Greta Christina's Blog

The Switch to Freethought Blogs - Some Questions Answered

As regular readers already know, this blog is going to be migrating. I'm going to be part of the new Freethought Blogs network, started by Ed Brayton at Dispatches from the Culture Wars and PZ Myers at Pharyngula. That transition is happening soon -- September 1, to be precise.

Many people have been asking questions about the transition. So I thought I'd answer the most commonly- asked ones now.

Is the old blog still going to be here?

Yes. There are way too many links to this blog out in the internet. I don't want all those links to be broken. I'll keep this blog around for archival purposes, and I'll probably do so for as close to forever as I can.

But I'll also be moving my archives over to my FTB blog. And I'd hugely appreciate it if y'all could link to the FTB archives as much as is humanly possible. I'll be getting paid by the hit count, and if all those links to (oh, say, just to give on example completely at random) "Atheists and Anger" were to get directed to my FTB blog instead of here, it would make a big, big difference. I'm just sayin', is all.

Will comments stay open on the old blog?

For the moment. I may close them eventually, though. I really want people to move to the new blog. And I don't want to have to do moderation/ spam control on two blogs forever.

Will my FeedBlitz notifications/ RSS feed still work?

I'll see if I can get FeedBlitz to update to the new blog. If not, we'll have to start again. RSS will definitely not work. You'll have to re-subscribe to the new blog.

What about your non-atheist blogging? What about your writing about sex/ politics/ feminism/ cat photos/ etc.? Where are you going to do that?

Don't worry! I'm going to do all of that blogging on Freethought Blogs! Freethought Blogs is exactly that -- free thought. The focus is on atheism and other forms of godlessness, obviously... but the other FTB bloggers are blogging about plenty of other topics, and I plan to do so as well.

I'm sure the blog will evolve with time, and I'm sure that this evolution will be affected by being in the network and by the kind of traffic I get from it. But I don't expect the basic vision to change very dramatically.

And yes, I've been assured that I can keep writing explicitly about sex. If anything, I'll probably wind up blogging about sex more than I have been lately. I currently don't have any regular paid gigs as a sex writer, and that has seriously limited how much time I can spend doing it. But Freethought Blogs is itself a paying gig. So that whole "I have to prioritize writing that actually brings in some income" equation I've been doing for so long is about to take a dramatic shift... in the direction of focusing more on the blog, and writing more original content for it, and blogging more about whatever the fuck happens to be on my mind. I really like doing sex writing, and I'm excited and happy that I'll now be able to bring in some money for doing it.

If you have any other questions about my transition to Freethought Blogs, ask them here. I'll see you at the new network in about a week!

Grief Beyond Belief -- How Atheists Are Dealing With Death

This piece was originally published on AlterNet.

In a society that reflexively copes with death by using religion, grieving atheists are turning to each other.

How do you deal with death -- your own, or that of people you love -- when you don't believe in God or an afterlife?

Especially when our culture so commonly handles grief with religion... in ways that are so deeply ingrained, people often aren't aware of it?

A new online faith-free grief support group, Grief Beyond Belief, is grappling with that very question. And the launch of the group -- along with its rapid growth -- presents another compelling question: Why do so many atheists need and want a separate godless sub-culture... for grief support, or anything else?

Grief Beyond Belief was launched by Rebecca Hensler after the death of her three-month-old son. Shortly after Jude's death, she discovered Compassionate Friends, an online network of parents grieving the deaths of their children. But even though Compassionate Friends is not a religious organization, she says, "I often felt alienated by assurances from other members that my son was in heaven or by offers to pray for me, comforts that were kindly meant but that I do not believe and cannot accept." And she knew there were others who felt the same way. (Conflict of interest alert: Hensler and I are friends, and I actively encouraged and supported her in launching this group.)

So about a year later, she started a Facebook page, Grief Beyond Belief. And the group grew and flourished far beyond her expectations. Once the atheist blogosphere heard about the group, news about it spread like wildfire, and membership in the group grew rapidly, rising to over a thousand in just the first couple of weeks. The group is open to atheists, agnostics, humanists, and anyone without belief in a higher power or an afterlife, to share memories, photos, thoughts, feelings or questions, and to give others support, perspective, empathy, or simply a non-judgmental ear. And it's also open to believers who are questioning, struggling with, or letting go of their beliefs. As long as you don't offer prayers, proselytize for your religious beliefs, or tell other members that their dead loved ones are in a better place with the angels, you're welcome to join.

