The God Delusion

I’ve just finished reading The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins. My word. What an incredible book! He is extremely readable, and his passion for science really shines through – as does his humanity and his deep and abiding respect for all life, everywhere.

I was an atheist long before I encountered Dawkins, but The God Delusion made me really think about why I’m an atheist, and what my beliefs really mean to me. I wonder, very much, how many religious people really think deeply about what their beliefs mean. To them, and to the wider world. This was brought home to me at the weekend when I attended a first holy communion for Joe’s nieces. Unlike, I suspect, a fair chunk of the congregation I was listening very carefully and thinking very carefully about what was being said.

(Let’s skip past the fact that the priest, lovely though I’m sure he was, had a voice calculated to crack me up. And I’m prone to inappropriate giggles anyway. I was just waiting for him to say, “He has a wife, you know…” Plus, he really reminded me of Uncle Monty from Withnail & I. Which obviously didn’t help.)

At various points in the proceedings, the congregation was described as “sheep” or “the flock”. This in itself was very telling: people are encouraged to simply go along with everything they’re told. They’re encouraged not to think – to be like sheep! This is, to me, unthinkable! There were so many contradictions I wouldn’t know where to start. And finally – and this made me feel a little sad on a human level – the level of participation was limited to the congregation droningly repeating the words of the priest. It didn’t feel, to me, like the words or the sentiments meant anything. I may be wrong; I probably am about this. But that was the feeling I got, and for some reason it saddened me a little.

I wanted to jump up and shout from the rafters that they should all THINK! Think for themselves, about what they’re doing there and why, and what it means for them. Not because I want to convert everyone to atheism (although that would be fantastic) but because I want people to think for themselves, to be curious about the world and the universe they inhabit. Again, I’m aware that this was an hour-long window into the lives of people who are (hopefully) not restricted to the inside of a church and the inside of the Bible, but still. This is what I felt at the time.

Dawkins also points out that religion is given special dispensation, a sort of automatic respect. We must all automatically respect religion, and religious beliefs, no matter how ludicrous, prejudiced or downright cruel. Why? Why is this? There is no reason for it, and no reason why it should be so. This is not the same as going out of one’s way to offend; but voicing an opinion contrary to that of a religious person is often perceived as being “disrespectful”. From now on, that’s their problem, I’m afraid. Not mine. My difference of opinion doesn’t constitute an attack on their beliefs.

As far as the existence of gods goes I, like Dawkins, am a de facto atheist. I’m not arrogant enough to say that I am 100 per cent certain; but my level of certainty is stable at around 99.9 per cent. If irrefutable evidence for the existence of a god or gods was presented, I would change my mind immediately. That is what being a scientist is about. And that is where I differ from the religious, and where I will never understand where they are coming from.

But the thing that really baffles me, that just stops me in my tracks, is not the fact that so many people unquestioningly accept nonsense that cannot possibly be true, it is the fact that there are not enough natural wonders in this universe of ours to keep people happy. They have to invent a god. Just go out on a clear night, to somewhere dark, and look up. Look at the majesty of the heavens, and wonder at where they came from. Where they really came from. And wonder at the fact of our being here and able to wonder at it!

Religion was the science of its time; it sought to explain natural phenomena in the only way that the people of the time knew. We know better now; isn’t it time that humanity grew up? I look forward to that day immensely.

The God Delusion looked at the evolutionary origins of religion. The fact that it persists today indicates that it must once have been evolutionarily useful, and one interesting theory is that it comes from children’s tendency to believe everything they are told by their parents and guardians. Telling a child that railway lines are dangerous and should be avoided may one day save their lives; similarly with fire: “it’s hot, don’t touch it.” You can see how belief systems grow and evolve.

It’s an enormous book, looking at many aspects of religion, religious evolution and the religious mind, and it’s fascinating. There is so much to say about it, and so much more to learn. I can only recommend that you go and read it. And then read some more, and some more and some more! Include the Bible in your reading list. It’s a bit of an eye-opener in terms of some truly nasty moralising (don’t ever let a religious person accuse you, if you’re an atheist, of therefore having no morals. Because I’m damn sure they don’t get their morals from the Bible, or any religion I know). It’s also a fabulous work of fiction, and some of it is downright beautiful and inspirational.

