The Fear-Comfort Theory of Religion: Why We Need Scary Gods

Better Safe Than Sorry

A popular theory of religion is that people have faith because it provides them with comfort and security. The rationale is that worshipers convince themselves their religion is true because they want it to be—a view supported by evidence linking religiosity to greater happiness in harsh environments.

Yet, if religion is primarily about comfort, why does it cultivate fear through threatening deities (Satan, Kali, malevolent spirits), punishing afterlives (Hell, Tartarus, Xibalba), and tales of destruction (floods, plagues, famines)? Furthermore, why do people who endure harsh living conditions—such as those in sub-Saharan Africa or Melanesia—worship some of the least comforting deities?

The answer may be that scary gods are actually the norm. A review of religious literature and mythology from sixty cultures found that information about hazards and threats to worshipers appeared 50% more often than information about benefits (e.g., flood myths).

The authors (Fessler et al.) argued that the prevalence of scary content stems from natural selection favouring individuals who are more credulous about threats. For example, people who consistently believed that a rustle in the bushes is a tiger, even if they were usually wrong, were more likely to survive than those who failed to believe. 

Believing in scary gods may be another example of this "better safe than sorry" calculation. Indeed, Pascal's Wager—the idea that incorrectly believing in God incurs minimal losses, while incorrectly disbelieving in God is far worse—applies the same fear-based logic.

Scary Gods From Around the World

The “better safe than sorry” instinct is part of a wider negativity bias that helps us to identify and avoid danger. For instance, threatening information captures attention, lodges in memory, and spreads rapidly through social networks—hence the adage that “bad news travels fast.”

One might therefore expect religious literature to focus on real-world dangers like predators or poisonous plants. Instead, however, it centers on scary gods and their penalties. For example, the Qur’an insists that you "fear Allah as He should be feared" and the Bible instructs you to "live in the fear of the Lord always."

Parallel themes appear in Hindu literature. Shiva "The Destroyer" nearly ends the world in a rage, while Kali "The Devourer" wears a necklace of skulls and decapitates her enemies. Indeed, the vast majority of deities are depicted in intimidating ways, such as with muscular builds (e.g., Greek gods), weaponry (e.g., the Sumerian god Nergal), imperial vestments (e.g., the Shinto goddess Amaterasu), or military armour (e.g., the Aztec god Huītzilōpōchtli).

Even Buddhists sometimes accommodate malevolent spirits (e.g., some devatās). In Myanmar, god-like nats and demonic belu can be immoral and violent, while in Thailand, malevolent phi spirits (phi phetu) are widely feared. This pattern extends to indigenous religions (as noted by Pascal Boyer in Religion Explained): in Papau New Guinea, forest spirits called Nokoti poison those who intrude on their domain, while in the Amazon, the demon Curupira attacks greedy hunters.

Why do People Believe in Scary Gods?

If this "better safe than sorry" instinct favours belief in scary gods, perhaps by deterring people from dangerous environments ("an evil spirit lives in those woods"), how did the concept of scary gods initially emerge for evolution to act upon?

Crucially, gods are defined by supernatural abilities that amplify their potential to help or hurt us. Studies confirm that people view these entities as greater potential threats than ordinary beings, and this heightened sense of danger is a key driver in our tendency to remember stories about them (i.e., the negativity bias).

The "hurt" we fear largely concerns punishment. For example, a study found that people who were manipulated to think about God reported more anxiety during a difficult task than a control group (another study reported similar results here). The manipulations appeared to facilitate a sense of being evaluated by an authority, particularly for moral transgressions.

Consistent with this view, several other studies have found that people cheat less and exhibit cooperative behaviour when they think a god is observing them, and this is especially the case when people perceive their gods to be punishing and angry.

These studies suggest that people are persistently terrified about what their gods might do to them, which appears to have been beneficial during human evolution for encouraging moral behaviour, cooperation, and the formation of large, successful societies. Thus, the research suggests that scary gods are memorable, believable, and useful when they are believed, explaining their emergence and persistence in cultures around the world.

Where do Comforting Gods fit in?

How can the so-called "comfort theory of religion" be reconciled with this evolutionary imperative for scary gods? If people are inclined to believe in both comforts and terrors, psychologists must develop a theory that integrates both.

Indeed, history tells us that very few gods are exclusively malevolent. Gods that we are supposed to fear are described as benevolent and loving—often within the same sentence. Consider Deuteronomy (10:12): "What doth the Lord thy God require of thee, but to fear the Lord thy God, to walk in all his ways, and to love him" and the Qu'ran (3:76): "Allah loves those who fear Him."

