Herding Cats?

It's said that organizing atheists is like herding cats. We're implicitly compared to believers, who have acknowledged leaders, authoritative texts, and formal organizations. The reason usually advanced to account for this phenomenon is that we atheists are generally rather individualistic and thus reluctant to follow someone else's lead on such matters. But there's another reason which I've never seen presented in the context of explaining the herding-cats idea: atheism is much too broad a concept under which to seek to organize. The proper comparison is not to individual religious sects but to theists as a whole.

If we randomly put a dozen people who don't believe in any gods in a room, then they're no less likely to reach an agreement on any given issue than if we randomly put a dozen people who do believe in gods in a room. A representative sampling of a dozen of the world's theists would include four Christians (two Catholics, one Orthodox, one Protestant), three Muslims (two Sunnis, one Shiite), two Hindus, a (theistic) Buddhist, a Taoist, and an Animist. I rather doubt they would agree to much at all, since they don't even agree on the basic definition and identity of the gods. In fact, the random group of atheists might even be more likely to reach agreements since many atheists have great respect for science, which provides an objective way to establish underlying facts, since appeals to faith would be roundly rejected, and since atheists have no prejudices against other atheists who don't believe differently than they do. The task of organizing atheists seems significantly different from this perspective.

I'm not expressing an opinion about whether atheists should attempt to organize. Atheists—as distinguished from the much larger group of the non-religious—number very few in many parts of the world, including my own, so there may be wisdom in trying to gather as many people under the umbrella as reasonably possible. My point is only that organization works best when it's structured around a specific set of beliefs and not a general belief or disbelief. Only with that in mind can one make real comparisons between groups.

Image: Vlado | FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Go to Mass or Go to Hell

The Catholic Church teaches that its members must attend mass on Sundays and all other holy days of obligation under pain of mortal sin. This means that if they purposely miss mass, they commit a mortal sin and, as with all mortal sins, if they then fail to repent of and confess this before they die, God will condemn them to hell for all eternity. If you choose to sleep in, to stay home and read a book, to have a picnic with your family in the park, to do anything but sit, stand, kneel and—most important—hand over your money in church for an hour each week, then you risk frying in a lake of fire for your grievous transgression. While I understand the pragmatic benefits the Catholic Church reaps from people who still take this threat seriously and begrudgingly shuffle off to mass each week when they would otherwise actually enjoy their alleged day of rest to the fullest, it makes little sense from a theological perspective.

Why would God threaten believers with punishment for failure to attend mass? The most plausible justification, at least initially, is that he wants to encourage them to attend, in the same way that a parent punishes a child who skips school. The problem is that God inflicts a punishment identical to the harm to be avoided in the first place! We can presume that God wants believers to attend mass with the ultimate goal of saving their souls from damnation; the danger in not attending mass regularly is that one may stop believing and/or commit acts which are inherently wrong such as murder, theft or adultery and end up in hell. But threatening believers with the potential danger is absurd, as it unnecessarily increases the danger which believers face, giving them an easier and more certain avenue to hell. (Of course, hell itself is already infinitely unjust. Of course, God himself created the original danger. I’m just showing how it’s absurdity upon absurdity.) It would be as though the state executed drivers who failed to use their seat belts. That’ll show them to be more careful next time! Never mind that there’s no next time, either for the executed or the damned, and that they would have been perfectly fine without either punishment.

Of course, if God has purely selfish motives for demanding his believers worship him every week, we might have a different analysis. One might think that God, for every person he tosses into the everlasting flames, loses an infinity of worship from this person, but St. Thomas Aquinas argued the saved in heaven will delight in the suffering of the damned, so perhaps God’s interests are served no matter what. Then why go the whole charade of earthly existence? I would say that perhaps the drama is interesting, but God already knows how it’s going to end anyway. What’s the point of playing it out? It’s impossible to avoid absurd conclusions when one postulates an infinite being, and throwing in infinite rewards and infinite punishments doesn’t help. My intention here was just to point out one additional absurdity peculiar to Catholicism.

Enduring Injustice

Many religions teach an afterlife in which all wrongs are righted and every sacrifice duly recognized and applauded. The virtuous will be rewarded, and the wicked will be punished. No one will get away with anything, no matter how great or how small, and no one will be unappreciated or forgotten. Everything is made right, and everything lost is restored. Such a vision appeals to anyone who has ever suffered unrectified injustice during life, and that includes everyone of us to varying degrees. But anyone who believes in such an afterlife will never fully appreciate the idea of injustice. They will never know what it means to accept the reality of an unfair and uncaring world because they will always have someone to make everything all right in the end. As believers, they will never experience a major aspect of what it means to be human.

Personally I’ve never suffered any great injustices in life. I’ve never been a victim of crime worse than some relatively minor property crimes. No one has ever taken pains to humiliate me publicly. I’ve never had any family or friends murdered. With that said, I have received my share of slights, rudeness, unfair treatment, economic exploitation, as well as all the vicarious injustices of family, friends, and society at large. It’s fairly easy to dismiss each small injustice, but it’s more difficult to accept that there’s no guarantee that any of the people over the course of a lifetime who hurt you will ever feel bad about it. It’s even more difficult to accept that mass-murderers and large-scale swindlers sometimes avoid receiving their just desserts, that their victims will never be brought back to life or have their life savings returned. I think it takes a certain amount of maturity to come to terms with this reality, and the proper response is not to rely on baseless hopes of future justice but to strip ourselves of an expectation of justice. We have no guarantee justice will ever be done, and it’s precisely for this reason that we must work hard to achieve it as much as we can in the short time we have. This disillusionment about the world is a kind of virtue and as such provides its own bittersweet reward, the ability to remain somewhat more calm and rational in the face of great injustice.

