not sentimental, it was pure survival. Families had as many children as they could feed because children were the workforce. They farmed, herded, collected water, cooked, and kept households running. More kids meant more hands.
Companionship & Elder Care In later life, you were cared for by your children and grandchildren. A large family meant stronger clan alliances and more security. Children also carried the family stories, customs, and identity forward.
Continuation of Assets & Name Parents accumulated land and resources knowing they would be inherited by their children. Why spend a lifetime building only to have it seized by the state? Children ensured continuity, financial, cultural, and personal.
So… Why Have Children Today When the Traditional Benefits No Longer Apply?
The old reasons to have children don’t fit the modern world.
Child labour? Gone (thank goodness).
Adult children caring for elderly parents? Rare, and often resisted.
Inheritance? Most millennials can barely afford rent, let alone anticipate receiving property.
Family names? Less meaningful in the anonymity of large cities.
So if the ancient motivators are obsolete, what now?
The Costs of Having Children Today
When potential-parents consider whether to have children, many are forced to weigh up the perceived costs with the potential benefits. It makes for confronting reading to realise just how high the costs can be.
Financial Costs Working 45+ hours a week often means funnelling money straight into childcare, groceries, rent, school fees, transport, clothing, birthdays, holidays, the list never ends. Children are the investment.
Social & Relationship Costs With communities more fragmented and families scattered, parents shoulder nearly all the work alone. Friendships slip away. Relationships strain under exhaustion, limited time, and divided attention. Single parents carry an even heavier load.
Personal Costs Women still bear the physical price of pregnancy and childbirth. Careers stall, bodies change, and time evaporates. And for parents of all genders, hobbies, passions, and creative pursuits shrink dramatically, there are simply fewer hours in the day.
Environmental & Overpopulation Guilt Modern parents carry a new kind of emotional burden: the guilt of adding another carbon-emitting human to an already strained planet. Overpopulation, climate change, and resource scarcity can make the choice to have children feel morally complicated. For many, this quiet but persistent guilt becomes yet another hidden cost of modern parenting.
What others costs do you think potential-parents have to consider?
In the 21st Century, Having Children Has Become a Philosophical Choice
Yes, the costs to have children are huge. So why then do people continue to have children? We no longer have children to harvest crops or guard the homestead. Instead, the focus in now on the existential reasons. Meaning, purpose, continuity, and the emergence of a new consciousness.
The Creation of Consciousness
To have a child is to bring a new awareness into the universe. A mind that thinks, feels, imagines, wonders, and becomes. In a cosmos where consciousness is rare, helping create and shape one is profoundly life-affirming.
A Different Kind of Continuity
Parents today pass on values, stories, lessons, humour, curiosity, and moral frameworks. Instead of continuing a bloodline merely for land or labour, they cultivate identity and character, shaping a person who will influence the world in their own way.
Meaning & Purpose
Children bring joy, surprise, wonder, and a fresh lens on life. They pull us into the future. They make us consider what kind of world we want to leave behind. For many, raising children feels like contributing to humanity itself.
Changing motivations and shifting societal expectations mean fewer people feel obligated to become parents.
Those who were only marginally interested in parenthood are increasingly choosing not to have children.
As a result, the children who are being born tend to have parents who made an intentional, thoughtful choice.
These parents accepted the significant financial, personal, and environmental costs — and chose parenthood anyway.
And for those who opt out, it represents a conscious, responsible recognition of their own values, limits, and life priorities — a choice that benefits both themselves and society.
Acknowledging gifted thinkers who confront the big questions of life
Source: Chinmay Singh, Pexels
“How can I face the day, knowing that one day I will die?”
“Which political part best represents my values?”
“Why do bad things happen to people I love?”
“How much control do I have over my life?“
For some; these complicated, sophisticated, and philosophical questions are an everyday occurrence.
A deep thinker wakes up, and once their mind is whirring, the questions begin.
It’s not that those capable of deep thinking always exist in the depths, rather, it’s that they are not deterred from confronting and contemplating them, day after day.
Pouring the morning coffee… “What can I do today, that will set me up for tomorrow, next month, and the rest of my life?”
Flushing the toilet… “How do people in drought conditions flush the toilet?”
Chopping carrots for dinner… “How many more sunsets do I get?
Those drawn to big questions eventually come to accept that there are rarely clear answers for the questions they entertain.
Uncertainty becomes the only certainty.
Who Are The Deep Thinkers?
