Asymmetry: theists and atheists are not making equal claims

@clreese, a theist and Christian apologist, has been kind enough to exchange tweets with me over recent days. The discussion, which has been lively and thoroughly enjoyable, is starting to become a little repetitive and I think it is time to clarify my standpoint in a longer piece.

Mr Reese asserts the following:

-God exists, is an omnipotent, supernatural being, and "has clearly communicated his existence" to Mr Reese.

-Jesus was resurrected, which provides evidence for the truth of Christianity

My position is that I have no reason to believe - or even consider - the above claims unless credible evidence can be proffered. There is an infinite number of imaginable things for which we could debate existential claims, and that would take infinite time. As I have repeatedly and publicly said, when the evidence requires me to change my stance I will do so. 

Mr Reese further claims that our positions are both based on positive assertions. This is not the case. He makes a positive assertion regarding the existence of an invisible, all-powerful being, and claims to know the desires and intentions of that being. I, on the other hand, see no reason to accept the existence of any such being in the absence of supporting evidence. And that is not the same as positively asserting that the being does not exist. There is no reason to believe that fairies exist, yet it is impossible to prove that they do not, and I do not see Mr Reese opining that non-believers in fairies are making any kind of positive assertion. 

To clarify further that the two standpoints are asymmetric, consider Russell's Teapot. Mr Reese has quoted Bertrand Russell several times and is evidently familiar with his work. Russell imagines a small china teapot in solar orbit somewhere beyond the orbit of Mars, undetectable to us at our distance. His point is that the teapot, once asserted, cannot be disproven. Thus, the burden of proof falls upon those who claim the teapot exists. 

Please note that the teapot argument is not intended to promote belief in any entity that cannot be disproven. Rather, it illustrates the futility of describing imagined entities in detail and then claiming that they might exist because their existence cannot be disproven. I am sure that there are countless wondrous things awaiting our discovery, and that many of these may be forever undiscoverable to us. But the point is that we know nothing about such things, and so it is both unnecessary and futile to make a series of specific claims about what any one of them might be. Mr Reese has made a series of very specific claims about his god, and he exhorts me to defend my position by providing 'arguments for naturalism', as if his specifically-described god could have its existence proven by default. 

Thus, Mr Reese's position as assertor carries with it the full burden of proof to substantiate his claims. My position as sceptic carries no such burden.

Evil deserves respect?

"I think we should respect the religion of the country we are in," pronounced my colleague.  I could tell she had said it before, and I could tell that she was expecting the customary nods and affirmations. 

She got neither from me. 

The country we are in is predominantly Muslim. Recently a nine year old student approached me after a science lesson I had just taught on the solar system. We had discussed the eventual fate of our Sun, to expand into a red giant as its mass falls below that required to maintain gravitational compression, engulfing the first three planets including Earth. Our treatment of the matter had been sober and unemotional, reassured as we were by the certainty that the cataclysm will occur some five billion years after our deaths. 

The boy wore an expression best described as a complacent smirk. "The Quran tells us that the Sun will move to within a mile of the Earth, and that only a few of us will be protected by God's shade. Everyone else will be BURNED." The last word was a yah-boo, so-there semi-shriek. He seemed heartily pleased to deliver such news. 

Religion encourages its adherents to anticipate, with salacious relish, the destruction of the world and of the infidel. Religion teaches that the end could come at any time, and that only their particular brand of faithful will be saved. 

I say that a belief system which encourages children to salivate in contemplation of a massacre is evil. Those who promulgate it are evil. Neither they nor their filthy religion deserve an ounce of respect. Rather, they merit the utter contempt of all civilisation.  

I will reserve my respect for that which earns it. 

Condescending, patronising, insulting and plain wrong

Inured as we all are to the customary tide of politically correct apologist excuses following any act of terrorism that associates itself with religion, I nonetheless found this piece quite disturbing.

The author has made two rather unsavoury assumptions, their insidious presence lurking odiously behind the text. Neither assumption is reasonable. 

The first assumption is that there are  two distinct groups: the titular 'We' who 'must avoid having our enemies constructed for us', and an implied, rather ill-defined 'they',  the group unto whom 'we' continue to 'export death and destruction'. Presumably the two suspects apprehended at the scene of Lee Rigby's murder on Wednesday belong to the latter group, while the target audience of the article comprises the former. 

To posit the existence of those groups is to fashion a crude straw man.  Moreover, and more revoltingly, such a grouping labels Muslims simultaneously as helpless victims of western imperialism, and as reactionary murderers of off-duty soldiers. If I perceived myself as generalised so sweepingly, I would consider myself insulted in the extreme. Such stereotyping on the part of the author plays directly into the hands of intolerant fascist thugs such as the BNP, and of course the terrorists themselves. 