So why do atheists need this?

Salt in the Wound

For some grieving non-believers, the comforts offered by religious believers are neutral, and can even be positive. These atheists don't agree that their dead loved ones are still alive and that they'll see them again someday; but they can accept the intent behind the sentiments, and can feel connected with and supported by believers even though they don't share the beliefs.

But for many non-believers, these comforts are actively upsetting. They are the antithesis of comforting. They rub salt in the wound.

For many grieving non-believers, the "comforts" of religion and religious views of death present a terrible choice: Either pretend to agree with ideas they reject and in many cases actively oppose... or open up about their non-belief, and start a potentially divisive argument at a time when they most need connection and comfort. As GBB member William Farlin Cain said, "I was still very much in the atheist closet at the time [my mom] passed away, and I was surrounded by believers saying all the things believers say, and I had to say them too just to keep the peace. It was hard."

Religious ideas about death can also make atheists feel alienated: hyper-aware of their marginalized status, and of the ways that atheists in our culture are invisible at best. As I've told believers who were pressing their religious "comforts" on me even though I'd explicitly said I didn't want that: If you wouldn't tell a Jewish person that their dead loved one is in the arms of Jesus Christ, why would you think it's appropriate to tell a non-believer that their dead loved one is in Heaven? And yet many believers do think this is appropriate... to the point where they not only offer nonbelievers the "comfort" of their opinion that death is not final, but persist in doing so even when specifically asked not to. They're so steeped in the idea of religion as a comfort, they seem unable to think of any other way to comfort those in need. And they seem unable to see that their beliefs aren't universally shared by everyone.

But these beliefs aren't universally shared. And they aren't seen as universally comforting, either. In fact, religious ideas about death can be profoundly upsetting to people who don't believe them. Sentiments that many believers find comforting -- such as Heaven and Hell, or God's plan for life and death -- are, for many non-believers, more than just ideas they don't agree with. They are ideas they find distressing, hurtful, and repugnant. As GBB member Lisa M. Lilly said, "After my parents were killed by a drunk driver, people said things to me that I found extremely difficult to hear, such as that their deaths were God's plan or God's will. While I'm sure the speakers thought they were offering comfort, the idea that God wanted my mother to be run over and die in the street and my father to suffer 6 1/2 weeks with severe injuries, only to die after several surgeries, was appalling to me." And as GBB member Karen Vidrine commented, "Even when believers don't say it, I know they are thinking of Hell and how to tell me my children [who committed suicide] are there." Even though atheists don't agree with these ideas, they're still disturbing -- and they're the last thing they want to hear about when they're struggling with their grief.

This isn't just true for non-believers, either. It's often true for grieving believers as well. In fact, as Hensler points out, the death of a loved one is often a trigger for questioning or abandoning religious faith -- especially if that death is particularly painful or unjust. (This is a big reason why Hensler created the group to welcome not only atheists, but believers who are questioning their faith.) The idea that death is part of God's plan, for instance, is comforting to some -- but for many, this idea either makes them angry at God, or guilt-ridden about what they or their loved ones did wrong to bring on his wrath. And the idea of Heaven or another perfectly blissful afterlife is often comforting only when you don't think about it very carefully. When you consider the idea of a spiritual "place" where we somehow are ourselves and yet magically don't change or grow, don't experience any conflict, don't have the freedom to screw up, and are untroubled by the suffering of others (either living or in Hell)... this idea can become more and more disturbing the more carefully you consider it. And many people find that they cope with death and grief far better without it.

But the reality is that spiritual beliefs permeate grief support -- so much so that it's invisible to believers, who often perpetuate it without even thinking. As GBB founder Hensler pointed out, even in the non-religious Compassionate Friends group, "so many of their members are religious or spiritual that there is no real way to participate without being constantly exposed to comments about god, angels and signs. And when I posted about my son and my grief on the page, commenters frequently projected those beliefs onto me, with offers to pray or reassurances that Jude is in heaven. Half the time I felt understood and supported, and half the time I felt like screaming." GBB member Kevin Millham echoes this sentiment. "The hospice in which my wife died has a wonderful bereavement program, and I now belong to a grief support there. Everyone tries to be supportive and not proselytize, but the other members are Christians without exception, and we often hear in group meetings how their faith is helping them get through (though I notice they're having every bit as hard a time as I am...). What helps them does not help me, however, and I find that talk of an afterlife I do not believe in is a way of minimizing my attempts to deal with the finality of my wife's death, however well-intentioned the 'better place' comments may be."

