For my dear baby Baku, the Ferret. Have a good trip to the space beyond time. We will snuggle with each other again in another existential plane.

The categorising urge that characterises us as human beings not only helps us to order an increasingly complex world but also involves the determination of moral values and the formation of social groupings based on variables such as geographical space, socio-economic status, gender, age, among others (Garfinkel, 1984; Berger and Luckmann, 1967). These social impositions, which eventually crystallise, are processed individually and jointly, giving rise to diverse value systems and identities (Hall, 2011; Yuval-Davis, 2006) that coexist in the contemporary world. A large part of these value and identity systems is underpinned by religion as a behavioural guide to earthly life. Moreover, according to Fuentes (2015), religion is a necessary prelude to “the emergence of a human imagination and the embodiment of a quest for meaning” (p.172), emphasising the close link between our ability to formulate shared stories and project ourselves into the future with the fundamentality of religiosity/spirituality for our species (Routledge, 2018). However, with the advent of modernity, the hypothesis of an eventual decline of religiosity in favour of rationality and science emerged (Berger, 2016; Casanova, 2013).

In any case, recent studies have shown that issues such as faith and spirituality continue to be significant for many people (Keller et al. 2022; Streib, 2020; Duch, 2012; Hervieu-Léger, 2005; Inglehart, 1989), thus evidencing a plural religious reality in which we are immersed. This phenomenon is particularly observable in Latin America, where –despite the rise of atheists, agnostics, and non-religious (Corporación Latinobarómetro, 2023; Pew Research Center, 2024; Centro de Políticas Públicas UC, 2024)– religiosity persists in a renewed form and diverse expressions (Burton, 2022; Heim, 1993). Similarly, secularity, often defined in opposition to religiosity, also deserves re-evaluation. This reflection suggests that being secular involves a dynamic and complex interaction with concepts ascribed to religion, reflecting an intrinsic and even co-dependent relationship between the two terms (Streib, 2020; Duch, 2012). As traditional narratives are challenged and reformulated, new forms of spirituality and belief systems emerge that enable individuals to find personalised meaning and purpose in an increasingly complex world (Routledge, 2018; Harari, 2015; Fuentes, 2014) and values well-being (Burton, 2022). In this sense, the question of the transcendent becomes fundamental to ensure social cohesion.

Under this context of sociocultural complexity and transformations, it is crucial to ask not only about the current state of belief and value frameworks but also about how they might evolve in the future. The dynamic and entangled interplay between religiosity and secularity, as categories often –and mistakenly– conceived in opposition, presents challenges and opportunities for understanding the systems that structure human life and mind (Streib, 2020; Duch, 2012). From a perspective that views humanity as an intergenerational process of knowledge accumulation and sharing, it is essential to examine the moral-ethical implications of our present actions for generations to come (Finneron-Burns, 2024b; Frick, 2017), particularly concerning the attachments we sustain with the world, others and ourselves.

However, the tangible plausibility of catastrophic scenarios and, ultimately, the eventual extinction of humanity raises questions about how such extreme situations might reshape our beliefs and values. Some thinkers point out that the disappearance of our species would imply a crisis of meaning by eliminating the possibility of leaving a story for another human being to recall (Mulgan, 2024), while others stress that, far from overriding beliefs, these situations would intensify shared meanings (Kidwell and Skrimshire, 2024), whether through traditional religiosities, emergent spiritualities or even technological narratives that promote transcendence (Rupcic, 2023; Geraci, 2008). This analysis becomes even more crucial in the face of rapidly changing target scenarios, marked by globalisation (Vasquez, 2008), digitalisation processes (Bingaman, 2023) and the increasing diversity of values and worldviews that define the contemporary world (Burton, 2022; Wildman and Stockly, 2021).

The issue with categorisation

It is well known that human beings have the need to categorise objects and phenomena in the world (Routledge, 2018; Hacking, 1996) since their complexity is of such nature that it transcends our preliminary understanding of things. Despite the disadvantages of understanding reality from simplified perspectives, such a desire for categorisation enables us to carry out our daily lives –both on a subjective and intersubjective plane and on an individual and social level– by the fact that categories appear to us as useful when describing and comparing world phenomena (Bowie, 2020). In this way, we find ourselves questioning and problematising reality only at specific times of our existence (Gadamer, 2004, 1997), where our reflective capacity is exacerbated at precise and punctual moments, giving way to thought (Arendt, 1981), especially when external stimuli is scarce. If we were to find ourselves asking about things at every moment, social life would simply be destroyed, making it impossible to achieve the ‘normal’ things that mobilise humanity. For this reason, social scientists define common sense as that which is taken for granted, socially pre-established and conform to the expectations of the majority (Schutz and Luckmann, 1989).

