Religion as a conversation stopper

Others (more informed and eloquent than I) have already commented on the recent hoo-hah about the Human Fertilisation and Embryology Bill.

(This, for example, is particularly good. As is most of the stuff here).

To be honest, I've been unable to work up much annoyance about the whole thing because a) some religious figure or other kicking up a fuss at Easter was inevitable and b) I think that MPs should be able to vote with their conscience on all issues.

What I will add, however, is that the whole thing illustrates the problem with bringing religion into political debates perfectly. The title of this post is that of an essay by Richard Rorty in 'Philosophy and Social Hope', in which he argues that bringing religion into the political sphere is to be discouraged because to say that “My God disapproves of X” is to say no more than “I dislike X”. When pushed upon the issue, the religious can only retreat to a “divine sense” that is inaccessible to the rest of us mere mortals.

It is an end to the conversation rather than a contribution to it.

Atheists of the world...

It should come as no surprise to most of the people who read this blog (all two of you) that I'm an atheist.

I believe that naturalistic accounts explain the universe better than theological ones. I believe that most of the arguments put forward for the existence of Gods (and the supernatural in general) are flawed and unconvincing. And I believe that a belief should stand or fall on the amount of cogent evidence that supports it. Assertion and intuition rarely convince anyone.

However, I'm not sure that the attempts to create organisations around atheism are that desirable. The term simply denotes a lack of theistic beliefs – within that category you get naturalism, scientism, humanism, agnosticism, objectivism, nihilism, etc. all of which look at the universe in quite different ways.

Stand me next to another atheist and – beyond the absence of religious beliefs – there's no guarantee that we'll have any values or outlooks in common. In fact, I find some atheists misguided, even repugnant in some of their views.

Just as I believe that religious moderates need to organise against the extremists in their midsts, non-theists need to promote the values at the heart of their worldview – my agnosticism, humanism, naturalism and rationalism define who I am far more than my views on the supernatural. Indeed, there are even theists who are closer to my views than some atheists. Which is why I don't display the attempts at an atheist symbol (no matter how snazzy they might look). Atheism isn't a value – it's an absence. Rather than defining ourselves by what we're against, we need to define ourselves by what we're for.

"Down with this sort of thing!"

From About.com:

The misnamed Catholic League for "Religious and Civil Rights" is protesting the film version of Philip Pullman's award-winning book "The Golden Compass." Apparently, they are very concerned about the existence of an entertaining, engaging film which is critical of Christian institutions and was written by an atheist. It's possible, they think, that parents might be lured into buying the books for their children, thus further indoctrinating them into the pernicious agenda of questioning Christianity and Catholicism.

I've nothing really to add, I just thought it was the perfect excuse for showing this clip:



Via chooseDoubt

Viewing Faith Through an Atheist's Eyes

This is the third in what I like to think of as the unholy trinity of books on religion which I've been reading. 'I Sold My Soul on eBay: Viewing Faith Through an Atheist's Eyes' by Hemant Mehta is perhaps the most interesting of the three.

I've often wondered (well... maybe not “often”) which book I'd choose if I could recommend only one to religious believers. This is perhaps it. I'd probably recommend it to a lot of atheists as well.

It's a personal account by Mehta, an atheist, of his upbringing (as a Jainist) and his experiment of visiting a number of Christian churches in order to gain a better understanding of America's main religion. Mehta became an atheist at fourteen and went on to be heavily involved in organising secular groups at university. His daily contact with Christian groups stoked his curiosity about the religion, leading to the idea of – as it quickly became know – putting his “soul” on eBay. What this meant in reality was agreeing to attend one church service for every $10 of the winning bid, with the bidder picking the church.

As he explains it:

But at the age of twenty-two, while I was still confident in my nonbelief, I realised that I had never been to a Christian worship service... or a Muslim service... or any other non-Jain religious service for that matter. In the interest of seeing what else was out there I felt compelled to attend religious services. I didn't want others to question the basis of my nonbelief: “You're an atheist only because you don't know what Christianity is all about!”

Some national press coverage later, the winning bid was $504 by Jim Henderson a former minister and author of Christian books. He decided that it would be best if Mehta attended a range of Christian churches across the country, writing up a review of each for Henderson's website – thereby giving Christians the chance to see how they were perceived by outsiders. These reviews have been expanded, and alongside Mehta's description of his atheism form the bulk of the book.

