Sunday Sacrilege: Bad without god

In my recent speech at the Reason Rally, I closed with a rather cryptic suggestion that I wanted us all to be bad without god. I couldn’t expand on it there — I was right down to the wire in my 15 minute time slot — but I can explain myself here. I’ve been feeling a bit bugged by the common “good without god” campaign, and I’ve been thinking about what it means.

On a glib and superficial level, I sympathize with its intent. Atheists have a bad rep, and the general public thinks we’re all amoral, corrupt monsters who reject god so that we don’t have to be held accountable for our wild drug-snorting, baby-chomping gay sex orgies. It’s a false stereotype; most atheists are indistinguishable from their Christian neighbors and make many of the same ethical choices they do. So a campaign that emphasizes that atheists are also good citizens and cheerfully socialized human beings is a good thing.

But sometimes the pendulum swings too far the other way. Announcing that atheists are “good” is a repudiation of our actual goals, which are subversive. We aim to change the culture. By the definitions of the people we’re trying to reach with that slogan, we’re actually very, very bad. So here are a few of my objections, and why in principle I can’t say any longer that I’m “good without god”.

“Good” is an over-used and generic word; the only word worse would have been to declare that we are nice without god. It’s so vague and context-dependent that it is meaningless: tell Rick Santorum “be good!” and he’ll make a speech declaring women to be ambulatory ovaries, slaves to their husbands; tell me “be good!”, and I’ll be thinking about a weekend of beer and sex and heresy. And I suspect that every one of my readers has a completely different vision of what goodness involves.

The implication of “good” is thorough conformity. Has challenging an authority figure ever fit the definition of being good? When abolitionists broke the law by smuggling slaves into Canada, when suffragettes picketed to demand the vote, when Stonewall erupted and Martin Luther King marched, when students protested the war in Viet Nam, were they being “good” in the general public’s understanding of the term? I don’t think so. They were being very, very naughty. Which was good. See what I mean? It’s an empty word that offers nothing but vague reassurances.

It gets worse. We’re addressing the misconceptions of Christians by telling them we’re good, but many Christians have a specific understanding of goodness: it’s defined by their religion. Being good involves obeying the laws of their faith, of heeding the rules that their god uses to determine whether you get into heaven. Do you obey the ten commandments? Do you believe in Jesus? We overtly and explicitly reject the rules: by their definition, we aren’t good at all. They see our claim to be “good without god” as a contradiction in terms that proves that we’re bad.

Yet I can still see myself as “good” because my definition of the word doesn’t involve obedience or blind loyalty or acceptance; it’s all about integrity, honesty, principles, questioning, independence. Try replacing “good” with any of those words — it becomes more accurate, but it also loses the blandly reassuring quality that is intended.

And that’s really my big problem with the phrase: I don’t want to be reassuring to people whose awful bogosity I oppose. I want to provoke and challenge, I want to change the status quo, I want to tear down the gooey conventionality of morality and narrow standards of public behavior. I want us all to mock and laugh at public professions of piety. I want to change how people think, and I want people to reject the absurd claim that our morality is founded on an odious holy book. If you want to have a wild weekend of sex and drugs and rock and roll, as long as you don’t hurt anyone, I will say, “good for you.” If your weekend is spent as an escort at an abortion clinic, if you spend it lobbying for separation of church and state at your Capitol, if you spend it heckling homophobes, good.

Nobody ever changed the world by being complacent, obedient, pleasant, or “good”. Atheists intend to change the world. Therefore, atheists should be as bad as they can be…productively, aggressively, happily bad.

An Easter message

Dang. I can never keep those nonexistent supernatural entities straight.

OK, and then the Holy Ghost must be a ghost, like Casper. But what is his dad? A wizard? And where does the Easter Bunny fit in? I’m thinking maybe Jesus is a lich, but he’s also a Furry, and once a year he dresses up…

Hey, is this that sophisticated theology people are always talking about?