An elementary consequence of this categorising claim that characterises our species is the determination, on one hand, of what is considered good and bad and, on the other, of the groupings we jointly create. Such decisions are usually constructed implicitly (Garfinkel, 1984; Berger and Luckmann, 1967) and have dimensions both internal and external to the person so that society effectively holds power when establishing whether a specific act is socially deplorable or valuable, as well as the definitions of group identity that are configured after the intersection of various variables –such as geographical space, nationality, socio-economic status, educational level, age, gender, among others. For their part, individuals process these social impositions to give them a unique meaning of their own, accepting and criticising certain phenomenal characteristics as a collective. Ultimately, the confluence of both social and individual forces leads to the construction of different value systems, as well as diverse identities to which one can belong (Hall, 2011; Yuval-Davis, 2006). Within these, collective ethics and morals will act, being modified according to the spaces of questioning that are open at certain times. With this, common sense is updated (Schutz and Luckmann, 1989), emanating a renewed one such that it adjusts to the needs, expectations and reflections of certain members of society.

Shifting the religious and the secular to a liminal space: redefining categories

Following this first thought, and in a 180° turn, it is important to think about the state of religion –or whatever one wants to call the phenomenon of faith and spirituality characteristic of the human species– in societies undergoing dizzying changes. With the advent of modernity, sociologists of religion hypothesised the imminent collapse of religious frameworks of belief (Berger, 2016; Casanova, 2013) so that rationality and science would reign in this new modern, technical and objective world. However, over the last 30 years, this theoretical current began to be questioned, reaching a point where it has already been empirically demonstrated that people still believe in something that transcends our humanity (Burton, 2022; Keller et al. 2022; Streib, 2020; Routledge, 2018; Duch, 2012; Hervieu-Léger, 2005; Inglehart, 1989).

After all, despite the increase of self-described atheists and agnostics at certain points in modern history, they have remained relatively low compared to other religious categories. Indeed, and analysing the Latin American case, atheists and agnostics have remained between 1% and 2% of the total population during the last 20 years (Corporación Latinobarómetro, 2023, 2003). Nevertheless, the curious and incipient category of the non-religious is striking, whose rise is a cross-cultural phenomenon focused on the new generations (Routledge 2018) in such a way that it displaces traditional religions and positions itself in a liminal space: between scientific knowledge, philosophy and intellectuality alongside spirituality, transcendental beliefs and a peculiar sense of divinity. Empirically, this is visualised in my fieldwork (Calderón Villarreal, 2024, 2025), where when engaging in in-depth conversation with irreligious Chilean converts about their experience of transition, they rescued beliefs and practices from their previous denomination but also mixed them with approaches such as the sciences and paganism to make sense of the world, all framed in multiple notions about their own spirituality.

The question then arises as to what it means to be secular. In the first instance, one could think of the concept from a negative connotation concerning religion: as a non-believer, without god or gods, who does not belong to a religious community or denomination (Streib, 2020). In this sense, it is evident how the secular concept is in extreme correspondence with that of religion (Duch, 2012) insofar as they are opposites, two sides of the same coin, the yin and the yang. Without one of them, there is no other because they mutually define each other. Consequently, to ask the question of what it means to be secular is also to ask what it means to be religious. For instance, Tylor (1958, cited in Bowie, 2020) says that religion is merely the belief in Spiritual Beings, while for Geertz (1993) this idea would constitute

“(1) a system of symbols which act to (2) establish powerful, pervasive, and long-lasting moods and motivations in men by (3) formulating conceptions of a general order of existence and (4) clothing these conceptions with such an aura of factuality that (5) the moods and motivations seem uniquely realistic” (p.90).

Considering these anthropological notions, perhaps the current problem with ‘religion’ is that its common definition has remained largely unexamined, rooted in pre-industrial standards. For this reason, this concept is usually related to words such as pigeonholing, indoctrination, and somewhat closed, squared shape and unmodifiable form (Calderón Villarreal, 2024), which adjusts individuals so that they manage to fit into a religious community. That negative connotation is caused by the same mechanism that explains the religious phenomenon since the annals of humanity, namely the adjudication of the role of the scapegoat identified in Girard’s mimetic theory (Márquez et al. 2020; Palaver and Schenk, 2018). In today’s Western world, the meta-paradox of positioning religion as the source of all evils appears (Routledge, 2018), rejecting it to be replaced by new frameworks of belief and secular positions that are on the fringes of those traditionally religious. Yet, irremediably, such paradigmatic alternatives respond to the very essence from which religion arises: the human need to hold on to reality, to make sense of life and to formulate a relatively shared narrative around such philosophical explanations. For this reason, van Huyssteen (2006, cited in Fuentes, 2015) asserts a ‘naturalness’ of the religious imagination, which is that humans are first and foremost embodied beings, so the separation between religiosity and irreligiosity is arbitrary, contingent and insufficient for understanding contemporary worldviews (Bowie, 2020).

So, where is the ‘square-shape’ in being secular if it does indeed act as a reflection of religion? Is it to be found in the very determination of the non-existence of a superior deity? Or does it simply not acquire a defined form as the opposite of religion? Ledewitz (2010) provides a tentative answer to this question by demonstrating that atheism, as a largely extreme sceptical position in its definition, has embodied various facets throughout history: from the New Atheists to Atheism 3.0 and beyond. Although these groups do not believe in the figure of the Christian god, they do conceive in their manifestos the existence of something transcendent to the human being (Routledge, 2018), which indicates the truth that even secular groups reconfigure frameworks of belief to signify and sustain their own existence. Therefore, secularity cannot be understood without religiosity, and vice versa, given that they are complementary social phenomena, such that they define and sustain each other.