As such, 'How I Sold My Soul on eBay' is really targeted at theists – specially mainstream American Christians, but I think that anyone interested in religion (from a secular or believer perspective) will find something useful in it. His account of growing up in a Jainist household, becoming an atheist and his subsequent activities in what I'd call the “secular community” show not only what it means to be an atheist but also how the relationship between the religious and non-religious need not be an antagonistic one. As he points out a number of times in the book, while there may be a number of disagreements (some of them perhaps unsolvable) there are also a large number of commonalities: most of us want to make the world a better place, and we tend to agree on the basics of what that involves. Expanding democracy and eliminating poverty, to take just two examples, are issues on which many theists and atheists agree.

All co-operation requires is respect for each other – no more dismissing the “other side” as stupid or evil.

Throughout, Mehta lives up to the name of his current blog: The Friendly Atheist. In a stark contrast to the likes of Hitchens, he remains respectful towards those around him, though this doesn't mean he spares them from criticism and questioning. His goal is to understand the world better, keeping an open mind at all times and refusing to dismiss beliefs and ideas out of hand. As he explains in the book, if Christianity provided the answers to the questions he has then he'd gladly become a Christian. (I hope I'm not spoiling the ending of the book if I point out that it doesn't).

For me, this book provided a thought-provoking glimpse of Christianity in the US. It also left me feeling a little more optimistic about the state of the world than when I picked it up.

Confessions of a Failed Athiest

Alongside Hitchens's book, I've also been reading 'In God We Doubt: Confessions of a Failed Atheist' by John Humphrys, a broadcaster and journalist for the BBC.

Humphry's is probably best described as someone who deeply wants to believe in a God, but find himself unable to reconcile the idea of a loving being with the indifferent and often cruel world around him.

In an attempt to learn more about how others deal with this issue, he set up a series of interviews with religious leaders (the Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr Rowan Williams; Professor Tariq Ramadan, Muslim academic and author; and Sir Jonathan Sacks, Chief Rabbi) in which he essentially challenged them to make him believe.

While none of the three were successful, the interviews, along with Humphrey's own experiences form the basis of this book.

As noted above, Humphry's is basically an agnostic theist. He wants there to be a God and rejects conventional evolutionary explanations for morality in favour of something more transcendent, relying on a slightly confused version of CS Lewis's argument from morality to back this up (apparently the best evidence for an unchanging moral law is that morality changes). It's a generally emotional position, as he explains towards the end of the book (referring back to a news story at the time of writing):

an image of a man stained with the blood his wife, carrying his own children downstairs one at a time to slaughter them, is infinitely more powerful than any number of profound doctrines produced by any number of brilliant theologians. The cry of a child resonates more than the elegant argument of a learned man.

This is one of the more frustrating aspects of the book (the other being his mischaracterisation of atheism), where he supports or rejects arguments he does so largely on the basis of what “feels” right to him.

It's perhaps a little much to expect any profound philosophical or theological statements from, as he describes himself, a layman. Where the book does succeed however is in portraying the nature of religious belief in the UK. We have not only Humphry's beliefs, but also the opinions of three important religious figures and – most interestingly – the response of the general public to the series. The 'Letters' section of the book was the one I found most interesting. As Humphry's notes, there are a few explaining why he's condemned to Hell for his doubts, but most are from people struggling with their own belief and disbelief, offering him sympathy and accounts of their own religious “awakenings”. Most, when trying to tackle the questions raised by Humphry's, offered up exactly the same response as the religious leaders: We may not know the answers, but it's still important to believe.

This for Humphry's is simply not enough. Sadly, he seems caught between a rock and a hard place – he can't accept atheism but can't believe in God either. I suspect he's not alone.

For the most part I found myself sympathetic to his arguments. It's hard to look at the day-to-day supernatural beliefs held by a large number of people as a real problem, let alone a threat. But his plea for moderate religion to be left alone and spared intellectual criticism is a troubling one. The average C of E member may be unlikely to blow themselves up, but it seems impossible to argue against those who do without tackling the beliefs that moderates and extremists have in common. Nor is the idea of treating irrationalism with respect particularly appealing. After all, as the saying goes, the sleep of reason produces monsters – where and how do we draw the line between a belief being merely comforting and being dangerous?

Nobody should begrudge people their comforting beliefs, and there's a time and a place for argument, but the likes of 'The God Delusion' and its ideological stable-mates aren't just to be tolerated, they need to be encouraged in their defence of rationality, it's one of the most useful tools the human race has discovered.

