There are a lot of atheists who can’t stand outspoken atheists. They cringe at what they see as replications of the ugliest of theists’ traits. They often think that outspoken atheists are fascistic fundamentalists, pushy proselytizers, bullying bigots, thin-skinned whiners, shallowly scientistic, intolerantly overconfident about the non-existence of God, hypocrites, and/or willfully ignorant, smug, blowhard know-it-alls whose simplistic criticisms of religion show no understanding of the complexities of history, culture, psychology, literature, art, anthropology, sociology, or contemporary geopolitical and socioeconomic forces.
As an outspoken atheist myself, I have defended us and criticized anti-atheist atheists extensively. But I also take seriously whatever grains of truth in their complaints that I can find. And between learning from them and thinking for myself about what I see from my fellow atheists, I develop a number of arguments about how we should improve what we say, do, and value as a movement.
To my disappointment, I encounter atheists who get one degree or another of pissed off when I either criticize atheists or say anything positive at all about religions. For a while I found this startling since I naturally assumed that a community that vocally called for critical thinking would enjoy critical examinations of how it could do better, or at least that it would welcome such criticism coming from someone so obviously and deeply sympathetic to all its core beliefs and value commitments and, so, on its side in all important matters. So, to answer their balking, here is why I criticize strands of atheist beliefs, behaviors, values, and attitudes:
First off, I love truth more than I love my friends. Sometimes my fellow atheists and I are wrong, have bad habits, fall into intellectual errors either peculiar to us or common to people generally. I primarily spend my energy criticizing the behavior and thinking of theists and would feel like a hypocrite if I didn’t take those fewer chances to criticize my “own” side when they arose. If I’m spending post after post criticizing my opponents, it’s only fair that I acknowledge when and where we’re wrong too. That’s a nice antidote to self-righteousness. It’s also a way of keeping myself fair and of letting my theistic and religious readers know that I am willing to criticize atheists too. I’m not just looking for flaws in theism or religious people’s behavior out of some animus. I apply the same critical thinking skills equally and with minimized prejudice or malice.
Another vital reason to criticize other atheists’ mistakes is to signal that they do not represent my views or values in those cases. People form their judgments of groups by their members. It is important that either prominent or commonly occurring bad behaviors, attitudes, or beliefs within a community be vocally rejected by a noticeable majority of the members of that community (as well as by its leaders). It is up to members to define their group’s reputation with what they say and do, and with what they denounce, marginalize, and actively distance themselves from. Their enemies will not go out of their way to give them the benefit of the doubt. And to the extent that this incentivizes groups to police their own, that’s probably for the best. It’s not up to our enemies to assume the best of us. It’s up to us to demonstrate it.
Much more intrinsically importantly, I scrutinize atheists because I want to be a better thinker and a better person and so scrupulously analyzing myself, and those who think and behave like me, is an essential part of that process of self-improvement. And since my fellow atheists profess to share many of my core intellectual and moral values, I am all the more disappointed in them when they are in violation of those values. I don’t want them to be hypocrites with respect to those values since their failures make all atheists, including me, look bad and set back our cause. I care about the cause. I care that atheists argue as rationally as possible and don’t settle for sloppy thinking or become ethically lazy or self-righteously self-satisfied.
I also care that becoming an atheist actually does mean becoming a better thinker and person and not just retaining most of the poor habits on both fronts that we atheists see so clearly in theists. If becoming an atheist only is a matter of becoming right about a few more things but then as likely to be wrong about anything else (and wrong on special new topics that represent special new blindspots unique to atheists), then what are we really gaining intellectually by dispelling theistic illusions? If, ethically, becoming an atheist only means having the same moral and intellectual virtues and vices (or a different set of virtues and vices but basically the same number and/or degrees of virtues and the same number and/or degrees of vices) as theists do, well, again, what have we really gained on net?
I am in this game to see people, including myself, become conscientiously better people and thinkers, not just to see people become better at talking about how other people should be as right about everything as they uncritically perceive themselves to be. Some atheists really do seem to think being rational means agreeing with them in all matters great and small. Some atheists really do seem to have gotten into this movement to indulge in their feelings of superiority to those they pitilessly disparage as “stupid” or wicked. They give little impression they are interested in the kinds of ongoing introspection and self-suspicion that are invaluable to personal growth. They are just in this to throw rocks at the “retards”. I have no sympathies with such people and am ashamed that they’re associated with me.
I also find it boring to spend all my time thinking about how I am already right. I like actively seeking out how I might be wrong. When I read people I disagree with, I don’t waste my time contemptuously dismissing their every word as risible deluded foolishness and wickedness. I look as hard as I can for some grain of truth in there. I try to really think of whether their arguments might have some merit I need to engage with. I have come to much richer perspectives by sometimes taking positions opposite to mine that I have never encountered a good argument for and simply figuring out one for myself. And when I read my ostensive allies, I adopt the perspectives of our opponents and I see how the arguments hold up against that viewpoint. I rarely read anything holding either pompoms or a pitchfork. I read most things with at least two opposing perspectives waging war inside me. And that’s how I keep learning and growing. And that’s what this is about for me.
And so my blog is not about simply indulging reactive atheist rage, patting my fellow atheists on the back, or doing a true-believing, self-satisfied form of activism. Don’t get me wrong–I am passionate about supporting alienated and hurting atheists intellectually, emotionally, and socially. I love atheists and care a lot about religious abuses and their effects on atheists. In particular I identify with and feel deeply for my fellow apostates. I feel a special bond with anyone who has conscientiously and painfully wrenched themselves from religious beliefs and attachments that had been the center of their entire universe, their social world, and their personal identity. My experiences of alienation, bravery, grief, and personal formation which centered all around that decisive self-liberation are core to who I have been ever since I went through them. And I always feel like only those who also went through a gut wrenching deconversion from devoutly religious to adamantly apostate really appreciate, from a personal experiential point of view, this crucial part of me. And I admire my fellow apostates for their abilities to exhibit that same intellectual, emotional, and social kind of honesty and bravery that it took me to get free. I am proud of what I did in getting free of my utterly devout Christianity. And I am equally proud of any apostate who managed a similar feat. I also care deeply about the separation of church and state, consciousness raising among atheists that they’d be proud of their non-theism, and the equal treatment and active empowerment of unjustly marginalized people.
But, with all of that acknowledged, we need to be more than just anti-theists. We need to think critically about theism and religions and not just propagandize against them. We need to think critically about what it means to fill the void of theism in people’s lives with robust, non-theistic communities that are focused on constructively developing practices of personal formation, truer thinking about values, and general philosophical rigor. Being a bunch of self-congratulatory, know-nothing know-it-alls about everything moral, social, political, and philosophical, just because we see through transparent supernaturalistic nonsense and trust biologists and physicists, is setting the bar super low as far as I am concerned. Simplistically confusing defending rationality itself with defending whatever one’s own opinions happen to be is complacently clueless. Reflexively rejecting everything associated with religiosity out of anger is merely reactionary, irrational, shortsighted, and hostile to the reality of complexity. Heaping seething abuse on those one perceives to be undereducated, misinformed, brainwashed, systematically deluded, reasoning badly, or just plain wrong out of smugness and hatred is virulently and selfishly opposing the cause of education.