It would seem there are certain strands of thought within many religions that are highly unsustainable, for the health of individuals, society and the planet as a whole.
Certain beliefs, such as "my religion is the one right way and all others should live as I do," seem to guarantee perpetual conflict by design.
At the same time, religions are one of the most sustainable and self-perpetuating aspects of human culture. There is something deeply beneficial inherent in the stories about our purpose in the world that religion offers. Even atheists have a positive story about their meaning in the universe (Carl Sagan and Neil deGrasse Tyson are two people who have illustrated this beautifully).
So clearly stories are important to the sustainability and happiness of humans (and thus all other species living with us on the planet).
So maybe this is something we need to figure out…
How can today's existing religions shed the outdated aspects of their beliefs (the unsustainable ones that perpetuate conflict) in a way that respects and celebrates cultural diversity?
Centuries of homogenizing colonialism and conquest tell us more sameness isn't the answer. Cultural diversity is what gives human societies their beauty.
As Daniel Quinn has suggested, we need to replace the deadly memes with life-affirming memes. Instead of "there is one right way to live and my way is it," we need to spread a new idea: "There is no one right way to live."
This includes "there is no one right religion."
"There is no one single source of truth."
Or what about:
"Every tradition has something to teach and something to learn."
Can you imagine how today's religions would be transformed by a shift like this? How would they be different? What would remain the same? Could today's religions evolve past the "one right way" mentality, or is this tenet like the foundation of a house of cards?
The Evolution Is Already Happening
I believe all religions are capable of shedding their fundamentalist variants, because most already have! The evolution I'm calling for isn't speculative—it's already underway within every major religious tradition.
In Christianity, Unitarian Universalism emerged from the Reformation's spirit of questioning, eventually embracing the radical idea that no single tradition holds a monopoly on truth. Franciscan mysticism, tracing back to St. Francis of Assisi in the 13th century, emphasized direct experience of the divine through nature and service rather than through institutional hierarchy and dogmatic correctness. Today, progressive Christian movements like the United Church of Christ and many Quaker communities practice an inclusive spirituality that sees God's truth reflected across all traditions.
In Islam, Sufism has flourished for over a millennium as a mystical tradition emphasizing the internal, experiential dimensions of faith over external conformity. Sufi poets like Rumi and Hafiz wrote of divine love transcending religious boundaries. The great Sufi masters taught that there are as many paths to God as there are human souls. Contemporary Islamic scholars like Omid Safi and Amina Wadud are recovering these pluralistic strands while addressing questions of gender justice and interfaith dialogue.
In Judaism, Reconstructionist Judaism—founded by Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan in the 1920s—explicitly rejects the notion of Jews as a "chosen people" in favor of understanding Jewish civilization as one valuable path among many. Jewish Renewal, inspired by Rabbi Zalman Schachter-Shalomi, integrates mystical Kabbalistic traditions with contemporary progressive values and interfaith respect. These movements stand alongside Reform Judaism's longstanding commitment to ethical monotheism over tribal exclusivity.
Buddhism and Hinduism, while not immune to fundamentalist corruption, have often carried more pluralistic DNA from their origins. The Dalai Lama famously said, "Don't try to use what you learn from Buddhism to be a Buddhist; use it to be a better whatever-you-already-are." Hindu philosophy has long taught that truth is one but the wise call it by many names—Ekam sat vipra bahudha vadanti.
Indigenous spiritual traditions worldwide have practiced this pluralism for millennia, understanding their ceremonies and stories as their people's particular relationship with the sacred, not as universal prescriptions for all humanity. The Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) Great Law of Peace, predating the U.S. Constitution, embedded principles of consensus, ecology, and respect for diverse nations.
A History of Resistance and Solidarity
What unites these diverse movements is more than theological innovation—it's a consistent pattern of resistance against the marriage of religion with empire, and solidarity with those marginalized by religious hierarchy.
