Narratives of Spiritual Warfare: An Interview with Dr Naomi Richman

“Pentecostals everywhere train themselves to hear, to see, or to feel God’s presence in their daily lives. That kind of intimate relationship…is one of the defining aspects of evangelical religiosity.” 

– Dr Naomi Richman

Jesus famously predicted that the apocalypse would be preceded by “wars and rumours of wars”, pestilence, earthquakes, mass persecutions, and the sort of horrors that have since become tropes in dystopian films. His words accurately reflected the turbulence of Old Rome, which would prove to be a crucible for the prophet’s incipient cult. Yet today, the world seems far more apocalyptic. Social media-powered rumours and conspiracy theories are shaping politics and fuelling violence, and all the while scattered military clashes and social uprisings seem to be multiplying at an unprecedented rate.

In the Eastern Mediterranean, disagreements over natural resources are drawing several NATO allies, including Turkey and France, into an aggressive, zero-sum struggle. Elsewhere, in the Sahel and in Libya, hydra-headed organised crime and extremist groups are weakening security forces and destabilising already fragmented and beleaguered governments. In the Far East, China and India are continuing to engage in deadly skirmishes, which one day could escalate into a larger regional conflict. And finally, in the heart of the American imperium, an increasingly polarised and ulcerated electorate is lurching dangerously closer to the edge of a precipice beyond which lies a howling chasm not seen by the Union in over 150 years.

All around the world there is talk of “the end times”, and many have sought to compass and organise the uncertainty and chaos around them by deploying a Manichean language of spiritual warfare. The forces of good, the forces of evil; warrior angels and demons fighting for the future of humankind. Contemporary apocalypticists believe that they are fighting not only against physical beings, but also against what Paul the Apostle called “powers and principalities”–the secret maestros behind-the-scenes, celestial bandleaders who whip the whole cosmic orchestra into action.

This view has much in common with Global Pentecostalism, whose adherents sees the world through a prism of everyday spiritual battles and victories. Believers themselves can take on the office of prophet and exorcist to deliver their fellows from evil. Guided by the Holy Spirit, and armed with those spiritual gifts outlined by Paul in 1 Corinthians, they attempt to effect radical changes on a physical, social, and even political scale by confronting Satan’s minions head on.

To learn more about this charismatic outlook and how it relates to post-Covid society, we spoke with Dr Naomi Richman, an anthropologist whose research focuses on issues of selfhood, sexuality, and embodiment in Deliverance Pentecostalism. Richman has acted as a specialist adviser to the Metropolitan Police, the NHS, and other charities, and is presently a postdoctoral researcher attached to the Hidden Persuaders project at Birkbeck College.

The Custodian: What first got you interested in Deliverance Pentecostalism?

Naomi Richman: During my Master’s degree, I wrote a dissertation on Christianity in West Africa. It was a historical account that focused on how understandings of medicine and money, or health and wealth, had undergone various transformations in West African thought, from precolonial times and up to the present day. I became really interested in the literature on Pentecostal Christianity, but noticed that it seemed especially drawn to analysing the rather dazzling and controversial preaching of the “Prosperity Gospel”. This is essentially the belief that one can become prosperous by giving money to the church, in the form of tithes and offerings. In 2015, I went to do some preliminary fieldwork in Nigeria and noticed that whilst Prosperity preaching was ubiquitous, so, in fact, was Deliverance. Deliverance is like exorcism – but it’s also a lengthy process involving extensive prayer and fasting, that might, or might not, culminate in demonic possession and expulsion.

The degree to which Deliverance seemed to occupy the thoughts and practices of many Nigerian Christians that I met didn’t seem to be fully represented in the existing literature. Plenty had been written about the famous Nigerian Prosperity church, Redeemed Christian Church of God (RCCG), for instance, but far less on the hugely successful Mountain of Fire and Miracles (MFM) church, which seemed to have a somewhat unique theology, style of worship, social dynamic, dress code and so on. What’s more, lots of people I spoke to suggested they were getting bored or frustrated with the Prosperity message and had begun turning to Deliverance for solutions to life’s challenges, instead. I therefore felt there was a gap in our understanding that needed updating and addressing.

