Just Atheists

by Brian J. Sabel

I don’t think it’s completely out of line to conjecture that a large proportion of the American population believes that “you atheists are all alike.” Frankly, I think we’re hard-wired to make these kinds of overgeneralizations. Ah, but only if it were that easy! If atheists were, in fact, “all alike,” we might see some semblance of consensus in the atheist community – something we seem to have far too little of. Herding cats, anyone?

In my estimation, atheists seem to split into two distinct, and frequently antagonistic, factions. In one corner we have what I will call the Joiners. These are the atheists who do not view themselves as any different than their religious counterparts except that they happen to believe in one fewer god. This group wants to exemplify their commonalities with their community members and seek consensus with persons of differing religious views. This group views a pervasively religious society as a fact of life in which to which the atheist must adapt.

In the other corner we have the Converters. These atheists see themselves as different from religious persons by virtue of the fact that they have thrown off the yoke of religion. They strive to boldly differentiate themselves from the religious and point out the inherent weaknesses in religious thought. They see a pervasively religious society as an illness to be cured by unseating religion in the minds of the masses.

These, of course, are convenient overgeneralizations and many atheists may fall somewhere in between these two descriptions. Further, I may have overlooked some important distinctions. However, my point is that two distinct schools of thought seem to motivate most atheists. What roles do these two perspectives play in the atheist community? Is there room for both? Why do the two find themselves so frequently at odds?

by Daren Jaques

The odds that life would spring from the primordial ooze is unfathomably low; the odds that humans would evolve from that simple life was even less likely; the odds that my individualized consciousness would form sinks the odds ever more deep into the realm of implausibility that words cannot give it the gravity needed. To some, this extreme implausibility denotes a creator. To me, it makes me the winner of a cosmic lottery.

My years as a sentient being are precious to me, and I plan to do my best with them. As I’ve said before, there are no do-overs, no way to wipe the slate clean. I must be as moral and good as I can to make the world a better place (even if in small ways). When I am gone, my energy and matter will still be a part of this bizarre and fantastic place in space, and the universe is just mysterious enough for me to look upon what little we know of it and say, “I know not what dreams may come when I have shuffled off this mortal coil, but this life itself and the wondrous mysteries of the cosmos make every second worth living to the fullest.”

One has no need of a magic kingdom in the sky to find meaning in life.

by Jaime Sabel

I recently posted about free will on my personal blog which is more of a place for me to post my random thoughts and cool things I come across throughout the day. But, I also thought it was an appropriate topic for a conversation here.

I believe that free will does not exist. That’s not to say that we don’t make decisions. But based on the appearance, at least, that we live in a cause and effect universe, I believe it follows that our actions are an effect of a particular cause. The lack of free will is not the same thing as predestiny, however. I’m not saying that all of our actions are planned out from the beginning, just that the actions we take are based on the information our brains have at that time. A recent article from ScienceNOW Daily News talks about a study done that shows from brain imaging that brain patterns showed a decision before the subject is conscious of the decision. You can read the article here.

by Brian J. Sabel

Generally I try not to be a complainer but this one really got to me:

Atheist activist Rob Sherman was testifying before the Illinois legislature regarding the issue of state funding for church building rehabilitation when Rep. Monique Davis (D - Chicago) tore into him for his atheism. Among other shocking comments, she said, “[I]t’s dangerous for our children to even know that your philosophy exists!” And later ordered, “Get out of that seat! You have no right to be here!” Fortunately, Mr. Sherman refused to yield. Listen for yourself here.

Sometimes I feel like I’m being dramatic when I mention the generally negative attitude the public has about atheists. But when a relatively high-profile politician can say these kinds of things without a firestorm of criticism and hardly a peep from the press I have to wonder if it’s even worse than I thought.

Special thanks to the Council for Secular Humanism for the lead.

by Daren Jaques

Theists frequently ask me, “why be a moral person if there is no punishment in the afterlife?” Well, there are lots of reasons. 1) I will not be as successful in life if others cannot trust me, and if all I ever do is look after myself, then people will not trust me. This applies to lying, stealing, and harming others generally. 2) I do not believe that I can be “absolved” of my wrongdoing through either a shaman’s magic (confession) nor through the ritual drinking of human/god blood (communion). That means I need to try and be as good and kind as possible every time I act because there are no do-overs.

I am troubled by the implication from some theists; they imply that if they stopped believing in a god, then they would become some kind of immoral and egocentric criminal. It is not the threat of eternal punishment that motivates me to do good deeds, it is for the mutual benefit of us all.

I find the latter to be a more positive outlook, for sure.

by Brian J. Sabel

No, not “Death to Atheists” - “Death as interpreted by an atheist,” silly!

Religious people frequently question me about death when they discover that I am an atheist. A common question is, “What happens when we die?” My frank answer is, “Nothing. We just cease existing.” The question presupposes the existence of a soul - a concept I reject. Instead I believe that what we know as a “soul” is actually an extremely complex network of natural inclinations and environmental influences. In short, this life is all we get.

Many faithful see this as a very bleak way to view our lives. Without the rewards of the afterlife, they say, our lives on earth have no value or meaning. They often view my rejection of a belief in an afterlife as a cynical and nihilistic view which robs humankind of our best qualities. They could not be more wrong. And, in fact, I feel that my view elevates the value of human life beyond the capacity of a religious view.

The finite nature of our lives compels me to believe that each life is unique, valuable, and irreplaceable. When a person dies she is gone and we will never get her back. The consequence of this belief is that I love the people around me very deeply because I recognize how precious they are and how fortunate I am to experience their lives - they could be gone from me so quickly.