I’ll leave you with one of my favourite quotations. It’s from the Bible, from 2 Tim 1:7, and it’s a great message to carry with you. I’ve found it inspirational over the past few months.

I have not been given a spirit of fear, but of power, love and a sound mind.

I put my faith in red shoes and new knickers

I don’t want to get into an argument about religion versus atheism, but a conversation on Radio 2 this morning about Shirley MacLaine and the “Mayan faith” pushed a few buttons.

Now, I don’t know much about Shirley MacLaine, but a quick Google search brings up a whole host of hits guaranteed to make me dig my fingernails into my palms and roll my eyes up into the back of my head. And not in a good way.

Here are a few examples: “The Life Force of Sacred Sites”; “Encounter Board: For those interested in Mayan prophecies”; “Faith and Reason: Apologetic Methods”; and a link to her new book “Sage-ing While Age-ing”.

Let’s ignore the nasty title of that – doubtless – weighty tome, and focus on the fact that she has “firmly established herself as a fearless, iconoclastic thinker and seeker of truth”. A quick scan of her books’ summaries suggests that she wouldn’t know truth if it slapped her in the face. And the use of the word “iconoclastic” in the blurb is, at the very least, ill advised.

I don’t mean to pick on the poor woman, she clearly has issues and a large hole in her life that she’s attempting to fill with “spirituality” and possibly the mysterious cities of gold; it simply happens that her name was mentioned on Chris Evans’s breakfast show today and triggered a few thoughts.

The first of these thoughts was irritation at the strangely persistent idea that the world will end in December of this year (2012) because it was foreseen by the Mayan people. And the second was that there is no “Mayan faith” any more, and what we do know of that people’s faith is sketchy at best. This led me to ponder the nature of faith and religion as a whole.

Taking the first thought: a quick Google, again, flipped this site at me like a pancake in a frying pan. It’ll do for a start. But here’s something I stole from the internet that probably sums it up much more succinctly. Plus, there are lolz.

All this set me to thinking about religion and belief systems.

I am an atheist, and proud of being so. I am standing up and declaring my beliefs. I do not believe in a god, or gods, or in fact any kind of supernatural being.

Other people’s beliefs bother me not a jot, as long as they are not forced upon others or used to justify a raft of bad and/or unpleasant behaviour. It baffles me at times; but then I suspect that feeling is mutual.

However, what does bother me is the endless list of daft arguments, accusations and insults levelled by the religious at atheists; there are so many misconceptions, and we non-believers find it very difficult to have a sensible discussion about religion without being accused of being “disrespectful”. You see, it’s often okay to disagree with me and my non-belief in a supernatural being, but as soon as the tables are turned, we are “disrespecting” the believers. Ennit.

But here, in my domain of science and reason (or, you know, mostly science and reason) I would like to address some of the erroneous (and sometimes insulting) arguments levelled at we atheists.

No moral compass

The first point, and one that really grates my carrot, is the idea that as atheists we have no moral compass and no reason to behave well towards fellow human beings. There seems to be some idea that we need a god to tell us how to behave.

This idea actually frightens me. Am I really to accept that, without some kind of a divine being, humans would just rampage around the world destroying everything and everyone in their path? That without a fictitious entity handing down a code of laws from on high, believers would be unable to exercise any restraint over their behaviour? That does the religious no credit at all, and cheapens faith in the eyes of everyone.

Our behavioural codes have evolved throughout history. We’ve moved on from hitting women over the head with clubs and dragging them back to caves (well, most of us have). We no longer simply take what we want at the expense of others (again, most of us don’t). As humans began to live more closely together and develop societies, it became obvious that without a code of behaviour, the whole group would suffer.

There will always be bad apples. But I put forward the hypothesis that it matters not a jot whether they believe in a god or believe in nothing at all. There will, simply, always be bad apples.

Prove it

The second point, and this is next on my list of “things that annoy me”, is that as an atheist, I cannot prove the non-existence of a god or gods. No, I cannot. And there is a very good reason for this. It has nothing to do with not being able to prove a negative (absence of evidence is not evidence of absence), and everything to do with not putting forward a sensible hypothesis.

It is impossible to search “everywhere”, so if someone asserts that something exists somewhere, but doesn’t specify where, proving its existence or otherwise is going to be a little bit tricky. See Bertrand Russell’s silver teapot.