Thus, the concept of the secular may be also an outdated scholarly illusion of the past ages. Moreover, anthropologist Fiona Bowie (2020) and psychologist Clay Routledge (2018) argue that there is no point in dividing the world into believers and non-believers because they are no different from each other. Hence, it is feasible to observe that non-belief, in its purest form, is improbable, perhaps even impossible, given human cognitive and social processes. Evidence has shown that adherence to traditional doctrines has indeed declined in the West, especially those where Yahweh is the protagonist. Meanwhile, the emergence of mystical cults, religious and cultural syncretisms, and alternative beliefs have been on the rise (Centro de Políticas Públicas UC Chile, 2024; Burton, 2022; Parker, 2008; Hervieu-Léger, 2005; Inglehart and Baker, 2000; Douglas, 1982). Now, what about those who deny all belief systems that escape scientific explanation and tangible observation? Moreover, is it possible to dismiss all that transcends our own humanity and remain subject to the world? It seems that faith, belief and spirituality comprise convergent phenomena consisting of notions far more ambiguous and personalised than we are used to, alluding to “a sense of belonging to something greater than oneself” (Rupcic, 2023, p.3) through customisable shared concepts, symbols and beliefs. This aligns with Burton’s (2022) New Thought ethos, which highlights the emotional power of belief, and Rogers’ (2020) exploration of the mind’s ability to surpass the ‘material world’ in the pursuit of deeper awareness, leading to a need and quest for connectedness.

In his last writing with Dávila and Maturana (2023) amid the pandemic, Humberto Maturana expressed hope for humanity, assuring the arrival of better times by envisioning a future of greater self-awareness given the lack of external stimuli. He left this earthly world with this idea, which gave him satisfaction and even optimism, at least during his last days. What is this if not a belief system that reliably rests on the hope of an intellectual man who all his life worked to generate scientific knowledge, help people and improve the world we live in? Today, when Chileans are surveyed, they perceive that, as a society, we are in a worse situation than five years ago on issues such as development, institutional trust, migration or poverty (Centro de Políticas Públicas UC Chile, 2024). However, the conviction of prosperity regarding the humanist current –which is nothing more than a belief system that advocates human well-being (Copson, 2015)– was necessary for a brilliant mind like Maturana’s to arrive at his funeral destination with peace of mind.

Human beings need frameworks of meaning to carry on, deal with everyday life and endure the agony of existence because, as Marx (2018) and Freud (2002) asserted in past centuries, religion serves the individual to overcome suffering –whether it is the result of the injustices that occur in social reality or the inner demons that torment the human psyche. In other words, the explanation of why I am here and what my purpose is are answers to questions inherent in our humanity, which we build with our own worldly experience. In the end, we must appreciate the importance of constructing, developing, maintaining and modifying frameworks of meaning, which hold us to life itself.

A plausible explanation for this mechanism lies in a psychological survival instinct and cognitive processes characteristic of our species at both macro and micro levels, which require underlying supernatural thoughts and beliefs (Routledge, 2018). If only we could not give symbolic meaning to things and phenomena in the world (Fuentes, 2014) or think of something that transcends us, then the rationality of our consciousness would conclude that life is a waste of energy and an accumulation of suffering. Under this large-scale rationalisation, humanity would be eradicated from the earth after the tenacity of mass suicides. Fortunately, we have developed the capacity referred to by Yuval Noah Harari (2015) to generate shared stories and mobilise our efforts in pursuit of those narratives, benign illusions that keep us alive, that enable collaboration in ritualistic ways, reinforcing a sense of belonging steeped in positive emotions and sensations: There is something else out there worth fighting for and continue living for. After all, “we are born believers, that supernatural thinking is just a natural part of how the human brain works” (Routledge, 2018, p.xiv).

Such narratives took the form of hyper-institutionalised doctrines, with decreed rules and regulations, stipulated hierarchies and the imposition of a particular value system, which were reproduced and massified for a long time. With the advent of modernity, the role of science in popular knowledge, the dizzying current social changes and the interaction with other cultural perspectives thanks to globalisation processes, such narratives ceased to function as they were highly questioned, provoking ecclesiastical crises and the repudiation of civil society (Calderón Villarreal, 2024; Burton, 2022; Berger et al. 2008). Instead, and almost imperceptibly, the meaning was retained in other things to which we individually and socially attach importance. For some, like Maturana, it may be the hopeful prosperity and well-being of humanity, but for others, it lies in the care of the environment and other beings or the love instilled by children or pets. It may also be inspiring fraternal pride in the person you are projecting yourself into or simply achieving academic goals to contribute to the accumulation of knowledge. In short, all these concepts are used to elaborate one’s personal myth based on framed significant experiences (Keller et al. 2022).