The Case Against Religion

I've just finished reading 'God is Not Great: The Case Against Religion' by Christopher Hitchens.

I've generally avoided the recent wave of antitheist books as I'm not quite sure what they have to offer me. I hope I don't appear immodest when I say that I doubt the likes of Dawkins, etc. can add anything to my disbelief. I already know most of the arguments for the divine, and I've read some of the extremely insightful and eloquent critiques of them (of which more later).

The reason I decided to pick up this book is simply that I'm a fan of Hitchens writing, even on the occasions when I disagree with his position (such as the invasion of Iraq).

On that level the book lived up to my expectations. Like him or not, Hitchens is probably one of the most interesting writers of our time: incredibly eloquent and with an insight into the world gleamed from both arduous study – of literature, science and history – and first-hand experience from such diverse places as North Korea, Bosnia and India. I tore through this book in a matter of days and while most of it simply told me what I already knew there were still some interesting nuggets of information to be found. I wasn't aware, for example, that the concept of zero had been considered heretical by the papacy in the Middle Ages. Nor that the term “Big Bang” was originally intended to ridicule the event it's supposed to describe.

The main thesis of the book – that religion can be an intensely destructive force - is also extremely well argued: highlighting the way religious claims have been used as justification for savagery and genocide in the past and the way they continue to spread fear and suffering in the present. The churches and their flocks have stood in the way of scientific advances from trying to stamp out the wisdom of the Greeks through opposing the theories of Copernicus, Galileo and Darwin and onto the spreading of disease and misery through opposition to contraceptives and certain life-saving vaccines in the modern day.

No-one with an open mind can come away from this book without regarding our numerous religions as – at best – a mixed blessing. However, it falls far short from demonstrating its central claim: that religion poisons everything.

It's this reaching too far that ultimately undermines the book and makes it an interesting rather than great read. I would think that any liberal religious believer reading it would be left with an awareness of how careful we have to be not to slip into dogmatism and authoritarianism, but I doubt that their religious belief would be significantly shaken.

This, for me, is one of the ironies about the alleged new wave of “militant atheism”: while criticised for their attacks against the idea of the divine, their arguments actually lack the weight of past figures such as David Hume, Tom Paine or Bertrand Russell. In terms of deconstructing religious arguments Hitchens has nothing on Hume or Russell. Nor in his detestation of religion does he match the passion and forensic approach of Paine.

Anyone looking to tackle the arguments of devout believers would gain far more from reading the essays of Bertrand Russell, Hume's 'Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion', Paine's 'Age of Reason' or even A.J. Ayer's 'Language, Truth and Logic'.

Anyone looking for a cracking read will find 'God is Not Great' well worth their time.

Not just the language which separates us

The Friendly Atheist is normally a pretty interesting read, but a couple of recent posts, showing the difference in attitudes between here and the US, have really stood out:

How Long Does the Deconversion Take?
Sowing the Seeds of Faith by Cutting Down the Neighbors' Plant

Kinda makes me glad I live in a country where people generally don't care what your religious views are.

Remember kids: too much ideology is bad for you!

Tribalism

[A]n enthusiastic Tory backbencher like me can hardly wait to switch on the Today programme every morning in order to listen to all the bad news. The health crisis has deepened, the rail network has gone pear-shaped and Tony Blair's mania for world tourism has made him a laughing stock.
- David Cameron, 2002

Via Freemania

In wake of the recent Foot and Mouth issue, both Stephan Newton and Tom Freeman have commented on the eagerness of some Conservative commentators to focus on how bad this could be for the Labour Party, as opposed to how bad it could be for the farming industry or country. As Tom notes, this tendency, by all parties, to turn important issues into political point-scoring is hardly new.

Nor is it confined to politics. Tribalism – viewing the world largely through the prism of Us and Them – is everywhere. Tribalism replaces open and honest discussion with an infantile attempt to prove that my country/political group/religious belief/football team/etc. is better than yours. It replaces the discussion of ideas and issues with simplistic point-scoring.

You can see tribalism in action across the Internet: Anytime a discussion of politics starts to revolve around whether the Nazis or BNP are left- or rightwing, or whether atheists or religious believers have killed the most people. These aren’t serious discussions, but merely attempts to prove that ‘our’ beliefs are better than ‘their’ beliefs – as though groups such as leftwing, Christian, etc. were almost completely homogenous, without important rifts and divisions. Once the discussion enters this stage, it becomes utterly pointless.

