Why Are You Atheists So Angry? 99 Things That Piss Off the Godless (6 page)

BOOK: Why Are You Atheists So Angry? 99 Things That Piss Off the Godless
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“Atheism is just another religion. And you’re just as close-minded / faith-based as the believers you criticize.”
 

No, it isn’t. And no, I’m not.

It simply isn’t the case that atheists are 100% convinced beyond any shadow of a doubt that there is no God. I’ve met hundreds of atheists — thousands, if you count the ones I’ve met on the Internet — and I’ve encountered maybe half a dozen who thought that. (And most of them back down when you press them on it.)

Contrary to popular belief, atheism isn’t an unshakeable faith in the non-existence of God. Atheism is… well, it’s different for different people. But for most atheists I know, it’s more or less the position that the God hypothesis is an extremely unlikely one, not supported by evidence or reason, and that in the absence of any convincing evidence, it’s reasonable to discard it. It’s the position that the Christian /Judaic /Muslim god is about as probable as Zeus or Thor… and that if you don’t believe in those gods, it makes sense to disbelieve in Jehovah /Yahweh /Allah as well. (And the same is true for the Hindu gods, and the Wicca Goddess, and every other god or goddess or supernatural being anyone has ever conceived of. Just while we’re at it.)

And it’s simply not true that I don’t give any reasons for my disbelief, and that I take my disbelief on faith. I’ve written extensive arguments about why I don’t believe in God, or a soul, or an afterlife. As have countless other writers, from Richard Dawkins to Julia Sweeney, Daniel Dennett to Sam Harris. Take a look at The Top Ten Reasons I Don’t Believe In God in Chapter Eight, and at the Resource Guide in Chapter Fifteen, if you want to see for yourself.

“Just because religion has done some harm doesn’t mean it’s mistaken.”
 

You’re absolutely right. The good or harm done by religion is irrelevant to whether or not it’s true.

It drives me up a tree when religious believers argue for religion by saying how useful it is. The argument from utility — the argument that people should believe in religion because it gives them comfort, because it makes people behave better, because it makes people happy — is absurd on the face of it. The idea of deciding what’s true based on what we want to be true is laughable. Or it would be, if it weren’t so appalling. I’ve seen this argument advanced many, many times… and it still shocks me to see otherwise intelligent, thoughtful adults making it. It’s preposterous.

But if it’s not fair for believers to argue that religion is true because it’s useful… then it’s equally unfair for atheists to argue that religion is false because it’s harmful.

I’m not doing that. These arguments — the argument about whether religion is harmful, and the one about whether religion is true — are two different arguments. They do overlap to some degree: for one thing, many religions offer, as evidence for their particular faith, the notion that people who believe it are doing better in their lives than people who don’t. And the fact that religion is mistaken makes it inherently more likely to do harm: decisions based on false assumptions are more likely to get screwed up. But basically, you’re right. Religion could be harmful, and still be true.

And I care passionately about what is and is not true.

That’s not the focus of this particular book. The main focus of this book is why religion sucks and why so many atheists are pissed off about it. But this pesky question of whether or not God exists? It’s relevant, and it’s important. So I do spend some time here making a summary of my case for atheism. My Top Ten Reasons I Don’t Believe In God can be found in Chapter Eight. (You can find a list of more exhaustive arguments against religion, by myself and other atheist writers, in the Resource Guide at the end of this book.)

“All religion isn’t like that. You’re not being fair. It’s just a few bad apples. You’re painting us all with the same brush.”
 

I’m not.

I’m careful in this book to say, “I’m angry at people who do (X),” or, “I get angry when (Y) happens,” or, “I’m angry about (Z).” I say that I’m angry about specific aspects of religion, specific ways it plays out in the world, specific things people do because of their religion.

