Atheism: What's It Good For?

   Those who call themselves religious unbelievers, some statistics claim, are increasing in a world that, at first glance, would seem to be more and more religious. Even the new president of the United States, a staunch believer himself, recognized the legitimacy of "unbelievers" as loyal Americans (wow!) (He did hesitate slightly in his delivery, however, before uttering the word -- "unbelievers"). In truth, the increase in the numbers of "unbelievers" is probably not furthered by anti-religious "atheist" zealotry so much as by a large number of unbelievers holding a common sense disbelief in religious claims or by the fact that those same unbelievers have remained untouched by a religious experience that in its mystery might over-ride common sense denials.

   Yet the "spokespersons" (for want of a better word) of "unbelief" have almost exclusively been "atheists." For some time now, I have refused to be called an "atheist" or, for that matter, an "unbeliever," "heathen," or "pagan," despite the fact that I am convinced that there is no god, and that the universe is largely (although probably not exclusively) a material one. People like me, who attempt to call themselves "humanists," largely fail in promoting themselves in a positive way, and "humanism" has largely become a euphemism for rationalism and "atheism," or at least humanism has been co-opted by atheist proponents and groups.

   So, because I would like to deny "atheism" and "atheist" as the appropriate labels for my sentiments, I must first deal with these terms as the terms of choice for both religious advocates and religion deniers. While the dictionary defines "unbeliever" as a more negative term than "atheist," I think almost everyone today would argue that "atheist" is a word freighted with more implications of stridency. Throughout the 19th century, it was a pejorative word. In more recent times, "atheist" has been equated with an active campaign of rationalism and materialism. In very recent times, an "atheist" is, with some justification, assumed to be someone who campaigns vigorously against theism and religion in general; someone who may be condescending in their scorn of religion (Dawkins), or at least look forward to a day in which their rationalist arguments will push religion into obscurity (various free thinker societies). "Atheism" as it is currently practiced in some quarters is not quite the Inquisition stood on its head, but it certainly contains elements of self-righteousness that would not be unfamiliar to John Calvin.

     If I claim to believe essentially what "atheists" believe, what is my objection? My objection is to the narrowly bitter cultural view that much of atheism promotes:  1. religious belief is based on superstition and blind faith. 2. religious belief ignores rational arguments and is anti-intellectual. 3. religion as a whole equals bigotry and intolerance. 4. religion looks backward toward tradition and therefore ignorance, while atheism is modern and looks toward the future. All of this, it should be noted, was argued as early as the eighteenth century. Not all atheists would subscribe to all of these representations, but most would have to agree with the tone. As I have said elsewhere, atheism is angry -- angry at those who ignore common sense; angry at the wars and misery religions and religious beliefs have caused. But, above all, atheists refuse to move on from their initial premise -- that there is no god and that most religion is ridiculous. Most atheists refuse to look at religion as the cultural consequence of human nature, of human experience over the millennia. Most atheists today, it seems to me, refuse to move on from their disbelief, even move on to pick through the rubble of religion to sort out the very best of love, redemption, brother/sisterhood, and morality that religion either authored or refined.

    All of this is preamble, really, to why I am bothering to write this essay at all. A recent news item (whether accurate or not may be beside the point) has claimed that the Toronto Free Thought Association has planned the production of signs declaring:  "There probably is no God. Now stop worrying and enjoy life." The two sentences are worth deconstruction. In trying to counter the view that atheism was "gloomy and angry," this group over-reached. Their first sentence suggests that whether there is a God or not is to be taken lightly and is of little consequence. Here they are being too disingenuous by half. The second sentence suggests that our worries originate with religious belief, or at least the belief in an all-powerful god. Successful removal of a "god-out-there" has absolutely nothing to do with the end of worrying or the end of humankind's worries -- quite the contrary. Their precept -- to "enjoy life" -- may be laudable as one of several human goals but all too many critics of atheism think that is just why atheism is dangerous -- because it is about unchecked hedonism; getting what you want now, and to hell with anyone else. So, even the re-assuringly friendly intent of this free thought slogan fails in many ways.