Living and studying the re-enchantment of the world

We have already seen the heterogeneity of beliefs in which we are embedded, while not conforming to the traditional idea we have of religiosity and secularity, do appeal to emotionality, faith and spirituality in a somewhat more personalised, flexible and formless way (Calderón Villarreal, 2024; Burton, 2022; Keller et al. 2022; Routledge, 2018; Casanova, 2013; Hood and Chen, 2013; Duch, 2012; Hervieu-Léger, 2005). Those motivations that appeal to transcendental, intangible and subjective issues precisely allow us to hold on to life by making sense of the world and, ultimately, giving meaning to our existence. At the time, Weber (2004) spoke of the disenchantment of the world, incipiently indicating society’s abandonment of religiosity and thereby explaining the rise of cultural rationalisation: efficiency came with bureaucratic technique, and religion no longer provided value for that purpose. Weber was probably right if we keep the concept of religion as traditional denominations within strict categories and if we also account for the processes of impersonalisation of institutions and the state apparatus (Casanova, 2013) in the search for optimisation in increasingly complex societies.

However, if we want to change the conception of the religious and the secular, then the idea of disenchantment of the world should only apply on the organisational level. It seems that the phenomenon concerning the anthropological question of human existence and relating to others is rather an intrapersonal enchantment, both mental and experiential and that occurs intersubjectively. Here, it is possible to take up the figure of yin and yang, where the secular and the religious are one, complement and define each other. Moreover, each contains something of the other, so that secular thought cannot do without transcendental frameworks of meaning to maintain its hold on the world, while the religious requires a methodical mentality that enables it to justify the necessity of its nature as a belief system and to compete with similar ones. The point now is that the dividing line that differentiates these concepts is increasingly blurred, positioning them in a liminal space: the heterogeneity is such that all categorisations become one to the point that, as Bowie (2020) underlines, “the secularist and theist are not as far apart as they might suppose” (p.261).

So, what happens to religious and non-religious identification? Is it enough to call oneself atheist, agnostic, Christian, or Buddhist? Or do things no longer seem to be as simple as before? What happens with the emergence of this new ‘category’ of the non-religious –commonly referred to as ‘nones’– that actively seeks to demarcate itself from the rest and is projected towards growth? Going back to the initial question, does it still make sense to ask about religiosity and secularity in the contemporary world, even more so when traditional religions bifurcate by acquiring peculiar characteristics and syncretisms with other (new) forms of belief? Probably yes, it still makes sense to operate based on how we usually think of denominations since they persist as sources of individual and group identification. However, it is necessary to begin to question the prevailing hegemony as new and valid ways of formulating meaning, such that they are inexorably growing as a response to the challenges of contemporary life. Therefore, the time has come, both as a society and as social scientists, to shed those traditional categorisations that have been imposed for a long time so that we can reformulate them in a way that is more closely correlated with the lived and spiritual experience of each individual.

Our role as researchers of society is not to coerce people’s reality with categories to simplify our explanation of social phenomena, thus ensuring our intellectual comfort, but rather to understand the complexity of how these phenomena originate, develop, change and interrelate over time. To do this, beyond statistics, it becomes essential to dialogue, listen and empathise with others: To account for the richness that comes with a multiplicity of perspectives. Perhaps the time has come to stop talking about religion and secularisation in order to propose new approaches to the study of the frameworks of meaning applicable to human beings and today’s hyper-connected societies in the same way that people have been able to intersubjectively re-enchant themselves with the exit of religion through spiritual and even digital devices, which culminates in characterising and identifying contemporary thought and experience.

Thinking about religion and secularism for future generations

However, it appears relevant to extrapolate the transformation of both concepts for future humans, asking how the degree of differentiation between religiosity and secularity will play out. The importance of speculating on the state of ulterior beliefs is argued under a humanitarian vision, understanding the concept of humanity as more than merely a set of humans: it is our capacity for interconnectedness, the accumulation and sharing of knowledge between past, present and future people, such that today’s actions and conceptions will affect tomorrow’s (Frick, 2017). It is for this reason that Finneron-Burns (2024b) emphasises the scope of intergenerational ethics for philosophy and social policy, reflected in the fact that the praxis carried by current human beings will affect the quality of life of those individuals who will inhabit the future world. This implies that humanity is in constant transformation as it is affected differently by the generations of yesteryear, which is becoming increasingly evident as time goes by, fuelled by the growing informational maelstrom of globalisation (Vásquez, 2008). It is for this reason that, as Small and Vorgan (2009) point out, the differentiation in worldviews between young and old minds is demarcated so that, in the future, this division will be much sharper.

In any case, it is impossible to determine how moral-ethical evaluations will develop for future people. In other words, “we cannot simply assume that what is good, important, or meaningful for us would work equally well for future people” (Mulgan, 2024, p.xvii), which implies that categorising future situations, events or phenomena, either positively or negatively using current standards, is meaningless. The extrapolation of this argument is interesting since it explains the difficulty of determining how value –hence religious, secular and spiritual– changes will occur. However, what will be proposed hereafter is that certain behaviours in the field of mysticism at a macro-level could be probed using statistical approaches or currents such as mimetic theory (Palaver and Schenk, 2018; Palaver and Borrud, 2013) under a contingent notion of belief ethics.