Hindu and Buddhist gods are also ambivalent (malevolent and benevolent at the same time). Neither Shiva nor Kali are regarded as evil deities, while many of the most malevolent nats, phi, and belu can be appeased with rituals or wisdom. Even the Papuan Nokoti and Amazonian Curupira are capable of benevolence, and they may be regarded as protectors of the forest. Taken together, true malevolence is rare, suggesting that comfort theories are indeed part of the picture.

The psychological landscape mirrors the historical pattern. Individual perceptions of gods are varied and often conflicting, ranging from wrathful to compassionate, sometimes simultaneously. This fluidity supports the view that an individual's transient need for comfort is key, perhaps driving a shift toward a loving God in times of distress.

However, as noted earlier, some of the scariest gods appear in distressing environments. The Papuan Nokoti, for example, evolved from a capricious bush spirit into a malevolent figure when colonization disrupted indigenous harmony. Faced with existential threats, Papuans may have focused on avoiding danger ("Nokoti will get you if you stray") or interpreted the chaos as divine wrath. This shift may have fulfilled a societal need for stricter punishment, bolstering cooperation during dark times. The challenge for psychologists, then, is determining when an individual’s need for comfort overrides the instinct to avoid danger.

When Does Comfort Replace Fear?

Cracks do exist in the negativity bias. In social contexts (e.g., conversation vs. writing), the drive to share negative information weakens as people's goals shift toward bonding and impression management. Indeed, the desire to "make a good impression" can override negativity completely, particularly when the topic is moral virtue or comforting ideas like an afterlife. This distinction may explain why Fessler's review found religious literature steeped in negativity: religious books may be scarier than religious sermons.

Consequently, a bias to discuss religious comforts (e.g., virtue and divine rewards) may emerge in social settings. However, research still points to scary gods being more noticeable, memorable, and credible. A viable comfort theory must accommodate this research and define the specific conditions under which belief shifts from fear to comfort. 

The Fear-Comfort Theory of Religion

Unlike threats, there is no asymmetry in the costs of believing a comforting lie or failing to believe a comforting truth. Consequently, a shift from fear to comfort should occur only when the emotional payoff of comfort outweighs the survival advantage of fear. First, however, we must identify the specific belief undergoing this shift. In my view, Ludwig Feuerbach provides the answer:

“The true reason why fear does not offer a complete explanation of religion is that, once the danger is past, fear gives way to an opposite emotion that attaches to the same object as the fear. [...] The god who destroys trees, animals, and men with his thunderbolt is the selfsame god who fructifies the fields and meadows with his rain”—Ludwig Feuerbach, 1851.

For Feuerbach, gods are the specific 'objects' where fear and comfort converge, which aligns with the earlier discussion: gods are inherently ambivalent, both in historical tradition and individual experience. Research confirms that the same supernatural beings perceived as threats are also viewed as potential benefits. Crucially, it is this dual capacity—the ability to both harm and help—that distinguishes religious gods from fictional characters, who are typically cast as either heroes or villains.

Compared to fictional characters, gods are also perceived as more beneficial overall (supporting comfort theory) and more ambiguous (e.g., their "mysterious ways"), which may allow believers to fluidly shift interpretations when required. Furthermore, because nearly all religious ideas flow from this central figure—afterlives are their rewards, and rituals/prayers win their favour—this shift from fear to comfort doesn’t just apply to gods, but to religion as a whole.

Why does god belief shift from terrifying to comforting?

In harsh environments, the survival advantage of fear appears to dominate, producing scary gods despite the substantial emotional payoff of comfort. In safer environments (e.g., Western Europe), where the cost of ignoring threats is reduced, the emotional payoff of comfort may win out, yielding gods that are less frightening. However, this balance also depends on an individual's specific need for comfort. Indeed, as Fessler et al. note, credulity for threats varies due to "the level of danger in the environment and the individual's capacity for coping with that danger."

Environmental threat therefore sets the overall trend, while an individual's need for comfort creates variance. This variance explains why fearful and comforting representations of a god can coexist within a single culture. For instance, even in a safe environment, an individual with little need for comfort may retain the fearful representation. Crucially, the inherent ambivalence and ambiguity of gods make this possible, granting believers the freedom to deploy either representation as needed (e.g., "God is punishing me" versus "God loves me").

How does god belief shift from terrifying to comforting?

Regardless of external factors, belief shifts occur internally. If driven by a "need for comfort," this process likely involves motivated reasoning: the unconscious tendency to reason toward desired conclusions and believe in things that you want to be true. Such reasoning might involve a search for evidence where a person notices, recalls, and supports religious over scientific information without being aware of their bias.

