Atheist Mind, Humanist Heart Read online

  I began to notice that students were less interested in debating the question of whether God exists than in discussing what to do and how to live. I recall a conversation with Harvard’s humanist chaplain, Greg Epstein, in which we agreed that while the question, “Does God exist?” was pretty well covered in books, articles, and blogs, the question, “What should one then believe?” was more important and more interesting for young nonbelievers. Helping to answer that question, I decided, was the best way I could help my fellow nonbelievers.

  In 2010, I was appointed the humanist chaplain serving Stanford University. Being a humanist chaplain, I interact with lots of students and so am confronted with the most significant questions and concerns facing young nonbelievers. Just as at Harvard, at Stanford the negatives are already well established. These students reject blind faith, whether in God, prophets, or the government. They reject creationism and its rebranded doppelgänger, “intelligent design.” But despite all that, there is still a real need in the young atheist community to answer the question of what nonbelievers do believe in.

  * * *

  And so, in pursuing very different lives, we, the two authors of this book, having abandoned our faiths, found ourselves confronted with the same question: What do we believe now?

  Partial answers to this question abound—a book chapter here, a blog post there. But we’ve yet to find a book that comprehensively answers this simple question in an intuitive and nontechnical way. It is a challenge for all nonbelievers, but it is an especially unfortunate gap for college students during the years when many first begin to seriously ask the big questions and to challenge their faith.

  It was in part to help answer this question that coauthor John Figdor became a humanist (or atheist) chaplain. To some, especially believers, the very idea of a humanist chaplain is a contradiction in terms—after all, why would students who do not believe in God want or need a chaplain?

  John posed this very question to Greg Epstein, the humanist chaplain at Harvard, while he was a student there. As is his habit, Epstein answered the question with a series of questions:

  Don’t students who are nonreligious deserve to have a nonjudgmental person to talk to about problems such as adjusting to life away from one’s parents, coping with the intense academic environment, and coming to terms with sickness or death in the family? Don’t nonreligious students deserve to have a person on campus organizing interesting education programs and charity drives? Don’t nonreligious students deserve a representative to ensure that their perspectives are welcomed on campus?

  When John found himself answering “yes” to all of these questions, he knew that he was on a path to becoming a humanist chaplain himself. But even then he knew the title “humanist chaplain” wasn’t ideal. After all, “chaplain” is generally understood to be a fundamentally religious word, meaning a priest or minister. The term doesn’t really describe him. He is neither a priest nor a minister but a community organizer, friend, and advocate for nonreligious students. But the term chaplain is so ubiquitous in our educational system that nonreligious advocates such as John are forced for practical reasons to accept the title, however awkward it may be. If a special term were invented like “councilor” or “advisor,” that name would be given second-class status. Chaplaincies tend to have a special status and administrative privileges within most university structures, so adopting the chaplain nomenclature creates an equal and alternative voice to that of traditional religions on campus.

  As an interesting aside, the history of the term “chaplain” has been one of expanding definitions. In the beginning, only Christian chaplains were allowed on the Harvard campus. But as time passed, Jews were eventually welcomed into the fraternity of college and university chaplains, followed much later by Hindu, Muslim, Buddhist, Jain, and Sikh chaplains. Now colleges such as Harvard and Stanford have more than thirty chaplains, representing a vast diversity of religious and nonreligious beliefs.7

  As the biographies that opened this book underscore, we grew up on different continents with very different upbringings. John trained as an analytic philosopher, religious studies scholar, and college chaplain, while Lex was educated in engineering and technology entrepreneurship. When we met at Stanford, we quickly found that, despite our different backgrounds and perspectives, our ways of thinking were surprisingly similar.

  We both have an interest in philosophy, debate, rigorous logic, and skepticism—classic characteristics of the atheist mind. We also both care deeply about compassionate ethics, personal integrity, society, and morals—our humanist hearts. Between the two, as our own stories show, lies a gap that still remains to be filled, not just for our own lives but also for the atheist and humanist community.

  This book is the result of our combined efforts to fill the void of disbelief that remains after a rejection of God by answering the questions, “What should one believe after abandoning faith?” and “What are the positive principles of atheism?” We have decided to answer these challenges in an unorthodox way—by updating the Ten Commandments to a version for the twenty-first century, a version that reflects modern secular thought, science, psychology, and philosophy. A version that is intellectually rigorous but easily understandable, reflecting both the atheist mind and the humanist heart. Our goal is to provide a clear and comprehensive framework of secular beliefs about life, human behavior, and ethics. We call our version Ten Non-commandments for the Twenty-first Century.

  Why “non-commandments”? Because a defining difference between our version and the original is that ours are amendable. Our non-commandments are not written in stone, nor do we pretend that these are the only valid answers to the challenge of meaning without God. Rather, they are our best attempt to answer these questions as we see them today, at this point in our own atheist and humanist lives, and to be as transparent as possible in our explanations of our arguments.