I suppose that’s why I’m attracted to explicitly non-tribalist projects such as ‘Blogpower’ and ‘In Search of High Places’, which are concerned with individuals more than ideologies.

The Devil's politics

The New Statesman website runs a weekly faith column, in which various believers talk about their faith and what it means to them.

This week: Satanism:

So what is Satanism? Satanism is a religion that accepts man as he most naturally is. Our philosophy is one of elitism, whereby the strong rule over the weak and the productive over the wastrel through a process of Social Darwinism that occurs as a consequence of stratification. The compounding effect of egalitarianism has provided a firm foundation for the abysmal propagation of the parasite. Counter measures are long over due. Satanism espouses justice. And that extends to upholding the principle that only a meritocracy can truly serve the human race. In nature there is a pecking order and higher resources must not be drained by the wilfully less effective who are happy to sit at the bottom of the ladder and drain everyone else like a bloodsucker. No one is suggesting greasing the rungs. The strong stratify themselves, pull themselves up by their own boot-straps and pick themselves up again when they get knocked down – they seek to attain the sweet fruits of indulgence found on the higher plateaus of human endeavour.

So... a bit like libertarianism then?

Think: Richard Dawkins with jokes

It's worth listening through to the end.

(Via Barefoot Bum)

The emptiness of atheism

I’ve been reading through this debate between atheist Christopher Hitchens and theologian Douglas Wilson on whether Christianity is “good for the world”. It’s not particularly interesting, most of the points have been made before and the two of them seem to talk past each other most of the time. But I want to make a quick comment on this statement by Wilson:

Take the vilest atheist you ever heard of. Imagine yourself sitting at his bedside shortly before he passes away. He says, following Sinatra, "I did it my way." And then he adds, chuckling, "Got away with it too." In our thought experiment, the one rule is that you must say something to him, and whatever you say, it must flow directly from your shared atheism — and it must challenge the morality of his choices. What can you possibly say? He did get away with it. There is a great deal of injustice behind him, which he perpetrated, and no justice in front of him. You have no basis for saying anything to him other than to point to your own set of personal prejudices and preferences. You mention this to him, and he shrugs. "Tomayto, tomahto."

I am certainly willing to take the same thought experiment. I can imagine some pretty vile Christians, and if I couldn't, I am sure you could help me. The difference between us is that I have a basis for condemning evil in its Christian guise. You have no basis for confronting evil in its atheist guise, or in its Christian guise, either. When you say that a certain practice is evil, you have to be prepared to tell us why it is evil.

This makes the mistake of assuming an equivalence between a specific religious belief (which is a positive statement about the world – such and such exists) and atheism (which is a negative statement about the world – such and such doesn’t exists).

What Wilson is saying in the second paragraph is this: “I have a set of common beliefs – God, etc. – with the guy on his deathbed, from which I can build a critique of his behaviour.” But framed this way the argument he’s making largely disappears. If the atheist on his deathbed shares some common beliefs with Hitchens (rather than being a complete nihilist) then clearly the latter, who has reasons for not choosing the same path, can also build a critique. If they have nothing in common beyond their atheism then asking him to convince the other guy is just as reasonable as asking Wilson to convince an ardent Satanist.

atheism vs. religion / liberty vs. authoritarianism

A. C. Grayling in New Humanist:

[20th-century totalitarianisms] were counter-Enlightenment projects because they rejected the idea of pluralism and its concomitant liberties of thought and the person, and in the time-honoured unEnlightened way forcibly demanded submission to a monolithic ideal. They even used the forms and techniques of religion, from the notion of thought-crime to the embalming of saints in mausoleums (Lenin and Mao, like any number of saints and their relics, invite pilgrimage to their glass cases). Totalitarianism is not about progress but stasis; it is not about realising a golden age but coercively sustaining the myth of one. This indeed is the lineament of religion: it is the opposite of secular progressivism.

I think Grayling's more or less right here - I've long thought that political and religious extremism are united by far more than what separates them. It's just unfortunate that by framing the debate in terms of atheism/Enlightenment vs. religion rather than the more accurate liberty vs. authoritarianism he's (along with the likes of Dawkins, Hitchens, etc) alienating a lot of potential allies and supporters (religious and otherwise).

