I have, at several different points, found atheism attractive. I've tried it out, more or less earnestly, on a couple of occasions, but the truth is my world is not quite disenchanted enough to make it stick. I'll feel good about it for awhile, but then I'm faced with the nagging possibility that I might be wrong, that ultimately I lack the capicity for certainty (or conviction) for it to take. This is my life. I'll not infrequently latch onto something with evangelical fervor only to give it a hearty "meh" later on.
There is, on the surface, a structural similarity in atheism's rejection of God, anarchism's rejection of state power, and postmodernity's "incredulity toward metanarrative." I've been attracted to all three, and cannot identify wholly with any of them, largely for the same reason I was attracted in the first place.
[I will admit to being postmodern in the sense that none of us is issued a "get out of postmodernity free" card. But I am leery of most invocations of "postmodern" or "postmodernist," because they're too often tossed around by people using them as gloss for things they don't like (from one camp) or things they think they're supposed to be (from the other), both of which miss the point.]
But there is, on a deeper level, a structural similarity between monotheism and the atheistic argument that we should abandon belief in God, the anarchist call to abolish the state, and the postmodern cry to disabuse ourselves of metanarratives. They share the (largely Platonic) presumption that there is one truth, one world, a universe, that we could all agree on if we would just shed our presuppositions and see this world for what it is. In fact, there is a kind of essential utopianism at work here; if we would all just agree on this One Thing, maybe we could get along.
The three things I've mentioned here each have, as their One Thing, the promise of getting rid of other One Things. If we could just move beyond competing claims about God, or competing nationalities, or competing narratives in general, we could be happier. We could be at peace. We could be one. Or One. We would usher in a new age of tolerance and freedom and maybe even prosperity and -- does this sound like anything?
But this obsession with the One Thing is hardly limited to monotheism or these three that remain which still bear its shape and form and substance. It lies behind every claim to have found a "third way" beyond some existing dichotomy. It lies behind every claim to a "radical paradigm shift" that will "change the world." It is the very shape of the messianic, of the promise of enlightenment.
It's The Secret. It's The Answer. It's The Call. It's The Purpose Driven Life. It's every fad diet, every self-help book, every theology title written by the ecclesiastical equivalent of those famous for being famous. It's the war to end all wars, and the end of history. It's the Meaning of Life, and the Answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything.
It's the Holy Grail and the Fountain of Youth. It's "God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life" and "Jesus Saves." It's "Don't Worry; Be Happy" and "don't sweat the small stuff." It's self-actualization, self-awareness, self-realization. It's being yourself. It's becoming your best self. It's your higher self. It's your hidden self. It's getting over yourself.
It's the face you had before your parents were born. It's the Buddha-nature and the Godhead and Brahma. It's the revolution, the Singularity, the Omega Point. It's the return to Eden, and the escape from Eden, the Second Coming of Jesus and "the democracy that is to come." It's everlasting peace and the Final Battle. It's the One World Order and the end of empire.
I haven't believed in God in any kind of conventional sense for about 10 years now. I've been trying to deal with that ever since. I had a lot resting on this particular shelf, and when it came crashing down I was left with a considerable mess. But I don't call myself an atheist because it's not my inability to believe in God that's the issue; it's my inability to believe in the One. This is not about God but about the very structure and shape of belief, and the structure and shape of my own subjectivity.
I don't know what lies beyond our perception, nor do I know how accurate our perceptions are. I don't think there's a single vision of the world on which we all should agree -- let alone one on which we're likely to agree -- and I'm sick to death of claims to have found it, regardless of who is making those claims or how explicitly such claims are made.
We are not going to agree because none of us can claim access to non-contingent knowledge. No matter how deeply felt, no matter how soundly theological, the believer's reasons for believing have far too much to do with the believer's life circumstances, experiences, and place in history. Ditto the atheist. And no, for the record, rejecting the One Thing is not my One Thing. Nice try. I need to believe what I'm articulating here for exactly the same kind of contingent reasons as the believer and the atheist. Mine is not a third way; it's just a way. It's how the world looks to me. It has value not in being the One Thing, but in being the one thing that, for right now, I can say I honestly think.
God is a red herring.
17 comments:
"This is about ... the very structure and shape of belief." I think I will ponder that awhile.
I feel like I should be offended by this post, but for the life of me I can't figure out why.
I mean, I don't chase God, the value structures in my life aren't necessarily values I'd like to see imposed on everyone, and even the labels I'm willing to use to describe myself (atheist, humanist) don't point to a single ideology or coherent statement of beliefs, values or actions, either historically or synchronically; even I only use them as a rough indicator that I don't believe that values are transcendent, but they can be vitally important (see the Dewey quote on my FB profile). This almost seems like a strawman but for two things.
The first, this post is ultimately about your disillusionment with attaching yourself to any idea as if it could save you and the world. I can certainly sympathize there; it took me the better part of five years (including eight months of therapy) to realize that attaching oneself to any utopian narrative was just casting myself into a groundless vision. And, frankly, any narrative structure that brings one to the point of trying to overpower people tends to undercut any good that should have come out of it.
