The claim that I am an atheist because I don’t understand “love” is particularly ironic. I do understand what love is, and that is one of the reasons I can never again be a Christian. Love is not self-denial. Love is not blood and suffering. Love is not murdering your son to appease your own vanity. Love is not hatred or wrath, consigning billions of people to eternal torture because they have offended your fragile ego or disobeyed your rules. Love is not obedience, conformity or submission. It is a counterfeit love that is contingent upon authority, punishment or reward. True love is respect and admiration, compassion and kindness, freely given by a healthy, unafraid human being.
The argument about “anger” is equally intriguing. There is nothing wrong with anger if it is not expressed destructively. Paul said believers should get angry (Ephesians 4:26). Jesus got angry (Mark 3:5)
.
Christians get angry often. I am rarely angry, certainly never when I am discussing atheism with believers, but many Christians project their own feelings back toward me and claim that I am angry when I quote horrible bible verses or level criticisms of Christianity that make
them
angry. What if I were to say, “The reason you are a Christian is because you are an angry person”? Many atheists, as well as believers, are often justifiably angry at the way religion clouds judgment and leads to dangerous behavior, but that is a
result
of reason and ethics, not a cause of it.
The word “atheist” is not a label; it is merely a description. (Although, of course, any word can be made into a label for PR reasons.) Since I do not believe in a god, I am by default described as an atheist. If there
is
evidence for a hypothesis, then I will gladly look at the data. If the claim itself is illogical, however, or if it is based on something other than honest investigation, it can be dismissed as wishful thinking, misunderstanding or a lie. Theists do not have a god: they have a belief. Atheism is the lack of theism, the lack of
belief
in god(s). I am an atheist because there is no reason to believe.
Some theists say this is absurd. Just because a few atheists are unconvinced is no reason to discard the wealth of evidence accepted by the rest of the world, they insist. These believers would ask me to say: “I am an atheist because there is no evidence
that I accept
for the existence of God.” Well, of course that’s true. I am the one being asked to judge and I have to use my reason. But if they are suggesting that I must agree that it is okay for
them
to accept the so-called evidences, I can’t do that. None of the “evidences” proves a supernatural being, so those who continue to believe are acting irrationally. If they want me to believe, too, they have to convince
me
, not just themselves.
To play the same game, I could argue that even though few adults believe in Santa Claus, there is plenty of evidence for his existence. A real Santa cannot be completely ignored, I might say, because he is revealed somewhere in the millions of youthful testimonials, song lyrics, stories and holiday displays, and is a time-tested cultural tradition. (My children actually heard reindeer hooves on the roof and sleigh bells ringing. It was years later when I told them that it was just me, their dad, playing with their imaginations.) Does all the evidence for Santa disappear just because you are skeptical? I am free to believe in Santa Claus if I want. The evidence for Santa remains, I might say, regardless of your doubt.
Actually, the
facts
remain—but they are not evidence for a real Santa Claus. They are evidence for something else: culture, history and the charming imaginations of children. They are evidence for consumerism and goodwill, tale spinning and song writing, game playing, community stories and children’s literature. But they are not evidence for an actual Santa Claus. We know this because each of the so-called proofs for Santa can be explained in natural terms and understood as part of a myth-making process. The fact that most adults believe in God is no more reason for me or anyone else to believe than the fact that most children believe in Santa. The possibility that the belief in God is useful is no reason to believe, either. Many claim that their behavior is improved by their belief in God, but so is the behavior of millions of children during the middle weeks of December. Most of us have matured into “A-Santa-ists,” and some of us have matured into “A-theists.” We have grown up and we are satisfied with natural explanations for the myth.
Of course, even the staunchest skeptic admits that one natural explanation does not completely rule out other possibilities. Perhaps there is a higher level of understanding that allows Santa to exist even though we are unable to prove it yet. The fact that kids have creative imaginations does not necessarily indicate that everything they imagine must be false. Even so, I can still claim that if there are adequate natural explanations that account for all the facts, then there is no driving need to search for supernatural explanations. This is just common sense. Without such a rational limit there would be no end to the fanciful layers that could be added to any hypothesis. (This is usually referred to as Occam’s Razor, the principle that suggests we should normally accept the explanation that requires the fewest assumptions.) The skeptic, slavishly honoring all the possibilities, could be forced to spend a lifetime running around trying to disprove an infinite number of fantastic theories.
For example, maybe Santa is an ambassador from a distant planetary outpost populated with red-and-white creatures who monitor the activities of specially chosen short people (elves and children?), seeking “conducive” humans as psychic vehicles for messages to holy reindeer that levitate when children dream during the winter solstice, with most adults being too hardened to believe. Can anyone prove that this scenario is untrue? (You read it here first.) Since I don’t have the means or the inclination to disprove such an idea, is this paragraph now allowed to count as evidence for such a theory?
A rational person would give the preceding paragraph an exceedingly low probability (virtually zero). However, if some natural explanation arises for the existence of the paragraph (such as an admission that I just made it up), then the probability can be safely dropped to zero point zero and the discussion shifts from the reaches of outer space to the reaches of my inner brain.
Perhaps in a court of law it is more relaxed. In a trial any object or testimony that might have a relevance to the case may be considered “evidence” before there is a verdict. In science it is the other way around: a fact is admitted as evidence only
after
the connection has been made. I may insist something is evidence, but that does not make it so. There must be a connection and it must be clear.