To this end, and taking up the point initially developed, Bingaman (2023) identifies a distinctive shift that characterises the contemporary era and that, in a certain way, influences how the religious and the secular will be understood and experienced in the future: societies have moved away from religious exclusivism towards an openness to a multiplicity of conceptions, both (ir)religious and spiritual. This does not necessarily indicate that beliefs will become an amorphous amalgam of theological, mythical and mystical elements but rather that believers and non-believers will develop the capacity to coexist under overlapping notions of reality (Ledewitz, 2010). This direction raises the empowerment of issues such as inclusivity and social harmony, which threatens the prevalence of religious wars and embraces the idea of an extended human community. However, one should not be naively optimistic, as such a process must be guided by practical work through public policy to actively avoid conflict. That is, we must be able to manage violence and dissent so that it is not focused on apparent identity differences and redirected towards issues that threaten humanity as a whole. For example, the ending of the comic book Watchmen (Moore and Gibbons, 1987) portrays how fragmented societies, after the appearance of a hostile scenario for the species, can bracket their differences when the threat is common, operating as a tool of individual and collective action.

On the other hand, the fundamental role of new technologies and digitalisation should be incorporated into the analysis, particularly because “life on the screen has fundamentally altered what it means to be religious or spiritual, what it means to be human for that’”(Bingaman, 2023, p.11). This transformation is already beginning to be sensed in the digitally hardwired brain of the new generations, popularly referred to as ‘digital natives’ (Helsper and Eynon, 2010), leading to reconfigured ways of being (ir)religious/spiritual. Indeed, Rončáková’s (2021) study has shown that those with an active online life, and thus immersed in digital religiosity and/or secularity, will tend “to choose their own symbols, values, associations and ideas in order to construct their own identity and their own spirituality” (p. 30), alluding to Wildman and Stockly’s (2021) metaphor of the supermarket of values, where under the digital context one has the freedom to select, mix and remix a wide spectrum of religious, spiritual and secular perspectives through experiences of exploration and processes of personalisation (Burton, 2022; Routledge, 2018).

The paradigmatic reconfiguration in the face of extinction

To make this exercise feasible, it appears necessary to take the argument to the extreme and work on a hypothetical scenario where the human species is threatened in its completeness. Despite being an imagined reality that we usually confront in fictional stories, the possibility of the disappearance of humanity is becoming increasingly latent (Wisner, 2010): from the rise of war and political and religious conflicts to the effects of climate change and the destabilisation of ecosystems, in addition to the growing rates of inequality between regions of the world and the scarcity of limited resources (Mulgan, 2024), problems that are deepening as the world becomes more complex and diversified.

Although death itself causes a strong existential affliction that demands a supernatural belief (Routledge, 2018), this raises the question of why universal death generates greater desolation or feelings of meaninglessness than individual death. The tentative answer to this question lies in the fact that not only humanity as such would be extinguished, but rather the possibility of leaving a trace in the world, a memory of who I was. Moreover, the potential to leave a contribution for generations to come would be erased since no future human world will be able to remember and interpret my existence, which frames my impact and influence on others.

In this way, both meaning and meaninglessness operate as plausible explanatory mechanisms to face an eventual extinction, blurring identity categories in a liminal conglomerate according to cultural and personal paradigms, formulating an existential narrative and evaluating the possibility of transcendence. Typologically, Mulgan (2024) identifies seven belief-based responses, all reflecting the human need for meaning in stressful situations. Indeed, rather than pushing towards a post-religious scenario, extinction would unexpectedly imply the return to its most fundamental principles: the study of ‘ultimate things,’ the questioning of what constitutes reality and the need to generate meaning (Kidwell and Skrimshire, 2024; Park, 2016).

Empirically, although from a micro-social approach, Dr Kerr and Professor Mardorossian (2021) qualitatively analyse the narratives of terminally ill patients, particularly their deeply meaningful dreams and visions during their dying process, stipulating that the search for meaning is exacerbated by final experiences. Similarly, Death at Intervals by José Saramago (2015) tells the story of a fictional country that is momentously ‘blessed’ with the interruption of death, thus ensuring eternal existence. After this event, the first social system to collapse is the religious one –and, therefore, also the secular– as the characters are stripped of the need for a meaning that holds them to life, thus forgetting the existential questions that allude to transcendence. Though speculative, these works suggest that in a catastrophic scenario, humanity’s need to believe in something –regardless of its religious or secular nature, albeit a rather spiritual one– would only grow in an eventual shared final experience.

Such resilience of belief frameworks, which grant explanatory meaning and transcendental ends to phenomena in the world, rests on the notion that the survival of humanity implies the survival of those characteristics that make us imagine our uniqueness –human intelligence, cultural diversity or even ‘progress’ (Finneron-Burns, 2024a). Moreover, a substantive component of our evolutionary success lies in the fact that we are a semiotic species (Fuentes, 2015, 2014), i.e. we shape reality through the use and development of symbols embedded in the social imaginary. In this sense, their fundamental character lies in the fact that they condition the material world by influencing people’s perceptions and, therefore, their behaviour.

In short, both social structures and mental schemas push us towards collective, albeit personalised, narratives to make sense of the world, especially in critical situations such as the extinction of the human race by providing a sense of agency and coping mechanisms (Park, 2016). Throughout history, the correlation between apocalyptic narratives and shared (ir)religious frameworks has shaped ethical and moral codes, embodying important roles in diverse traditions and cultures, and defining what it means to be a social living being (Moynihan, 2020). Consequently, these same stories of our possible demise help us to reflect on the end times of tomorrow in order to develop guidelines for ‘doing the right thing.’

