By Jason R. Tippitt, Edited and Republished by Lewis Loflin (2025)
Jason R. Tippitt’s article below frames religious fundamentalism as a mental illness, but his approach reveals him as an anti-Christian zealot. His disdain isn’t limited to fundamentalism—it extends to Christianity as a whole, as seen in his treatment of historical events. For example, Tippitt blames Christians for the decimation of Native Americans, portraying it as a moral failing tied to religious conversion efforts. I disagree. The primary cause was biology and nature—smallpox and other diseases brought by Europeans devastated Native populations due to their lack of immunity. This would have happened regardless of who arrived first, be it the Spanish, the Japanese, or anyone else. It’s not a moral issue but a tragic consequence of contact, a point often overlooked in Tippitt’s narrative. While I share his concern about fundamentalism’s controlling tendencies, as I’ve noted in my Library of Date Setters, I don’t oppose personal piety and even encourage it. The problem lies in the blind need to dominate others, not in faith itself. A Deist perspective, as in Donna Lee Henry’s theology, offers a reasoned alternative free from such compulsion.
Jason R. Tippitt
Camden, TN
May 30, 1997
The Spanish Inquisition led to the torture and execution of countless individuals. This dark chapter in human history occurred around 1492, the same year Christopher Columbus joined the list of people who "discovered" what came to be called the New World.
This final "discovery" of the Americas led to the decimation of the native population due to diseases unknown to their immune systems. Later, the "loving" efforts of some new inhabitants to convert these "savages" to Christianity often proved deadly. In many cases, the natives were literally "loved" to death—sometimes even killed after converting and being baptized into the "kind and loving" religion.
In Bosnia, tensions persist between Serbs and Croats, part of a conflict dating back to before the First World War. Their most recent hostilities have led to mass graves reminiscent of the Nazis’ treatment of Jews, homosexuals, and Catholics during the Second World War.
Gays and lesbians beaten, abortion doctors shot, the corpses of children in the smoking remains of the Branch Davidian compound—these are all symptoms of a plague that has ravaged the human race since before recorded history: religion. Or, more precisely, the wrong sort of religion—intolerant fundamentalism.
Throughout history, men and women who dared raise a voice of reason or speak of peace have been met with intolerance and disrespect. To admit one’s disbelief is to risk death—or, in more "civilized" nations like ours, rejection by "decent folks."
An honest atheist or agnostic is eyed with contempt, while hypocrites like Jimmy Swaggart and Jim Bakker are forgiven their many transgressions and maintain loyal followings. Unitarian Universalists are considered a joke by many fundamentalists.
Take Dr. Madalyn Murray O’Hair, for example. This atheism activist vanished after years of death threats from "Good Christians" who wanted her dead because of her fight against religious indoctrination in public schools. All this despite her living in a country whose Constitution guarantees free speech and, in theory, ensures the government will not take sides in matters of religion—though you wouldn’t think so from Mississippi’s judges or Tennessee’s state legislature.
Yet Pat Buchanan can be considered a viable contender for the Presidency. Part of his appeal is his perceived commitment to his religious faith—you can’t get much more traditional and conservative than orthodox Roman Catholic doctrine. Most Catholics I know are embarrassed by the man and take some of the church’s official stances with a grain of salt. Never mind the opinion columns Buchanan has written denying the Holocaust ever took place—what matters is that he’s a Man of God, note the capital letters.
What’s as twisted, or worse, is that zealots wage war not only on "heretics" and "infidels" but also on each other. Viewed objectively, with no stakes in the outcome, these "holy wars" resemble nothing more than a playground full of children arguing over whose imaginary friend is the most powerful.
This sort of religion brings out the worst, not the best, in human nature. Instead of putting us "closer to God," it reduces us to something less than admirable. Here are a few examples:
I’m not so naive as to say these problems would vanish if we were cured overnight of the mental illness known as fundamentalism. The facts, however, suggest that this type of religion has heaped more problems on us than it has solved.
Critics of Political Correctness call ethnocentric revisions of history—like claims that Columbus was an African prince whose identity was stolen by white historians—bullshit, and rightly so. I challenge us to also look at who we Americans really are: not the result of a divinely ordained Manifest Destiny, but rather the product of greed hidden behind "God’s Will" and the continued subjugation of the people who were here first.
Christians are not practitioners of the One True Religion that has, by the Grace of God, overcome all false ones. They are the legacy of centuries of wars fought over the silliest bone of contention imaginable. Think about it in terms of fruit. Fruit carries seeds and provides vitamins and minerals. You can’t say an apple is more a real fruit than an orange, can you? No. Yet people claim their religion, which teaches love and humility, is more valid than another that teaches the same. It’s silly. It’s Lilliputian.
There’s hope. We each hold the cure in our hearts, if we’re brave enough to use it. The more people who cure themselves of this oppressive religion, the less power the sick will have to reinfect the healthy through peer pressure. We can also choose not to infect our children with this illness—religious fanatics are made, not born. We’re all atheists until someone teaches us religion, good or bad.
Do I feel all religion is an illness? No, I don’t. An atheist can be as well-adjusted as a Christian, living a happy and meaningful life. If there’s a God, I believe He, She, or It will judge us based on our actions and character, not on whether we could see behind the curtain. If there’s a Heaven, I believe we’ll see Gandhi and Jesus sitting side by side, along with some atheists saying, "I was as surprised as you were."
Some religions help people, and the community in a church can be a great aid. That’s why I’m a Unitarian Universalist; they’ll accept anyone with an open heart and mind, theistic or not.
On average, we each get about 70 years of life—an area where the Bible is more or less accurate. It’s time to stop feeding the mega-churches and start feeding the hungry. It’s time to stop praying without ceasing and start acting. It’s time to stop seeing people as enemies just because of their religion, sexual orientation, or race.
Most of all, it’s time to realize that many of the most unbreachable walls between us are made of air. So walk through, shake hands with someone on the other side, and start learning what it really means to love your neighbor.
To whom it may concern:
I read your article "Why Christian Fundamentalists are Cults" and I liked it very much. However, the idea of labeling Christian fundamentalism as one dark unit does bother me, and I feel I must address it.
I am a fundamentalist. I was raised in an independent fundamental Baptist church in Santa Clara, CA, and now I attend a similar one in San Diego. I do know of some people in these churches who have the symptoms you listed in the article, but this number is only a very small fraction of the whole church. The majority of fundamentalists I know are very loving and cordial people—they know hateful crowds don’t get converts. Most fundamentalists are willing to acknowledge "truth" in other churches that aren’t as extreme as they are.
I am a fundamentalist because I believe the fundamentals of Christianity, not because I’m some radical traditionalist who finds it God’s will for me to bomb abortion clinics or to parade guns and deer skins in front of animal rights activists. Maybe West Coast fundamentalists are a huge exception. But I, in my adamant non-Americanism (and even anti-Americanism), have rarely felt out of place in an American fundamentalist church.
It would be more appropriate to rewrite the article as one explaining why some fundamentalist churches are cults, or why fundamentalist churches can be cults; you shouldn’t make it seem that you’re condemning everyone who believes that the Bible is the Word of God.
Sincerely,
Isaiah S.Response: I agree and will do what I can to clear up the issue. I did not write this. — L. Loflin
Acknowledgment: I’d like to thank Grok, an AI by xAI, for helping me draft and refine this article. The final edits and perspective are my own.