And planning funerals and memorials with religious content is so common that, even when non-believers explicitly request secular ceremonies upon their death, these wishes frequently get ignored. Said GBB member Julie Downing Wirtz, "When my mom died, she left explicit instructions for her funeral. It was to be in the funeral home, not the church, she wanted 2 songs played, and she named them clearly. Well, some of my siblings chose not to honor her wishes, went to the Catholic church my mother no longer attended, somehow got the pastor there to allow the funeral service, but he would not allow the songs that my mom felt would give us comfort, since they were not religious songs." This also happened to GBB member Kevin Millham when his wife died: "The memorials we had discussed and agreed upon before her death were pretty much hijacked by local religious and spiritual types."

Even supposedly secular memorials often get infused with religious or spiritual content. And this tendency is so deeply ingrained, the people planning these events aren't even aware that the content is religious, and might be unwelcome to non-believers. Hensler tells the story of a memorial held for a number of children, including her son -- a memorial that was explicitly described as non-religious. "A book was read to all the children in attendance," she says, "who were mostly grieving siblings. The book was written from the point of view of a dead child, describing 'where I am now' in vague, stars-and-rainbows sorts of terms. It disturbed me, particularly because my late son was one of the children honored at the ceremony. How can they say an event will be non-religious and then teach the children who attend about a version of afterlife?" And before you ask... this didn't happen in a small town in the Midwest, or the deeply religious South. It happened in San Francisco -- one of the most secular, least traditionally religious, most diversity-supportive cities in the country. As Hensler noted, "A whole lot of people seem to think that as long as you aren't talking about Jesus, any support you provide is universally welcome.

This latter point cannot be emphasized enough. There's an all-too- common assumption that "non-religious" means "not adhering to the tenets of a specific religious sect." If you aren't talking about Jesus, or Allah, or reincarnation -- if all you're talking about is non-specific ideas of some sort of higher power or some sort of afterlife -- that's typically seen to be "non-religious." Atheism -- or indeed, any sort of non-belief in any supernatural beings or forces -- is still so invisible in our culture that the possibility simply isn't considered. So even supposedly inclusive, secular events end up with religious or spiritual content that leaves non-believers out in the cold.

But even if none of this were the case -- even if grieving atheists were never confronted with religious ideas about death in upsetting or alienating ways, or even if no atheists were upset or alienated by these ideas -- the need for non- faith- based grief support would still be powerful.

Because in a time of grief, the need for others who understand, others with a similar outlook on life and death, is powerful.

Secular and religious views of life -- and death -- can be radically different. The view that life and death are deliberately guided by a conscious supernatural being is radically different from the view that life and death are entirely natural processes, guided by physical cause and effect. The view that consciousness is a metaphysical substance with the ability to survive death is radically different from the view that consciousness is a biological process created by the brain, and that it ends when the brain dies. The view that life is permanent is radically different from the view that life is ephemeral.

And the forms of comfort and perspective that we find helpful in grief can also be radically different. The idea that life is eternal and we'll see our loved ones again someday is radically different from the idea that life is transitory and therefore ought to be intensely treasured. The idea that life and death are part of God's benevolent plan is radically different from the idea that life and death are part of natural cause and effect, and that we and our loved ones are part of the physical universe and are intimately connected with it. The idea that our dead loved ones are no longer suffering because they're in a blissful Heaven is radically different from the idea that our dead loved ones are no longer suffering because they no longer exist, and that being dead is no more painful or frightening than not having been born yet. The idea that death is an illusion is radically different from the idea that death is necessary for life and change to be possible. The idea that the soul will live forever is radically different from the idea that things don't have to be permanent to be valuable and meaningful. The idea that there will be a final judgment in which the bad are punished and the good are rewarded is radically different from the idea that we were all phenomenally, astronomically lucky to have been born at all. The idea that our loved ones will always live on in an afterlife is radically different from the idea that we keep our loved ones alive in our memories, and that they live on in the ways they changed us and the world. Believers and non-believers have many things in common, and much of what we find comforting during grief is the same -- but much of it is seriously different, and even contradictory.