One response to the Problem of Evil is that God allows suffering so that we can develop certain virtues such as compassion, sacrifice, and humility. I find it remarkable that, with an afterlife as described above, he necessarily denies us the opportunity to experience enduring injustice and thus develop the virtue of resignation and detachment. Of course, any afterlife at all denies us the opportunity to accept the reality of a finite existence and grapple with the extinction of our consciousness. Neither of these observations are direct criticisms of this proposed theodicy, but they do indicate that God would have had to choose which virtues to cultivate in us to the exclusion of others. It seems very odd for God to create a universe in which only atheists can develop certain virtues and still condemn them to hell.

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God is Worse than Kim Jong-il

In my international human rights course, we've spent a lot of time discussing North Korea, both because it presents the most egregious examples of current human rights violations and because our professor has a special research interest in the topic, his family having fled Korea during the war and he having also taught in South Korea. The professor recently recounted a familiar story about foreign doctors entering the country, curing people of their ailments, and the healed immediately thanking and praising the dear leader before his portrait for helping them and curing them, despite his totalitarian and ruthless regime most likely being the direct cause of their suffering in the first place. Everyone in the class rightly considered the situation ridiculous and sad. My mind, both then and when I first heard the story years ago, immediately made the comparison between how many people in other countries would have turned to their gods in exactly the same way after the medical treatment and how it's equally ridiculous and sad.

I honestly believe that an omnimax deity who fails to help his creatures and who sends any of them to hell would be infinitely more evil than Kim Jong-il. Even leaving aside the eternity of hell which really trumps everything else, God could distribute food and medicine to the populace without any effort whatsoever whereas the North Korean government at least has to arrange to let humanitarian relief organizations enter the country to do the same. Indeed, God could miraculously heal everyone of every lament, but he never does. All the excuses that theists make on God's behalf could be equally well applied to Kim Jong-il—he knows better than we do, it's for the greater good, we have to trust in him despite all appearances. It was depressing to see documentary footage in class of North Koreans escaping into China and constantly talking about how they trusted in God to help them. It's very understandable under the circumstances of extreme hardship, extreme ignorance, and extreme fear, but it's still disheartening to see them exchange a real dictator for an even worse fictional one, one who ultimately let them down when they were captured and returned to North Korea to be imprisoned in death camps.

The only point that God has in his favor is that he doesn't actually exist. This certainly excuses his failure to help people. It also means he cannot inflict any of the suffering which he allegedly threatens; only people's belief in him can, and that level of suffering is relatively minor, especially in nations which don't take religion especially seriously. My experience with scrupulosity, while the most serious suffering of my life, is nothing compared to starvation, imprisonment, and torture. Life—or more accurately existence—in North Korea, however, would in turn be nothing compared to eternal hell, if it were real.

I'm sure that many theists feel revulsion at the comparison of the God to Kim Jong-il, but they've never provided adequate responses to the Problem of Evil or to the Problem of Hell, so I feel entirely justified in making it. This is why I blog: to say things that simply need to be said.

Noble Objectives and Deficient Methods

In my legal philosophy course this week, the professor asked us what we thought of religion in general. Although I’ve discussed my views on other religious questions in earlier classes, I didn’t respond to this particular query. I did, however, formulate an answer that expresses my simultaneous interest in and rejection of religion, whose precise terms I had never previously used: I think the objectives of believers are mostly noble, but the methods they use are deficient with respect to some of their objectives and additionally cause unintended harm to themselves and to others.

Although the list of reasons people believe in and practice religion is potentially endless, I believe I’ve identified a fair number of noble or at least unobjectionable things people seek in religion:

• knowledge of…
• where we’ve come from
• where we’re going
• why we’re here
• how we should act
• nature of reality
• hope for…
• existence beyond death
• ultimate justice
• identity
• community
• quiet contemplation
• emotional experiences
• escape from the mundane

Of course, there are also a number of less noble things people seek in religion such as power, respect, money or sex, but this is true of business, politics, sports, acting and music, as well as many other areas of human activity. The only point is that one can have neutral or even good reasons for considering religion.

Just as people’s objectives in religion vary, so do their methods. But here are some very common unreliable methods people use to achieve their objectives:

• blind faith
• unquestioned trust in authority (text, person, tradition, etc.)
• emotion and intuition
• dogmatism

These methods are sometimes effective in achieving the last five items on the list but not knowledge or (justified) hope. That is, stirring one’s emotions with song is certainly a useful way to escape the mundane, but it’s not a legitimate tool for establishing the truth of supernatural claims. In the same way, dogmatism can help build orthodoxy and thus a sense of community, but it doesn’t help anyone understand our origins if it limits acceptance of scientific inquiry. Believers may object to my classification of these methods as unreliable on the ground that their faith, trust or emotion corresponds to the voice of a deity, but my point here is not to explain in detail why I think they’re mistaken but merely to state my general view of religion. Let’s just say I don’t think anyone has a justified claim to have access to the mind of any disembodied spirit. Some believers may also respond that they’re open to the voice of science and reason as a source of knowledge. This is true, but to the extent they receive such information, it’s not from their religious leaders or sacred texts; it’s from scientists and philosophers. I certainly don’t object to that. Others may say that they’re not interested in actual knowledge or that they’re satisfied with any hope at all in the face of great injustice and certain death. This may be true of them, but not of me; I prefer the best approximation of the truth available, not simply what is accessible or comforting. I just don’t think any of the listed methods are valid avenues to knowledge, and I’m not willing to sacrifice knowledge in order to achieve any of the other objectives on this list, as offered by many, if not most, religious groups.

My personal view of any given approach to spirituality strongly correlates negatively with its reliance on faith, authority and dogmatism rather than skepticism, reason and progressivism. I hold a very negative opinion of religious fundamentalism, tied to a rigid interpretation of a static text, and a much more positive opinion of liberal religions such as Unitarian Universalism, in which individuals are actively encouraged to question and to think for themselves. I’m still too much of individualist, however, to belong even to a UU congregation, so it seems I’m on my own seeking the bottom part of the list of objectives. At least I have science to help me with the first!