A second argument that supports the prevalence of beliefs, whether religious or secular, in a world that threatens humanity with extinction appears in mimetic theory, which explains the emergence and reproduction of religion by taking as its starting point the inherent character of violence and mimesis in human beings (Palaver and Schenk, 2018; Palaver and Borrud, 2013). In this sense, sacrifices serve as a pacifier of perceived hostilities –i.e. a form of violence socially accepted to suppress another one catalogued as ‘bad’ and which is represented as a danger to the social order (Márquez et al. 2020). Getting back to the topic of extinction, it emerges in the social imaginary as a threat to the survival of the human species, thus being monumental violence beyond our control. In response, multiple scapegoats and instances of sacrifice would naturally emerge to manage such violence, which would lead to the effervescence of various frameworks of meaning to transcend such an ominous end, reinforcing resilience in catastrophic contexts (Park, 2016).

Thus, the exacerbation of frames of meaning and the rise of multiple beliefs to explain the end of the world as we know it would function as a tool inherent to the nature of being to confront what extinction predicts: the end of meaning (Moynihan 2020). That is, the ability to construct narrative entelechies operates as a defence mechanism against the threat to our survival as a species, emanating some notion of transcendence for the overcoming of suffering –reminiscent here of the utility of religion for Marx (2018) and Freud (2002). Moreover, the phenomenon of ‘the paradox of dying’ identified by Kerr and Mardorossian (2021) –where those who are about to die find themselves in heightened spiritual awareness– could be extrapolated to the extinction scenario, reinforcing the argument developed throughout this section. In short, “for many people, including those who consider themselves to be located outside religion (…), the extinction crisis pushes the meanings of religion and its interaction with publics in new direction” (Kidwell and Skrimshire, 2024, p.7), implying a transformation in the field of the (ir)religious and the spiritual. However, beyond belief systems, technology and digitalisation are also evolving as tools for hope and potential salvation in uncertain times and, ultimately, a plausible approach to salvation.

The role of digital technologies in spiritual transformation

Building on Bingaman’s (2023) argument about the integration of digital technologies into social structures and thus being an indispensable component of human life, “then it follows that the enmeshment would also extend into the world of religion” (p.3). This intuition can already be seen in the fact that new generations have a greater affinity with these technologies because their brains are digitally hardwired (Bingaman, 2023). In this way, new technologies may operate as a paradigm of subjection, i.e. as renewed frameworks of beliefs to make sense of the world and grant some hope of transcendence in the face of scenarios that threaten human existence –the function of beliefs for the collective imagination (Fuentes, 2015). Nonetheless, its advancement also modifies how the self is conceived both individually and socially, as well as how life itself is experienced.

In simple words, it seems that current technologies already establish a sense of permanence, preserving and engraving individuals’ digital footprint, consciousness and/or spirit in today’s world. Moreover, digital technologies are constantly evolving, to the point that authors such as Dorobantu (2022) theorise about possibilities aimed at improving human understanding of its divine revelation in the future by offering us innovative perspectives on fundamental principles of faith. Such a link between technology and religiousness/spirituality is evident in the rise of cyber-cults from the twenty-first century onwards, appearing as a potential source of meaning. This possibility is explored by Rupcic (2023), who argues the existence of “techno-worshipers and technopagans evangelizing about a Technology God in artificial intelligence, bionic, robotics, and virtual reality found new ways to express New Age spirituality, united with technological advancement” (p.5). In this ‘cyberspace spirituality,’ transcendence aims to shed the material body in pursuit of immortality.

While digital transcendence remains hypothetical –as a kind of kingdom come as we move from the earthly to the spiritual plane– it would be possible to argue that digital technologies already serve as spaces of religious, secular and spiritual congregation, offering belief frameworks and hope amid crises such as extinction. It is for this reason that Delio (2008) argues humans have ‘techno-sapiens,’ i.e. living beings deeply intertwined with technology. In practice, this can be visualised in the increasing use of digital spaces for religious events, particularly since the Covid-19 pandemic (Holleman et al. 2022; Kühle and Larsen, 2021; Baker et al. 2020), as well as the formation of online communities around secular and spiritual interests (Guillory, 2024; Taira, 2024; Burton, 2022; Smith and Cimino, 2012), hinting at possibilities of subjective and intersubjective interconnectedness augmented by new technologies. Consequently, philosophical approaches like transhumanism have emerged to ground the influence of digital technologies on us, which advocates the development and accessibility of technology in order to extend human life (Rupcic, 2023) and ultimately modify the body to enhance our capacities and achieve transcendence (Routledge, 2018).

Thus, these new digital technologies are increasingly shaping theological and existential thought (Dorobantu, 2022) and substantially influencing (Wildman and Stockly, 2021). This growing interrelationship is likely to be experienced prolifically in video games where millions of people seek experiences beyond the mundanity of everyday life (De Wildt and Aupers, 2020). Within these, the genre of science fiction –particularly cyberpunk, solarpunk or biopunk– integrates technological advancement with religious, secular and spiritual notions in its themes and building of their fictional worlds, reflecting a collective shift towards futurism, technology, (ir)religious experience and spirituality. Mulgan’s (2024) dogmatic positions on human extinction converge on the idea that virtual worlds offer both transcendence and restoration meaning by securing a future for humanity –using Frick’s (2017) definition here. It is therefore not surprising that numerous AI and robotics pioneers are fervent believers in apocalypticism –the religious belief that the end of the world is imminent (Greisiger, 2015)– foreseeing a turn in history that will establish a new reality where life will unfold in ‘the machine,’ such that “human beings will cast off the limitations of their bodies for mechanical and virtual bodies that will live forever in eternal bliss” (Geraci, 2008, p.146).