So for many grieving non-believers, the comfort offered by religious believers is, at best, not particularly comforting. Even if it isn't actively upsetting, it simply doesn't connect. And so the comfort, perspective, practical guidance, support, and simple "I've been there and know what you're going through" offered by the Grief Beyond Belief network has been intensely welcomed. As Hensler says, "One of the hardest parts about the first few days of Grief Beyond Belief was the number of people who said, "I wish this had existed when..."

GBB member Nita-Jane Grigson: "I get a sense of support from other people going through what I'm going through, that my friends don't understand." GBB member William Farlin Cain: "Other grief groups more or less insist I indulge my 'spiritual side,' and I just want something of the rational as I revisit the grieving process these years later." GBB member Karen Vidrine: "I like being able to comment and vent about my children's deaths, suicides, without fear of judgment." GBB member James Sweet: "I look for the same things I think just about anyone is looking for in a grief support group: To know other people are going through the same things; to vent; to share; to find hope in loss, to see that no matter how terrible the tragedy, life still goes on. I just don't need to worry so much about having to bite my tongue." GBB member Lisa M. Lilly: "I am grateful to Grief Beyond Belief for providing a forum where feelings of loss are acknowledged and shared without anyone insisting that somehow the tragedy is a good thing or fits with religious views held by others." GBB member Kevin Millham: "I come here to be with kindred spirits who will understand what it is I'm going through even if we do not often respond directly to each other's posts. Just knowing that I'm not alone in my (lack of) beliefs is a comfort when in my hometown I feel so alienated."

Even people who currently aren't grieving are finding Grief Beyond Belief valuable -- because it helps them support the bereaved non-believers in their lives. GBB member Julie Downing Wirtz says, "As a trained Funeral Celebrant, and Life Tribute Specialist, serving only non-religious families, I find the posts at GBB help me to serve my clients with a better understanding of the various thoughts that go through people's minds when they are grieving, many of which are very different from my own experiences." And GBB member Christine M. Pedro-Panuyas concurs. " I haven't lost anyone close to me, but what Grief Beyond Belief has really done for me is it helped me know what to say to those who have lost someone. It helped me learn the words to say that are comforting and are comforting in a powerful way because they are true."

When The Trump Card Fails

It's commonly assumed that death is religion's trump card. No matter what atheism has to offer -- a better sex life, freedom from religion's often random taboos, the embrace of reality over wishful thinking, etc. -- many people automatically assume that, when it comes to death and grief, the comfort of believing in an afterlife will always win out. They assume that any argument for atheism being, you know, true, will ultimately crumble in the face of our desire for death to not be the end.

Many atheists reject this assumption passionately. We point out that many religious beliefs about death are far from comforting -- Hell being the most obvious -- and that many former believers welcome atheism as a profound relief. We point out that religious beliefs about death are only comforting when you don't think about them very carefully. We point out that a philosophy that accepts reality is inherently more comforting than a philosophy based on wishful thinking... since it doesn't involve cognitive dissonance and the unease of self-deception. And we point out that there are many godless philosophies of death that offer comfort, meaning, and hope -- with complete acceptance of the permanence of death, and without any belief in any sort of afterlife.

But it's one thing to face the general idea of death with a godless philosophy. It's another thing entirely when someone you love dies, and you're dealing with the immediate and painful reality of grief.

And that's what groups like Grief Beyond Belief are about.

That's what the burgeoning atheist community is about.

So if you ever wonder why atheists need our own space -- our own meetup groups, our own student groups, our own online forums, our own organizations, our own support networks -- remember that.

And if you need it yourself -- please know that it's here.

You can join Grief Beyond Belief by going to the Facebook group and clicking the "like" button.

I Need a Banner For My Freethought Blog!

I'm going to be moving my blog to the Freethought Blogs network soon, and I need a banner! Any designers out there want to help? I'll send you copies of all four of my books if I use your design!

Specs:

The banner needs to be 728x120 pixels.

It needs to have the title of the blog, "Greta Christina's Blog," in pretty big letters.

It needs to have the tagline of the blog, "Atheism, sex, politics, dreams, and whatever. Thinking out loud since 2005." in smaller letters.

It doesn't have to incorporate my portrait pic, since that will be on the blog elsewhere. But it can incorporate it if you can make it work.

I'm not a designer, and don't know what else to say in terms of specs or vision or what I'm looking for generally. But if you ask me questions, I'll answer them as best I can. You can check out see what the other Freethought Blogs bloggers are using for banners, if that helps.