Matt elsewhere: Omnipotence and the impossible

Just put a post up on why the Free Will Defense to the problem of evil is incompatible with the idea of an omnipotent God over at In Search of High Places.

It's fairly short, and there are cute pictures if you scroll down the page.

ID and a dead parrot

Monty Python meets 'Intelligent Design':

Salesman: No, no, it's not empty: it's just being elaborated. Remarkable theory, 'Intelligent Design', innit, eh? I mean, just look at all these books and articles: millions and millions of words...!

Customer: The verbiage don't enter into it, my lad. It's stone dead. It's a non-starter. Empirically untestable, it belongs in metaphysics. This 'theory' makes no predictions; has no contribution to make beyond extended polemics; and can't even be honest about who it thinks the 'Designer' was. Bereft of all logical and epistemological credibility, it has no scientific status! If certain right-wing and fundamentalist pressure-groups hadn't hit upon it as a way of opposing decades of uncomfortable scientific and social progress, it'd be pushing up daisies! It's off the table. It's kicked the waste-paper bucket. THIS IS A NON-THEORY!

Okay, so it's nowhere as good as the original, but what more do you expect on a Saturday lunchtime?

(Via, Barefoot Bum)

Elsewhere

Chris Dillow has a piece in today's Times - it's essentially a summary of his views on managerialism (those familar with his blog or who've read his book will find little new in it), but it's still worth reading.

Policy failures aren’t due to having the wrong personnel in charge. Nor are they exceptions to the rule of general competence. They are the inevitable result of bad organisational structure.

While not quite in the same league, I've also put up a post on Alex's blog about the paradox of the Gospels, which you might want to have a look at.

Why are atheists moral?

It’s a question which gets asked with a depressing frequency on theist blogs. The following is a comment by Alex, but it expresses a worry which seems to be felt by a number of religious believers:

My natural impulses strongly urge me to do things that most any reasonable person would admit is immoral. My immoral urges are often much stronger than what I know to be the moral action. I have the ability to choose which option I go with. I use reason to play out the scenarios of both choices before I act. If I am able to reason that I could go with the "immoral" impulse (that is much stronger) and get away with it, is there anything that should stop me from pursuing this end?

I to – being human – have a number of “immoral” urges. So why don’t I act on them? Hmmm… perhaps because doing so would more than likely leave me friendless, jobless, hunted by the police and wracked by guilt at the misery I’d caused.

At what point does that become attractive?

Immoral acts – i.e. acts which cause pain and/or suffering to others – are attractive only to psychopaths. The rest of us, regardless of our metaphysical beliefs, have plenty of good reasons – internal and external – for avoiding them.

Dawkins, Hitchens... and me.

The Times religious correspondent, Ruth Gledhill, has an interview with Richard Dawkins, which shows a rather more engaging side of his personality. Well worth reading.

With his book, ‘God is not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything, due out soon, Christopher Hitchens seems to be popping up all over the place. This interview for BeliefNet is one of the more interesting.

I'm sort of resigned to this--an argument that has no conclusion. I'll give you an example. My dear wife has, I would say, probably never opened a religious book, and seems to be one of those people to whom the whole idea is utterly remote and absurd. I ought to wish, oughtn't I, as an atheist, an anti-theist, in fact, that everyone was like her. But somehow, and this may be an irony at my expense, I don't wish that. I rather enjoy the argument. All I'm doing is contributing my little bit to what is humanity's oldest disagreement.

Extracts from the book can be found here. It promises to be an entertaining read, at least if you’re an atheist fan of Hitchens.

However, like so many of the recent criticisms of religion, Hitchens’ arguments on the subject tend to conflate a handful of linked but separate issues which can (and often do) blight any ideological system. In doing so they not only risk missing the target with religious belief, but they also fail to show how widespread these problems are – which I think is far more dangerous.

There seems to be me to be three apparent issues:

(1) Dogmatism

I mean dogmatism in the sense of refusing to question our beliefs, whether we do so because we see them as beyond argument (as in the case of religious faith) or simply because we fail to see the possibility that we could be wrong (as in the case of a lot of us). Dogmatists can range from the hardcore to the merely stubborn, but all share the common failing of too much certainty, which ultimately leads to arrogance and obstinance.