     For years, non-religious friends of mine and I have contended that the logical consequences of atheism are these: 1. Because there is no "god-out-there," we are even more dependent on our own intentions and good work. 2. Because there is no god to administer justice, mercy, and forgiveness, we had better pay continual attention to our own lives and societies, so that we, as imperfect human beings, can further both justice and mercy insofar, and as often, as we can. 3. With no authoritative god, we must draw from the best of human experience to be our guide, and that experience comes from many quarters, including the tenets and practices of various religions. 4. Because there is no after-life, we must make the most of this one. We must live in the moment. We must respect the integrity of our lives, and the lives of others. We must enjoy life, but in ways that will aid the enjoyment of others, and of generations to come.

     If all of these legitimate consequences of what is inelegantly called "atheism" appears to look a lot like a porridge made of the best aspects of all of the world's religions, well, in many ways it is. Hey, Rober Ebert has one helluva lot more fun in dealing with one small, small aspect of this stuff in his latest blog (Jan. 28) entitled: "In the Sweet Bye and Bye." If you read this, treat yourself to dessert -- read his.

Historical Moments v. You're History

         The recent inauguration ceremony of Barack Obama has encouraged many pundits, waxing romantic in the warm glow of the moment, to declare that "this-or-that" aspect of this event constitutes an "historic moment." I have heard more than one commentator declare that, "this moment will be studied by historians for many years to come." Television networks, never given much to tradition or history in any other respect, eagerly seek out and listen to "presidential historians" (a type of historian I had never heard of until Michael Beschloss and PBS so anointed him to that position; the breed seems to be multiplying, however). Now every self-respecting pundit panel has a presidential historian to offer comparisons of yester-year with today, each trying to outdo the other in re-telling amusing anecdotes about Andrew Johnson's drunkenness or William Henry Harrison's short one-month presidency.

At the other end of the spectrum, and generally in that long, long pause between the brief stirring moments of eventful history, in which no saleable public celebrations are swelling the coffers of corporate media, "history" is employed to mean something different. It is used as a synonym for the words "unimportant, insignificant, irrelevant, gone and forgotten or at least something or someone worthy of being forgotten." "You are history" is as bad as it gets in terms of being labelled. Sports announcers love it. With one team losing beyond reprieve, "they're history" is the favorite chant of sports analysts and fan alike. A colleague of mine and I used to watch TV baseball games together and roar with laughter every time "they're history" or "its only academic" was used to sluff-off the irrelevant, forgotten, or the end. Of course, popular culture cares little for reflection but a lot for "attitude," so "they're/you're history" provides the occasion to "dis" whatever and whomever is at hand that needs quick dismissal.

     [Other disciplines have similar problems, I guess, or at least that's "my personal philosophy." Certainly everyone from linguists to anthropologists to mathematicians and physicists suffer from being misunderstood in some grand way. So, this reflection on history is not special in some respects. But someone else must speak for them.]

So, what's it to be:  meaningless void or a dusty album of precious keepsakes. Neither really. Even the puerile pundits and the prince[sses] of pop culture know they are not talking about "real" history. Yet you could ask ten people on the street or in the ivory tower what history really is, and you'd get ten answers. Few seem to know or care to speculate on the "uses of history" (as it used to be put when historians and others pondered the value of history -- not a large business these days). A few years ago I had a science colleague come to me worrying over a speech he had to give to a large academic convention. In writing his talk, he had apparently painted himself into a corner where he had to justify history as a useful handmaiden to knowledge. And, quite frankly, he couldn't think of a single useful thing regarding knowledge of the past (if I came to any of my science colleagues and asked them if there was any use to science, I think I would be considered "committable"). I told him that history establishes the contexts of the present, and it serves (for his case) a useful caution against forging ahead in policies and programs before considering the human past in relationship to the cause. He was pleased that history might perform the task of dull theatre back-drop and under-appreciated security guard. I really didn't have the heart (nor the energy) to go on further with him.

     Frankly, most of my academic friends think this:  history provides facts and descriptive material that can be used by better minds than those possessed by historians to analyze society, politics, government, and culture. There is great confusion among them in defining the differences between archivists/librarians and historians. Aren't they the same? Aren't they all engaged in some antiquarian exercise, operating on the hope that some of the scraps they assemble will have useful meaning in the future? The other problem comes with "historical method." I once was asked a question regarding the methods of history (tossed out by the president of our university no less -- a scientist), and I flubbed around before seizing on some insane answer (the trauma was too great -- I forget what I said).