The Importance of Atheism

Atheism is nothing more than not believing in deities, so I often question why I devote so much time and energy to mere disbelief. The activities are mostly devoid of positive content, consisting mostly of critical thinking applied to this one very controversial topic, and therefore almost entirely reactive toward religion rather than creative. And when I try to be constructive, as when I focus on Humanism rather than just atheism, I still concentrate heavily on the atheistic aspects rather than on the purely secular aspects. I’ve come up with a few possible explanations for this phenomenon.

Atheists, especially explicit atheists, are a rather small minority worldwide, even smaller in the United States, and smaller still in the southeastern part of this country. What’s more, theists make their presence known through churches and a thousand other ways that atheists generally don’t, for vocal atheists are the smallest minority yet. Indeed, many atheists have no interest whatsoever in their atheism and even consider expressing one’s atheism, except perhaps upon direct questioning, to be inappropriate, in bad taste or simply ridiculous. Given this extreme minority status and the constant reminders of it, it’s not surprising that I sometimes feel slightly insecure in my position despite feeling such confidence whenever I actually examine the arguments on both sides. In fact, this dichotomy explains the situation almost on its own.

When I think about how as an atheist I believe the rest of the world is not only mistaken but very badly mistaken, I feel the need to remind myself why I think this and to make sure I’m not the one who’s mistaken. And although I don’t get many opportunities to have sincere, honest and good faith discussions with believers on the topic of religion, that’s why it’s something I really love to do when I can. Whenever there are two sides to a debate, which is essentially always, I don’t feel comfortable dismissing the other side unless I know exactly why they’re mistaken and can present specific errors in their thinking. I want to show them these errors, in exactly the same way I would like others to show me mine rather than simply dismissing me as an idiot. Dismissing others and disengaging from the debate is generally unconducive to the search for truth.

There’s an additional reason stemming from my past not only as a believer but as a scrupulous believer, deathly afraid of hell. Although I haven’t really felt anxious about the possibility of being wrong about Christianity in over five years, the indoctrination certainly left an indelible mark on my psyche that will probably remain until I die. I’ve never for even the briefest moment feared that Islam was true and that Allah would send me to hell, so I know the only reason I’ve ever feared Christianity was true is because it’s part of my past and part of my culture. But whenever I see a new book at bookstores claiming to justify belief in God or Jesus, I immediately feel a little bit of anxiety at the possibility that I’ve somehow overlooked something. I know this reaction isn’t rational, especially since it’s emotional and almost reflexive, and I sometimes calm myself by picking it up, thumbing through it, and seeing that it’s the same arguments theists have been making for centuries. It's notable, however, that I've never felt the urge to do this regarding other religions.

Sometimes I feel like I really should fully dismiss all belief in the supernatural, completely disengage from all discussion about atheism, and focus my energies elsewhere. But atheism is an important hobby for me and sometimes reduces anxiety, though disengaging may be more effective, for all I know. And someone needs to help fly the banner of atheism, as it were, so that religious doubters have somewhere to turn for help. I’m very happy all the people who helped me on my road to deconversion didn’t just decide to focus their attention on something “constructive” after they personally decided religion was false and instead actually took the time to express their atheism and their reasons for disbelief. Without them, I would very likely either still be a very miserable scrupulant with no life or a suicide. Atheism, not Humanism or any other positive philosophy, has been very constructive in my life and made me very happy comparatively, and I want to help offer other people that option if that’s what they need.

Vestigial Prayer

In religions whose gods are less than perfect, the purpose of petitionary prayer is simple and clear: People ask their gods for something because otherwise they might not grant it to them. If the gods are not omniscient or even forgetful, people need to inform them or remind them of what they need. If the gods are not omnibenevolent, people need to beg the gods repeatedly so they will grant them favors. If the gods are not omnipotent, maybe they can’t do anything unless enough people ask long enough and sincerely enough to grant them power. In this context, asking makes sense.

In religions whose gods are perfect, such as the Abrahamic traditions, however, the purpose of petitionary prayer is totally unclear. An omnimax deity knows exactly what his creatures need, cannot forget it, has the ability to give it to them, and loves them perfectly such that he always wants to give it to them. Furthermore, as infinitely perfect, such a god’s will cannot be changed. In this context, asking makes no sense. Of course, the Abrahamic tradition hasn’t always been monotheistic, much less believed their god was omnimax, so it appears that petitionary prayer may be a vestige from this earlier time since it’s completely incompatible with its theology over the past couple of millennia.

It baffles me to understand how billions of Jews, Christians and Muslims have spent their entire lives engaging in, thinking, preaching and writing about petitionary prayer without realizing its absurdity in light of their beliefs. The logic involved is extraordinarily simple. I suppose at least some have recognized the problem, but it’s a tiny minority, and most of them probably still use the actual form of petitionary prayer with a different purpose in mind. If one believes his gods are perfect, it’s irrational to ask them for anything, ever. It also baffles me to realize that this issue didn’t cause me more trouble than it did before my deconversion. The truth is that I was probably too afraid of being sent to hell for doubting and tried not to question it, even though I could never understand it. At least I now understand why I couldn’t: it just doesn’t make sense.

Afraid of Nothing

It’s been almost exactly five months since my last post. There’s no special reason for this; I just haven’t had much to say on the topics of religion and irreligion so far this year. I still receive occasional comments on my prior posts, and there’s one particular type of feedback that draws me back in and makes me want to write more. It comes from former or current scrupulants who tell me that my blog has helped them in their suffering and given them hope. As a former scrupulant, I can identify with their struggles from my own experience, and I’m certainly much more aware of their plight than most others. The vast majority of scrupulants avoid anything questioning their faith, at least during most their time in that condition, but the few who do when the time is right, like me, truly benefit from hearing someone address their exact concerns and show them the path to mental freedom. I don’t know how to reach this target audience better, but they’re certainly a major part of my desire to write more and provide them with more resources if and when they find my blog.