(2) Tribalism

It’s only human nature that we’ll be attracted to like-minded people. If you like hang-gliding, you’ll probably get on well with hang-gliders. The same applies to philosophical, religious or political stances. Forming groups around ideas or activities can be extremely beneficial, allowing our ideas to develop through conversation and the pooling of resources to pursue these activities further, however when it becomes elitist or exclusionary it can become quite damaging. Tribalism is the adoption of a strong “Us and Them” attitude in which those who disagree with you (and your group) are viewed with extreme suspicion and in some cases demonised. Anyone who’s spent any amount of time checking out political blogs will see tribalism in action, with “left-wingers” viewed as utopian authoritarians and “right-wingers” as backward-looking bigots. The same polarisation is seen with many theist/atheist debates. The main consequence of this is to shut-down debate and replace discussion with ad hominem and tu quoque attacks.

(3) Authoritarianism

Once a core set of beliefs and like-minded group has been established there are two directions the group can take: The first is to become extremely insular, shutting themselves away from the rest of the world (which is often viewed as corrupt or degenerate). The second is to seek to impose their views on the disbeliveers, often “for their own good”. The diverse nature of humanity means that establishing a wide-ranging conformity requires an extremely authoritarian approach – establishing repressive laws and using brutal violence to enforce them. The Nazis, Soviet Union and Taliban regime all had this in common.

The problem is not so much with specific systems (though criticism of religious, philosophical and political viewpoints are still vital) but with the way these views are held. If individuals like Hitchens and Dawkins really want to deal with the problems posed by religious beliefs they might find their efforts more productive if they look up and see how wide-ranging these problems are from time to time.

Speak softly, but carry a very big stick

There’s a fairly even-handed review of the “new atheists” movement by Anthony Gottlieb in the ‘New Yorker’, which looks at the history of religious criticism:

In his “Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion,” which was published posthumously, and reports imaginary discussions among three men, Hume prized apart the supposed analogy between the natural world and a designed artifact. Even if the analogy were apt, he pointed out, the most one could infer from it would be a superior craftsman, not an omnipotent and perfect deity. And, he argued, if it is necessary to ask who made the world it must also be necessary to ask who, or what, made that maker. In other words, God is merely the answer that you get if you do not ask enough questions. From the accounts of his friends, his letters, and some posthumous essays, it is clear that Hume had no trace of religion, did not believe in an afterlife, and was particularly disdainful of Christianity. He had a horror of zealotry. Yet his many writings on religion have a genial and even superficially pious tone. He wanted to convince his religious readers, and recognized that only gentle and reassuring persuasion would work. In a telling passage in the “Dialogues,” Hume has one of his characters remark that a person who openly proclaimed atheism, being guilty of “indiscretion and imprudence,” would not be very formidable.

Hume sprinkled his gunpowder through the pages of the “Dialogues” and left the book primed so that its arguments would, with luck, ignite in his readers’ own minds. And he always offered a way out. In “The Natural History of Religion,” he undermined the idea that there are moral reasons to be religious, but made it sound as if it were still all right to believe in proofs of God’s existence. In an essay about miracles, he undermined the idea that it is ever rational to accept an apparent revelation from God, but made it sound as if it were still all right to have faith. And in the “Dialogues” he undermined proofs of God’s existence, but made it sound as if it were all right to believe on the basis of revelation. As the Cambridge philosopher Edward Craig has put it, Hume never tried to topple all the supporting pillars of religion at once.

In Paris, meanwhile, a number of thinkers began to profess atheism openly. They were the first influential group to do so, and included Denis Diderot, the co-editor of the Enlightenment’s great Encyclopédie, and Baron D’Holbach, who hosted a salon of freethinkers. Hume visited them, and made several friends there; they presented him with a large gold medal. But the philosophes were too dogmatic for Hume’s taste. To Hume’s like-minded friend the historian Edward Gibbon, they suffered from “intolerant zeal.” Still, they represented a historical vanguard: explicit attacks on religion as a whole poured forth within the next hundred years.

(Via Butterflies and Wheels)

More on Richard Dawkins

Not Saussure has a post taking issue with my “defence” of Richard Dawkins against the fundamentalist tag:

The point isn’t to do with Darwinism but, rather, is that Dawkins is like a mirror-image of the religious fundamentalists. Like them, he sees science and religion in deadly conflict; the only difference is which one he thinks is right.

Perhaps. To an extent.