     Lately, I just say to everyone -- "There is no legitimate discipline called history." On the one hand, it is completely capacious and inclusive, it is everything except the fleeting moment and our reckless imaginations about the future. On the other, it is a discipline without topic or focus. Is it about government and politics (it was thought to be until fifty years ago)? Is it about society and culture, and if so, how is it different from sociology or anthropology? It has no methodologies, other than the ones borrowed or shared with other "disciplines." It might be rigorously scientific; it might be as intuitive as poetry. Now all I care about is a good question, one relevant to the present and foreseeable future, one that can be informed by the past, and how skillfully and convincingly an historian fields that question.  And, as for method, well, all historians, whether they admit it or not, damned well scramble to put together each and every method at their disposal, hoping that that rare commodity -- common sense -- will be their general guide.

The Inauguration: Washington, Jackson and Obama: Men of Myth

    Barack Obama's inauguration will be just the third of its type in American History. By "type" I mean the inauguration of a person who has become an American political myth BEFORE becoming president of the United States.  The other two who could proclaim mythical status before holding office were George Washington and Andrew Jackson. All three share some things in common. All three had worked hard to make themselves into "myths" (although they may not have favored that word) before assuming office. Washington had spent his whole life making himself into the solid "father" of his country, avoiding any actions that would suggest he was uncertain about anything or that he was weak and vulnerable like most mortals. Jackson relished his fame as both an Indian fighter and as hero of the Battle of New Orleans in the War of 1812. He made no attempts to correct exaggerated reports about his bravery and democratic principles. Barack Obama made himself a myth by writing two books -- "Dreams from my Father" and "The Audacity of Hope" -- and by discussing race when necessary while simultaneously rejecting the role of being merely a racial candidate.

   All three were feted by their nation. Washington took an eight-day journey from Mount Vernon to New York City (the first capital) in the spring of 1789 that was nothing less than a coronation processional. Celebrated at every town through which he passed, Washingtion was received by thousands of admirers at New York harbor upon his arrival, and was the object of an emotional inauguration, at the end of which Robert R. Livingston turned to the crowd and proclaimed: "Long live George Washington, President of the United States." Mobs of Andrew Jackson supporters overwhelmed Washington, D. C., in 1833, drinking and reveling in their triumph, leading the famous newspaper editor Amos Kendall to sum it up: "It was a proud day for the people. General Jackson is their own president." Obama's inauguration has already been even more broadly attended and celebrated.

   George Washington was embraced because voters believed he would bring stability and order to a fledgling government and nation. Citizens waxed enthusiastic over Andrew Jackson because he embodied the bold spirit of nineteenth-century individual heroism (a spirit sparked by Napoleon), and more importantly because he was seen as the embodiment of democracy. Barack Obama is embraced for both of these reasons:  stability/order and democracy. Unlike the other two, Obama also carries with him, for the nation, a spirit of "hope" that has not often infected American politics.

   In some ways, therefore, Barack Obama emerges as the greatest mythic figure to enter the White House. We can only hope that the people of the United States can live up to the myth that they (and he) have created. For his part, it seems likely he will deliver the best he can, which will be something far short of all that is hoped for; for our part, if we deliver even a little of the involvement and engagement he and others have called for, American democracy and society can be transformed for the better.

Creationism v. Evolution: Hope, Meaning, and Truth

   Why do the contentious words over creationism (or whatever current noun is chosen to represent those ideas) and evolution never go away? Why, since the 1920s (at least), have we had an angry war between both sides, even though Darwinian evolution and Christian Higher Criticism lived a comfortable co-existence through the 19th century? Why isn't one side declared the victor? or both sides seen as having something to say? or both sides seen as having nothing to say?

  I think the answers to these questions lies in what is NOT said by, or about, either camp. The answer does not have to do with the truth of science and the falsity of religion, although both of these claims can be made in most cases in my view. My position is clear:  1) the "truthfulness" of the claims of evolution are born out every time evolution is tested; 2) the specific claims of fact by creationists are almost always false, or at least deceptive and incomplete.  So, why is the discussion on-going, persistent, seemingly ubiquitous. Let me deal with each side, and how each side is perceived by the other side.

