And now — I think — we get to the crux of it.
When I argued that the “mission drift” objection made no sense — plenty of social justice issues are clearly within the missions of atheist organizations, and many atheist community groups already do projects (like highway cleanups) that have nothing to do with atheism — another objection was presented: It’s too controversial. It might drive people away from atheism or reinforce their negative opinions of us. It might keep some atheists from getting involved, or even drive some atheists who are already involved away.
Then when I argued that the “too controversial” objection made no sense — the status quo is not neutral, not doing social justice work is already controversial among marginalized people and is already keeping many away from organized atheism — the goalposts moved again. We had a brief detour into a sincere point of confusion and clarification, sorting out what kinds of social justice projects would be appropriate for community-building groups versus issues-based organizations. But we also had this:
I’ve long been involved in atheist university student groups, and they’ve always been horribly disorganized. The leaders can barely put together a talk or social event, much less something like a highway cleanup, much much less something like fighting racist drug policies. Now, obviously this is a problem of extremely limited resources, but note that controversy itself costs additional resources. There would be arguments, leaders would burnout, some regulars would be alienated, most members lack experience fighting racism and would do it improperly despite positive intent, and the project wouldn’t happen in any case.
Picking up trash along an adopted road (something I do ~quarterly with the local Humanist Society) is also fairly pleasant – maybe a bit chilly or sweaty at some times of year, but basically a casual walk with intelligent conversation.
Clinic defense (something I have 16 years of experience doing) is often quite stressful – often confrontational, both depressing and angering, requiring discipline, thick skin, courage, communications skills, dealing with cops, all sorts of challenges.
Of the mostly gray-haired few dozen attendees at our usual HS meetings, about one dozen turn out for road clean-up – but I can think only a small few who might handle escort duty for very long, and none who would enjoy it.
I agree with your premise, Greta, but I know that I have a hard enough time getting my atheist group to participate in something as simple as a roadside cleanup that I have been hesitant to expand the types of activities my group does. I think it is important for atheists to get involved in many social issues, but as it is so difficult to organize atheists I sometimes wonder if we can really be a cohesive force for positive change.
In some contexts, trying to expand the scope of a group will kill the group rather than help social justice. Or they could screw it up, because they don’t have the social justice experience.
And this, which pretty much sums it all up:
As an observer, I think they need to take baby steps first, and that doing service projects for social justice activism is not the most accessible step.
(To be fair and clear, at least some of the people saying these things are on board with the basic idea, and are just frustrated and stymied on how to do it.)
I have a few specific responses to the more specific of these objections. Not all groups have these organizing problems. Clinic defense isn’t the only form of social justice activism — and in any case, maybe your group would be more active generally, or wouldn’t just be made up of a few dozen gray-haired attendees, if it got more involved in social justice issues. Even a wobbly group should be able to take on one or two little social justice projects without killing the group — and not doing so already constitutes screwing things up. And, of course: Accessible to whom? Isn’t that exactly the point here — that we can’t keep making organized atheism accessible to privileged people at the expense of making it accessible to marginalized people?
But none of that gets to the crux of these objections, and the theme they have in common: Working on social justice is hard.
To which I reply:
Yes. It is hard.
And I want to take a look, for a moment, at why it’s hard.
From a purely logistical or resource standpoint, is it really that much harder, or indeed any harder at all? If you’re doing a book club and you’re all reading and discussing Breaking the Spell: Religion as a Natural Phenomenon, is it that much harder to read and discuss The End of God-Talk: An African American Humanist Theology? If you’re doing a “send an atheist to church” fundraiser for Heifer International, is it that much harder to do one for the National Network of Abortion Funds? If you’re inviting a visiting speaker to speak to your group, is it that much harder to ask African-American groups to co-sponsor the speaker, or simply invite an African-American speaker, or both?
Why are these social justice events more difficult? Are they more difficult, solely and entirely, because they are about social justice? Are they more difficult because they make people re-think our views about social justice? Are they more difficult because they make us uncomfortable? Are they more difficult because they make us more conscious of our own privileges? Are they more difficult because we have to take the risk of making a misstep and saying or doing the wrong thing, and getting called on it? Are they more difficult because they drag our unconscious biases up into our consciousness, where we have to notice them and do something?
Take a wild guess as to what I think the answer is.