It is worth mentioning that I have come to anthropology from a theological background; my first degree was in Philosophy and Theology. This has very much shaped my anthropological method and approach. My doctorate as a whole sought to demonstrate the importance of examining theology in anthropological studies of Christian movements. Christianity, it is well-known, has experienced a period of accelerated growth in the global South over the last century or so, whilst it has been undergoing a steady decline in many parts of the West, or more precisely, parts of Europe/America/Australia. But that doesn’t mean that the kinds of Christian theological ideas that have developed historically within the West no longer have a bearing on the way Christianity takes root in these new, local contexts – despite the considerable geographical and temporal distances.

In fact, one of the things that intrigues me about Pentecostalism is the way that it allows some long-standing theological ideas to take root and undergo transformations in these new settings, whilst others don’t catch on at all. What this background in theology has therefore given me is a kind of map that I can consult to investigate the historical antecedents of certain religious trends or practices. This is especially valuable when it comes to those that might seem rather novel, esoteric or morally or theologically suspect.

Deliverance is very much an example of this – my theological background enables me to trace how and where it comes from historically, and to flesh out the connections (and discontinuities) between the kinds of exorcisms Jesus himself was performing all those centuries ago, and the Deliverance practices that have gained traction in many parts of the world, in recent times. That is just one example of the way that I think the study of theology can contribute to the anthropology of Christian communities. On the other hand, I am also motivated to study Deliverance because of the way that it can sometimes be perceived in theological circles. In these conversations, it can be really satisfying to show theologians how and where Deliverance comes from by pointing to specific theological traditions with which they are already familiar.

Theology, like many academic disciplines, is still a discourse that is primarily produced in the West, and doesn’t always fully recognise itself in the theologies practised on-the-ground by faithful Christians in the global South. This is especially the case with controversial practices that carry the potential, at times, to lead to spiritual abuse. Deliverance is very much an example of this. It’s therefore important for me to make Deliverance comprehensible and recognisable to theological audiences, and to encourage open engagement with it, even in its more uncomfortable or controversial aspects. This, I would argue, is one of the things that anthropological research can bring to theology!

C: Can you tell us more about its general approach to spiritual influence and embodiment? You studied community beliefs across the globe; did you notice differences in the way certain cultures interpreted supernatural phenomena?

NR: What I have learned from the time that I have spent with people who have joined Deliverance churches is just how important belief in spiritual forces, especially demons, becomes to them, in their spiritual journey towards being delivered. Pentecostals everywhere train themselves to hear, to see, or to feel God’s presence in their daily lives. That kind of intimate relationship with a personal God, a God who is like a friend, a parent, or even a lover, is one of the defining features of evangelical religiosity, as a whole. But because Deliverance Pentecostals view the world consistently and comprehensively through the lens of spiritual warfare – the belief that God is engaged in a kind of epic cosmic battle with the Devil – they also come to hear, see, and feel the presence of the Devil’s underlings, his demons, in their daily lives too.

I think that this creates a rather unique way of experiencing the world and one’s embodied state; there is a sense of the immediate and tangible presence of spiritual forces that becomes particularly heightened in this kind of evangelical belief-system. Every event can be understood to have a spiritual origin. A pain in my side, for instance, might not only be interpreted, but eventually experienced as a demon that is lodged inside my stomach. This enables a different kind of engagement with one’s body, and also with the body in its sexual aspects. Various sensations can be experienced as the movements of spirits inside the body – divine or demonic.

My studies of different Deliverance communities in the UK and US, as well as Nigeria, revealed how physical experiences of the body not only tend to be experienced through a theological lens, but can also be articulated in culturally-specific ways. But overall, I found that Nigerian Pentecostals who migrated to the US or the UK would sometimes to go to great lengths to maintain their allegiance to the same church they belonged to in Nigeria, and to hold their Nigerian religious identity close in unfamiliar and sometimes hostile cultural environments. They therefore might see themselves as having a great deal more in common with their fellow church members around the world, than with those they might encounter outside the church, in secular public spaces.

C: What was it like working with the Metropolitan Police? Are you allowed to speak about any of the cases you worked on?