Deep thinkers are everywhere. In every culture, every country, and creed. It is my experiences that many readers and writers of Medium are of this ilk, would you agree?
Deep thinkers find it difficult, even painful sometimes, to accept when an existing explanation does not fit reality as they see and experience it. The discomfort and dissonance of inconsistent or contradictory views is unbearable.
Often, deep thinkers contemplate purely for interest, not just usefulness. A deep thinker will often think about a particular topic long after a conversation has ended. Sometimes this morphs into rumination, the downward merry-go-round that is difficult to disembark.
But let me speak more on the beauty of deep thinking. A person focussed on exploring the marrow of life, is often less motivated by trends, status, or consensus. A person who routinely holds beliefs that position them against the masses, the it is likely you are a deep thinker.
The easiest path through life is to move with the crowd and vote with the majority. To not do so, and to endure the burden of social ostrasization, suggests a person has thought deeply and thoroughly about what they believe and why. And more to the point, they have forged ahead with their contrary view, despite being fully aware of the social and relational costs for doing so.
Being comfortable with solitude is also common, though not a must-do for all deep thinkers. It’s more a personal preference, where solitude facilitates uninterrupted thinking, creating, and writing.
Some thinkers begin life as a bright and curious child, navigate their chaotic teen years, evolve into a reflective young adult, and then emerging as an adult who craves understanding and authenticity.
Others are confronted with big questions not through choice, but through life circumstances. It’s usually a seismic life change that forces one to confront the big questions of life. A divorce, a significant birthday, or a death.
Source: Engin Akyurt, Pixels
Why the world needs deep thinkers
In the 80s and 90s, warnings about climate change or environmental damage were written off as inconvenient fear-mongering by zealots.
The data-driven thinkers had analysed the trends, and could see clearly that humanity’s actions were warming the globe. Even the non-technical thinkers understood how plastics and rampant overconsumption would eventually lead to irreparable environmental degradation. It wasn’t until the mass media publicised floating ocean garbage islands, and witnessed devastating floods, fires, and heatwaves that the ignorant and powerful were forced to take action.
After decades of pleading to have their views heard and taken seriously, it was little wonder that so many of the scientists, writers, journalists, and social activists who sounded the alarm, experienced burnout and apathy.
What use is the ability to think deeply, if you have no power to effect change?
Source: skign_tv, Pexels
The Burdens of Deep Thinking
The many benefits afforded deep thinkers are not freely handed over at birth.
Nope, these benefits are hard earned over many years of toil, and often arrive only after an immense psychological toll has been paid.
Most of you will be aware that deep thinkers are far more prone to anxiety and depressive periods. This is true and global statistics regularly highlight this vulnerability. Fortunately, distress exists on a spectrum so does not always reach clinical levels. Nevertheless, mild discomfort and discombobulation are genuine possibilities each and every day for the ones that ask the big questions.
It’s understandable that deep thinkers bear a heavy cognitive burden. Honest contemplation of big questions requires a commitment to an unbiased exploration of both the best, and the worst of humankind. And the worst, is an unrelenting disbelieving abyss.
Routines: The Deep Thinkers Anchor
Here I speak directly to the deep thinkers, and to those that love them.
Your mind is a circus trapeze artist, a mountain climber, and an architecture of sky scrapers. It is capable of incredible intensity, and I know you know this. For you mind to operate at its peak, on the one hand it needs time, space, and supportive people. But on the other hand, your mind also needs an anchor.
Why does your brain need an anchor? A mind gifted with the capacity for deep and broad thought, is at risk of destabilisation, distress, and mental illness.
Yes your mind needs flexibility and freedom to think, but you must then ground your body and circadian rhythm in the simplicity of routine.
I’m talking sleep routines; awake and asleep at similar times. I’m talking movement routines; activity and exercise at similar times of the day. And wherever else you can implement a routine, be it Cup of Tea O’clock or Sit Down & Breath AM, do so.
Routines are your lifeline.
Implement them, and adhere to them religiously and unapologetically.
If someone is inconvenienced by your routines, tell them to rack off.
Do you know what happens after we die? Maybe you don’t know, but perhaps you believe. I ponder the question of conscious continuity, my preferred term, daily.
It’s a big topic. Too big for most people, it unsettles and unnerves. I get it.
As a young person I felt immense fear whenever confronted with death, dying, funerals, or the supernatural themes.