In short, we can already visualise the formation of a generalised hope that technologies would provide, particularly in the face of increasingly hostile scenarios, which leads to the current rise of movements such as technopaganism (Aupers, 2009), which postulates the creation of a new digital world that would operate as a transcendental plane for human development (Rupcic, 2023). Correspondingly, for Bostrom (2009), Buttrey and colleagues (2022), the improvement in human skills and capacities signals the immersion of digital technologies in everyday life that would go hand in hand with an intense transformation of spiritual experiences, which directly affects how the narratives that give meaning to life are collectively constituted.

To recapitulate, traditionally religious perspectives on an eventual human extinction would expect God to create a new world and resurrect humanity in new bodies (Geraci, 2008), while the traditional and humanistically secular view would emphasise the senselessness of extending life expectancy in a world that would imminently end, and so would stake their efforts on developing and sustaining post-extinction those issues that characterise the best facet of humanity –e.g. flourishing, intelligence, science, art, among others (Shiller, 2017). However, those neither religious nor secular –i.e. the ‘nones’– with an apocalyptic view of the world and who advocate digitalisation and the fundamental character of tools such as AI turn to technological evolution as a guarantee for transcendence, where meaning is exacerbated without the necessary interference of a divine being, such that we will reach “a mechanical future in which human beings will upload their minds into machines and enjoy a virtual reality paradise in perfect virtual bodies” (Geraci, 2008, p.140).

While digital spirituality is often theoretical, it also demonstrates a practical aspect based on this transformation of what it means to be human (Bingaman, 2023) and, by extension, what it means to be (ir)religious or spiritual in a techno-driven world. Accordingly, an alternative definition of humanity, previously worked out by Finneron-Burns (2024a), can be raised, which consists in something beyond the mere collection of sapiens, but rather in what we value about ourselves: our collective achievements and abilities such as reasoning and intellect, flourishing and progress, and the capacity for social interconnectedness. In essence, all those elements that shape our shared narratives also mobilise our actions and help us understand the workings of the human world. Under this definition, I propose that, from a transhumanist perspective, the extinction of the human species does not necessarily entail the disappearance of meaning, given that perhaps in matters such as religion, technology or spiritualities there are renewed notions of hope, survival or sense of who we are in the face of highly stressful events, thus making possible an imagined or objective transcendence (Routledge, 2018), but highly real by the mere fact of jointly believing in it.

This deep connection between virtual realities and religious salvation in cyberspace promises ideas related to the good life, such as egalitarian societies, the stripping of material needs, happiness and even an improvement in sexuality, eventually guaranteeing immortality (Geraci, 2008). Ultimately, it is this overflowing salvific hope that maximises the spirituality offered progressively by new technologies, which may intensify as the earthly conditions worsen. Tentatively, this connection between the digital and the spiritual can already be experienced in the video game Cyberpunk 2077 developed by CD Projekt RED (2020), where the human body is no longer at the mercy of a god, but rather a dynamically modifiable creation (Schallegger, 2014) through transhumanism. Here, technology merges with belief systems, re-signifying the understanding of the soul within human experience in digital metaphysical spaces.

As Ilia Delio (2008) asserts, technology is now an integral part of who we are. That is to say, the link between technology and (ir)religiosity is much deeper than is commonly thought where not only does the former operate as a tool for religious, secular and/or spiritual flourishing, but rather it is already beginning to constitute itself as a source for ecstatic experiences and a means of navigating uncertainty. Strictly speaking, “the Virtual Kingdom is a transcendent plane of cyberspace where history ends, pain disappears, and truly meaningful life becomes possible” (Geraci, 2008, p.152), where cyberspace provides a kind of Paradise or Valhalla that is much more tangible and real for techno-sapiens. Thus, the digital realm must be seen as a growing space for (ir)religious and spiritual development, shaping identities and providing existential meaning.

A Conclusion beyond beliefs and time: What will we have left?

With the apparent imminence of our own demise due to the problems we have caused and, with it, the approach of death, Kerr and Mardorossian (2021) warn that the boundaries separating experience from the spiritual, the body from the mind, the present from the past, or consciousness from the impulses of the unconscious seem to dissolve to provide a sense of transcendence. Under the same spirit, existential concerns already affect all of us, ‘believers’ and ‘non-believers’ alike, in a way that inspires a greater openness to explore spiritual questions. In this sense, it is necessary to embrace current transformations in the social sciences not only to rethink categories but also “to think beyond the traditional view of religiosity when discussing how humans approach supernatural ideas, beliefs, and interests” (Routledge, 2018, p.170-171).