And my books are:

Best Erotic Comics 2008
Best Erotic Comics 2009
Paying For It: A Guide by Sex Workers For Their Clients (now out of print, except on Kindle)
Three Kinds of Asking For It: Erotic Novellas by Jill Soloway, Greta Christina, and Eric Albert

I'm very much looking forward to this transition -- and I think a good banner could definitely help draw and keep traffic. Holler if you want to help out!

The Karaoke Pledge Has Been Completed!

And here it is, as promised -- video of me singing karaoke.

Jesus fictional Christ.

As some of you may remember, a few months ago a bunch of atheist bloggers did a fundraising competition for Camp Quest (the kids' camp for children of atheists, freethinkers, humanists, and other non-supernaturalists), pitting PZ Myers of Pharyngula against pretty much every other atheist blogger we could round up. The competition got... diverting, to say the least, with PZ offering to shave his beard into a hideous '80s moustache if he won, and several members of Team Awesome responding by offering to publicly embarrass ourselves in an assortment of amusing ways for the entertainment of the atheist community if we won. Adam Lee at Daylight Atheism offered to grow a beard (in an effort to offset PZ's beard-shaving proposal and keep facial hair homeostasis within the atheist blogosphere); Matt Dillahunty of The Atheist Experience offered to do an episode of the show in drag; C.L. Hanson at Letters from a Broad offered to organize a showtunes sing-along (which, as far as I know, she hasn't yet done -- how about it, C.L.?); Jen McCreight at Blag Hag offered to learn to ride a bike on video; JT Eberhard at WWJTD offered to wax his legs and shave his head.

And I offered to sing karaoke, and post video of it online.

As you may remember, Team Awesome won. We raised a total of $15,418.79: PZ Myers raised a paltry total of $14,656.01. So the two teams combined raised $30,074.80 for the wonderful, inspiring, eminently worthy cause of Camp Quest.

Which was great.

No, really. I'm very, very happy about this.

Sigh.

So. Okay. The last three of these pledges -- mine, Jen's, and JT's -- were carried out at the recent Secular Student Alliance conference. Video footage was taken, and has been compiled, and has now been posted to the Internet.

I'm only on for a few seconds in the video. Which is fine with me. But if you feel a compelling need to hear more of what my singing voice sounds like through a shitty microphone in a noisy bar at the tail end of a weekend-long conference when my voice is shot... take it up with videographer Ashley Paramore, aka healthyaddict, who put the montage together. My pledge has now been fulfilled, and honor has been upheld, and I can attempt to put this episode in the back of my mind.

Until next year's contest.

Hm. What should I pledge next time around?

(Video below the jump, since putting it above the jump mucks up my archives.)

We Are Atheism - Greta's Video

Y'all know about the It Gets Better project, right? Where people make YouTube videos telling gay teenagers that life gets better after high school, and that living as a gay person can be okay... and indeed, much better than okay?

A similar project has just started for atheists: We Are Atheism. It's not specifically targeted at atheist teenagers (although "What would you say to your teenage self?" is a common thread in many of the videos). It was created to provide an outlet for all atheists, of any age, to come out of the closet; to help people find other atheists in their area; to empower people to start their own atheist organizations in areas that don't currently have one; and to let other people -- atheists and otherwise -- simply see the faces of atheism, and to see that atheists can be good people with happy, meaningful lives.

I've done a video for the project myself, if you want to check it out! Six minutes and eight seconds of pure Greta awesomeness! (Video below the jump, since putting it above the jump mucks up my archives.)

And you can make your own "We Are Atheism" video! This isn't about a handful of semi- high- profile atheists: this is about all of us, our entire community. We want to make this project as big as possible, and give as wide a variety of faces to atheism as we can. So take part. Come out, come out, wherever you are!

Greta Interviewed on "Ask an Atheist" Podcast!

Are you a podcast fan? If so, check out my latest interview! I was recently interviewed for the "Ask an Atheist" radio show, and the program is now available in podcast form. The main topic of conversation is anti- atheist bigotry -- especially among progressive and moderate believers -- but the conversation wanders into many other interesting and fun godless topics. Enjoy!

Memo to Religious People: Many Atheists Don't Want to Hear That Their Loved Ones "Are in Heaven" -- New Group for Non-Believers Helps Atheists Grieve

In a society that reflexively copes with death by using religion, grieving atheists are turning to each other.

How do you deal with death -- your own, or that of people you love -- when you don't believe in God or an afterlife?