NR: One of the most fulfilling aspects of this kind of academic work, for me, is the scope to apply it to real-world problems. When I’m working with the police, or with the NHS, or with another kind of organisation whose work is directed towards the “public good” broadly speaking, I’m trying to use my understanding of religious communities to foster a mode of informed and empathetic engagement. In the area of “faith-related abuse”, or what is sometimes also called “spiritual abuse”, there are complex questions around how to differentiate between what is a “legitimate” and non-harmful religious practice and what might be considered harmful, or at least potentially harmful.

In these situations, I’m trying to empower professionals who are involved in safeguarding in some way or another to be able to draw a line confidently between what is a safe religious, and particularly an ascetic practice, and what constitutes abuse. Or between what is a cultural difference, and what is actually an ethical problem. A postcolonial lens really helps me with this, as it gives me the language and a framework with which to say, “your concern with this practice is more of an aesthetic aversion to a cultural difference than a moral one,” and at other times say with confidence, “this is clearly a form of abuse that should not be tolerated.” But these are not easy questions to answer, and I wouldn’t say that I am even close to working them all out! On the other hand, I don’t think that easy and straightforward answers are what’s necessary to dealing with these complicated problems – it’s knowing the contours of the issues, and the relevant questions to ask. To me, this means having the right kind of “understanding”, rather than simply the correct knowledge.

C: In an article published fairly recently, The Independent warned that the Covid-19 era could bring about a rise in accusations of witchcraft and demonic possession. With disinformation so ubiquitous these days, what in your view can be done to avert or minimise this danger?

NR: It’s a very difficult problem, and obviously one that really defines our time. I am not the first person to observe that in times of uncertainty, or where there are considerable challenges to be reckoned with, we as humans become especially vulnerable to the temptations of easy answers. Scapegoating, which of course can take the form of witchcraft accusations, as well as racism, anti-Semitism and other kinds of discrimination, ultimately function as a sort of easy answer to difficult problems. But the mechanism of apportioning blame is ultimately quite a reductive one, as it can’t really take into account the complex and multifarious contingent factors that account for why some things happen, and others don’t.

Fundamentally, I think that we need to work constantly to resist that urge to see things in simple terms, or in black and white terms, even if those answers seem to resonate with something that “feels” right to us on a kind of instinctive level. We need to keep looking at the data, keep engaging with a wide range of perspectives (even those we detest), and resist making up our mind until we learn as much about the issue as possible. And even once we’ve made up our mind, we need to be ready and willing to change it when new information comes along, rather than disregard new information and only attend to the evidence that reinforces what we have already decided is true.

At the same time, we can take hope and solace from the fact that as complicated a problem can be, it can nonetheless have an easy solution. Complex problems don’t always require complex solutions. And giving a privileged status to facts, to information and to knowledge, does not mean ignoring or suppressing feelings either. I strongly believe that emotion and especially compassion are very much compatible with a reason-based outlook to life. I am inspired by the work of some Affect theorists on this, neuroscientists like Antonio Damasio, and phenomenologists like Maxine Sheets-Johnstone and Elizabeth Grosz. I also have talked about it a little in an article published a couple of years back (N. Richman (2018) What does it feel like to be post-secular? Ritual expressions of religious affects in contemporary renewal movements, International Journal of Philosophy
and Theology).

C: Anything you can share about forthcoming projects?*

NR: I have just written a lengthy article which analyses anti-gay rhetoric in the African churches. The question that motivated me was why and how homophobia has become a site of conflict between so-called “Western” and “African” values in contemporary liberal discourses on sexual identity. I found this to be a really interesting piece of research which emerged out of questions that I didn’t have the scope to explore at length in my doctoral studies. There will be several other articles coming out soon and hopefully a book to come out of the thesis, too. There’s also tonnes of interesting stuff that’ll be coming out over the next few months on the Hidden Persuaders website, including some fascinating films – so watch this space!

My next big project will take me away from Pentecostalism and towards secular culture. I am really interested to find out how new forms of engagement with the body are emerging out of secular culture, and especially the kinds of engagement that are directed towards creating a kind of “perfect” body. I want to study what draws people to undertaking bodily practices that are sometimes quite painful or extreme, such as cosmetic surgery or radical dietary regimes. I am also fascinated in the way that social media and especially anonymous online forums operate to facilitate new conversations and ideas about the body. There seem to be a lot of these kinds of discussions taking place online, which gives me plenty of food for thought and work to be getting on with!

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