Thus, in the future, there may still be vestiges of religions as we traditionally know them, but new syncretic spiritualities –at first highly personalised but eventually united according to shared identities– are likely to emerge quite strongly, bringing them together with Indigenous and pagan worldviews, esotericisms, capitalist promises, political visions, moral-ethical values, environmental motivations and even future technologies, where religious faith and secular scientism would become entangled. If indeed the end looks ever closer, such beliefs and congregations that will eventually form will be exacerbated in the face of monumental violence against the human species, eagerly seeking shared frameworks of meaning to hold on to a world that is slipping from our grasp and to create a new one, perhaps with the help of digitalisation. In this sense, the line between religiosity and secularity will blur, as both serve the same existential purpose that has accompanied us throughout our history. Ultimately, supernatural tendencies are a unifying human trait (Routledge, 2018), which is the fundamental reason for their exacerbation in critical scenarios.

In this way, issues that originated from seemingly secular fields such as science are today acquiring religious and spiritual singularities in that they appeal to the transcendence of being, thus escaping our understanding and manipulation as they become more complex. For this reason, Bowie (2020) argues that such extraordinary experiences require a more expansive notion than merely belief –or non-belief– in a god or gods to understand people’s attachment to transcendent ideas. After all, digital technologies –and all social phenomena– will include greater forms concerning religious practices and cults, as well as spiritual notions akin to the non-religious (Bingaman, 2023), such that the religious and the secular would be imbricated in the contemporary world. This results in fostering a relationship that evolves continuously, adapting to changes in values and technological advancements, thereby directly impacting human life and social coordination. Likewise, the delimitations between physical/corporeal and virtual/mental will be blurred, thus constituting a sacred cyberspace that becomes “a spiritual realm in which humanity finds refuge from the omnipresent grip of corporate entities of the modern world” (Rupcic, 2023, p.10).

It is for this reason that authors such as Delio (2008) advise understanding technologies as an integral part of our evolutionary process, all the more so because they take us to new levels of culture and consciousness. Consequently, such renewed experiences may not necessarily be defined as religious or secular –or, at least, as the terms are commonly used– but transcendental and spiritual regarding their profound personal and relational significance. Ultimately, and thinking beyond the promise of immortality, the possibilities that the syncretism of beliefs and digital development would grant would refer to a revolution in the understanding of time and could go as far as escaping the historical realities of the present (Geraci, 2008), which would directly challenge events such as extinction. Regardless of whether this ‘post-humanity’ advocated by Apocalyptic AI takes the form of cyborgs, robots or software, it is feasible to assert that issues as human as pain, desire or even knowledge will be understood and experienced in unpredictable ways, which will irremediably affect how we hold on to reality and make sense of our existence.

However, not all is rosy, as certain belief frameworks can be (Fuentes, 2014), particularly when they foster radicalisation (Routledge, 2018). Thus, the tension between biological survival and the existential motive of transcendence can become unbalanced, leading some to prioritise the latter over the former. Routledge (2018) describes such individuals as fanatics with “an unyielding commitment to a very specific set of beliefs” (p.154) and claiming to hold the ultimate truth. This inflexible fundamentalism is inherently dangerous against alien experiences and counterproductive in a world in constant transformation since fanatics would actively seek to transcend their biological limitations at the cost of a static sense of self and less openness to alternatives (Routledge, 2018), leading to low levels of empathy and high levels of intergroup conflict. In essence, fundamentalism lies in advocating fatalistic notions to achieve transcendence, being dangerous to themselves and others, especially in critical scenarios as it lowers the likelihood of survival. Moreover, Routledge (2018) warns that such views could boycott social pressure for the resolution of environmental issues or any other threat to the planet, as the greater sense would fall merely on collective death.

To counteract this, it is relevant to guide the future frameworks of meaning and spiritualities to manage a balance between survival and transcendence, i.e. to harness the benefits of an imagined narrative with sufficient caution that it does not come to an end in itself. Hence, compassion is key for human proliferation (Spikins et al. 2010; Goldschmidt, 2006), which becomes increasingly essential in the face of hostile circumstances by appealing directly to the survival of humanity based on understanding otherness, accepting positive influence and being open-minded to renewed ways of seeing and living life. Given current crises (Mulgan, 2024 what we need the most as a society will be those that explicitly advocate care for the environment and social integration, such that empathy is prioritised as a fundamental value. With the inexorable rise of new forms of identity and multiple collectivities, it is essential to respect differences in order to avoid conflict and ensure social cohesion.

Ultimately, both religious and secular positions represent a negotiation of what it means to be human (Chidester, 1990), such that our inventions –as the stories do– enable us to contemplate and empower ourselves and thus better understand our why, how and when. Under this notion, technological innovations would fulfil the same role, promising us to overcome quite uncontrollable aspects such as death. These new possibilities appear to us in the form of future promises, such that they cement a sense of hope in the face of potentially approaching events such as extinction, being re-signified the more present the end becomes. However, what will there be beyond this suggestive disembodied future if uncertainties are answered or even completely dealt with? What will happen to belief when it is no longer necessary to make sense of reality to exist? Will it be possible for the humans of the future –or a derivative of it– to show faith in something when it has already completely transcended? If stories are the illusion in which the eternal persists, with which we can share knowledge and experiences, survive as individuals and as a society, and actively fight against oblivion, will the digital future be the end of existential questions and thus our true extinction as humanity?