Scrupulosity is not a disease. It’s a perfectly rational reaction to the threat of eternal damnation. The solution is to realize the threat is false. There is nothing to fear.

Comforting Others in Pain

In the face of suffering, believers almost have always something they can say to others: they can say, first, that they're praying for them, and, second, that everything will be alright in the end. Nonbelievers can't honestly say either of these. The closest we can get is that we're thinking about them, which can raise their spirits but not give them hope it'll actually help their problem, and that their suffering will eventually end at death, which really only helps those with terminal conditions and those afraid of hell. There's really not much you can say in the face of harsh reality that doesn't involve asking them to toughen up and accept their plight.

I've been thinking about this recently because I have a classmate who's suffered both a divorce and a diagnosis of cancer within the past half year. (What's worse for him is that his ex-wife is now with another classmate of ours.) He's really nice, honest and hardworking, and I like and respect him. On Facebook, his status updates about his treatment and various difficulties always receive many comments about people praying for him and promising him that it'll be alright in the end. I honestly add that we've missed him and hope to see him again soon, and I do hope all the comments make him feel better, but my inability to say anything more just got me thinking on this topic.

Sometimes I think it'd easier if I again believed that everything will eventually be perfect in the afterlife, but I'd probably again fear the prospect of eternal torment for failure to live a good enough life. If I had a choice between somehow honestly believing that life will never end but that there was even the tiniest chance I would end up in hell, and believing that my life will end forever at death, then I would certainly choose the latter. I'd sacrifice a very, very high probability of eternal pleasure to avoid even a very, very low chance of eternal pain. Of course we can't honestly choose our beliefs, and even seemingly perfectly innocent self-deception can have unpredictable negative consequences, if not for me, then for others. I hope that I can remain as intellectually honest throughout my life as I resolve to be today.

Secularist Fantasy

During the summer, I participated in an online United States government simulation. Many players choose to use characters with views quite distinct from their own, but my character was essentially a puppet for me. As a member of the House of Representatives, I authored and sponsored the two following pieces of legislation. The first one is about the Pledge of Allegiance.

Pledge Neutrality Restoration Resolution

Whereas the Pledge of Allegiance contained no reference to any deity before 1954,

Whereas an increasing minority of Americans do not profess belief in any deity and an even larger number claim no association with any religion,

Whereas non-religious citizens are as much an integral part of our nation as are religious citizens,

Whereas the government exists to serve all people of the nation and should favor neither religion nor irreligion,

Whereas the pledge should unite rather than divide,

Whereas the phrase “under God” creates division by referencing a religious belief not shared by all citizens and necessarily excludes non-believers,

Whereas believers can understand how unbelievers feel by imagining the pledge saying “without God” instead of “under God,”

Whereas most American children are encouraged to recite the pledge every day at school regardless of their own beliefs,

Whereas many American adults are encouraged to recite the pledge on occasion regardless of their own beliefs,

Whereas refraining from favoring religion is distinct from favoring irreligion,

Whereas the removal of the phrase “under God” would restore the pledge's neutrality toward religion,

BE IT RESOLVED
The Pledge of Allegiance be restored to its pre-1954 formulation: “I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the republic for which it stands, one nation indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”

The second one is about the national motto.

Motto Neutrality Restoration Resolution

Whereas E Pluribus Unum has been a de facto motto of the United States since 1776,

Whereas In God We Trust has been the de jure motto of the United States only since 1956,

Whereas E Pluribus Unum contains no reference to any deity and In God We Trust does,

Whereas an increasing minority of Americans do not profess belief in any deity and an even larger number claim no association with any religion,

Whereas non-religious citizens are as much an integral part of our nation as are religious citizens,

Whereas the government exists to serve all people of the nation and should favor neither religion nor irreligion,

Whereas the motto should unite rather than divide,

Whereas the motto In God We Trust creates division by referencing a religious belief not shared by all citizens and necessarily excludes non-believers,

Whereas believers can understand how unbelievers feel by imagining the motto being In God We Disbelieve instead of In God We Trust,

Whereas In God We Trust is a false statement because many Americans neither believe nor trust in supernatural beings,

Whereas refraining from favoring religion is distinct from favoring irreligion,

Whereas the replacement of In God We Trust with E Pluribus Unum would restore the motto's neutrality toward religion,

BE IT RESOLVED
E Pluribus Unum be declared the official motto of the United States, and the use of In God We Trust be discontinued wherever possible, including but not limited to on United States currency and coinage.

Since the simulation is rather realistic, both of the resolutions were easily defeated in committee. But they were fun to write, so I'm sharing them here. I'd love to see something like these submitted to the real House or Senate hopper one day, but I'm not holding my breath.

So Much to Celebrate

Although I intend to continue celebrating Humanlight, Festivus and the winter solstice itself, I also intend to celebrate a secular Christmas without any qualms whatsoever. It's a very natural time of year for a cheerful and festive holiday, the winter solstice has been celebrated in almost every culture throughout history, it's the dominant holiday in my own culture, it's already mostly non-Christian anyway, and it's fun! Abstaining from the festivities accomplishes nothing unless you get special pleasure from making a symbolic gesture that nobody else cares about. Maybe some do, but I don't. I want to enjoy it! If any Christian objects to an non-Christian celebrating a secular Christmas, then I encourage them to support abolishing it as a federal holiday. If that ever happens, I'll think about it. I won't promise them anything more.

Becoming Human

I've never posted about science in the media, but I've really enjoyed NOVA's new documentary series on PBS about human evolution entitled Becoming Human, and I want to share it with my readers. It's shown in three parts, with the third part airing tonight. It's also available online.

