The Comfort in Atheism

Within just a couple of days of each other, Rodrigo Neely of Edger and Greta Christina wrote two wonderful posts about arriving at atheism that complement each other in such a way that I was inspired to write about the relationship between the two posts. Greta says:

We spend a lot of time putting cracks in the foundation of religion: arguing why it's mistaken, arguing why it's harmful, arguing why the arguments and ideas supporting it are unsupportable.

But we don't spend as much time -- some, but not as much -- letting believers know that, if and when their faith does finally crumble, atheism is a safe place to land.

And we don't spend nearly as much time as we should actually making atheism a safe place to land.

She is very right, as she very often is. She ended with many questions to her readers, one of which is, "When you were making your leap of non-faith, what helped you feel that godlessness would be a safe place to land?" I'd like to try to answer this question as far as my own experience goes, and it has a lot to do with what Rodrigo says in his piece, "Lust for Life."

There is a real source of righteousness to be found in believing that human beings are the most important thing we know. You do not have to have your sense of ethics clouded by unproven commandments from what mankind dreams is above.

You can see that people in all of our messiness can truly be great. Humans can truly experience happiness, and spread that happiness through freedom, love, compassion, and understanding. Humanity is the best hope for humanity.

This is so much more elegant than I could ever be, and I agree with him. You do not need God or the promise of heaven in order to do great things, to love, to spread joy. You only need other people to do those things, as well as your own sense of what's right. And you know what is right not because of God or the Bible or your church leader, but because of your natural instinct. Our species succeeds when we help and love each other - that's how we've evolved.

And so, to use Rodrigo's beautiful rhetoric to answer Greta's question:

The greatest treasure in life is our loved ones, our friends, our family. The second greatest treasure in life is to spread that love as far is it will go.

Our greatest treasure is not God. For all the talk of loving thy neighbor and turning the other cheek, it is awesome (I use the word's literal meaning here) how selfish the religious can be. Many of the religious (not all) are driven to volunteer, donate, and love out of fear for the destination of their souls after death, not for the sake of the recipients of their good will. It saddens me, because it's so unnecessary and so oppressive. It is so Machiavellian: at least the end result is good, even if terrorism is used to get you to do it. But I know that I do not need the promise of eternal damnation to scare me into doing good things. I can stand on my own, take responsibility for myself and my fellow humans, and do good things for the sake of humanity, not for the sake of saving my soul.

And I, like Carl Sagan, find it easier to be awed by the world and the universe knowing that an all-powerful being did not create it. Though I am not very good at doing the legwork of science, it does not mean that I cannot appreciate its findings.

So, when I arrived at the word "atheist" and discovered what it meant, it was not a difficult leap. I was already in awe of the world. And, like Julia Sweeney said, "The world behaves exactly as you would expect it would, if there were no Supreme Being, no Supreme Consciousness, and no supernatural." The world looked no different to me with the assumption that God created it than with the assumption that He did not. I already had experiences equivalent to a theist's spiritual inspiration. If I had to pick the most spiritual experience I have encountered, it was not sitting in a Christmas sermon with my father and stepmother and sister; it is listening to inspired, beautiful, emotional music and allowing my mind to soar with it.

If there is a God, and if he truly is merciful, then would He really care if I believe in Him or not? Isn't the important thing here that I do good things and help my fellows, motivated by love for humanity instead of fear of hell? I would like to think so. And so I do not fear the (tiny) possibility that there might be a God, nor do I fear hell, mostly because I don't think it exists, but also because, even if it does, I don't think a truly merciful and loving God would put me there anyway.

I don't need God. I just need people. And music helps too.

Hate the Sin, Love the Sinner

This is a common phrase religion uses to patronize its subjects as well as outsiders. We've all heard it before. I don't want to talk about this phrase and what it means itself though; I want to apply it to the atheist movement (if you want to call it a movement).

Hate the religion, love the religious. The non-theist crowd often forgets that the religious are just as human as agnostics and atheists, passive or active, and that they are not inherently our enemies, nor are they inherently bad or immoral or ignorant. (It's very easy to start using religious language at this point - "the religious are just misguided; they need enlightening" - but I'm going to try not to. ) Active atheists and agnostics need to remember that the religious are not here solely to aggravate us. Tauriq Moosa of Edger stated this himself, in part 2 of his essay, "In Defense of 'Militant' Atheism":

People forget that the point is not just attacking and questioning and debating: but promoting the inherent humanity and the expression and longing therein to reach the numinous and transcendent as human beings.