To be sure, the idea that we will see our loved ones in the afterlife is comforting. But my belief in our temporariness is a constant reminder that I can never take my loved ones for granted in this life.

by Jaime Sabel

The Iowa City community has been hit pretty hard today by the news of the death of an entire family. The father of the family had been recently charged with embezzling money from a local bank where he had worked and, allegedly, killed his wife and four kids at home and then himself by crashing his van into a cement pillar on the interstate this morning.

I have been reading the news updates with sadness and have started thinking more and more about how people turn to religion to help explain tragedy. One of the articles written today talked about how the entire family was very involved in their church and had been to Easter services just yesterday. I fail to see how their church activities have anything to do with the events that happened today except that they are being used to explain how much of a disconnect people feel between this particular man, who they imply must have been a good person because he went to church, and the news of today.

Instead of taking the facts as they are and seriously considering what might have led this man to this terrible end, the media turns only to describing his character as they see it superficially through his religion rather than having a serious discussion about mental health. I wonder how things might be portrayed differently if the family had not been church-going. I wonder if religion would be left out of the discussion or if the person committing the crime would have been characterized in terms of his atheism. Would it make it easier for people to justify what they see as God’s inaction to save an innocent family if the family had not been religious? I am sad to say that I think it would make a difference in how the story would be told.

by Daren Jaques

I’ve been considering the idea that forced rape could be necessary to propagate the species, and while it is highly unlikely such a scenario would ever present, I thought of something else. This topic was discussed in THIS POST, particularly in the comments, but I would like to bring up a tangential point: Using the furtherance of the species as a justification for rape supposes that species survival is “good,” or at least what humans “ought to do.” Now, I can’t argue that species survival isn’t “better” than extinction (as a matter of my opinion since I am a human), but is it “good” ?

Example: I don’t think many people would argue with the position that it is “better” to have money enough to survive than to live in poverty. However, it does not follow from that that being wealthy is “good” and poor “bad.” Does it?

[Note - I’ve left myself wide open for criticism that I’m implying that “goodness” can exist outside of human consciousness… or have I ?].

by Brian J. Sabel

Okay, let me start by saying that I am not a parent and am probably not even remotely qualified to address this subject. I suspect I’m setting myself up for some severe criticism, but here goes!

If you know very many atheist parents you have probably heard at least one of them say something like this: “I don’t want to impose my beliefs on my child so I just don’t talk about it. My child can make her own conclusions.” I have generally found this position to be reasonable and even prudent until very recently. And this is where I go out on the limb:

You’ve probably heard the public service announcement which says something like, “If you don’t talk to your kids about drugs, someone else will,” at which point a thuggish looking man steps up and makes an offer. The thrust of the PSA is that parents who do not discuss the dangers of drugs and how to deal with offers of drugs fail to prepare their children to make good decisions about drugs. Can the same be said about religion? By avoiding the topic of religion do we cede that facet of their lives to the door-to-door evangelists of the future?

I do not mean to imply that we should teach our children to believe that religion is inherently evil and that atheism is the ultimate truth. Firstly, most of us don’t believe in such an overly-simplistic view of religion. Secondly, it would rob the child of the same nuanced critical thinking skills we were trying to teach her in the first place. But the reality is that a classmate may ask your child to join her at a church retreat. To what extent and in what ways do you prepare her to deal with the things she will hear there?

by Daren Jaques

I’ve given quite a bit of thought to what it means when someone says something is “wrong.” Suppose someone says to me, “it is just your opinion that murder is wrong, and someone else’s view is just as valid as yours because there is no truth in ethical questions.” I also happen to find lima beans to be very disagreeable. However, I do not hold the opinion that eating lima beans is “wrong.” Why doesn’t my opinion in that case lead me to declare eating lima beans as immoral? My hypothetical opponent may then counter with this, “well, the fact that so many other humans agree with you that murder is wrong has given you the illusion that it is objectively so, but chances are you know people who like lima beans.”

Actually, I don’t, but I can infer from their availability and persistence that someone, somewhere does indeed like them. So, is the only difference between these two questions merely how much agreement I share with my fellow humans? I think not.

You may remember awhile ago there was a man from Afghanistan who was slated for execution because he converted from Islam to Christianity (which is punishable by death under Afghan law). The West was outraged, but Islamic countries agreed that this kind of apostasy was indeed capital. For the sake of argument, let’s suppose that the world was divided roughly 50-50 on whether this man should be spared. Now what about the lima bean? We have a lot of disagreement on the moral question of killing this man, yet that hasn’t changed the certitude of those who want him dead. It would appear that consensus alone among humanity is not enough to determine morality.

Here is how I see the lima bean question: it is not really a moral question. Many questions can be couched as ethical or moral, but at their heart, are not really. These kind of questions can be distorted by culture, and can be become quasi ethics questions. Another example: is it really wrong to not keep the sabbath holy, in the same way it is wrong to steal? I do not think so. Some ethical questions really get to the gravamen of what it means to be a cooperative species and others do not. Those are the masquerading ethics questions. [Evolutionary psychologist Steven Pinker calls these types of moral assertions “disagreeable, unfashionable, or imprudent.”]

This to me, that is the biggest danger of cultural relativism. It gives credence to the idea that whatever your culture happens to believe is indeed right. Therefore, the idea that a muslim who becomes an atheist ought to be executed can’t be criticized as immoral. I think it certainly can, because that is a real morality question. Cultural relativism mixes up true ethics questions with bogus ethics questions.

In sum, the lima bean is not evil, but killing a human on poor justification is.