Mostly, I feared non-existence. I longed for eternal continuity so that I could remain connected to my loved ones forever. It’s difficult to accept that I might only get one turn on the merry-go-round.
I would quietly search for testimony from those who claimed to know the truth, beyond reasonable doubt. Maybe they had experienced a near-death experiences, or an inexplicable paranormal phenomenon, or perhaps they had received a sign from a loved one who had passed.
I wanted them to reveal a hidden secret, or deliver an account that could withstand my questioning. But inevitably, I would find fault and flaws, contradictions and inconsistencies. After 25 years of searching, questioning, and hoping; what do I believe?
The only belief I can stand by today is “I don’t know”. I confess, I’m not content with this answer.
I crave certainty, I need to know.
Uncertainty is hard to accept.
Are you a seeker of truth? Join the club friend! Few are called, and even fewer go on to walk the path to find truth. 25 years ago, I too was called. Sadly, I found myself isolated in my search for answers. People my age were simply not interested in discussing the continuity of consciousness and the possible conservation of energy between lifetimes. If you are confronting these topics and asking questions, I hope this article provides some comfort and clarity.
To help you on your journey, I have collated a brief summary and commentary of the most common belief systems I have encountered over the past 25 years.
I begin our list with the Atheist perspective. Atheists argue there is nothing. No darkness or an empty space, just a total cessation of all knowing and being. I don’t agree with the intensity and certainty that accompanies many athiest beliefs. How can anyone know for sure that there is nothing?
Agnostics believe humans don’t know what happens after death and may never know for sure. This is largely where I plant my flag. I often wander off and explore other spiritual and philosophical camps, but am always pulled back to Agnosticism, whether I like it or not.
Some non-religious people believe we live on only through our memories, influence, and the impact we had on others. Leaving a legacy is a concrete path that all of us can adopt, regardless of what other beliefs we may hold. Converting my thoughts in to Medium articles is one such legacy. Whether or not anyone cares is another matter!
Naturalists believe that while personal awareness ends, our matter and energy return to the natural world and continue in new forms. The naturalist view resonates for me. One day, not for a long time, I hope to return my body to the earth.
Buddhists believe there is no permanent self, but that actions and desires shape a process of rebirth until suffering comes to an end. For a time I took a deep dive in to buddhism, holding it as my primary belief system. There is much about this philosophy that resonates, but eventually I decided that endless reruns didn’t appeal. I still carry many of their lessons and ideas with me.
Hindus believe the soul is reborn many times, with each life shaped by past actions, until it is finally freed from the cycle.
Many Indigenous and traditional cultures believe the dead continue on as ancestors or spirits who remain connected to the living.
Christians and Muslims believe that after death people are judged by God and sent to heaven or hell. I’ll be honest, hell terrified me as a child. Movies like Constantine that portray the firery depths of hell still unsettle me even as an adult. But then again, I am still afraid of the dark!
Pantheists believe that consciousness is fondamental to the universe itself, and that individual awareness returns to a larger whole after death.
Some technology-focused thinkers believe the mind could survive as information that might one day be stored, copied, or recreated. This idea concerns me greatly. And Simulation Theory, don’t get me started on that! I have lost many hours of sleep pondering that concept.
People who are influenced by modern physics believe consciousness may continue in another dimension or version of reality, though this is highly speculative. Speculative maybe, but with advancements in quantum physics, I sincerely hope the smartest people on the planet continue to work on this idea!
Non-dual spiritual traditions believe there was never a separate self to begin with, so death is a change in appearance rather than an ending. Non-dualism boggles my mind.
One day we will all find out the truth about what happens after bodily death.
Despite wanting to know, I hope not to find out too soon!
Einstein – one of the few human beings who known by a single name.
Who else is so famous they get by with only one name?
We’ve also got Oprah, Madonna, Prince, Jesus, Cher, Britney…. That’s it, that’s all I’ve got.
Back to the main man himself, Einstein.
I have long admired the great scientist for his intellectual honesty and commitment to the betterment of humanity. After recently reading I Am a Part of Infinity: The Spiritual Journey of Albert Einstein by Kieran Fox, I was inspired to share a brief snapshot of the misconceptions and truths surrounding Einstein’s religiosity and worldview.
The question of whether Albert Einstein was a Christian resurfaces regularly. Many continue to believe that he was. But for anyone who spends time reviewing the literature of his life, the answer becomes clear: Einstein explicitly rejected the Christian conception of God.