It's especially important to remember this now that Muslims are so demonized in our culture. It's getting harder to tell whether a speaker is anti-Islam or anti-terrorist; in America, the line is blurring more and more every day. I read through much of a forum thread once, started by a very angry anti-Muslim user. He stated himself that he hated Islam more than other religions. I don't recall that he mentioned what his own religious leaning was. It was very difficult for me to determine if he hated the people behind the religion or just the religion; he seemed to bounce back and forth. He hated the violence that Islam encourages in its followers (a valid point), but he also seemed to attack the believers themselves, both the extremists and the "average" Muslim. Some of what he said was very valid and very informed (he was obviously well-educated in general); other things he said were hate speech. Other users challenged him, called him names, reported him, and his thread was quickly deleted by moderators.

As an agnostic/atheist, it gets very difficult for me to remember that religious people are, well, weaker than a non-believer. (Wait, let me explain!) It's hard to let go of God, there's no doubt about it. Some people need to have the comfort of the invisible friend in the sky, the promise of heaven, the scapegoat when things go wrong (instead of taking personal responsibility), the reason to be bigoted and prejudiced. It's nice to be able to say "God told me to do it" instead of saying you thought it was a good idea. As far as that comfort goes, it's difficult to blame the average believer for believing. It's just plain easier to believe. I went through a period in my life wishing for the same comfort that believers had (reason kept me from ever committing to anything). It's very human to want and need that comfort of something bigger than us. We as non-believers recognize that that comfort comes with high costs though, namely bigotry, orthodoxy, and rejection of evidence.

My aim here is not to discourage the "militant" or active atheists; I'm not trying to tell you to shut up and leave the poor religious folk alone. Quite the contrary. I just want to remind you that the religious are human. Most of the non-believers were religious themselves at one time in their lives; think back to how that felt - why were you a believer? What did you get out of it? Use that information to argue with theists. Empathy is a powerful tool in the atheist's toolbox. If we can relate to the religious, it becomes that much easier to "enlighten" them.

Because really - remember why you're non-religious, remember why it's important to "deconvert" the religious. It's for the greater good! (The greater good.) It's to fight the anti-intellectualism in this country, and in the world. It's to encourage scholarship and critical thinking. It's to discourage a culture of hatred, bigotry, prejudice, xenophobia, and ignorance. It's to encourage humanism and freedom.

Agnosticism vs. Atheism

In a past post, I talked about the experiences (and lack thereof) that lead me to agnosticism. I thought I should talk more about why I'm an agnostic and not an atheist.

If you are at all versed in the nuances of difference between agnosticism and atheism, you'd know that for all intents and purposes, in all practicality - they're the same. Agnostics and atheists both behave as if there is no God. But agnostics and atheists have slightly different reasons for behaving as such. You could almost say that the difference is merely semantic. But that's not exactly the case. Richard Dawkins says its a matter of probabilities, and I'm very much inclined to agree with him. There's a scale of (a)theism that he lays out, and I paraphrase it here:

1. Strong theist. 100% probability of God's existance.
2. De facto theist. Very high probability of God's existance, but not quite 100% - let's say 70-99% chance.
   
3. Technically agnostic, but leaning towards theism. Higher than 50% probability of God's existance, but not as particularly high as a de facto theist. Let's say 51-69% chance.
4. Impartial agnostic. Exactly 50% chance of God's existance.
5. Technically agnostic, but leaning towards atheism. 31-49% chance of God's existance.
6. De facto atheist. Very high probability - say 1-30% chance - of God's existance.
7. Strong atheist. 100% sure there is no God.

So when I say I'm agnostic, I'm saying I'm a 5 or 6 on Dawkins' scale. I don't think we have enough evidence to be certain of God's nonexistence, but it really looks like there's nothing there. I would rather wait until there's more evidence to say I'm atheist (or theist, for that matter). But there's more and more mounting up every day; I feel it won't take that much longer. So I live on the assumption that there is no God, just like an atheist does.

So if you want to call me an atheist, that's fine. For all intents and purposes, you might as well be right.

My Deconversion Story

A recent post of Greta Christina's, inspired, somehow, by a comment I made on a previous post, poses a question: "If you're a non-believer in religion, and you used to be a believer -- what changed your mind? Was there one particular argument or incident or experience? Or was it more of a general softening of the ground, with lots of different factors adding up?" As I read through the comments responding to the question, I realized that I have not examined my own "deconversion" very much.