  In writing this book, we encountered something that will be familiar to many readers: the difference between an idea in thought and an idea in words. Just as we often realize something makes no sense only after we say it aloud, thoughts that seemed lucid and strong in our minds often showed their flaws once they were committed to the page. The exercise of writing down our beliefs helped us truly discover our beliefs and how they all tie together.

  We enthusiastically invite the reader to join us in this conversation. This is not a sermon from two guys with all the answers, but a dialogue by two questioning, flawed individuals about the most important questions we face as human beings. We hope that our thoughts may serve as a useful reference for the many nonbelievers out there. But even more important, we hope to encourage you and others to reflect on your own beliefs. We hope that you will add to our work and discover your own personal non-commandments, and that together we might all attain a deeper understanding of our innermost beliefs.

  1

  Rewriting the Ten Commandments

  Say what you will about the Ten Commandments, you must always come back to the pleasant fact that there are only ten of them.

  —H. L. Mencken

  An atheist, an agnostic, and a humanist walk into a restaurant . . .

  We’ll begin with some definitions. What is the difference between atheists, agnostics, and humanists? First off, we should acknowledge that these terms have precise philosophical definitions as well as popular meanings in society. Since this book is aimed at a nontechnical audience, we’ll be referring to the popular uses of these terms.

  Atheist, Agnostic, Humanist

  Atheists do not believe in a God or gods. Agnostics say they don’t know whether a God or gods exist, and many go further to say that the existence of a deity or deities is unknowable. On first glance, it may seem as if these are two distinct categories, but it is actually possible for one person to be both an atheist and an agnostic. In fact, it’s extremely common.

  Atheists do not believe in a God, but
that doesn’t mean they claim to be certain. Though years of thought and study often lead atheists to be extremely confident in their conclusions, it’s very rare to find one who claims to have definitive proof that God does not exist. If someone asked you your age, you would answer with full confidence. But if someone asked if there were any possibility that you were wrong, no matter how slight—any chance you have been mistaken all these years, that your birth certificate had an error, or that a massive conspiracy in your family hid the fact that you are actually one year older than you thought—you would probably have to admit that, yes, there was a tiny chance that you were wrong, a chance that’s so small that it wasn’t worth mentioning.

  That is how most atheists feel about God.

  Most agnostics have views that are impossible to distinguish from most atheists, but they choose to emphasize the doubt, while the atheists choose to emphasize their confidence. That is why it is possible and common for an atheist to also be an agnostic and an agnostic to also be an atheist. Each has simply chosen to emphasize a different aspect of his or her belief.

  The commonality between the beliefs of atheists and agnostics is much greater than the differences. Both groups recognize that extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence,1 and both agree that there isn’t extraordinary evidence for the existence of God. The difference is that the atheist moves from the recognition that extraordinary evidence for the existence of God hasn’t been presented to the confident (but not certain) belief that God probably doesn’t exist.

  For his book The God Delusion, prominent atheist biologist Richard Dawkins created a useful seven-point scale to express the degrees of religious belief and doubt. Scoring a one on the scale indicates a person’s absolute certainty that God exists. A seven indicates absolute certainty that God does not exist. In both these two instances (a one and a seven on the scale), the person is saying that no new information could ever change his or her mind. (Think back to the example of knowing your age to see how foolish that would be.)

  Someone who identifies on the scale as a two believes God exists but stops short of claiming absolute certainty. A three is a little less certain; four is exactly in the middle; a five leans toward doubt; and a six indicates a strong confidence (but not certainty) that God does not exist.

  Even Dawkins himself, who is probably the most well-known atheist alive today, calls himself a six on the scale, not a seven (a 6.9, to be more specific2). When an interviewer a few years ago asked him why he doesn’t call himself an agnostic, he said, “Well, I am an agnostic.” The papers the next day broke the story: “The world’s most famous atheist admits that he is actually an agnostic!” But saying that Dawkins “admits” to being an agnostic is like saying a Christian “admits” to being a Baptist or a Methodist. “Baptist” or “Methodist” simply emphasizes different aspects that a person who believes in Jesus decides to identify with. The same is usually true for an atheist and agnostic.

  The media made a story out of Dawkins’s statement because most people (mainly religious believers) think agnostic means a four on the scale—someone who thinks there is an equal chance (fifty-fifty) that God exists or does not exist. But as we’ve already noted, people who self-identify as agnostics are usually deeply skeptical of the possibility of God’s existence. If pressed, they typically would say that they think that God is a low- or very-low-probability hypothesis, putting them at a five or a six on the scale.

  But because they are assumed to be smack in the middle, agnostics are often accused of being wishy-washy and fence-sitters. And because atheists are assumed to be sevens, they are often accused of being closed-minded or arrogant. One of the goals of this book is to change these misconceptions and remove the stigma from self-identifying as an atheist or agnostic.

