In 2015, two economists at Princeton noted an ominous indicator: Among some Americans, a longstanding trend toward longer life expectancy had reversed. Charles Fain Lehman of the Manhattan Institute explains their findings:

Mortality rates, which usually fall steadily in developed nations, had plateaued or increased in the United States beginning in the late 1990s. They looked more closely at the data and identified that the trend was primarily driven by an increase in deaths among middle-aged, non-Hispanic whites. The largest share of that increase was deaths from suicide, drug overdose, and alcoholic liver disease – a proxy for drinking oneself to death. Because all of these deaths are in a sense “self-inflicted” and can indicate an unhappy mind, Case and Deaton labeled them collectively “deaths of despair.”

Of course, the relationship of these variables and what they portend is more complicated than what can be captured in a memorable phrase. The facts behind them, however, are deeply disturbing and merit a concerted response. The statistics are stark: “Over the past two decades, the death rate from drug poisonings in the United States has tripled. The suicide rate has increased by 30%, as have rates of alcoholic liver disease.”

But what can be done to help? The authors of the original study, and others, have suggested things that could be done to arrest the trend. They are worth pursuing.

A recent paper suggests another potentially helpful factor that has not gotten much attention: promoting religious activity. Specifically, the paper found a correlation between religious participation and a reduction in deaths of despair. The authors found “states with high levels of religiosity have suffered less from mortality due to alcohol, suicides, or drug poisonings. … States that experienced larger decreases in religiosity have had the largest gains in the rate of deaths of despair.”

They conclude that the “patterns indicate that religiosity could be an important factor in the rise of deaths from suicides, poisonings, and liver disease.”

But is religion really the key? One scholar commenting on the new study noted that “the measures that the authors use – frequency of attending a religious service and self-identified strength of religious ‘affiliation’ – both measure social connection at least as much as they measure, for example, strength of religious belief.” The study itself notes: “[T]he mechanism at work in our results potentially pertains to attendance and participation in organized religion, rather than personal spiritual habits.”

It’s likely that other social activities would also help, but there is reason to believe that religious participation may be uniquely valuable. For instance, the authors point out “that research frequently finds that nonreligious organizations often fail to successfully duplicate the sense of community, social services, and cohesion provided by participation in a religious tradition.”

Another analysis comes to a similar conclusion: “The communal aspect of religious attendance does seem to be important. With the various health outcomes, it appears to be religious service attendance – rather than self-assessed spirituality or private practice – that matters the most. Something about the communal religious experience is powerful.”

The findings don’t mean a “go to church or die” public service campaign should be imminent, but it is important to recognize that the protection of religious exercise benefits more than individual adherents. It has important benefits for society as well.