Before getting into my personal story, it is highly relevant to first talk about my parents, and it is well known that religion is most easily propagated through family ties. My mother has been a Protestant Christian for all her life, so far as I know, albeit a very casual one. She doesn't attend church anymore, but she did when my sister and I were kids - but even then, I would still call her a casual Christian. So my sister and I went to Sunday school and church services with her. She never "forced" her views on my sister and I; indeed, she never talked to us about God, Jesus, church, or what any of it meant outside of church. We just went to church because that was the routine. My father grew up Christian but left before I was born, I believe. When I was old enough to begin to really critically think about religion, I found that my dad was Taoist. By this time, I had stopped going to church with my mother, and my dad had divorced his second wife. More recently, I believe Dad would call himself a Buddhist now. (Yes, I just checked his Facebook (he's ahead of his generation. :P), where he identifies himself as "Buddhist - Mahayana.") Both my ex- and my current stepmothers are Christian, but in very different ways. My ex-stepmother was similar to my mom, sorta. She would take us to church on holidays (dress us up and everything), but not on Sundays. She had Lutheran missionaries come to the house to teach us about their side of the story (more on this and its affect on me later). My current stepmother does not go to church at all; she does not go with the "organized" part of religion at all. Her faith is mostly centered on Jesus himself, if I recall her own words correctly. Therefore, I have not spoken much about her faith with her, as it is very private to her (and that's fine with me).

So, in essence, I grew up with mostly the Christian theology as a part of my life, but not a very big one, certainly, and not one that even elicited thought from me for some time. I don't think I ever really believed any of it. It was just something that my parents expected me to do, I thought. Mom never talked about it, my ex-stepmother never talked about it outside of church, and my current stepmother chooses not to talk about it for her own reasons (and again, that's more than okay); really, only my dad talked about his Taoism and Buddhism. So I grew up with a cursory knowledge of Christianity; I knew more about Taoism and Buddhism, really. I enjoyed the world religions portion of the AP World History course. My high school friends were a wide variety of theologies and non-theologies: one atheist, one Jehova's Witness, one Lutheran, one Protestant, one Catholic, and one - I think - Wiccan (but we never talked about our religious leanings, so religion never caused any riffs). So religion was basically a subject in school, something that was not of importance or reverance in my life. No one ever asked me what belief system I adhered to, no one really questioned why we were going to church if we didn't believe in it (or even if we did - I didn't question that either).

But I just didn't like Sunday school or church. All I saw there was fanataicsm, with no evidence, just singing, reading, a crazy guy talking incessantly up in front, a lot of silly and adolescent stories from this nifty Bible thing, coloring books and toys, and it all bothered me. No one gave me any reason to "believe" in anything, and now that I think about it, I don't know that anyone ever really told me to believe in anything. It was all there as if I already believed. My memories are framed as if I were an outsider, behind a camera or reading about my past in a magazine. No one held me accountable for my belief or disbelief.

So when my sister and I finally started to complain to our mother, not wanting to go, she essentially shrugged, and we stopped going. It really didn't take much. She still went to church herself, and she still attended a singles group that operated out of the church, but she never made us go again.

But we weren't about to try the same on our ex-stepmother. The Lutheran missionaries are by far the most memorable to me. My ex-stepmother wanted my sister and I to learn about other people's faiths - I strange thing to want in retrospect. (I don't know if this was the beginning of a grand plan to meet with missionaries of all faiths that never got off the ground, or if Lutheranism was the only other faith worth talking about.) Only Diana, my sister, and I sat through these talks; my dad and our two stepbrothers were no where to be found. The fact that our stepbrothers didn't have to sit through this irked me to no end. It wasn't fair, and I knew they didn't have to sit through it because they simply didn't want to. They didn't go to the holiday church services either, and they didn't say prayers at the dinner table. They were special. But the Lutheran missionaries didn't last long; we only saw them a handful of times.

By the time I learned what agnosticism and atheism were, I was ready to call myself one. I had no affinity with religion or its followers; I hadn't had a million positive experiences with them; no one had bothered to make me feel included or to tell me why I should want to be included in the first place. In fact, the most positive they ever got were exclusively with the conversations about Taoism and Buddhism with Dad. I learned about those belief systems without feeling pressured to "convert"; I just got to learn about what my dad's system was and why he liked it. And that was cool with me.

Much later in life, less than a year ago, I had the first conversation with my mother about her beliefs. She's frustrated, sad, and confused by Christianity. She doesn't understand how God could have allowed the divorce to happen. If I didn't feel so bad for making her think about it, I would talk about it with her more often.

Why am I agnostic and not atheist? Well, simply put, because I haven't seen enough evidence yet. I'm working on another post that addresses this in more detail.

Please note that by NO MEANS is this post an invitation for a conversion! I'm a very happy agnostic. I am not ripe for the picking. However, I would love to discuss religion with you. Just don't think you're going to get an easy convert out of it.