The most interesting thing I learned from the first part is the theory that the necessity of adapting to rapid climate change in east Africa several millions of years ago initiated the brain growth that eventually lead to our large brains today. From the second part, I learned that bipedalism is more energy efficient than quadripedism but that large brains require a lot more energy than small ones. I was also truly fascinated by the theory that we lost our body hair so we could sweat to stay cool, allowing us to run much longer in the midday sun than most animals, thus enabling us to chase larger, faster, and stronger prey to absolute exhaustion and kill them with only the most primitive technology. (The meat in turn provided the energy for our large brains that plants couldn't.) The filmmakers even showed modern Bushmen employing this strategy to hunt a kudu! They chased it for four hours, the kudu suffered from heat stroke and just stopped moving, and the hunters got close and killed it with spears. I thought it was amazing.

I'm looking forward to part three, but I'll have to watch it online like I did the first two parts. I intend to share my comments here afterward. Check it out!

The Evolution of Marriage

I'm sick of hearing the argument that same-sex couples shouldn't seek full marriage rights and should be satisfied with civil unions since marriage is a religious concept. It's not. Marriage is a social arrangement which has evolved throughout history, just as societies as a whole have evolved, and we need to recognize that.

Marriage can receive legal sanction, religious sanction, both or neither. Here in the United States, I think most couples receive both, a large number receive only legal, but very few receive neither or only religious. I'm not aware of any mainstream religious group here whose members don't regularly obtain legal marriage licenses in addition to holding their religious ceremonies. Adherents of most faiths are explicitly required to present the license to the officiant in order for the ceremony to proceed! If religious leaders who claim that marriage is a purely religious concept were honest, they would insist their members refuse to obtain marriage licenses from the government. In reality, they recognize the numerous benefits of legal marriage for their members, but they have no difficulty simultaneously seeking to deny those benefits to others. It's hypocrisy, pure and simple.

Of course, same-sex couples have been seeking, and have obtained within some groups, the opportunity to hold a religious wedding ceremony, but that's not what the same-sex marriage debate in this country is about. It's only about the legal sanction which carries with it a large number of legal rights. But since same-sex marriages are indeed being performed by legally recognized religious groups, and if religion can make marriage valid, then to deny the couples married in those groups a legal marriage license would be a violation of religious liberty. I suppose critics would say those other faiths and their weddings are invalid, but this just makes their bigotry clearer.

Sometimes I hear a proposal to legally convert all marriages to civil unions and let people have whatever religious ceremony they want afterward. But that's just playing with words, and it would cause more harm than good. It would be as if the Fourteenth Amendment had made everyone “legal residents” because some people had religious objections to applying the term “citizen” to former slaves. Such a drastic change would also certainly increase the volume of complaints from people that their marriage had been destroyed. We've had civil marriage for a long time, and abandoning it now would not be productive.

When my wife and I got married almost a year ago, it was an very simple ceremony at the courthouse without any mention of the supernatural. Our commitment to love one another was certainly the most important aspect, but the legal recognition was necessary for immigration purposes. I'm thankful that religious conservatives have at least left us opposite-sex atheist couples alone, but I'm willing to fight against them on the behalf of others when I can.

Atheist Blogroll

After more than three and half years of posting, I've finally joined Mojoey's Atheist Blogroll. You can find it in the sidebar. Please consider checking it out.

Not Meant to Be / All for the Best

Though it's possible for an atheist to express the sentiment that “it wasn't meant to be,” I think it's mostly something believers say since it implies that someone directs everything that happens to us and thus controls of our lives. If you think about it, it's usually nothing more than an excuse not to analyze your past conduct for mistakes to determine what you need to change to reach your goal next time. The last time I heard this said, I pointed out that the result could indeed have been quite different if the parties had followed a different course of action. This was met with blank stares and a comment equating to sour grapes.

I have similar objections to the sentiment that “it's all for the best.” No, really, it's not. Or at least, we don't know so. Life might indeed be better with fewer tragedies. It's probably not better that your family member or friend died in an accident. It's absolutely true that some good things only happened because some bad things happened before them, but we don't know whether something even better could have happened if they hadn't. Life is too unpredictable for us to know what is ultimately for the best. We just have to make the best choices we can, given our knowledge and abilities, and take responsibility for the consequences.

Truly Good without God

I understand the recent billboard campaign promoting the idea that people can be “good without God” doesn't target fundamentalists, but I want to mention why I think it won't really have any effect on them whatsoever. No amount of personal virtue or charitable activity could ever convince most of them that you can live an ethical life without their religion. Beyond the issue of belief, which the campaign attempts to address directly, conservative believers have a very specific idea of what it means to be a good person. This includes refraining for all sorts of normal sexual activity, regularly attending and financially supporting a church in the community, and subscribing to and voting according to a conservative political ideology, at least on certain social issues. For some of them, it also means never drinking, smoking or dancing. Unless you act just like them in these matters, you'll never be good in their eyes. At most, you'll be slightly more tolerable.

The problem is that we can't honestly say that we act like strong believers even though we don't believe. We instead have to convince them the way we act isn't immoral because their objections to our lives have nothing to do with actual morality. That's a difficult task but a worthy one.

The Invention of Religion

Last night my wife and I watched Ricky Gervais' new film, The Invention of Lying. It's set in an alternate universe where humans haven't evolved the ability to lie, and absolutely everyone is not only completely honest but also brutally frank in every situation. Gervais' character, Mark Bellison, is the first person on the planet who can tell an untruth, and he uses it to his advantage since people apparently also lack the ability to doubt anyone's veracity and believe whatever he says immediately and unquestioningly.

Using his unique skill, while trying to do something nice for his mother, Mark inadvertently creates the first religion in this world, focused on the “invisible man in the sky.” Though Mark actively seeks out opportunities to lie to get what he wants in other areas of his life, he's very reluctant to take on the role of prophet and does his best to create a reasonably fair and peaceful religion when he's forced to at the behest of the entire world. This is when the film becomes a true religious satire. Though it wasn't quite as funny as the best in this genre, I appreciated the humor. I don't want to give much away, but there are references to Moses, Jesus and even Joseph Smith. The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops rates the film “O” for “morally offensive.” Its official review contains some of the following phrases: “venomous supposed comedy,” “all-out sneering assault,” “despicably belittling,” “pervasive blasphemy,” “fashionable new atheism,” “slithers,” and “calculated cinematic insult.” Those words are like music to my ears, especially considering the source!

