Atheism Has Orientations

In certain quarters of organized atheism—I must admit that even the much-heralded “New Atheism” of the last couple of decades is something I know little about—there is abroad the question of whether atheism is associated intrinsically with this or that activism, or at least with this or that approach to life.

My interest in atheism has been chiefly about how—or whether—atheism occupies similar space in human experience with religion (or perhaps I should say, with “theism.”)  I would say that the very process of comparing atheism with religion will shed light on the question of whether or not atheism is associated with activism.

Atheism, of course, will have to be defined if analyzing it is going to get anywhere.  I will presume that the flat-out notion of being certain of the non-existence of God (let’s face it, the standard monotheism language is the shorthand current in the argument) is a certainty that will collapse under its own weight—only a type of “religion-like” ideology will declare the non-existence of that which by definition is independent of the criteria by which we ascertain “existence.”

Neither, however, can we presume to analyze an “atheism” that is functionally indistinguishable from “agnosticism.”  The agnostic’s “I don’t know if God exists” cannot really be differentiated from a type of “atheistic” statement that might go: “There is no way we can ever know if God exists.”  In the latter case the speaker’s expression of the (agnostic) inability to believe is simply melded to the certainty I described above, a certainty about the non-existence of something simply because evidence is unavailable to us.  It is no more or less “religious” to declare that we can never know if God exists than it would be to declare that God cannot exist.

I would contend, however, that there are at least two manifestations of atheism that escape being tangled up necessarily in the above considerations.  One such manifestation would be a contention that believing in God and/or entertaining such modes of thought that might allow for believing in God would be a bad thing.  Such an “atheism” is unencumbered by a self-proclaimed conceit of intellectual perfection, being an “atheism” that presents itself as the lesser of two evils—unbelief preferred to belief.  Saying that believing in God is a bad thing, however, effectively concedes the argument I started with (whether or not atheism is intrinsically activist) and we will revisit “belief as bad thing” in a moment.

Another such manifestation of atheism that escapes “being tangled up necessarily in the above considerations” can be an atheism that is understood by, and in particularly-arising contexts described by, its holder as being simply a personal orientation.  A person can, presumably, simply believe that God does not exist.  Without a corresponding contention on the part of the (non)believer, however, that such a view should be held by others, such “atheism” is idiosyncratic and does not admit to analysis as a philosophical position—much less might it contribute (for good or ill) to the issue of whether atheism is necessarily activist.

An idiosyncratic theist might be comparable to an idiosyncratic atheist, save for one thing.  To believe in God is to entertain the notion that interaction between the believer and God—on some plane, in some form—is a necessarily-existing possibility.  To not believe in God, however, can be indistinguishable from avoiding the matter altogether.  We are reminded of this phenomenon often enough, when contentions (often striking in their absurdity and repugnance) are raised to the effect that simply going about with the business of secular government is effectively atheistic.

But what is to be made of the possibility that a person might simply rule out (or perhaps have always been without) the notion of God?  Does that person differ on the activist-nonactivist scale from a person who simply chooses to put aside considerations of religion?  Granted, in many applications a religious person might put aside particular faith considerations and behave in a thoroughly secular vein—but a “religious” person who never acted on his or her faith would be invisible to the “activist” issue (as well as vulnerable in many quarters to sectarian criticisms that we are privileged to ignore.)

Not believing something can be as much a nothing as not doing something.  And not thinking about something can be as much a nothing as not believing something.  Wrapped up in all the possibilities of the “nothings” we can make out of much of our lives is a universe of possibilities—among them ignoring the question of God, denying the existence of God, and believing in God and leaving it at that.  The believer, however, is “supposed” to do this or that, not to do nothing.  And as for the atheist?

For purposes of the argument I presented at the outset, activism is part and parcel of atheism—that is the only way that we can consider the matter intelligibly.  Whether by measure great or small, atheism appears in our communal sphere of time and space only insofar as its adherents and organizations move through time and space—coming from somewhere and going somewhere.  Of course, this same reality of “coming from somewhere and going somewhere” attends religion as well, and the grimmer aspects of people coming from their own personal backgrounds are well known to atheists, who have to contend (surprise, surprise) often enough with families and communities that—in defiance of raw statistical possibilities—have somehow nearly all fallen on the same metaphysical “truths.”

As I mentioned before (and promised to revisit) a possible manifestation of atheism would be a contention that believing in God and/or entertaining such modes of thought that might allow for believing in God would be a bad thing.  Such is the brand of atheism ripest for activism, for it sees itself on a mission.  It is also the brand of atheism most immune to particularistic philosophical heckling, since it is tied most closely not to the question of God’s existence, but rather to the question of the possible insidious nature of religious belief.  It is not alone in its portion of bile, and it is vigorously countered by a type of religiosity that sees the denial of good in the denial of God.

Neither is atheism distinct from religion when the question of the unsurprising origin of unseemly attendant beliefs is considered.  Atheism is often considered (in some conceits) to be the realm of the intellectually gifted; atheism is often considered to be the fruits of effort to overcome the limitations that hold down lesser persons; atheism is often considered to be the rightful province of historically Western liberal and rational thought-realms.  It is no wonder that the most striking aspect of organized activism arising in the New Atheism has been patriarchal libertarianism.

Atheism, like religion, is coming from somewhere, and it is going somewhere.  Or perhaps we might account for a degree of variation in each thought-school, and say that each is coming from a range of somewheres, and going to a range of somewheres.  The importance of the “activism” issue lies in our remembering that people do things (like accepting or rejecting thoughts) for reasons.  “Activism,” be it ever so humble, is intrinsic to belief (and unbelief), and the study of tendencies to activism is an invaluable counter-balance to one of the most truly insidious tendencies of thought-schools: the contention that this or that consideration of belief is beyond question because it is common to the “true” nature of human beings.