For Christianity, Einstein as a believer would have conferred enormous intellectual clout. The belief that the most famous scientific mind in history also held Christian faith offered deep reassurance — especially to those feeling doubt, or sensing a growing tension between science and religion. If Einstein believed, then surely faith, and the Almighty, must be secure.
For some, the mere mention of the word God, even when explicitly qualified, was enough to suggest Christianity. One of the most egregious misattributions came from the line, “The more I study science, the more I believe in God.”When this was reported, Einstein immediately distanced himself from it, aware that such phrasing would be misunderstood.
The cultural desire to recruit famous thinkers was not unique to Einstein or his era. It appeared again when Christopher Hitchens died in 2015. A staunch non-believer throughout his lifetime, Hitchens openly worried that critics or the press would claim he had experienced a deathbed conversion to Christianity. If a polemicist like Hitch could be converted to religion, then anyone could be. Predictably, such claims emerged and, given their self-serving nature, are widely regarded as myth.
Einstein was born into a secular Jewish family, in 1879. In American and British media, Einstein’s Jewish heritage was often downplayed in favour of a default Christianised interpretation of his views. Einstein, very aware of this trend, often complained publicly that he was being misrepresented.
Einsteins relationship to Judaism was largely cultural, ethical, and political, but not religious. In his address to the Liberal Jewish Synagogue in London (1934), he said, “Judaism, in its spiritual sense, has little to do with dogma or ritual. It is a way of life and a way of thinking.” Being Jewish was his identity, but not his religious belief system.
Einstein on Divinity & Morality
Einstein read widely and deeply, and was unambiguous about his views on Christian doctrine. He wrote: “No matter what I read, I do not find anything in the New Testament that convinces me of the divinity of Jesus.” Einstein did not deny that a historical Jesus may have existed. What he rejected was the claim of divinity, not out of hostility, but for lack of evidence.
On morality, Einstein could not “conceive of a God who rewards and punishes his creatures, or has a will of the kind we experience in ourselves.” Yet this rejection of theology did not translate into ethical indifference.
Einstein was widely remembered as a kind and attentive man, particularly as a letter writer. Over his lifetime, he received thousands of letters from children, students, academics, and ordinary people, and he was known to make a point of replying whenever he could. Surviving correspondence shows a man of warmth, humour, and genuine care.
For Einstein, ethical behaviour did not require a god or book of commandments. He believed that “ethical behaviour should be based on sympathy, education, and social ties; no religious basis is necessary.” From what we know of the man both privately and publicly, he certainly seemed to live by the principles he valued so highly.
Despite the press’ repeated attempted to misrepresent his views, throughout his lifetime, he repeatedly clarified his position on religion and God.
In his 1929 letter to Rabbi Goldstein, he wrote:
“I believe in Spinoza’s God who reveals himself in the orderly harmony of what exists, not in a God who concerns himself with the fates and actions of human beings.”
Spinoza’s God did not listen to human prayers, intervene in worldly problems, reward good deeds, or punish sin. In fact, Spinoza’s God was not anthropomorphic at all, but identical with Nature itself. For Spinoza, and later for Einstein, the term God referred to the underlying order of reality: the laws, structures, and conditions through which everything we experience emerges and unfolds. God is not in the universe per se; rather, God is the universe. Its coherence, structure, beauty, and the source of our awe and wonder. There are no judgments, no sin, and no hell, only necessity, order, and understanding.
Belief in such a universal, natural God freed Einstein from superstition. Morality was instead grounded in a conscious desire to act well toward humanity and the Earth, guided by empathy rather than religious creed.
Final Thoughts
So who was Einstein?
He wasn’t a Christian, and he didn’t practice Judaism as a religion. He identified as Jewish in a cultural and ethical sense rather than a theological one.
Given his vocal support of Spinoza’s conception of God as Nature, could we, in today’s language, describe him as a kind of spiritual pantheist? Nope, even that may not be entirely fair or accurate. Besides, he isn’t here to rebut the suggestion after all.
But, if he were alive, I suspect I’d receive a letter in the post gently advising me to avoid labels altogether. And I would cherish it forever.
At 18 years of age, I learned about Irish Catholic homes for “unruly girls”.
It was the school holidays and I was watching the film The Magdalene Sisters. By the end of the film, a sickening weight had settled deep in my stomach. I sat in shock when the film ended. Surely this was fiction?