I'd give the film a rating of 9 out 10. I enjoyed the novelty of the concept, and any film in which someone exclaims, “@#$* the invisible man in the sky!” and a large crowd cheers in agreement automatically gets an elevated rating in my book. There were, however, a few disappointments. We never really see how perfect honesty would make society radically different from our own except that there's no fiction and they don't have the words true or false. It also seemed that people couldn't even imagine that someone could simply say something mistaken. At the end, I wanted to see more of what happened to his religion, but without the ability to lie, no one else could expand his revelation, so I have no real objection. And, of course, a world without any religion whatsoever would be so different, but I don't think Gervais could have pulled that off without being boring and preachy. This film does a fine job of approaching the concept, and I recommend it to everyone.

Godfree for Five Years

Today is the fifth anniversary of my apostasy from the Catholic Church. It's hard to believe that it's already been half a decade since I finally stopping worrying about being damned to eternal torment and began to truly live my life. In some ways, it feels like it was only yesterday, for it was the most significant day in the story of my life. It's also hard to believe that it's been almost three and a half years since I started this blog. I know I've averaged less than one post per week, but I'm proud of what I've written. In general, I've come so far and I'm very happy about that.

Today is International Blasphemy Day!

Today is the fourth anniversary of the publication of Muhammad cartoons in Jyllands-Posten that created an international event, and the Center for Inquiry is commemorating the date as International Blasphemy Day as part of its Campaign for Free Expression. I'm happy to support this anti-holy-day.

According to some Christian theology, it's not possible to commit the unforgivable sin of blasphemy against the Holy Spirit as described in Matthew 12:31-32 while living because it's understood as disbelief until the moment of death. I suppose it gives me something to look forward to! (No, not really.) Of course, it's still possible to commit other kinds of garden-variety blasphemy here and now. Though I'm rather less belligerent than some other bloggers, this anti-theistic blog is itself inherently blasphemous, and plenty of my previous comments would offend a great number of believers despite my never having the specific intention to do so. It's just that I've never hesitated to speak my negative opinion of religion here, fearing that it might offend someone. But of course that's not at all difficult with an anonymous publication and a small number of readers!

I'm sure there will be plenty of blasphemous cartoons, songs, poems and videos posted today, but I don't have anything special to contribute. I'm loath to say something with the sole intention of causing offense, so I'll just say something true the general population doesn't hear often enough: If Yahweh, Jesus, or Allah really existed, as portrayed in their respective scriptures, they would be absolutely evil and worthy of every ounce of contempt and derision we could muster toward them.

Today is the day that we remember that blasphemy is victimless, but that government censorship is not. Let's not forget it.

Farthest from Traditional Religion

Yesterday I read an article that suggested that Unitarian Universalism is farther from traditional religion than even atheism despite the use of religious language, symbolism and ritual because UUism isn't focused on whether gods really exist whereas atheism is defined solely by its stance (or lack thereof) toward this question. Of course, many, if not most, UUs have an opinion whether any gods exist, and some may even think the answer important, but UUism as an ideology simply doesn't address the issue. I can appreciate the author's point, but I don't think this difference necessarily makes UUism farther from traditional religion; it may just make it equally far in a different dimension. Atheism retains the definition of “god” — even if only to argue that definition is incoherent — but denies that it corresponds to anything in reality whereas UUism, to the extent that UUs indeed use divine terminology, retains the word “god” but frequently changes its meaning to something other than a supernatural entity such as the universe itself or an abstract concept such as altruism. I argue that Humanism is farther from traditional religion than either atheism or UUism because it doesn't use the word “god” at all, and it also encompasses much more than an view on one particular topic.

But it's not a competition, and we have to remember there's significant overlap between the various groups. Over half of UUs consider themselves at least small-H humanists, a third agnostic, and almost a fifth atheist. (The choices weren't exclusive on the survey in question.) All big-H Humanists are by definition atheists, though I have no idea what percentage of explicit atheists consider themselves Humanists.

I know that some people dislike, or at least claim to dislike, personal labels, but I myself find them useful. (I refer to those other people as anti-labelists!) My blog certainly attests to my tendency to change and think about changing labels relatively often. I find that it helps me think more clearly about myself and my relationship to the world.

A Misanthropic, Pessimistic Humanist?

I've sometimes wondered whether it's truly possible for a misanthrope and a pessimist such as myself to be considered a Humanist, but after some reflection, I've concluded that these mental and emotional tendencies are irrelevant to the question and that it's only my principles, words and actions that are relevant. Here is the International Humanist and Ethical Union's Minimum Statement on Humanism:

Humanism is a democratic and ethical life stance, which affirms that human beings have the right and responsibility to give meaning and shape to their own lives. It stands for the building of a more humane society through an ethic based on human and other natural values in the spirit of reason and free inquiry through human capabilities. It is not theistic, and it does not accept supernatural views of reality.

There is nothing in this statement suggesting I must have any positive feelings toward or confidence in humanity in order to call myself a Humanist.

It doesn't matter that almost everyone angers me from time to time with their irrationality, ignorance, selfishness and outright malice, that many people constantly disappoint me, or that I have a very low opinion of “the average person.” It only matters that I recognize that I, too, have numerous personal flaws, that I believe I'll be happier if I treat them sympathetically rather than disdainfully, and that I at least try to do so.

I don't know whether morality can be said to objectively exist, but I think a secular morality based on human needs and desires rather than a religious morality based on divine revelation is the most conducive to human happiness and can be universally applied.

I don't think humans are free in the sense that we instinctively imagine, but that doesn't mean that our lives have no meaning and that the illusion of free will isn't useful. An appreciation of determinism has greater potential to increase our power than it does to decrease it.

I don't think science can answer every question, but I know it can answer many and that religions can answer none.