But the stuff I’m angry about is not a few bad apples. I’m sorry, but that’s just flat-out wrong. Do you seriously think that 53% of Americans refusing to vote for an atheist under any circumstances is a few bad apples? A national public health and sex education policy based on unproven and unprovable religious doctrine instead of actual evidence? The Catholic Church’s policy of opposing condom distribution? The fact that until the year I was born, the law in many states said that atheists couldn’t vote or hold office or testify in court?

Those are not bad apples. That is widespread, systematic religious oppression. The stuff I’m angry about may not be universal, but it is not unusual. It’s depressingly common. The stuff in this book may not be true for you and your church, synagogue, mosque, coven, etc. If so, good for you. But it’s still important, still widespread, and still worth being angry about. And it’s totally screwed-up to dismiss it as a trivial aspect of religion, simply because it isn’t universal.

And in fact, I would argue that, even if your particular religion hasn’t done these particular things, it still causes harm. I think religion, by its very nature, is a bad idea that does significantly more harm than good. I’ll explain why, in Chapter Three: Why This Really Is Religion’s Fault.

“All believers aren’t like that. That’s not the true faith.”
 

You’re trying to piss me off now, aren’t you?

Okay. Deep breaths.
(Calm blue ocean, calm blue ocean…)

Go back and read #94 and #95 in the Litany. The part about the “true faith” thing and how messed-up it is. The part about how nobody has a pipeline to God. The part about how you have no more reason than anyone else to think you know what God wants. (I also get into this more in Chapter Four: “Yes, This Means You: Moderate and Progressive Religion.”)

And when it comes to Christianity specifically: I’m sorry, but the whole “Jesus was a cool guy who gets misinterpreted by those organized religion fascists” thing? It ignores the actual content of the Gospels. If you believe that the Gospels are a more or less accurate representation of what Jesus said, you have to acknowledge that this Jesus guy said some pretty
screwed-up stuff
. Including a whole lot of stuff about how people who didn’t believe in him and follow him were going to
burn in Hell for eternity
.

The thing you need to remember is this: You don’t have any more reason to think you have the true faith than any other believer does. Sure, you can quote chapter and verse — and so can people with a different interpretation of the faith. That’s the nature of chapter and verse; it can be used to support just about any interpretation you can come up with. Even if God exists, you don’t have a pipeline to him, and you don’t know what he wants any more than anyone else.

Besides, see above about the “few bad apples.” Even if the way you practice religion is reasonably cool, there are still widespread, systematic practices of religion that aren’t so cool. And even if you don’t agree with them, they still count as religion.

“How can you be so hateful? You’re speaking out against hatred… and yet you’re so full of hate yourself.”
 

I’m not.

In the entirety of this book, I used the word “hate” exactly three times… and it’s all in one paragraph. It’s in the paragraph that reads, “I’m angry that children get taught by religion to hate and fear their bodies and their sexuality. And I’m especially angry that female children get taught by religion to hate and fear their femaleness, and that queer children get taught by religion to hate and fear their queerness.” In this entire book, the only time I use the word “hate” (other than quotations or citations of other people) is to speak out against it.

I never once, in this entire book, say that I hate anyone. I say that I’m angry. There’s an enormous difference.

“But the people who perpetrate religion’s harms are also being injured by it. How can you be angry at them? Where’s your compassion?”
 

Yes. This is true. And it’s one of the things that makes anger about religion complicated. The people who perpetrate religion’s horrors are, for the most part, also its victims. And vice versa. The people who traumatize their young children with vivid and horrific images of Hell were, themselves, traumatized by those horrors. The religious leaders who fill their flocks with close-minded ignorance and hateful bigotry were, themselves, taught that ignorance and bigotry are divine virtues, treasured by God. The people who are warping the sexuality of their kids and teenagers, filling them with guilt and shame over normal healthy feelings, were, themselves, warped in this same way.

This doesn’t make me less passionate about my atheist activism. It makes me more passionate.