When Spanish conquistadors wielded Christianity as a weapon of genocide, Bartolomé de las Casas, a Dominican friar, spent his life documenting their atrocities and arguing for the full humanity of indigenous peoples. When Protestant churches blessed slavery, Quakers and early Methodists formed the backbone of abolitionism. When Christian nationalism supported Jim Crow, Black liberation theology reframed the Gospel as a story of freedom from oppression.
In the Islamic world, Sufis faced persecution from rigid orthodoxies precisely because their inclusive mysticism threatened political-religious power structures. The Inquisition targeted Jewish mystics alongside Christian heretics. Again and again, the pattern repeats: fundamentalist religion serves empire and hierarchy, while mystical and prophetic traditions stand with the oppressed.
The social gospel movement of the early 20th century reclaimed Christianity from industrial capitalism, inspiring figures like Dorothy Day and Martin Luther King Jr. Liberation theology in Latin America stood with peasants against oligarchs and military dictatorships, often at great cost—Archbishop Óscar Romero was assassinated while celebrating Mass for his solidarity with the poor.
Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel marched with Dr. King in Selma, declaring "I felt my legs were praying." Today, groups like the Poor People's Campaign unite diverse faith traditions in common cause against poverty, racism, and militarism. Muslim organizations like Islamic Relief and ICNA work globally on humanitarian causes without religious precondition.
This history reveals something crucial: the struggle isn't between religion and secularism, or even between religions. It's between two orientations within every tradition—one toward domination and control, another toward liberation and solidarity.
The Logic of Domination Versus the Logic of Liberation
Fundamentalism in any tradition follows a similar pattern. It claims exclusive access to truth, demanding conformity and punishing deviation. It organizes itself hierarchically, with a chosen few interpreting divine will for the masses. It defines righteousness through opposition—against other religions, against women's autonomy, against LGBTQ+ people, against science and modernity itself when they challenge its control.
Christian fundamentalism in America has evolved into a political movement that has little to do with Jesus's teachings about loving enemies and serving "the least of these." Instead, it sacralized capitalism, militarism, and white supremacy. It opposes healthcare for the poor, welcomes refugees with hostility, and hoards wealth while claiming to follow a rabbi who said, "Sell what you possess and give to the poor."
Islamic fundamentalism, from Wahhabism to Salafist jihadism, similarly betrays Islam's core principles. The Quran explicitly states "there is no compulsion in religion" (2:256) and "to you your religion and to me mine" (109:6). Yet fundamentalists impose rigid interpretations through violence, particularly controlling women and destroying the pluralistic heritage of Islamic civilization.
Jewish fundamentalism, whether in the form of ultra-Orthodox rejection of modernity or religious nationalism in Israel, contradicts the prophetic tradition's consistent message: that ritual means nothing without justice, that God judges nations by how they treat the stranger, the widow, and the orphan. When settlers invoke divine mandate to displace Palestinians, they echo the very logic of conquest that has oppressed Jews throughout history.
The through-line is clear: fundamentalism is about power, not faith. It flourishes where religion becomes enmeshed with nationalism, patriarchy, and economic domination. It requires enemies, enforces rigid hierarchies, and cannot tolerate the pluralism that threatens its control.
A Vision of Coexistence
Imagine instead a world where religious communities understood themselves as custodians of particular wisdom traditions rather than gatekeepers of exclusive truth. Where Christian churches taught Jesus's radical economics alongside his spiritual teachings. Where mosques were centers of interfaith dialogue as well as Muslim prayer. Where synagogues understood "chosen people" to mean chosen for the responsibility of pursuing justice, not privilege.
This isn't naive idealism—it's pragmatic necessity for human survival. Climate catastrophe, nuclear weapons, and global inequality are problems that transcend any single tradition's ability to solve. We need every wisdom tradition contributing its particular insights: Indigenous knowledge of living sustainably with land, Buddhist understanding of interdependence, Islamic emphasis on economic justice through zakat, Christian teachings about beloved community, Jewish concepts of tikkun olam (repairing the world), Hindu recognition of the divine in all beings.