So it’s hard. Yes. It’s hard for me, too. It’s hard to speak up about uncomfortable, sensitive topics. It’s hard to take the extra time to think outside your usual circles. It’s hard to take a risk and invite a speaker you’re less familiar with, instead of the ones that everyone you know already knows and likes. It’s hard to hear about all the ways that your successes came, not from your own hard work and talent, but from the luck of the draw. It’s hard to hear about the truly shitty lives some people lead — and to accept that the just world fallacy is bullshit, and that they didn’t bring it on themselves. It’s hard to tell people you like and respect and get along with that they’re doing something wrong. It’s hard to listen — really, really listen — when people you like and respect and get along with are telling you that you’re doing something wrong. It’s hard to hold back on that reflexively defensive reaction, and stop and sit with the squirmy uncomfortable feeling you get when you’ve screwed something up, and apologize for it. It’s hard to change.
Yes. It’s hard.
Is that really your answer? “Yes, this is worth doing, but it’s hard”?
In ten or twenty or fifty years, do you want organized atheism to still be hashing out these issues, with decades of bitterness and rancor behind us? Do you want organized atheism to be considerably smaller and weaker than it could have been, because marginalized people of all varieties still don’t feel welcomed and still don’t participate? Do you want people staying in religion, even though they have real doubts or have rejected God altogether, because they don’t feel like they have anyplace else to go — and don’t feel like atheism is a safe or viable option? Do you want organized atheism struggling to do coalition work with other social change movements, because we don’t have our shit together on Social Justice 101? Do you want organized atheism run almost entirely by racist, sexist asshats, because the folks who give a damn about social justice gave up and moved on to other issues? Do you want organized atheism to be in this lousy place in ten or twenty or fifty years — and then look back and say, “Well, I could have done something about it, but I didn’t, because it was hard”?
Doing social justice is hard. Not doing it is harder.
In a Twitter conversation about this with @SecularOutpost (who, to their credit, seems to have shifted on the subject), they Tweeted, “I’m saying ‘If it aint’ broke, don’t fix it.'” I don’t know how much more clearly to say this: IT IS BROKEN. It is badly broken. Many marginalized people already feel very alienated from organized atheism because their/our issues get ignored, dismissed, trivialized, and worse. As I’ve said more than once in these conversations: The status quo is not neutral. Doing nothing is doing something. Doing things the way we’ve always done them is not a neutral act – it is contributing to the problem. Doing social justice is hard — bu not doing it is harder.
And because this is me, I want to end on an optimistic note.
Yes, this is hard. But it is so worth it.
In the last few years, I’ve already seen a significant increase in diversity in organized atheism. People have been working on this, and it’s been paying off. And it is SO MUCH MORE FUN now, I can’t even tell you. When you have groups made up of people of all ages and races and and ethnicities and genders and sexual orientations and gender identities and social classes and economic classes and nationalities and geographic locations and former religions and everything else – it’s just more fun. You learn more. You meet people you never would have met – people who are amazing. You hear about books, music, food, art, jokes, that you never would have. You expand your mind. You expand your heart. You have better parties.
And if you care about your atheist agenda, whatever that might be — whether it’s church/state separation, or unfair religious privilege, or the intrusive incursion of religion into people’s private lives, or fighting anti-atheist bigotry, or fighting religiously-inspired brutality, or persuading people out of the mistaken and harmful idea of religion and the supernatural, or simply forming welcoming, supportive, fun atheist communities and giving people a safe place to land when they leave religion — it is worth it. Ask any organizer of any other social justice group: are they more effective when they pay attention to intersectionality, or when they ignore it? If they could go back in time and get the early leaders of their movement to pay more attention to this stuff, would they do that? I can pretty much guarantee you that almost all of them will tell you that this is worth it – and will passionately advise organized atheism to get on it, stat.
This is the right thing to do for ethical reasons. It’s the right thing to do for practical, Machiavellian reasons. Learn from history, and don’t repeat it.
If your group doesn’t have it in you to do something big — do something small. If you don’t have it in you to do clinic defense — take part in the National Abortion Access Bowl-a-Thon. If you don’t have it in you to organize a major conference on atheist intersectionality — bring in a speaker. If you don’t have it in you to do civil disobedience — speak up on the Internet.
But please don’t do nothing, just because doing something is hard.