  Why do we call ourselves atheists? Because we agree with Dawkins when he further argues that people who declare that they are agnostic about the existence of God should be similarly agnostic about the existence of fairies at the bottom of the garden. If an agnostic claims that we have to hold out making a judgment about whether God exists, then we should be equally careful to declare our doubts about knowing whether or not fairies exist. But most of us are very comfortable saying outright that we do not believe in these fantasies, emphasizing our confidence rather than the sliver of doubt. We feel little need to clarify that, while the probability of fairies existing is extremely low, in principle it is not possible to completely disprove their existence. For this reason, Dawkins also describes himself as a de facto atheist.3

  You may wonder, as we have, why so many people grant God a benefit of doubt that is not extended to analogous beings such as fairies (or Santa or Bigfoot). On reflection, we see three main reasons. First, God is typically portrayed as having measures at his disposal to punish doubters and nonbelievers. The fear of punishment—including going to hell for eternity, or at least exclusion from the possibility of going to heaven—can lead many of us to want to hedge our bets just a little. Second, the possibility that a higher, all-knowing power is somehow guiding our lives for the best might feel comforting. Third, religion plays an enormous role in society. In the United States its role is reinforced through the Pledge of Allegiance and the printing of “In God We Trust” on our currency. Since the majority of people in the world are religious believers, there is often public pressure to conform, and questioning the existence of God is socially discouraged in many places.

  Where do humanists fit into this picture? Humanists are people who think that they can lead a life of meaning and value without a belief in God or the supernatural. Humanists stress the goodness of human beings, emphasize common human needs, and seek rational ways of solving human problems. Essentially, humanists are atheists and agnostics who, in addition to having serious doubts about the existence of God, also emphasize and promote values such as empathy, compassion, social justice, critical thinking, and science literacy.

  While we have discussed these labels to help clarify the terms we are using, the similarities among these three perspectives are far greater than their differences. As it turns out, most atheists and agnostics are humanists, most humanists are atheist and agnostic, and most agnostics do not believe in God.

  Now we can finish the joke at the beginning of the chapter: An atheist, an agnostic, and a humanist walk into a restaurant . . . and the hostess says, “Table for one?”

  Statements of Secular Belief

  The Ten Commandments are the foundation of Judeo-Christian beliefs. The Bible teaches that these Ten Commandments were delivered directly by God to Moses on Mount Sinai.4 God engraved these laws onto two stone tablets that Moses then delivered to the people of Israel. These commandments are said to be the word of God and are among the core pillars of faith for believers.

  The atheist worldview lacks a similar set of statements expressing the most important secular beliefs—statements of what atheists do believe. That is what we intend to do in the pages ahead.

  Many atheist groups, personalities, and bloggers have created statements of belief in the past. A few of the more notable examples include the Humanist Manifesto I, II, and III created by the American Humanist Association (AHA)5 and the Minimum Statement by the International Humanist and Ethical Union (IHEU).6 On the humorous side are the Penn Commandments7 by magician Penn Jillette, George Carlin’s reduction of the original Ten Commandments to two,8 and Christopher Hitchens’s version, whose eighth commandment is a passionate plea to turn off your cell phone.9

  However, our list differs from these in a few important ways. We begin by spelling out our assumptions, then justify each belief with a rationale for each claim. Along the way, we work from two guiding principles woven tightly into the atheist mind-set: that all claims must be supported by evidence and that all arguments should be logically consistent.

  This isn’t how such lists are usually built, of course. Most beliefs are sourced to an authority—whether the Bible, a reve
red teacher, the Pope, or Mom and Dad—and believed because that authority is held in high regard. Ours is a different approach, a list based not on a top-down authority but built from the bottom up on evidence and justification. This is similar to constructing a high-rise building. First a solid foundation is laid. Only when that foundation is deemed solid and level is the first floor added to it. Each floor is inspected carefully in turn before the next is added, and the next, until the building is complete.

  So too will the atheist framework of belief start by constructing a fundamental foundation and then layering additional “floors” of beliefs upon it. Each layer of belief will be explored and justified before adding additional layers. The higher floors will offer panoramic views into the world of ethics and morality. Because all of our beliefs and assumptions are articulated in our reasoning process, we are confident that each new floor is placed on a solid understructure. And because our reasons will be articulated out loud, you won’t have to take our word for it—you can decide for yourself if any false assumptions are present.

  The biblical Ten Commandments are said to be the work of God. As such, they are held to be indisputable and sacred, requiring no justification. By comparison, the Ten Non-commandments we outline claim no sanctity or authority. They are the nonholy, nonabsolutist work of two self-reflecting atheists. They are meant to be debated, examined, and improved on. As two individuals in a community of millions, we claim no special authority, position, or jurisdiction to write down such a list. We can’t even declare that they speak for the atheist community at large. Rather, our intent is to demonstrate the process that two highly motivated atheists pursued in order to arrive at our best effort for the list of Ten Non-commandments for the Twenty-first Century. In formulating these beliefs, we have attempted to be deliberately transparent, rational, and honest in our approach so as to lay bare our inner thoughts, logic, and biases.