But I think that there’s a real difference between science and religion in that the former demands a questioning, sceptical approach if it’s to be done right. If Dawkins is any real kind of scientist then he’d have no choice but to abandon his support of evolutionary theory in light of new and comprehensive evidence against it. This, for me, prevents him from being a true fundamentalist. Scientific theories can never be proven correct after all, only false.

The problem with Dawkins is that he’s too quick to resort to sweeping and unscientific generalisations. I’m pretty sure, given the summaries of ‘The God Delusion’ I’ve read, that he would be the first to admit that the ‘God Hypothesis’ can never be disproved, merely shown to be extremely unlikely – an ultimately agnostic position that fails to come across in most of his commentary on the subject.

So while Dawkins can be extremely “irritating” in his polemics against the gods, I don’t think there’s an equivalence with those who insist that holy book X is the inerrant word of god and the only way to live.

Angry atheists: doing more harm than good

Atheists have got something of a bad rep at the moment.

Before I launch into why I think that is, I want to make one thing clear: When I talk about being an atheist, or even a humanist, I carefully and purposely deal only in the lower case. The reason for this is simply that I consider these views to be attributes of who I am rather than defining characteristics. I’m an atheist in the sense that my view of life requires no divine presence, and a humanist in the sense that I believe individual compassion and reason to be the best guides to how to live.

While atheists have never been overly popular, there’s an increasing tendency to characterise them as intolerant, bigoted, ignorant and “fundamentalist” – with the likes of Richard Dawkins at the forefront of an attempt to wipe religion from the face of the planet, through any means necessary.

I want to quickly deal with the “fundamentalist” tag first. The attempt to suggest some kind of equivalence between the likes of Dawkins and religious fundamentalists – those who adhere rigidly to central dogma - is profoundly flawed. Evolutionary theory, or “Darwinism” as some like to call it, is – as with all scientific theories – is under a constant process of revision and alteration in light of increasing evidence. To see this you need only compare the version of evolution presented in Darwin’s work with that presented in that of Dawkins. The attempt by some to suggest an equivalence between the likes of Dawkins and religious extremists – such as the Taliban – is even more preposterous, as though oppression and violence can be compared to writing angry books. The term “Atheist Fundamentalist” cannot be defended on any real grounds.

On the question of intolerance, people may have a point.

The attempts by religious organisations to restrict the freedom of others must be resisted. Groups such as the National Secular Society do an invaluable job in opposing unfair and undemocratic religious privileges, such as compulsory worship in education, faith schools funded with tax payer’s money, state support for the Church of England, etc. The entwining of church of state is an anachronism that should be unpicked – if religion is to flourish in this country, then it must stand on its own feet and not rely on the support of those who don’t share its views. This is not intolerance, it’s standing up for the principles of liberal democracy.

Secularism, however, has itself become entwined with crude anti-theism. Instead of viewing it as synonymous with religious freedom, the right of every individual to determine their religious views freely, many – including those at the head of organisations such as the NSS – use it as an opportunity to insult and attack religious belief simply for its own sake. We’re told that it’s a virus, a dangerous remnant of our primitive past, a matter only of indoctrination and oppression that only the gullible could believe in and that should be eradicated from society.

What worries me about this are two things:

First, that by adopting this anti-theistic tone secular movements are alienating a considerable number of vital allies: Liberal religious believers – those who regard faith as something which is personal and which must be arrived at freely. These people, by advocating that belief and tolerance sit side-by-side can do far more to stem the tide of extremism than we atheists can do.

Second, that the hostile tone adopted considerably weakens the arguments being made. Whatever you believe, starting off by telling those you want to convince that they’re dangerous idiots is not the way to go about things. It simply hardens people against you – as can be seen by the responses to columns written by the likes of Terry Sanderson or A. C. Grayling in the Guardian and elsewhere. They’re merely preaching to the choir, and are unlikely to have changed any minds by it. Instead, they merely reinforce the negative stereotype of atheism which dominates in the media and public mind.

What I want to see is a more positive take on atheism presented by these highly intelligent and erudite people. Arguably, far more people are likely to be won over through reading ‘The Selfish Gene’ than ‘The God Delusion’, as it puts forward an explanation of naturalism free from tirades against other belief systems. When dealing with the subject of religion itself, my own experiences have shown that showing a degree of respect for other people's heart-felt beliefs ultimately leads to far more productive debate than insults.

Reasoned, measured and polite debate is the best way forward. Once the likes of Dawkins realise that the future will be a lot brighter for us atheists.