The good news is that communities embodying this vision already exist. Interfaith climate activists pray together before getting arrested at pipeline protests. Muslim and Jewish congregations share worship spaces. Christian churches offer sanctuary to undocumented immigrants. These aren't fringe examples—they represent millions of people who have discovered that their faith deepens rather than diminishes when they honor truth beyond their tradition.
This evolution of religion also needn't mean abandoning particular practices or beliefs. A Christian can follow Jesus wholeheartedly while recognizing truth in the Bhagavad Gita. A Muslim can observe daily prayers while learning from Buddhist meditation. A Jew can keep kosher while appreciating Sufi poetry. Particular practices give meaning, structure, and community; claims that any tradition holds a monopoly on truth or wisdom merely limits our vision and ability to learn.
The Stakes
The fundamentalist path leads to catastrophe. We can see it clearly now: Christian nationalism fused with empire, emboldening war crimes and a culture of persecution. Islamic extremism destabilizing entire regions, from Saudi Arabia's export of Wahhabism to military juntas in Sudan wielding religion to justify atrocities in Darfur. Hindu nationalism persecuting minorities in India. Buddhist nationalism targeting Rohingya Muslims in Myanmar.
The pattern is unmistakable: when fundamentalist religion merges with state power, violence against those deemed "other" becomes inevitable.
The United States has bombed and invaded majority-Muslim countries for decades, with Christian nationalism providing moral cover for imperial violence. Saudi Arabia funds extremist ideologies globally while brutally suppressing dissent at home and waging war in Yemen. Israel's occupation and genocide in Gaza rely on theological claims, epitomized by Netanyahu quoting scripture about Amalek—a genocidal command to "spare no one"—to frame Palestinians as enemies deserving of annihilation. Each wraps very earthly domination in divine justification.
Meanwhile, the planetary crises we face demand unprecedented cooperation. We don't have time for religious wars and endless conflict generated by this toxic belief that one culture is superior to all others. Children are hungry and dying now—in Yemen, in Gaza, in the Democratic Republic of Congo, in Appalachia.
The idea that any nation should be a Christian nation, a Muslim nation, or a Jewish nation, is fundamentally incompatible with the freedom of the individual or a pluralistic society capable of respecting all its citizens or those of its neighbors.
The paradox of tolerance requires that all cultures encourage coexistence. Any attempt to dominate others or create a hierarchy of who matters will result in endless conflict, and fundamentalism, by its nature, breaks this social contract.
Christian supremacy, Islamic supremacy, Jewish supremacy—any form of supremacy breaks the contract. Its most dangerous forms are the kind that get plugged into empires and nations, as we've seen with the violence meted out by the US, Israel, Saudi Arabia, and many others.
The Path of Nonviolence
When confronted with fundamentalist violence, many suggest that violence is necessary to defeat it. Many who call themselves Christian in America employ this logic to defend war crimes against Muslim-majority nations.
We must firmly reject this logic, because we've seen exactly where it leads—to the very cycles of domination and retaliation that fundamentalism thrives upon. Every drone strike that kills civilians creates new recruits for extremism. Every act of state violence justified by security breeds the fear and anger that fundamentalism exploits.
Instead, we must look to our history and ancestors in the long lineage of nonviolence and persuasion, not coercion, to create the world we envision.
Martin Luther King Jr. didn't defeat segregation with violence—he exposed its violence and appealed to America's better angels. Gandhi didn't drive out the British Empire with force—he made their occupation morally untenable. Cesar Chavez and Dolores Huerta didn't win justice for farmworkers through armed struggle—they built a movement based on dignity and solidarity.
This is the spirit we need to defeat fundamentalism: the creation of beloved community, where former enemies recognize their shared humanity.
As King wrote from Birmingham Jail, "Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that." This isn't naive pacifism—it's strategic wisdom born from centuries of successful movements for liberation. A database built by the Peace Studies department at Swarthmore College backs this up, detailing "some 40 cases of mass movements overcoming tyrants through strategic nonviolent campaigns.”