  First, let's take the side of evolution, which I am certain is accurate insofar as it has been developed and tested. This is a theory but not, as too many say, "only a theory." A theory is an idea tested and found accurate insofar as it can be made accurate by known facts. The facts about evolution are "true." But scientists, and others, assure us that all they want to do is to explain the known universe -- from its smallest particles to its cosmic dimensions, from how the smallest elements in the universe work, to how the universe has unfolded and is unfolding. There is a disingenuousness in this, despite the fact that popular science and popular culture likes to believe there is a quest for pure knowledge.

   The fact is that the "truthfulness" of science leading to an understanding of a knowable universe is only a romantic, perhaps just mythic, part of the scientific enterprise. Pure science -- just finding out how things work -- is a noble ideal held by many scientists (including my son) but none of them would be funded for any of this if there were not others who would willingly exploit scientific discovery for practical purposes.

   Let's take neuroscience as an example. Does anyone really believe that we fund neuroscience just to find out how the brain works?? Does anyone really believe that once we find relevant particulars about brain function that we will not eagerly exploit that knowledge for practical, applied purposes? Do any neuroscientists today believe that they are not a part of a large project to "correct" brain function when necessary. Who, even among an ignorant public, would deny science and those who apply scientific discoveries, the right to stop Parkinson's disease, or MS, or Altzheimer's disease, or ---- and now the road gets slippery --- depression, mental retardation, anti-social behavior . . . .  You fill in the rest of the blanks, and what you will finally get is the re-formation of the human being, ultimately made smart, stable, less varied, and, well, not quite so "human" anymore.

   As Hannah Arendt pointed out long ago in "The Human Condition," the "truthfulness" of science is NOT about meaning, it is about factual certitudes that are put to applied use -- in this case she was most interested in atomic weaponry. Oppenheimer was not an innocent bystander. Nor are scientists in most fields. They all know that their work will be applied to some human "problem." This does not mean that scientists are villains; it just means that scientists are part of a social body that is all too willing to use whatever technology or use that science offers.

   What is the point to all of this? The point is that the way we see science, and the way too many scientists present the issues, is too coy. Science is not just about discovery, it is about manipulation of nature, and manipulation of nature inevitably means changing the nature of nature. Above all, it means changing "MEANING" in a very large sense.  It is this that many religious advocates cannot abide -- that science will define "meaning" by its pro-action, not its discoveries, and perhaps even that science itself has become a religion of a sort.

   And, what of creationism? or creation by design (I saw an article in the local newspaper that literally re-hashed William Paley's watch-maker argument, an argument debunked even in his own day by Hume and others). What creationists (in their hearts) want to do is to claim that only in religion (usually only in THEIR religion), human beings will find "MEANING." Religion is about meaning, about our relationship to nature, to everything.

   But creationists, and many other advocates of religion, broadly over-reach. They want their cake and eat it too. Unsatisfied with accepting the "mystery" of God or of their beliefs, they want the meaning of their religion and facts about the natural world to be entirely true. Kingsley Amis wrote a prophetic little novel in the 1960s entitled, "I Want It Now," about a super-selfish young woman. She would be the prototype of modern hedonism. What we forget is that Creationists, even the most humble religious followers (outside of Islam and Buddhism), are part of what I define as the "I want it now; I want it all" culture. If others grew up with a sense of material entitlement, they all grew up with a sense of "religious entitlement." There is very little humility, Christian or otherwise, in the demand by some "believers" that the Bible is literally true or that their religion is the possessor of all truth. True religion is about a lot more mystery and uncertainty than these folks would have it.

   Science plays God with nature, and religion corrupts its best qualities by demanding to be the possessor of "truthfulness" that is patently not true in "fact." Science needs to stop pretending to be the innocent; it has not been for more than a century at least. Religion needs to stop pretending that it "knows" factual truth about nature; there was a day -- well, centuries ago now, or at least so it seems -- when it would have been heresy of the highest sort to pretend to know God's will. And, so, there is no end in sight to this sometimes circus-like debate, no matter how "smart" people get, or probably how truly pious and pacific religion becomes.