It is possible that there is a god-like entity somewhere in the Universe, but as we cannot search the entire Universe, it’s never going to be proven. But theists don’t mean that; they believe in a deity that is right here, right now. And so, the burden of proof lies there. Show me the evidence for your deity, the one that is right here, right now, all around you all the time.

It’s just a theory

Atheism is only a theory, too. Well, yes. I refer you to point number two. Evolution is only a theory (and that opens up a whole other can of nonsense with the creationists, so we’ll only touch on this briefly) but has behind it such a weight of evidence that it groans in the face of those who deny it.

Evidence to support the existence of an immortal, all-knowing and all-seeing supernatural being would need to be quite extraordinary, and I haven’t seen any yet. I’m not narrow minded: show me the evidence, and I will adjust my thinking accordingly.

“You might change your mind!”

Yes, I might. Atheists become believers all the time. And believers lose their faith all the time, too. A “miracle” might make me change my mind; so might bereavement. I can understand why wrenching loss could induce people to believe in some kind of an afterlife in which they are reunited with their loved ones, and if that brings comfort, then that could be a good thing – as long as it doesn’t replace the grieving and healing process.

I’m not set in stone. John Maynard Keynes said it best: “When the facts change, I change my mind. What do you do, sir?”

There are many more similar arguments, some of which are tiringly circular, and I have not the time or inclination to tackle them. Likewise, I’m sure my answers to the above are a veritable pair of fishnet stockings in terms of clarity and completeness, but hey! This is just a blog, not a submission to a scientific journal.

And I shouldn’t have to, but I will, clarify that this is not an attack on religion, or people of faith.

I just prefer to put my faith in human beings. Some of them are quite extraordinary, and deserve the credit of being responsible for their own actions. And some of them are close to evil (whatever that is), and should not be allowed to devolve responsibility for their behaviour.

Human beings, red shoes and new knickers. They are tangible, (mostly) reliable, and capable of putting a smile on my face.

The end of days

S104 is really picking up the pace now – I’ve just submitted iCMA 48, with 93%. So that’s good then. And I’m zig-zagging through TMA07, which is due in on September 1.

Actually, it’s going quite well. I still have trouble deciphering some of the question wording, and suspect that they are set by people for whom English is not their first language, but you can’t have everything.

Sometimes, things just snap into place. You need to worry about them for a day or so, fret that actually, you’re rather stupid and you’ll never get this, and then it happens. A golden moment, a small firework in your mind, and there it is: enlightenment and understanding.

Question 2 (c)(i), I have the measure of you. I challenge you to a duel; pick your pistol. I’m confident, knowledgeable, and I shall have my satisfaction, sir.

I’ve very much enjoyed Book 7 – Quarks to Quasars. I’ve struggled a little with the specifics, such as energy levels, and the subtle effects electrons have on one another, not to mention the strength of the various interactions. But the concepts, the wider questions that border on the philosophical as well as the scientific – those, I love.

The feeling of stretching your mind so wide open that you feel it’s entirely possible there may be a permanent split is a heady rush. Have you ever stood on the edge of a cliff, or a very tall building, and had that momentary – just a split second – urge to throw yourself into the void? It’s a little like that.

The Universe started as a very dense, very hot mass of energy, then exploded and expanded. But how? Where did the energy come from? Was it always there, or did it just pop into existence? Lawrence Krauss maintains that yes, it came from nothing. I’m afraid I can’t accept that – which is why I shall keep reading, and watching, and learning.

And what about the “edges” of the Universe? What is it expanding into? Well, nothing that we can comprehend. The Universe has no edges, so to speak. It is everything. Or, it is everything in our comprehension. But that is not to say that there isn’t some”thing” out there beyond that, far beyond our comprehension, made of stuff that we could never know…

The more I learn about our Universe, the more fascinating I find it. I worried that I would lose the meaning of life if I was truly convinced of how insignificant we are – but, if anything, I have experienced the opposite.

Perhaps everyone has (or wants, or needs) to believe in something. I’m not sure. I don’t believe in a god, I know that now. This worried me for a time, as I see some of those I care for deeply, and their faith gives them strength and purpose. What would I have? I think my drive comes from a deep-seated desire to understand our Universe, to find out as much about it as I can. I believe it is within our grasp as a species, if we can manage not to destroy ourselves first. And what we find out may turn out to be completely unexpected.

And, I have faith in people. They are extraordinary.