I don't think democratic institutions regularly make decisions in the best interest of the governed, but I do think they make them much more often than any alternative, and I don't expect anything better to ever be developed.

I'm not at all confident humanity can solve most of its own problems, but I'm very confident that if any problems are solved, it will be our reason and compassion that save us rather than supernatural beings.

I'm not necessarily optimistic that civilization will avoid destroying itself, whether by global environmental degradation, nuclear holocaust, technological disaster or any other means, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't try to build sustainable societies and even eventually try to branch out into different worlds.

In my last entry I settled on “atheist” as my preferred label (without at all disclaiming the other candidates), but perhaps I should change once more to “Humanist,” having now determined that it suits me well despite the necessity of making the above qualifications to clarify my exact opinion. I have a tendency to be react belligerently, at least mentally, toward any mention of religion, and this does nothing but make me tense and angry, so a stronger identification with Humanism rather than atheism may serve me well. We'll see how it goes.

What Kind of Atheist Am I?

After vacillating for quite some time between the terms atheist, naturalist and Humanist as my preferred label, I've settled on “atheist” because it's minimalist, unambiguous, and the most recognizable. Now I'm debating with myself whether in certain contexts I should add an adjective in order to indicate that I take an real interest in atheism and that it's an important part of my identity. I want people to understand it's something I actually care about rather than just another fact about me, like my height or my eye color. I'm going to consider a few adjectives commonly paired with “atheist” and see whether they fit the bill.

Militant atheist — I rather like this one because it suggests that I'm always ready and willing to stand up and defend my viewpoint at any moment and that I'm willing to accept the negative label of my critics in order to weaken it, but unfortunately it's misleading in that I never advocate physical violence as do militant religionists. I don't want to give people the wrong impression; atheists have enough misperceptions to combat already.

Fundamentalist atheist — The term isn't exactly meaningless, but it doesn't correspond to anything in reality. That is, it's technically possible to accept the non-existence of deities as an axiom of one's worldview (or a “properly basic belief,” as Plantinga might call it), but I've never actually encountered anyone who does. Weak atheism isn't even a belief, and strong atheism is always argued for with evidence and logic, never dogmatically asserted as unquestionably true.

Devout atheist — I've occasionally referred to myself as this because it's ironic and it actually describes my strong commitment to the idea, but it's also misleading in that it suggests that atheism is a religion. We have no dogma, no sacred texts, no moral code, no holidays, no priests, no saints, no temples, nor anything else that almost every religion has.

Committed atheist — This is similar to the previous option but with less religious baggage. Unfortunately, I wouldn't really say that I was committed to atheism; I'm not even personally committed to promoting it.

Happy atheist — This could indicate that I'm a happy person and that I'm happy to be an atheist. Unfortunately, it seems to imply that many atheists are unhappy and that I need to distinguish myself from them; this is simply false.

Friendly atheist — This has similar problems as the previous option, and it might be even registered or trademarked by Hemant Mehta, who writes a very popular blog with this title. Even if not, it might lead to confusion if I used it.

Serious atheist — Since many atheists aren't serious about their atheism, this is a distinction that actually makes sense. It could mean, I suppose, that I have no sense of humor, but this isn't really likely since I've never encountered any atheist who was reluctant to laugh about both religion and atheism.

Active atheist — I don't know whether I qualify as one since my activity is currently limited to reading books, listening to podcasts, blogging and discussing atheism on a couple of internet forums. I used to attend some meetings of local atheist group, but as a married law student, I really don't have the time, and I'm also not a member of any non-theist organization. I'm certainly not nearly as involved as a lot of others are. I really want to indicate something other than my activity level with the description, but this is the least misleading of the group.

Of course, there's even less of a need or desire to use an adjective in addition to a label. If any readers have a suggestion which I haven't considered here, please post it as comment.

First Mass in Almost Five Years

On 1 August, my wife and I served as bridesmaid and groomsman respectively at my younger sister's wedding. It was the first time I had attended a mass in almost five years and, I think, only the second time ever for my wife, whose family is at most nominally Buddhist. Though I remembered all of the responses during the ceremony, of course, I didn't repeat them and I didn't otherwise participate except for standing when everyone else did and for shaking hands and saying, “Peace be with you,” since it would have been very difficult to refuse politely and since the phrase itself is secular anyway. While the wedding itself interested me, the mass was rather unremarkable. It didn't really stir any feelings, either positive or negative, other than the general frustration I feel whenever people express their irrational belief in the supernatural. I don't plan on returning until I have to for another wedding or perhaps a funeral.

This morning my wife commented on her disgust at the cannibalism of communion and at the authoritarianism of the requirement to believe in Jesus or be condemned to hell. She also somewhat mockingly made the sign of the cross at breakfast after having seen it so often this weekend. Not long after we got married, when she saw my family pray before every meal, she wanted to start our own tradition, so we always kiss each other before we eat together. If one of us forgets and starts eating without doing so, the “penalty” is an extra kiss. It's so much better than praying!

Uncertainty about the Afterlife

In response to the problem of evil, believers typically claim that God must have a perfectly valid reason for allowing great evil in the world even if we cannot discover or understand it and that the proper response is to trust him without questioning. I recently encountered an interesting idea from Robert M. Price which addresses this response in a new way. He rhetorically asks how Christians would react if, upon death, God canceled their ticket to heaven (faith in Jesus, life of good works, state of grace at death, etc.) and sent them to hell without any explanation whatsoever. Applying their argument to this situation, they couldn't complain at all, for God must have a perfectly valid reason for sending them to hell even if they cannot discover or understand it. No Christian could honestly counter that it's an absolute impossibility; this is the same deity who slaughtered multitudes of Egyptian babies in their sleep and who they acknowledge threatens to send billions of souls to hell for mere disbelief. It's a perfectly valid rhetorical question without any clear answer.