Update - January 17, 2009:

   In some ways, the essay above has a conclusion that needs re-stating in a somewhat different way. My stance is that both religion and science have failed in their humanism to some degree. While it seems to me that science is completely correct regarding the facts of evolution and the weakness of the creation by design argument, some scientists are using this truth as a campaign against theism and even religion as a whole. This atheism has been a little heavy-handed, suggesting that religious believers are ignoramuses, and ignoring the historical development and evolution of religious belief and practice to suggest the hyper-revolutionary idea that several millennia of human religious behavior should and can be obliterated. This angry atheism ignores religion as a critical, if not necessary, part of human history and society. It is very hard to anticipate a future in which religion -- which is, after all, a human way of dealing with matters of love, brother/sisterhood, redemption, and many other qualities necessary to living life well -- will not exist in some form or other and even thrive.

   For its part, religion has become unpleasantly defiant and angry in its own right. Most of the tenets of religion -- piety, forgiveness, love, acceptance -- have been utterly lost in the battle over evolution and its fall-out. More than that, advocates of creationism make preposterous arguments -- arguments that only demean human intelligence and human promise. They belittle hundreds of years of science and the accumulation of knowledge, casting aside human historical developments as readily as the most radical atheists.

  In short, both sides remove themselves from the civilization, culture, society, and standards of humanity that they should nuture in order to posit arguments of pure truth. Both sides need to exercise a little more humility.

Charity and Gratitude

With the holidays just ended, most of us have probably given to a charity or two. CARE, Doctors Without Borders, the Stephen Lewis Fund, the local food banks, etc., are popular here, and we all feel a warm satisfaction in giving to these charities.  There are no strings attached, and even something like the Christian Children's Fund, which makes gifts personal and individual, does not expose us to people face-to-face.  Everyone is grateful -- the givers and the receivers.

But then there is charity at home, in our community, face-to-face. The tone changes. The hungry person on the street is not altogether happy with the meal you have bought for him -- that should have been pastrami not corned beef. June and I deliver for "Meals on Wheels" once a week. The vast majority of recipients are gracious and engaging and pleased to have the service and someone to talk to for a few minutes. But even among the gracious, you begin to see qualifiers. "Phone before you deliver the meal" because the recipient always keeps her doors locked. "When you arrive (after calling ahead on your cell phone), deliver the meal to the side door. Ring the bell. Take off your shoes. Cut the meat. Get a spoon." Do not talk to me, I am busy watching my TV show. "Do not allow the bird to escape. It is allowed to fly free in our house." Or, no face-to-face, "enter through the side gate, ring the bell, enter the foyer, put the meal on the table beside the door"; one almost expects to read the following instructions: "back away slowly, do not look up, run for the car."

What is going on, don't they realize we are doing this as volunteers??? Well, yes, they do. And, "damn it, I wish I didn't need this service." Or, "my daughter, my son has made me take these meals, to be invaded in my own home by a different stranger every day." Charity is a hard thing to receive -- we used to say in a "prosperous society." But it isn't the level of prosperity one has, or one had. It is the culture of autonomy, agency, self-reliance that is threatened in taking these meals, or that handout, and "damn it, I resent the fact I have to be helped at all." So, while it appears the MOW volunteer has the upper hand, the condescending ability to give charity to someone they see, "I can take charge myself, put up rules, make that deliverer remove their shoes, put myself back into the seat of power."

It is hard to expect manners, politeness, above all gratitude, from people who feel they have lost too much in the bargain. But when the gift is from a remote source, even one you may know by name and face, and when it is desperately needed, or life changing in need, the gratitude is palpable and real. So, "charity may begin at home," but it is hard to give at home. As a friend of mine once said about raising one's own children, the experience is the very definition of "unrequited love"; in fact, it is worst than that for most, probably. The other fact about charity at home is that society collectively should be doing something about the need, not some local agency of charity, and we all know that (e.g., we should not need soup kitchens and homeless shelters).  This makes local charity even harder to justify and maintain; it also makes the recipients rightfully disturbed at being placed in the position they find themselves.

Uh, and what does this have to do with "history matters more." Almost everything. It has to do with how we decide to care for the folks in our own society, and how that has been ignored in the past.

The Economic Crisis: CEO Effigies and Continuing Anomie

   Our public and private reactions to the economic crisis have been almost as interesting as the economic issues themselves. It now appears clear that the primary psychological reaction to the crisis is anger at the bloated incomes of leading CEO's, especially of those CEO's who head companies that have, or will have, received bailout money. One almost imagines the effigies of bank presidents being dragged through the streets while onlookers beat them with brooms and little boys set them alight with their father's lighters.  Who cannot but wish that these unrepentant men (and, yes, they all seem to be men, which adds another layer of spite to the issue) would be disgraced, made pariahs, thrown out by angry stockholders, reduced to poverty, and perhaps even prosecuted under some unknown laws for bad morals and worse behavior.