Why I am an atheist – Erik

Growing up as a little kid I was not exposed much to devout religion. I only went to church when my sister and I were visiting our grandparents who were southern baptist. One time I remember sitting in the pew listing to the pastor talk one moment about how we should fear Jesus Christ and the next moment how Jesus was Love. It didn’t make sense to me one bit. That’s when I started questioning. As I grew I started having intense sexual feelings for other guys, even before puberty. I wished and prayed to god that I wasn’t gay but the feelings just grew and became more intense. I began hating myself for who I was because I felt if god made me this way he must hate me too. When my grandfather passed away when I was 14 all the church folk stood around saying things like, ‘God has called him back,’ and ‘God works in mysterious ways.’ To me it sounded as if they were saying god gave my grandfather lung cancer and made him suffer a terrible death just to bring him back to Him. I realized that was total BS. If there really was a god that was all loving and powerful, he would not give someone a horrible disease causing gross suffering just to ‘bring him back.’ He would not work in mysterious ways, he’d be upfront and to the point. With that realization I was able to free myself of the homophobia of religion and just struggle with the societal taboo of homosexuality. I eventually overcame my self hatred and came out at 18. One year later my mother came out to me. Oddly enough when she came out as a lesbian she ‘Found Jesus’ through the local gay church and became a born again gay christian. Yes, those do exist. She once admitted to my sister and I that one of her biggest regrets is that she didn’t find Jesus sooner to allow us as kids to share in her revelation. I looked at her and basically said I am alive because of the absence of Jesus. Growing up I hated myself for being gay. If I hadn’t been able to free myself of the thoughts that god hated me as well I firmly believe I would have killed myself for being gay.

Erik
United States

Selling papers on Easter Sunday

That was really quick. The Salt Lake Tribune already has an account of my evening’s talk — it’s fairly accurate, too, since I did give a bit of a firebreathing talk.

Also, they have a number of photos online. I didn’t even notice, but I did kinda like this one.

I’m now picturing large numbers of Mormons reading the paper on Easter Sunday morning and hearing all about the ferocious atheists gathering in the city. Rah, us!

OK, here’s another one of me calling down atheist wrath.

Now you’ve seen the full range of the PZ Myers Experience.

One of those days

The day started off with me wrecking my knee somehow. That was bad.

I spent most of the day lying down with an icepack. Swelling greatly reduced! That’s good.

Missed my chance to explore my old neighborhoods. Bad.

Recovered enough to hobble around campus before my talk. That was good.

Gave my talk, got a standing O (they’re desperate for atheists in Salt Lake City), and even better, got lots of sharp questions. Yay good!

Went out to the Red Iguana, a favorite old restaurant. It’s still there! It hasn’t changed, mostly! The food was delicious! All good!

I’m back in my hotel, leg propped up and iced again. Oh, well. Good to end on a calm and quiet note.

Anti-caturday post

Honestly, cat people, wouldn’t you rather have a colony of fire ants than one of those furry beasts? You know that all that matters is survival of the fittest, and if you pitted the two against each other, it would end with a small pile of clean, polished bones on the floor…and remember, ants don’t have bones.

Also, cats hate water, so when your house floods, the cats will be in a panic…but the ants will just calmly assemble a raft from their bodies and float to safety. I think it’s clear which pet is more fit.

This one reminded me of the “Black Freighter” story within Watchmen.

Why I am an atheist – Remy Porter

A simple question deserves a simple answer: I am an atheist because I have no reason to be otherwise.

I was raised religious, but even at a young age, it didn’t “take”. I accepted what I was told as truth, but I didn’t believe what I was told. I’m not actually terribly good about believing in things, which is what I appreciate about the scientific method and the natural world. What I believe is not important to the world outside of my head, but what I do is. It’s extremely liberating to not have to invest belief in things- I just accept what works and ignore what doesn’t. New evidence can’t challenge my beliefs, only change what I accept as useful.

I’m still a human being, and I still very much want certain things to be true. I can’t claim that I’m always so coldly rational, but it’s something I get to aspire to.

Remy Porter
United States