Dr. Price's idea reminds me of the major issues I had with scrupulosity and fear of hell before I deconverted. For years, I had regular, persistent doubts about whether my confessions were valid, whether I was forgiven, and whether I would be damned to hell if I died at that moment. Priests regularly told me to trust in God's love and that God wouldn't condemn me if I honestly did my best to obey him, but their assurances never helped me because I also believed this was a deity who didn't hesitate to send souls to hell for all eternity for something as absolutely ridiculous as masturbating or missing mass one Sunday; I had no trouble imagining him on judgment day telling me that I sinned by listening to my confessor instead of my own conscience and casting me into a lake of fire to burn forever. It was mental agony to believe one is constantly being watched by a despicable, malevolent being who demands blind love, blind faith, and blind obedience and who will probably eventually capture and torture you. It's a lot like being Winston Smith in Nineteen Eighty-Four, but with infinite consequences. This is why the day I deconverted was the best day of my entire life.

While I'm on the topic of the afterlife, I want to say that sometimes I rather wish there were a way for arrogant religionists who claim certainty in their beliefs to learn they're wrong before they die. If my belief is correct that our consciousness is forever extinguished upon death, it's really a pity they can all pass out of existence without ever being forced to admit the magnitude of their stupidity.

Deconversion: Evolution vs. Revolution

Deconversion is not a uniform process. Some happen in matter of days, others over the course of decades. Some pass through several phases on their way to atheism, others jump straight from strong belief to strong disbelief. Some can be likened to game of Jenga, in which one belief after another can be removed without affecting others until finally the tower just collapses, others to a game of dominoes, in which the fall of one very basic belief results in the fall of all the others. Of course, most deconversions are somewhere in the middle of the spectrum between gradual change, i.e., evolution, and rapid change, i.e, revolution.

My deconversion certainly falls on the revolution end of the spectrum. Once I became a devout believer in junior high school until my apostasy over a decade later, my status as a religious conservative never changed. At no point was I ever a liberal or even moderate Catholic; I never at all openly questioned any dogma the church taught until I doubted and then rejected all of them at once. I think this is because of how I learned from apologetics to defend my belief from Protestant arguments against Catholicism.

According to Karl Keating in his Catholicism & Fundamentalism: The Attack on “Romanism” by “Bible Christians”, which was the very first apologetic book I ever read, Catholics can justify their religion with the following “spiral logic,” which contrasts with invalid circular logic of fundamentalist Protestants who begin with the unquestioned assumption that the bible is inspired: First, one reads the gospels without assuming they're perfect or inspired, merely historically reliable (!), and one concludes that Jesus must have been divine. Next, one reads in the gospels that Jesus established Peter as a permanent, infallible religious authority, and since the pope is the successor of Peter, he is also an infallible religious authority. Finally, the pope says the bible is divinely inspired, so we can believe it. I realize now, of course, this argument is incredibly weak, but I was only about thirteen years old when I encountered it, and I already believed the conclusion for non-rational reasons. This was my first real exposure to any justification for my religion, and I grabbed onto it tightly. I later learned to rely on alleged miracles throughout the history of the church as confirmation to quell my doubts, but I never forgot that without papal authority, I had no reason to believe almost anything else in my religion. For example, I couldn't know whether the whole of the bible was true without an authority telling me so, and I couldn't trust my own interpretation of it, which necessarily conflicted with that of other Christians. Within this paradigm, faith was not belief without or in spite of evidence; it was trust in papal authority, which I believed was established by logic and evidence. It didn't matter whether there was any biblical, historical or scientific evidence for any teaching since the pope's approval itself was sufficient evidence. Belief in papal authority was thus the rock on which I built my justification for my religion. For the record, I want to clear that I'm not saying this is an entirely accurate portrayal of actual Catholic doctrine, just my own understanding of it when I was a believer.

My belief structure was mostly rational, in a sense, even if badly mistaken, and I dismissed every other kind of faith as blind and irrational. This brought my views into conflict with other Catholics, especially liberal Catholics. Liberals accept some church teachings (e.g., heaven exists) while rejecting others (e.g., fornication is sinful), but if they reject anything, they must reject its basis, papal authority, and therefore have no reason to accept anything else except on blind faith. The church itself doesn't really care why one believes the easy doctrines, even if it laments and preaches against disbelief in the difficult doctrines, but as for me, I felt not only little connection with liberal believers but even with conservative believers who just happened to accept all the church's teachings without directly and explicitly connecting it to papal authority and instead citing mystical faith. Returning to the point of the story, it explains why I never passed through moderate or liberal phases on the road to apostasy.

Over the years, the very same doubts which drive evolution-type deconverts to moderate and then liberal positions also arose in my mind, but I responded to them either by invoking papal authority if they related to the church's teaching or by simply suppressing them due to my intense fear of hell if they related to the basis for papal authority, such as the divinity of Jesus or even the very existence of God. When I finally sat down and examined these doubts, everything hinged on the original argument as forwarded by Keating, held together by the glue of belief in Catholic miracles. There was no way I could reject belief in hell, which had caused me so much agony over the previous five years, without rejecting everything else. The arguments against religion had to overcome everything all at once, but after a few months of intense research and reflection, that's exactly what happened. In the end, I still had to make an emotional effort to admit that it was all over and finally discontinue attending church, but I always knew I couldn't simply return as a weak believer once I faced my doubts. I had gone from believing everything the church taught to believing nothing. The revolution had ended, and reason had triumphed over superstition.

I would guess the evolution-type deconversion is more common among Catholics and mainline Protestants because most never structure their faith on one core belief, and that the revolution-type is more common among fundamentalist Protestants who often do. In a sense, I was a fundamentalist Catholic; because of my background, my fundamental belief just happened to be papal authority rather than scriptural inerrancy. I wonder whether I would have become an atheist in my teenage years if I had never been convinced of the centrality of papal authority and nothing more than blind faith was offered as justification, which I would almost certainly have rejected more quickly. I'm just happy I'm an atheist now.