For those unfamiliar with the Irish homes, these were religious institutions and convents run by clergy, until they were finally closed in the 1980s. To outsiders, they were a safe place for “wayward” teen girls. For those on the inside, brutal beatings and cruelty were commonplace.
For 18 years, I had taken my faith for granted. But in the space of time it took to watch a film, my belief was shattered. And so began a life-long journey of asking questions, seeking truth, and trying to understand reality.
Growing up I was raised with “Religion Lite”. We weren’t forced to believe or participate, though it was gently encouraged.
Special family dinners began with someone saying Grace, and most Sundays I would attend church, though I barely understood what the priest spoke about. Instead, I would sit quietly and try to follow along. More often than not I’d fall asleep. Sometimes I’d stare at the stained glass windows and imagine the stories they were telling.
The empty pews during mass intrigued me. Why was the church packed to the rafters at Christmas and Easter, but on a regular Sunday I could count fewer than fifty people? I was told that maintaining face during Ordinary Times was hard for most people.
The local parish priest was a kind gentleman, and I respected him for the care he care for his parishioners. I say this with a tinge of guilt; but by far the highlight of our weekly visit to church, was the trip to 7-Eleven afterwards.
Questioning God & Religion
I can’t recall if I had doubts about God and religion before I saw that movie. Looking back, I suspect I must have.
How could one film trigger such a seismic shift in a person’s worldview, all on its own? Was religion all bad? Did adults know the truth and hide it from children?
I had to know more. I needed to learn everything I could about religion. I had to know if the film was based on truth, or if it was a Hollywood fabrication. I had to know if there were any other atrocities I had been shielded from. With the internet now available (it was the early 2000s), I had a powerful tool to help me find information and people who could help me in my quest for answers.
I started exploring Christianity and its many incarnations. I read history, the Bible, and compared it Islam and Judaism. I read about Taoism, Buddhism, Sikhism, Existentialism, Epicureanism, and Stoicism. Listened to audiobooks on meditation, mindfulness, and quantum physics. If something claimed truth, I wanted to know how and why.
I would ask anyone who was willing, to tell me of their worldview and the ‘truth’ of reality as they saw it. I expected my elders would be wiser and more knowledgeable. That they would teach, as long as I was willing to learn.
This was not the reality I encountered.
“You’re too sensitive. Don’t think so much.” “Focus on work and school. The rest will work itself out.” “Of course there’s a God. You just need to have faith.”
Most of the adults I encountered were unwilling to discussion deep and complicated questions. Unwilling to engage in thoughtful discussion about the big questions of life.
Mercifully, I eventually found a teacher who eventually became a trusted mentor. To this day, he continues to offer philosophical and spiritual guidance.
He didn’t lecture, just listened.
And when I asked, he offered guidance.
Like most things in life, I learnt that religion too is neither all good, nor all bad. I learnt that there are charlatans, thieves, and predators present in every tradition throughout human history. Those who claimed to champion the needs of the poor, vulnerable and lost, but instead used them for personal gain.
Who I am and what I believe, don’t fall neatly into a category and I can’t think of a simple label either.
But, if I had to settle on something, it would be…
Spiritual Philosophically Agnostic Scientist
Spiritual — because I feel deeply connected to nature, humanity, and our mysterious, incredible universe.
Philosophical — because there is wisdom to be learned from traditions, ancient and modern, and I intend to practise them.
Agnostic — because I believe we don’t know ultimate truths about the universe or reality, and we may never know.
Scientist — because I will keep asking questions and trying to understand reality as honestly as I can.
I try to practise meditation, stillness, and gratitude daily. I walk outside in the fresh air, surrounded by trees, and I breathe. I engage in daily bowls of ice cream and cuddles with the dogs.
Every night at 10 p.m., I take the dogs outside and pause to look up at the sky. And I read. I read as much as I can about religion, history, and philosophy.
There are still days, the difficult ones, when I long for a higher, stronger, and trusted power to scoop me up and fill me with confidence. Those are the days I miss religion and faith the most.
But for now, the path I’m on feels right for me. I will keep an open-mind, learn what I can, and question everything.
If you’ve had a similar journey to mine, or one that is completely different, I’d love to hear about it in the comments.
We all benefit from another perspective. Thank you for sharing.