In fact, indiscriminate drone attacks with a high probability of hitting innocent bystanders are an affront to humanity, as is the public butchering of a father and husband in the street. To justify one filthy crime as some sort of payback for another is to demonstrate limited understanding of the principles of morality. 

The author's second howling error is to assume that she can see and describe the points of view of the 'we' and the foggy 'they' in minute detail, while the protagonists themselves can see only their own (imperialist in the 'we' case) agenda. She goes on to describe the desperation of those who kill and maim because they are 'driven' to extremes. 

On what authority does the author make this claim to know the minds of terrorists and murderers?  I find her assumption rather patronising, and I would rather give them credit for their own decisions.  

The Qur'an advertises instant entry to paradise for those who die in the struggle against the infidel. By referring to Islam in their recorded comments at the scene, the murder suspects linked themselves with Islam. No presuppositions or prejudices are required. 

A link with Islam does not mean a link with all Muslims. It is the responsibility of all who abhor the horror of Wednesday afternoon - Muslim or not - to distance themselves from it, and to condemn it. If they are unable or unwilling to that, they perpetuate the bigoted dichotomy so revealingly expounded in the linked article. 

Enough is enough.

"Don't you hate the USA?"  My Saudi protégé leered across the table with uncharacteristic menace. Puzzled but conscious of time - I was coaching him for entry to a US college, and his interview was imminent - I ignored his question and completed the lesson. 

Driving home on Prince Sultan Street, North Jeddah, I soon forgot the exchange and my thoughts turned to dinner.  As I parked in the school staff housing compound that September afternoon (UTC+3) my friend Pete hurried across. "Turn BBC World on now," he urged. "It's unbelievable."

Standing frozen and unblinking, rooted to the spot before the TV, my disbelief as the twin towers belched smoke gave way to a grittily certain conviction. Surely, now, enough was enough. The world could no longer tolerate a belief system that facilitates such perverse, obscene slaughter and destruction in its name. Up to then we had tolerated archaic myths and rituals that please their adherents, but the cost had become vastly too high. In the 1950s you could drink three or four beers and enjoy the convenience of driving your car home without fear of legal repercussion.  The zeitgeist has shifted, and drink-driving has metamorphosed from inalienable right, through Jack-the-lad daredevilry, to downright socially unacceptable selfish lunacy. The potential risks - death or maiming of innocent bystanders - are too great to permit self-indulgence. 

And the same is true of outward religious practice. If belief in almighty Allah were a harmless, private occupation with no impact on anyone else, then let it continue unfettered. But it is not harmless. It is potentially and demonstrably murderous. Please don't argue that most Muslims are peace-loving, penta-daily praying, Qur'an-revering paragons of morality. If one in a million is an indiscriminate murderer who believes his barbaric act guarantees him eternal unbridled debauchery, that is too high a price. One point six billion moderate Muslims can damned well give up their pretentious foppery for the sake of a secure society for them and for the rest of us. 

But did it happen?  Did non-Islamic humanity - a majority on our planet - unite in condemnation of a medieval anachronism that has outlived its utility and now poses an urgent threat to civilisation?  Did rationality prevail, in pursuit of a secure future for all our children?  No, it did not. Islam was defended, and allowed to distance itself from its glaringly obvious direct involvement in the tragedy. 

There was more. In 2004, Islamic terrorists took more than 1200 hostages, many of them children, at School Number One in Beslan, North Ossetia. After an explosion, the school was stormed and 355 people lost their lives.  

And now we continue to reap the benefits. Two-year-old Jack Rigby will grow up with only a distant memory of his father. He will ask, "Where's Daddy?" and no-one will be able to answer in a way that he can understand. One day, inevitably, he will see the video of Michael Adebolajo wielding a meat cleaver, hands dripping with his father's fresh blood. I wonder if he will thank us for protecting Muslims from 'hurt' and 'offence' so that a few of them can continue to undermine the very fabric of our being. 

Posterity will shake its head in disbelief. 

Religion: nice and harmless?

Oh, the stridency of those new atheists. And everyone knows they are just as fundamentalist as Bible-thumping rednecks. After all, religion just wants people to be nice. Why can't they leave religion alone instead of getting all het up every time someone mentions God?

This is an increasingly common trope on Twitter and elsewhere. So-called atheists accuse the outspoken among us of giving atheism a bad name by gratuitously attacking those to whom religion means a great deal. They exhort us (in a completely unstrident manner, naturally) to 'Shut the f--- up'.

First, outspoken atheism is a reactionary position. If there were no religion, there would be no atheism. As some atheists (including the eloquent and crystal-clear @MrOzAtheist) have succinctly put it: If theists shut up, you will no longer hear from atheists. If atheists shut up, you will still hear from theists. 

The atheist sees no point in contriving belief in anything with no evidence for its existence. There is ample evidence that Julius Caesar existed. There is no evidence that any kind of god exists or has ever existed. There is plenty of evidence for belief in gods, but no evidence whatsoever of gods themselves. 