   But, alas, we are even less knowledgeable about who these villains are specifically than were angry onlookers in the Great Depression of the 1930s. Then, at least, there were only a handful of these men, and many of them were prosecuted in trials that kept a large, impoverished public entertained. Today, these are more anonymous figures, scattered among hundreds of companies. And, of course, most of today's over-payed CEOs have operated within the law. The most we can hope in our modern culture is that Michael Moore will make a movie about them, and that Larry King will live long enough to replay Moore's contempt for them again and again.

   The fact is that we live in a popular culture today that still clings to the pretense -- at some out-of-date, traditional morals level -- that public exposure equals permanent disgrace and humiliation, when everyone should know that all it means is increased celebrity for the offender. In fact, the tabloid, popular magazine ethos (and this includes Newsweek, Time, etc.) will love the fodder that the anti-CEO movement will provide. We all know that each story, each chapter, each saga will play out like the narrative of Brittany Spears sad life -- bad behavior followed by a confession of sins, followed by a six-day rehab in the Bahamas, followed by redemption.  And, hey, if this sorry and frayed pop culture narrative fails, CEOs feeling the heat can just build a mansion somewhere in the Caribbean or South America and never have to listen to anything other than ocean waves and the groveling entreaties of their villa's servants.

   Hating CEOs, or waiting for their repentance, is a feeble way to spend our time. If we want to get at them, we can legislate tight standards of pay and remuneration for any persons heading publicly traded companies and banks.  We can demand restitution of the Securities and Exchange Act of the Depression (and the closing of loopholes in its administration). Better yet, we can work at those things that will improve the wages and benefits of working people, especially in regard to union organization and power (as was done in the Great Depression). We can demand health care reform and the return to fixed benefit pensions, instead of the insane, Las Vegas style 401k plan method (e.g., improve Social Security, which, by the way was enacted in 1935). We can demand a greater democratization of our political culture, which also occurred in the Great Depression.

   The only thing that will unfold like it did in the Depression is the anticipation that things will soon get better.  There were upswings of confidence in 1930, 1934, and 1938, all of which were swiftly brushed aside with an even worse, even deeper, economic crisis. We are already looking forward to a rebound in 2010 (and, maybe that will even happen; more likely we'll be disappointed, and predict a future date for the sun to shine).

   What will not happen is the mythic rising of ordinary people as was depicted in John Ford's "The Grapes of Wrath." Even that film alludes to how neighbor did not help neighbor, and how community failed. If anything, the Great Depression resulted in even more private lives. More people bought radios which they could huddle around in the privacy of their homes and more money was spent on gasoline than one would have thought, in order to escape the realities of one's existence (including the neighbors) for a brief ride in the country and more people spent money to see escapist movies. (One of the ironies of our current crisis, as I see it, is that television prices have plummeted, when in fact, more people will be buying new ones as a means to escape the realities of today's crisis; well, I never did understand supply and demand, I guess).

  If anything, we live in a culture even more defined by anomie than in the 1930s. Karl Marx's ideas about alienation seem meager in relationship to the stark loneliness we have produced in modern prosperous times. Harder times will not change habits of privacy deeply ingrained over several generations of North Americans. I am not likely to act in concert with neighbors who I do not even know (despite my efforts to know them), and who are not likely to say "hello" or even look me in the eye as I pass their porch. If we are to create community, or accomplish collective action, it is only going to occur over the internet, through blogs, podcasts, political action groups. Why? Because the internet preserves relative anonymity while providing enormous potential for democratic power. My oldest son pressed this vision of the internet on me many years ago, when it first emerged, and I am now a believer in the significance of the internet as our first and best source for community and democracy. If we want to preserve community, we have to preserve the open channels of the internet. If we do not use the internet wisely as a tool for democratic solutions to our current capitalist "crisis" (and, by the way, Marx rightly pointed out that capitalism loves to use "crises" to defeat its opponents and reformers), we might well discover how anomie adds up to despair more than freedom.