Morality, community, meaning & purpose in a post-religious society
Lightening strikes and a thousand prongs of light illuminate the land before you; the black swirling sky above erupts with the drum beats of what can only be the furious gods! You and your family drop to the ground in crouched prayer, chanting over and over the mantra of peace and forgiveness that the village leader taught would appease the Gods who rule the lands and people. After ten minutes of chanting, the drum beat subsides, and the sky show ceases. The gods have heard your pleas and granted a reprieve from ongoing punishment — punishment delivered because of the unmarried women in the village, or because insufficient child sacrifices were made, or because adherence to the daily prayer routine has been lax of late.
Ancient peoples relied on their religion and gods to explain the world around them, to give meaning to their lives, to feel a sense of agency, and to provide a moral framework to bring about order and peace. A community bonded by shared beliefs was stronger and more unified, better able to survive the struggles of nature and defend against man-made threats. Over several centuries, the vocal few who argued against religion and the gods have now become the many. In the 21st century, secularity is the fastest-growing “religion” globally — a trend confirmed by the Australian Bureau of Statisticsand global surveys from the Pew Research Center.
And why is this? I contend that with the progress and achievements of science, humans are growing up and out of their need for religion and the gods. Join me as I explore why religion was once crucial to human life — and how we, as a modern society, are seeking alternatives and evolving beyond the training wheels of life.
Article Contents
How Religion Helped Humans Understand The Universe
Knowing Right From Wrong
Community, Cohesion, & Belonging
Meaning & Hope
Final Thoughts
How Religion Helped Humans Understand The Universe
In the 21st century, we take for granted simple ideas like weather forecasting, nutrition, or the movement of stars in the night sky. It’s easy to look down on ancient peoples for their seemingly ignorant beliefs, but they had no knowledge of cellular biology, animal behaviour, cosmology, the brain, or environmental systems, no proof to ground their beliefs in except what sacred texts and religious prophets told them. With little more than faith and fear to guide them, humans developed rituals and routines that offered a fragile sense of stability in times of profound uncertainty.
Without the power of science, the Greeks believed plagues came from Apollo’s arrows, and medieval Europeans blamed witchcraft for misfortune. In the grandest display of immature egocentrism, humans also believed that the Earth was the centre of the cosmos; with Copernicus bravely declaring we had this wrong.
Unlike earlier humans, today we have tools to understand lightening, thunder, disease, animals, the stars, and oceans. We no longer need to invoke an Intelligent Designer to explain how the universe began. Observations of cosmic microwave background radiation confirm that the Big Bang marks the start of our universe, and this is broadly accepted by scientists worldwide. That universal order exists — and that complex biological systems evolved from stardust — are foundational pillars of modern science, affirmed by surveys of scientific consensus.
Despite these incredible advances, humanity cannot afford to proceed with unchecked arrogance. With roughly 96% of the observable universe still unstudied and unknown, we have much to learn — and our best chance of doing so lies with science, not religion and the gods.
Religion, scripture, and gods have historically offered humans strict guidelines for how to behave, what choices to make, and how to punish those who deviate. Everyone knew what was expected of them, and this knowledge was reinforced by trusted religious figures. On reflection, it’s easy to see why society benefited from shared and enforced morality — aligned groups enjoyed greater stability, and therefore greater chances of survival, as social theorists such as Kathleen Carley have long observed.
Highlighting this advantage, however, should not be mistaken for endorsement of religious morality itself. History offers countless reminders of the atrocities committed in the name of gods and faith — from the Crusades to the European Witch Trials and the Thirty Years’ War — each a brutal demonstration of how divine conviction can justify cruelty.
Despite our incredible advancements as a society, modern humans continue to turn to their religious texts for moral guidance. Take, for example, the Christian proverb, “Whoever spares the rod hates their children, but the one who loves their children is careful to discipline them.” This is, essentially, a call to physically punish a child — despite decades of scientific evidence showing that such discipline results in harmful developmental outcomes, as documented by researchers in The Lancet. Rigorous, replicable, and scrutinised science has demonstrated this to be factual.
It follows, then, that children and adults alike would be safer, more prosperous, and mentally healthier if humanity were to anchor its moral compass not in scripture, but in empathy and compassion. Studies published in Frontiers in Psychologyshow that empathy effectively promotes prosocial behaviour, while research in Conflict Resolution Quarterlydemonstrates that compassion can transform conflict into understanding.