When I see religion as a continually self-perpetuating chain of victimization and perpetration, it makes me both angrier and more compassionate. It makes me feel more compassion for religious people — and more anger about religion. And it inspires me to work even harder to create a world without religion. It inspires me to make my arguments against religion stronger… so more people will be persuaded out of it. It inspires me to make the atheist community healthier… so more people will feel safe and welcome in it. It inspires me to make atheism more visible… so more people will see it as an option. It inspires me to make atheism persuasive, and inviting, and impossible to ignore… so more people will reconsider their religion, earlier in their lives, when there’s a better chance for the cycle to be broken.

“People need religion. It’s not going anywhere. You’re wishing for something that’s never, ever going to happen.”
 

I suppose that’s possible. I don’t think we have any way of knowing that yet. Godlessness has only fairly recently become an acceptable option in human society — and in much of the world, it still isn’t.

But we do have one experimental Petri dish… and it shows this argument to be hogwash. I offer as a counter example: Europe.

Many European nations are now more than half atheist /agnostic. In some cases, significantly more. And those nations are doing fine. Much better than countries with a high number of believers, in fact. According to
Society without God: What the Least Religious Nations Can Tell Us About Contentment
by Phil Zuckerman, countries with high rates of atheism tend to be the happiest and highest- functioning countries we have. Their residents score at the very top of the “happiness index,” and their societies boast some of the lowest rates of violent crime in the world, some of the lowest levels of corruption, excellent educational systems, strong economies, well-supported arts, free health care, egalitarian social policies, and more.

And while I think the cause and effect works in the other direction — greater social health leads to more godlessness, not the other way around — the fact that there are flourishing countries with a godless majority puts the kibosh on the whole “religion is a basic human need” theory. These countries aren’t perfect, they have their problems; but no more than we do in the U.S., and in many ways a lot less. It’s pretty clear that, once basic human needs for food/ shelter/ health care/ education/ social justice are fairly well met, people lose their need for religion.

“Why do you care what other people believe? Why can’t you just live and let live?”
 

Did you read the last chapter?

That entire chapter is an explanation of why I care. Heck, this entire book is an explanation of why I care. I care because far too many believers aren’t living and letting live. I care because people act on their beliefs. I care because people’s beliefs lead them to do terrible harm to other people, and to themselves. I care because the whole “faith trumps evidence” aspect of religion makes it uniquely resistant to self-correction… and uniquely resistant to dissent.

Of course people are entitled to believe what they want. It’s a right guaranteed in the Constitution, and it’s a right that I treasure passionately. But nowhere in the Constitution does it say that the right to believe whatever you want means that nobody should ever argue with you or point out why they think you’re mistaken. Somehow, the very good concept of religious tolerance got turned into the very bad concept that nobody should say anything critical of any religion, ever.

Yes, people have a right to not vote for atheists. They also have a right to not vote for blacks or women or Jews. Does that make what they’re doing okay? Does that mean we shouldn’t try to change their minds? Does that mean we shouldn’t be angry about it?

“You’re trying to force your beliefs on me. You’re just as intolerant as the intolerant believers you’re criticizing.”
 

I’m forcing my beliefs on you… how? By speaking about them? By blogging about them? By writing a book about them?

Nowhere in this book, or anywhere in my writing, do I advocate preventing people from practicing their religious beliefs. I am a staunch, almost rabid supporter of the First Amendment… and that includes both the part about the government not establishing a religion,
and
the part about the government not prohibiting the free exercise thereof. In fact, many of my most gut-wrenching rages about religion are on behalf of religious believers, who face abuse and injustice and persecution at the hands of other believers with more clout.

Yes, I oppose things like public school teachers preaching in the classroom. But that’s because I
do
support religious freedom — and I therefore don’t want government promoting one religion over another. That’s something religious believers often forget: Separation of church and state doesn’t just work for atheists. It works for believers. Imagine that in your town, people of a radically different faith from yours started flocking in from around the country, and within a few months they were in the majority. Would you want their god prayed to at your city council meetings? Would you want their religion taught to your kids in the public schools? Would you want their holy texts posted in your courthouse? If not — then please shut the hell up about how keeping religion out of government is a horrible form of religious repression.

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