Just Atheists

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.

by Brian J. Sabel

Many people insist that atheism is not a religion. And in the traditional conception of religion (i.e., belief in and worship of a supreme being, for example) I agree. However, I feel that our current definition of religion implies a deference and confers a legitimacy to religion which unfairly works to exclude other viewpoints that serve the same functions as religion for many people. Specifically, of course, I refer to atheism.

In what way, if any, does atheism resemble religion? In order to get there I think we must call a spade a spade. Adherents to religion claim to know what is true when it comes to the supernatural. And most of society is content to let them make that claim. However, humans act within the confines of bounded rationality: we can only know so much and, therefore, we do the best we can with incomplete information. So why is it that when a religious person says, “I know there is a god,” we say, “Oh, okay.” But if an atheist says, “I have serious doubts there is a god,” it’s just her opinion.

Let me give you a rather ridiculous example. I wrote the first draft of this blog entry with a pen. I feel comfortable saying, “That is my pen,” and living my life accordingly. But it’s possible that, unbeknownst to me, someone swapped my pen for an identical pen. In that instance, I was writing with someone else’s pen. Further, it may not be a pen at all. Maybe it’s some kind of crazy alien transmitter thingy designed to appear and function like a pen to prevent detection.

Similarly, when people make religious assertions, they do so subject to their own bounded rationality. Some are unaware of the limitations of their bounded rationality. Others deny the effect of those bounds. But this does not change the reality that religious persons (like all of us) make decisions and assertions with incomplete information. It is no different than may alien transmitter pen. However, we are told that a belief in a supernatural being should be immune to rational criticism and it is labeled “religion.”

But is a disbelief in a supernatural being not very similar in nature? It is a position on the existence or nonexistence of a supreme being taken within the confines of bounded rationality. When approached from this angle, is there any reason atheism should be treated differently than a “mainstream” religion? I argue that to treat the two differently lends an undeserved legitimacy to the assertions of those who claim to be ruled by a supreme being.

by Jaime Sabel

Not too long ago, I participated in a cultural competency training. Wait, don’t roll your eyes, this one was actually good! It wasn’t about pointing out that racism (and sexism, etc.) exists and that we are all bad people because of it. Instead, the philosophy was that we are all on a path toward cultural competency and that some may have made it a little further along the journey, but we all always have more to learn. The activities really did get me thinking about how we perceive those around us and, one in particular, inspired this post.

All participants, about 25 in total, lined up on one side of the room. The leader read a characteristic or a short identifying statement that might define some of the participants. Those who identified with the statement were to walk a short distance across the room and face those who did not identify with the statement. No one could talk during the exercise, the two groups were to maintain eye contact, and the idea was to think about how we felt about standing in either opposing group.

As soon as I heard the rules, I was immediately and uncharacteristically anxious about having to walk across the room and tell a room full of strangers that I am an atheist. As I had no way of knowing whether or not that would actually be named identifier, I had to question myself on such a bizarre reaction. I consider myself to be a fairly outspoken atheist and certainly not afraid to talk about the things that I believe, or don’t believe in this case. In fact, earlier that same night I had had a conversation with another participant where I had volunteered that I am an atheist. And yet, I found myself shivering (to be fair, the room was cold) at the prospect of outing myself to this group. When the statement finally came, it was not exactly as I had anticipated: “Cross the room if you identify with a religion other than Christianity.” I don’t identify with a religion other than Christianity, but I also don’t identify with Christianity. So, largely because I had made such a big deal about it in my own head, I crossed the room. I found out later that at least one person chose not to cross the room because of the fact that he or she didn’t identify with any religion and so didn’t feel justified as I did. I don’t know how many others may have felt the same way. I do know that, in a group of about 25, two of us crossed the room.

Once I was there, it didn’t feel weird at all. I am an atheist and I am not ashamed to say so. Why had I been so worried and then had no problem crossing the room when the call came? I thought about this for a long time and finally decided that it is because I was worrying about identifying myself as part of a group that is typically distrusted and even despised to a group of mostly strangers. When I am able to talk to another individual or a small group, the typical case for me when speaking about my beliefs, I usually feel that I can also convince those people that I am a good person and hopefully make them reconsider their ideas that all atheists are nasty and just out to destroy religion. But, when I have to identify myself without being able to make a case for myself, I have no control whatsoever of what those people staring back at me might be thinking about me. And yet, when the group leader named the thing that I had feared, I certainly didn’t consider it an option to stand still.

I wonder how many times similar things happen to us in situations that are not as obvious as this one. How often do others simply assume we are Christians because we are nice people and do the right thing? I have certainly been in situations where someone has alluded to our “shared” Christianity and yet I have not been willing to derail the conversation in order to set them straight. If, on the other hand, someone would have asked me if I was a Christian, rather than assuming so, I would absolutely tell them I am not. Perhaps in order to make atheists look like the normal, good people that most of us are, we need to start being more outspoken about where we stand. Perhaps we need to cross the room and stare down the other side a little more often and not worry about whether or not they know us well enough to not judge us. The more people we talk to about our ethical, non-religious lives, the more people will realize that we don’t need a god to live a good life.

by Daren Jaques

I promised to answer the question of whether an objectively wrong action (such as murder) would still be wrong if the human race no longer existed - say it is the year 100,000 CE, and the human species, along with 97% of all other living species, are wiped out from a massive caldera eruption in North America. Mass extinctions of this scale appear in the fossil record approximately every 250 million years or so, and we’re about due statistically. [I believe the mass extinction of 65 million years ago that killed the dinosaurs was less than 50% extinction, but I digress]. There are no humans now living, so is “murder” objectively wrong? The short answer is “yes,” the long answer is very complicated.