The fundamentalists want us to meet their violence with violence, because violence is the language they speak fluently. It justifies their worldview, confirms their narrative of embattlement, and allows them to position themselves as defenders rather than aggressors. But when we respond to their hate with organized, disciplined, creative nonviolence—when we build alternative communities that embody the pluralism and justice they fear—we rob them of their power.
History shows us this works. The civil rights movement turned sheriffs into allies and segregationists into supporters. The anti-apartheid movement in South Africa could have descended into endless racial civil war, yet instead produced truth and reconciliation. The Solidarity movement in Poland defeated communism without firing a shot, through strikes, culture, and moral witness.
We need that same courage and creativity now. Not the false courage of violence, which is often just fear in disguise, but the true courage of vulnerability—of sitting down with those who see us as enemies, of building coalitions across difference, of persistently embodying the world we seek even when it seems impossibly distant.
It's Time for a Rapid Phase Transition
The traditions that survive and thrive in the 21st century will be those that can hold their particular beauty while embracing the wisdom of others. Those that cling to exclusive truth claims will increasingly find themselves irrelevant in a world demanding collaboration or facing collapse.
The path forward exists within each tradition's own history.
Christians need only remember that Jesus reserved his harshest words for religious authorities claiming special righteousness, not for those of other faiths. Muslims can return to the pluralism of Andalusia, where Jews, Christians, and Muslims created one of history's greatest civilizations. Jews can reclaim the prophetic tradition that consistently elevated justice over ritual purity and welcomed the stranger.
Every tradition has something to teach and something to learn. That's not a threat to faith—it's an invitation to grow beyond the fearful tribalism that masquerades as devotion.
The sacred is large enough to hold all our stories, diverse enough to speak through every culture, and insistent enough to demand we recognize it in each other.
The house of cards that must fall isn't religion itself, but the brittle fundamentalism that claims to support it while actually propping up human hierarchies of domination. When that facade crumbles, what remains is what was always most valuable: communities of meaning, practices that connect us to something larger than ourselves, and stories that remind us we belong to each other and to the earth that sustains us all. That's what's worth keeping.
For the Children
Since I was a kid, growing up in Midwestern communities that practiced Sufism and Unitarian Universalism, I have had the privilege to be emersed in this reality.
I learned from Sufism that “truth can be found in all traditions” and that “there are many paths to wisdom.” This led me to learn about Taoism, Zen Buddhism, and animism in my later teenage years. In my twenties, I learned about anarchism, libertarian socialism, and permaculture. In my thirties I learned about Dances of Universal Peace, Franciscan Mysticism, Scientific Pantheism, PROUT, and the Jewish traditions of resistance to colonialism and capitalism. None of this would have been possible if my parents had taught me that only one book or philosophy had value.
I feel extremely lucky about this. If I had been born just a mile in any direction I most likely would have been born into a family that taught me only one religion held the truth. I say this because this experience has imprinted in me a deep longing to see a world where every child gets to enjoy this form of community and intellectual and spiritual freedom.
But fortunately my experience, while not yet common, is far from rare—in pockets and communities around the world. Whether people were born into it or came to it later, millions are finding their way home, often against intense pressures from their respective cultures. That is one thing that gives me hope, and suggests there is true wisdom in the path of coexistence. Sufism does not possess the “one right way” meme, which is the core spreading mechanism for most religions that grow through coercion, shame and “missionary” work.
But despite this, Sufism and Dances of Universal Peace have spread to every corner of the globe. Permaculture is beginning to be practiced worldwide with unique, bioregional variation. These practices and ideas spread because they bring joy to the heart and make sense, not because anyone told them to obey.
This is how transformation actually happens—not through conquest or conversion, but through the irresistible appeal of what works, what heals, what connects us. It happens whenever someone chooses solidarity over supremacy, whenever we dare to see the sacred shining through a thousand different faces.
The only question is whether we'll nurture that evolution or suppress it, whether we'll amplify those voices or silence them, whether we'll have the courage to become the ancestors our descendants will thank—or the fundamentalists they'll have to overcome.
Tim Hjersted is the director and co-founder of Films For Action, an online library for people who want to change the world. He lives in Kansas.