Religious proponents may claim their traditions encourage empathy and compassion — and for the few who interpret their faith through a lens of discernment and self-awareness, this may be true. But for the majority, morality filtered through dogma too often carries the baggage of punishment, guilt, and exclusion. Humanity no longer needs the threat of divine wrath to behave with decency. It is time we enshrine empathy and compassion as universal principles — not because they are commanded by gods, but because they are good for us, for our children, and for the world we share.
Community, Cohesion & Belonging
Groups that work together, believe together, and support one another are stronger and better equipped to survive life’s ups and downs. Decades of research, such as Hardy and colleagues’ work on group cohesion, and later analyses by DeChurch and Mesmer-Magnus and Donelson Forsyth, have confirmed the power of unified groups. In ancient times, when survival was a day-to-day struggle, group cohesion could mean the difference between life and death. The stories, rituals, and moral codes offered by religion gave people a shared narrative powerful enough to live and die by — and together, they were stronger. That principle remains true today.
But as individuals and societies move beyond religion — a shift reflected in data from the Australian Bureau of Statisticsshowing the rapid rise of “No religion” — we must ask: does this shift threaten our sense of unity and belonging? The short answer is that it might. Data on loneliness and the growing fragmentation of modern society are not yet conclusively linked to the decline of religion, but it isn’t difficult to imagine that the two are related. If religion is fading, taking with it a millenia’s-old source of cohesion, where will modern humans find that same sense of community and belonging?
Shared passions such as sport or music can offer powerful forms of connection. A recent study in the Sports Law, Policy & Diplomacy Journal found that football fandom across Europe fosters identity and social cohesion, uniting people across class and national lines. On a broader scale, shared causes like planetary stewardship and human progress could become new anchors of collective meaning — bringing us together in a consciousness rooted not in worship, but in empathy and responsibility for Earth.
Still, the transition away from religion is not a simple one. Research in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences suggests that even self-identified atheists in secular societies display intuitive preferences that favour belief, showing just how deeply ingrained religious frameworks can be. Declaring disbelief to family, friends, or a once-tight congregation can be an act of quiet rebellion, even rupture. One can only take this step when they have reconciled their inner life with the realities of the natural world — and no one can be forced to do so. Yet the winds of change are here. As more of us grow beyond religion and begin to connect around shared values of curiosity, compassion, and truth, a new kind of community is forming — one that does not require faith, only the courage to care.
“He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.” — Friedrich Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols (1888)
Nietzsche, and later Viktor Frankl, both emphasised that beyond our basic physiological needs, humans require hope and meaning in order to survive. For all the reasons explored above, religion has long satisfied this need — providing answers to life’s deepest questions and giving people something worth sacrificing for. Finding meaning outside religion is difficult, as shown in research comparing secular and religious meaning-making in the journal Social Science & Medicine. For millennia, religion has given humanity a story that explains suffering and offers hope of eternal peace. Its texts reassure us that “you are important,” “your suffering has a purpose,” and “what you do while alive will affect what happens after you die.” It makes perfect sense that earlier humans would be believers — and even why religion continues to persist, as described in Crystal Park’s work on Religion as a Meaning System.
But what about those who can no longer lean on religion for hope? The meaning crisis among secular communities is real and increasingly urgent. Those who live without meaning are at significantly higher risk of depression, loneliness, and social alienation. Research published in BMC Psychiatry found that a crisis of meaning exacerbates general mental distress, while meaningfulness itself acts as a protective factor. Based on findings like these, it might seem logical to cling to religion for the comfort it offers — but once a person begins to disaffiliate, returning is rare. The Pew Research Center’s 2025 global analysis found that once individuals leave religion, few ever go back.
So with the transition to a secular society now well underway, how do those who have moved beyond religion find meaning? How do they endure suffering and tragedy without the promise of divine comfort or an everlasting afterlife? Fortunately, these question have not gone unanswered.
A large Danish study published in the Scandinavian Journal of Psychology found that leaving a legacy, contributing to others’ lives, and connecting with the natural environment were all strongly associated with meaning and mental wellbeing. We also see new secular communities forming — such as the Sunday Assembly in the UK, which offers members a sense of belonging, shared ritual, and purpose without invoking the supernatural.
Final Thoughts
The cosmos and humanity are ever-changing, and our relationship with religion is no exception. Religion looked after us when humanity was young; helping us navigate life long enough to evolve into a future where answers now replace superstition, and “we don’t know” has become the preferred gap-filler. We now understand what we need to live long and meaningful lives — and with empathy as our guiding light, the future looks bright, curious, and profoundly hopeful for humankind.