Negative emotions like anxiety amplify the need for comfort. As Fessler et al. note, negativity is a "greater motivational impetus" than positivity; its unpleasantness drives change, while positivity reinforces the status quo. Consequently, comfort theorists from Freud to Hume identify anxiety as central, with evidence suggesting it motivates belief in comforting gods and rewarding afterlives.

Anxiety also amplifies the negativity bias. For instance, anxiety can enhance recall of supernatural beings relative to normal beings, driven by an attraction to their threatening features. Consequently, anxious people may accumulate representations of "scary gods" and potentially believe in them if "better safe than sorry" applies—a finding that challenges most comfort theories. Indeed, Fessler et al. note that credulity for terrifying ideas correlates with a "belief that the world is dangerous," which typifies anxiety. 

Ultimately, however, the outcome depends on how an individual copes with this anxiety. In this context, the repressive coping style (or repression) may be especially relevant. The style is defined by the American Psychological Association as "a pattern of dealing with life characterized by downplaying problems or misfortunes and maintaining an artificially positive view." Repression therefore inhibits the conscious experience of a "dangerous world" by reversing the negativity bias and reinterpreting its effects. Consequently, repressors—those disposed to this style—report less anxiety than they actually feel.

Crucially, research indicates that repressors are significantly more likely to be religious than non-repressors, as they tend to downplay gods' threatening features and emphasize their loving features. Here, repressors employ reinterpretation rather than avoidance, possibly because they perceive gods as controllable through ritual, prayer, and their inherent ambivalence and ambiguity. Once this comforting representation has been established, which is necessary for motivated reasoning to proceed, repressors become inclined toward belief.

The research therefore supports a fear-comfort theory in which environmental threat shapes cultural trends toward repression, mediating belief in either terrifying or comforting gods. In dangerous environments, where the cost of ignoring threat is high, repression fails to develop, and threats—including "scary gods"—are accepted as real. In safer environments, repression becomes a viable way to cope with negativity, fostering belief in more loving gods.

Explaining Religious Belief Around the World

In sum, gods are historically ambivalent, and an inherent negativity bias—amplified by anxiety—skews individuals toward remembering their threatening traits. In safer environments (e.g., Western cultures), those disposed to repression reinterpret these gods as less threatening—emphasizing loving traits to reduce anxiety via motivated reasoning. While some discomforting ideas endure to maintain plausibility, they too are softened by reinterpretation (e.g., "hell exists, but as ultimate justice" or "God caused the disaster, but it serves a benevolent plan").

Motivated reasoning may also explain why comforting religious ideas dominate in social contexts: they align with what anxious listeners want to hear, thereby fulfilling the speaker's goals of bonding and impression management more easily. The effect should be magnified in safer, larger societies, which not only harbour more repressors but also provide the vast social networks needed for 'loving god' concepts to spread and become the norm.

In dangerous environments (e.g., smaller, ancient, or developing societies), repression does not develop and gods remain threatening because avoiding danger requires being credulous about the existence of threats. Here, gods may function to reinforce norms, boost cooperation, and deter individuals from real threats such as predation ("a demon lives in those woods"), intraspecies violence ("their leader is possessed"), and contamination ("cover your excrement, for God walks in your camp"—Deuteronomy 23:12–14). Comforting ideas may still spread in social contexts—for bonding and reputation building—but are less believable.

Finally, the fear-comfort theory explains a striking example of motivated reasoning: interpreting natural disasters, violence, and bereavements as part of a god’s benevolent plan, rewarding test, or mysterious ways. The theory describes how these calamities are attributed to a threatening god, which is reinterpreted as having benevolent intent—a shift facilitated by three divine traits: ambivalence (capable of benevolence), ambiguity (open to interpretation), and controllability (accessibility through ritual or prayer). Because this "repression" utilises the only viable coping medium—a god threatening and powerful enough to cause the calamity yet flexible enough to be reinterpreted as benevolent—it effectively explains why comfort takes a religious rather than secular form, addressing a key criticism of comfort theories.

Why Most Comfort Theories Fail

The fear-comfort theory addresses several other criticisms of earlier models: their lack of detail, failure to explain belief in discomforting gods, and inability to account for believers' paradoxical views of them. By integrating modern research about the threatening nature of most deities and a religious propensity for repression, the present theory explains how the positivity necessary for motivated reasoning emerges.

The theory also resolves the long-standing question of why only certain supernatural beings are worshiped, and it clarifies the specific role of anxiety in belief. While scholars have speculated on the link between anxiety and religious comfort for centuries, the fear-comfort theory offers the first detailed analysis of the mechanisms connecting them.