The Long Answer: Because humans experience the flow of time in a specific direction, known as the “arrow of time” which flows from what we call the past to the future we conceive of things of having not existed yet (as in the children I have not yet fathered) and the things that no longer exist (such as Tyrannosaurus Rex) but perhaps this is a peculiarity of how we, as temporal humans, understand the universe. Bear with me; time is actually a dimension of the universe, and viewing everything through the way in which we experience time may be failure of imagination. For example, we know that other theoretical dimensions exist, and that it is theoretically possible for a physical four, or five dimensional cube (called a “hypercube”) to be observed in our three dimensional universe. We as three dimensional creatures have a tendency to see our perception of the physical as the “real” universe. However, we may simply be limited by our physical reality - the “real” universe appears to be far more complex with perhaps billions of symmetric and asymmetric dimensions.

Here is my point: the asymmetry of time’s arrow cannot change either what has or what will be. Thus, once it was objectively wrong to murder at any point along time’s arrow, that fact simply exists, regardless of whether it is being actively perceived by a creature at a particular point along the arrow. The same holds for what has not yet occurred to our senses. When pterodactyls ruled the skies, human murder was still wrong. The pterodactyl experienced our same arrow of time, and just because it was limited to experiencing time in the same asymmetric way doesn’t mean that occurrences along the arrow “later” aren’t just as real simply because the creature hasn’t yet experienced them.

This of course does not mean that the dino understands murder, or is bound by the human objectivity of it. As I’ve said, it is only objective in human cognition. Yet, the fact that it exists at all makes it exist, period.

by Daren Jaques 

I often hear the question, “how can you conceive of a just world without god?” Usually it is intended as a rhetorical question; the inquirer typically has no training in anything but dogma, and thinks this to be a stupifying question (I can think of another adjective for this question with the same root word, anyway). Responding to this question is not easy. It’s kind of like asking “what is the universe?” to a physicist. Likely, he wouldn’t know where to start. 

So, where do we start? First, I’d like to point out that I am an objective moralist, and a naturalist. That is, I believe that there are concrete “right” and “wrong” actions, and that we can explain how those rights and wrongs came to be purely through natural explanations (without resort to any kind of supernatural, or spiritual phenomena). I hope to gradually illuminate how I got to this mental place through this blog; though I will also tackle other ethics related questions. So you know, few atheist ethicists are also moral objectivists. Many embrace cultural relatavism (that your ethics and morals depend largely upon the cultural in which you were raised), or a form of utilitarianism (that which is good brings the most benefit to the most people). For reasons we will discuss at length on this blog, I reject cultural relativism outright, and reject much of utilitarianism.

Stated as simply as I can, I believe that humans are social animals. Social animals must cooperate in order to survive. Actions that impede social progress, trust, and survival are “wrong.” Things like rape, murder, and theft undermine our social order, and they are wrong no matter what culture you are from.  Thus, they are not a simple matter of opinion.

One of my problems with utilitarianism is that it fails to adequately explain human compassion. For example, whenever a person catches a contagious disease it actually benefits the most people to kill that person to stop the spread of germs instead of caring for that person. Humans do, however, make some utilitarian judgments, so it is not entirely devoid of merit as a way of viewing morality.

If you agree with me, I’d like to see your answer to this question: what if the human race is wiped out? Are the actions still right or wrong without a human population to which the actions relate? I’ll post my response in the next installment. If you disagree with me that right and wrong are objectifiable - by all means take it up in the comment section; I’d love to discuss with you.

“Fatally powerful as religious systems have been, human nature is stronger and wider than religious systems….” George Eliot

I reject religion as a yardstick to measure ideas. Doing so looks at the issues backwards – human behavior explains religion, not vice versa. However, for my first post I thought I should explain where I stand on religion so that I do not have to constantly address the relevance of religion on any given topic. To be sure, religion has been given a free pass on issues of ethics and morality. The assertions of the religious and the claim they stake on ethics and morality deserve vigorous challenge. However, to do so here would present a never-ending distraction from our primary objective – discussion of ethics from the perspective of an atheist.

So does religious thought play any role in the formation of human ethics? As a human invention, religious thought cannot guide us to an understanding of human behavior. In fact, religion actually hampers this understanding. At best religion is a cop-out which allows a person to rely on blind acceptance of religious teachings rather than truly scrutinizing her or his beliefs. At worst it is a distraction which complicates honest examination of ethics and morality by injecting overly-simplistic and inconsistent ideals into the process.

My goal is to look past the smoke screen which religion places between us and our understanding of the world to identify the real sources of human behavior. This has been done before by thinkers far more intelligent than I! However, I write not as a thinker but as an average Joe who is genuinely interested in these issues. I invite you to join me (and criticize me!) as I explore these issues and their effectiveness in giving meaning to our lives.