Theists think the connection is clear. They have traditionally presented a large number of evidences for their faith, and at first glance those evidences appear overwhelming. For a skeptic to attack this plethora of widely accepted “proofs” might look like David confronting Goliath! After all, atheists are a minority. How can so many good believers be so wrong? How can all of these facts be ignored?
They are not ignored. Remember that David defeated Goliath (in the story, not in history). Many have closely examined these “proofs” for a deity and have found them wanting. They are addressed in the following chapters in more detail. The main reason I am an atheist is because these claims can be shown to have perfectly natural explanations and, as with Santa Claus, the probability for the existence of a supernatural being can be safely dropped to zero.
In the name of honesty, it
must
be dropped to zero.
I have often heard Christians say we must “start with God.” (That happened in my debates with Rajabali, mentioned in Chapter 4.) Isn’t that interesting? Would they say we must “start with unicorns” or must “start with UFOs?” We can only start where we both agree, and proceed from there. We both agree that there is a natural universe—no argument there. It is the religious persons who maintain additional “supernatural” or transcendent assertions that go beyond what we both accept. It is unreasonable and unfair for them simply to fold their arms and demand that I disprove their allegations. Any impartial investigator will agree that we should start with what we
do
know, and then proceed from there. We should start with nature. We should start with the nonexistence of God and then the believer should argue
for
God’s existence, not demand that atheists argue
against
it. The burden of proof in any argument is on the shoulders of the one who makes the affirmative claim, not the one who doubts it.
Someone once objected to my criticisms as attempts to “explain away” the proofs for a god. I am not trying to explain them away; I am trying to explain them. The success of this rational approach hinges on something that in theory everyone advocates, but in practice is quite elusive: a complete impartiality on both sides. I am willing to change my mind, but I don’t see many believers admitting even the possibility that they might be wrong—that
they
are the ones with the problem. Believers are usually only concerned with winning me to their views. Impartiality, which is adequate for mundane matters, seems always to cave in to loyalty when religious matters are discussed. Since most believers’ religious views are something of an extension (or sometimes a replacement) of their personality, when you question their beliefs you are often perceived as attacking
them
personally—their identity within their religious culture and their meaning in life, moral code, honor, intelligence, judgment and everything they are as individuals. (“How dare you tell me that my loving grandmother lived her entire life believing a lie!”) Most of them have invested a lot of time, energy and money in their faith, and they aren’t apt to back off or “lose face.” They would rather earn devotion points within their co-believing community than give any credibility to some Lone Ranger atheist.
Of course, none of this proves or disproves either position. If it did, that would be
ad hominem.
Christians may be loyal and dishonest, but they still may be correct. Atheists might be rational and honest, but they might be wrong. The lack of impartiality of most believers merely underlines the difficulty of dialogue with atheists. One question I often ask of religionists is, “I will happily change my mind if I am proved wrong. Will you?” Most of them proudly say, “No way!”
Bible criticism is not necessary to atheism—God might be Brahma instead of Yahweh—but can be useful in order to answer those Christians who offer “scriptural proof” for God. Some believers claim that it is unfair to reject Christianity until the bible has been completely studied and correctly interpreted in the context of history and the “total unified message of Scripture.” If we doubters just had a better understanding, they say, if we would just hold off a little longer, if we could read it in the original Greek and Hebrew, if we would study under the right teachers, if we would take a course in hermeneutics, if we would earn a Ph.D. in history or theology or philosophy, and so on. They demand that we be “qualified” before making a final decision.
But is this a fair request? There are millions of unqualified Christians who have only the slightest familiarity with the bible, yet their decision to believe is considered praiseworthy. Church pews are packed with biblically illiterate worshippers. If it is necessary to have a degree in theology before making an informed decision, then millions of Christians will have to be ushered out of church. Even the least educated atheist knows enough about the bible to judge its reliability or relevance. How many Christians know that much about the Koran? Yet they all feel qualified to discard the religion of Islam that is followed by millions of devoted Muslims. Is a Baptist rejection of Hinduism based on an exhaustive analysis of the Vedas? Is it fair for a Catholic to dismiss Judaism before memorizing the Talmud in the original Hebrew? How many Lutherans or Pentecostals can quote even one passage from the Book of Mormon?
How many atheist books has the average Christian read?
Everyone knows that the bible contains accounts of miracles, and that is reason enough to conclude that there may be better uses of one’s time than studying Scripture. (And, no, this is not an
a priori
dismissal of the supernatural. It is the same criterion of natural regularity that Christians use in evaluating other religions. How many Baptists believe that ancient Roman amulets cured diseases?) Most believers are addicted through repetition to the idea that their bible is the greatest, most important, most inspired book in the world, and therefore the miracle accounts must be true—really good people can make themselves believe them. But the rest of us are under no obligation to feel that way. I was taught, and sincerely preached, that Scripture is the ultimate measure of truth, never imagining during all those years that the bible itself might come under a higher measure of truth, under the scrutiny of reason.
Of course, isn’t this the problem? The issue is not so much
what
we think, but
how
we think. Epistemology. Scientists and rationalists gain knowledge by applying limits. Believers do the opposite, as faith has no borders. Without limits anything is possible. I could claim, for example, that this book was not written in the normal manner: I just concentrated intently and it materialized before me on the table in an instant of time, complete, typeset and ready for the printer. Who would believe such an absurd claim? But if you don’t, why believe the even more absurd claims of the bible? We all know there are limits to what can be true. The scientist and historian—anyone in pursuit of verifiable knowledge—applies specific criteria in a uniform manner across time to help determine what is true or false.