Why, then, do we argue with theists?  Ought we not to leave them alone with their private beliefs, which are very important to them and do the rest of us no harm?

If the last subordinate clause were true, then atheists would indeed have no reason to interrupt the prayerful reflections of the pious. But it is not true. Believers simply do not leave alone those who do not share their faith. Religious moralists seek to influence the lives of others by denying them same-sex marriage, abortion and divorce. Theists strive to indoctrinate innocent children by having pernicious, superstition-based creation myths taught as equivalent to scientific fact in schools. Christians, Jews and Muslims hack off parts of defenceless children's genitals in barbaric acts that escape classification as child abuse only because of the unwarranted respect afforded to religion by society. 

New atheists call for an end to that undeserved respect. Let religion earn respect on merit, as must any other viewpoint in public discourse. If religions are indeed handed down from an all-powerful god, they ought to be able to stand up to scrutiny and robust debate.

As for offence caused to believers, to hell with that. If you are offended by my or others' comments, get over it. There is no automatic right not to be offended. I am offended when I hear children as young as five refer to Jews as apes and pigs.  I am offended when I am told that mankind received all the knowledge we will ever need in the form of a verbally recollected recitation to an unlettered peasant in the year 610, supposedly the unalterable and final words of God.

Religion makes bold claims with breathtakingly arrogant certitude. Do you say that we are not allowed to respond to those claims? Why not?

Sackur in ersatz mode?

In April 2013, Stephen Sackur interviewed philosopher and atheist Daniel Dennett on the BBC's Hard Talk programme.  I doubt the stance revealed by Mr Sackur's questions and reactions is truly his own, because I credit him with more intelligence.  I assume therefore that he falsely adopted a position that he felt was in tune with the views of the bulk of his audience.

Religion, asserted Mr Sackur, must be useful because it has been around for a long time.  Dr Dennett responded by citing the common cold, also long-standing but far from useful.  When Dr Dennett went on to list alcohol, drugs and tobacco, Mr Sackur dismissed these comparisons because they are all material substances.  "Religion is a set of ideas," he opined. "It's in our heads.  We can't smoke or drink it."

Mr Sackur had quite a lot to say about what religion is not.  At no point did he define precisely what religion is.  "A lot of people will feel that your view of religion is a very long way from theirs," he condescendingly intoned.

We have heard this before.  It is a machiavellian smoke-and-mirrors trick; a piece of verbal sleight-of-hand employed universally by popular religious apologists.  It is the idea that religion is something awe-inspiring and powerful; magical; comforting; the promise of something beyond our daily material routine with its predictability and its mortality.  How can anyone deny that such spiritual richness is not only harmless but upliftingly inspiring to its adherents?  Who could criticise proponents of such a heartening, gladdening, energising mindset?

Trouble is, religion, the phenomenon with which Dr Dennett and others take issue, is nothing like that. Religion requires the assertion that there is an omnipresent supernatural being who monitors our every thought and action, sleeping or waking.  Religion seeks to impose a set of rules about matters such as what consenting adults do with their genitals in private.  Religion strives to replace scientific education with stultifying rote recitation of baseless creation myths.  Religion has come to demand respect for which it has no intrinsic merit, based on the false but widely accepted notion that religion is, at bottom, all about virtue and being good.

There is no evidence at all for the existence of any kind of God.  That is a simple statement of fact, devoid of arrogance, devoid of aggression, devoid of stridency.  However, as Mr Sackur demonstrates during the interview, any criticism of religion, however mild, is instantly labelled as arrogant, or 'delivered with undue certainty'.

Is he serious?  What about ...in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life, words repeated at every Christian funeral?  It seems that it is fine to be certain about the baseless premises of religion, but so much as to utter an objection is to be accused of unjustifable certainty that there is no God.

Of course we cannot be certain that there is no God, just as we cannot be certain that there is no Tooth Fairy, no Juju up the mountain, no invisible dragon in the garage, no Santa Claus and no UFOs.  But until even a shred of evidence appears, there is absolutely no reason to posit the existence of any one of the above, nor of an infinite number of other imaginable but unprovable entities.  The God of the Bible and the Qur'an has no attribute qualifying him for precedence over any other member of the list.

Mr Sackur, how many of your audience would sympathise with your theatrically aghast pro-religion rhetoric, if you were to substitute the Ancient Egyptian pantheon for God?  "Most Americans believe in God," you assert, as though that of itself proved anything.  All Ancient Egyptians believed in Horus, Osiris, Ra, Seth and others, just as sincerely and for a good deal longer.  So what?

Your podcast will one day be invaluable as a historical source, underscoring the incredulity of future generations at the undue reverence and unjustified respect afforded by you and those you represent, to the damaging, urgently threatening, barbaric, brutally dehumanising institutions of religion.