The second thing merely required me to go back through some of the religiously-oriented blogs I frequent and read the comments. No, your True Believer is unfortunately not a strawman.
But for those people that don't take up causes for some reason - and I think both of us qualify here for similar reasons - using the names of certain groups or movements just to try and save time. I think you call yourself a Christian non-realist in part because even though you break with the Nicene Creed from the first line you still see something valuable in the tradition to which you can at least nominally connect yourself.
In that same spirit, it's easier to call myself an atheist because I don't believe there's a god or any source of values that aren't ultimately human tools and impulses. But it turns out I can't stand most atheists that I've met; at least here in South Carolina, they seem like the flip side of conservative Christians who feel that they're constantly under threat by the Great Invisible Other, a.k.a. "Them," and that they need to arm themselves mentally and emotionally to survive and to grow. I can't go down that road with them toward what seems like an Enlightenment By Force.
The world is what it is: dynamic, unstable, endlessly creative, caught in time. People are what they are: unfixable, decaying, neurotic, slavish. And yet we haven't killed ourselves off yet, so we must be doing something right. To try and impose any sort of order and permanence to save ourselves from this is anathema and yet all-too-human.
I'm not sure what to do or how to respond. So...love what you can. Embrace the fact that false empathy and understanding runs deep and we're separated from each by an immeasurable distance. Cherish the taste of your foot, as it will be in your mouth quite often (I write to myself here).
Philip -- wonderful to hear from you.
I'm dense enough to have wondered, at first, why in the world you'd be tempted to take offense. And then I re-read my post.
If I escape the straw man charge, it's narrowly. Yes, the kind of atheist (and thus the kind of atheism) of which I speak exists. But I think there's a difference between atheism as an agenda and atheism as an artifact of unbelief. It is the former we hear from the most, the kind you've met and don't like, and about which I was writing.
You're spot-on here: "I think you call yourself a Christian non-realist in part because even though you break with the Nicene Creed from the first line you still see something valuable in the tradition to which you can at least nominally connect yourself."
Yes. It's really about the tradition, and my fondness for theology. It's not even about Jesus, who -- and I give a nod to my conservative friends here -- really isn't that interesting without the metaphysical trappings usually associated with him.
At some point, my association with Christianity has to become unintelligible -- it already is to some -- but I don't like any of the alternatives.
As to your closing remarks:
I'll drink to that.
Having read this and your last post, seems to me that your one is belief without alternative. Since no subjective experience took away your ability to doubt or would have that ability and no other paradigm offered the same, you reject that there is any one best path.
Interesting -- my one thing is something that doesn't exist.
In which case I'm just like everyone else. Good to know.
Interesting -- my one thing is something that doesn't exist.
Well how 'bout that!
In which case I'm just like everyone else. Good to know.
You're welcome!
Just seems to me to be s sound conclusion after reading this:
"We are not going to agree because none of us can claim access to non-contingent knowledge. "
I appreciate the attention, Rob, and don't mean to be surly, but:
Do you have a point?
You remind me of Nancy Murphy's description of one type of post modernist who is really a disappointed modernist who embraces the modernist attempt at finding knowledge that couldn't be rationally disagreed with but recognizes the failure of that picture and embraces that the failure is there because knowledge cannot be had instead of rejecting the modernist picture at the more fundamental level, that their standards were lacking to begin with.
I suppose that is not you exactly, but what you wrote seems a pretty good parallel to that.
Maybe, but I haven't been looking for what is true so much as I've been looking for what I can believe, and it's been awhile since I've been deluded enough to think those were the same thing.
Moreover, there's a whole world of knowledge for which both modern methodologies and modernist epistemologies are entirely adequate. I am not, and refuse to be, the kind of postmodernist who is anti-modernist.
It just seems that to search for beliefs without a principle concern for what is true is itself a delusion.
there's a whole world of knowledge for which both modern methodologies and modernist epistemologies are entirely adequate.
Perhaps. It just seems to me that the modernist methodologies are incomplete and shoot themselves in the foot when those who insist on nothing but that complain of those who go beyond.
Methodologies don't make unwarranted epistemological claims. People do.
My quest for truth led me to the conclusion that truth-claims are contingent. So I'm just trying to be honest (if a bit hyperbolic) to couch things in terms of an exploration of my own subjectivity.
I have no quarrel with going beyond modern rationalism in our constructions of meaning. Most of us do so on a daily basis. My beef is with those who use postfoundationalism as an excuse to not have a foundation without wrestling with the ramifications of not having one. "Postmodern" apologists are quick to play the "death of modernism" card as a way to dodge criticism of their belief systems but slow to come to grips with the epistemological landscape in which that leaves them.
But enough about me. You seem to have something on your chest. Let's hear it. Engage me in conversation instead of just taking potshots. I promise to play nice.
On second thought, Rob, you've got your hands full over on John Loftus' blog. Good hunting.
Glad to see you on the margins.
Thanks!
Um...
Wow.
Loved this. Just found it. Dangit.
Love the New Non-Ira World.
Still think it's uncanny that you live in my head.
Strangely, it's a relief. :)
--tg
I hope I never leave. :)
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