Especially when our culture so commonly handles grief with religion... in ways that are so deeply ingrained, people often aren't aware of it?

A new online faith-free grief support group, Grief Beyond Belief, is grappling with that very question. And the launch of the group -- along with its rapid growth -- presents another compelling question: Why do so many atheists need and want a separate godless sub-culture... for grief support, or anything else?

Grief Beyond Belief was launched by Rebecca Hensler after the death of her three-month-old son. Shortly after Jude's death, she discovered Compassionate Friends, an online network of parents grieving the deaths of their children. But even though Compassionate Friends is not a religious organization, she says, "I often felt alienated by assurances from other members that my son was in heaven or by offers to pray for me, comforts that were kindly meant but that I do not believe and cannot accept." And she knew there were others who felt the same way. (Conflict of interest alert: Hensler and I are friends, and I actively encouraged and supported her in launching this group.)

So about a year later, she started a Facebook page, Grief Beyond Belief. And the group grew and flourished far beyond her expectations. Once the atheist blogosphere heard about the group, news about it spread like wildfire, and membership in the group grew rapidly, rising to over a thousand in just the first couple of weeks. The group is open to atheists, agnostics, humanists, and anyone without belief in a higher power or an afterlife, to share memories, photos, thoughts, feelings or questions, and to give others support, perspective, empathy, or simply a non-judgmental ear. And it's also open to believers who are questioning, struggling with, or letting go of their beliefs. As long as you don't offer prayers, proselytize for your religious beliefs, or tell other members that their dead loved ones are in a better place with the angels, you're welcome to join.

So why do atheists need this?

*

Thus begins my latest piece for AlterNet: Memo to Religious People: Many Atheists Don't Want to Hear That Their Loved Ones "Are in Heaven" -- New Group for Non-Believers Helps Atheists Grieve. To find out more about this grief support group for atheists -- including why we need it -- read the rest of the piece.

The Best Things About the Midwest Humanist and Freethought Conference

I feel like the scales have been lifted from my eyes. I was blind, but now I see. For most of the time I've been going to conferences, I've been avoiding conference reports as tedious drudgery... but now that I've discovered the secret -- don't worry about being thorough or even coherent, just post a series of disjointed observations about whatever happened to catch my fancy -- I'm all inspired, and want to do it every time. (And it makes for perfect "plane ride home" blogging!)

So here, in no particular order, are The Best Things About the Midwest Humanist and Freethought Conference.

1: Brother Sam Singleton. If you have not seen Brother Sam Singleton, Atheist Evangelist, you are missing one of the great joys of life. Hilarious and chilling, erudite and crass, quoting Voltaire with a vivid Ozarks accent, Brother Sam's performance kidnaps the style of a Pentecostal revival meeting and uses it to deliver a sharp, compelling, take-no- prisoners atheist rant that makes Christopher Hitchens look like a vanilla cupcake. Truly the best of both worlds: if you think embracing atheism means losing the wild, soaring, inspired artistry of religion, his show is a must-see. I was cranky and groggy about being up at 9am on a Sunday with very little sleep (isn't that supposed to be one of the benefits of atheism -- that we get to sleep in on Sundays?)... and Brother Sam woke me the fuck up. See him if you possibly can. Make it a priority.

2: The pillow fort. This is what awaited Jen McCreight when she arrived in Omaha. The impenetrable fortress of pillows! And a devastating ambush with the socks and T-shirts of victory! Photo (and video) by JT Eberhard: campus organizer, Skepticon co-founder, and renowned pillow fort architect. When the history of the atheist movement is written, let it be recorded that its thought leaders were five years old.

(And can I just say: This is one of the best pictures of me that has ever been taken. I am seriously tempted to make it my author pic for my next book. If I were a rock star, I would totally make it my next album cover. [Tangent within a tangent: Has any rock star or rock band ever done an album cover photo behind a pillow fort? And if not, why not?])

3: Jen McCreight's talk. Jen has this unique talent as a speaker. Her manner is casual and approachable, like she's simply chatting with you and it just happens to be at a lectern with a PowerPoint presentation. And then she sneaks these ideas out that punch you in the brain and shake everything up. Completely sensible ideas, ideas that seem so obvious you can't believe you didn't think of them before, ideas that seem even more reasonable given her relaxed and chatty approach... and that will totally fuck with your world. The key concept of her talk -- that women's relationships with God and religion are essentially abusive relationships, with all or most of the classic signs of abuse, and that the reasons women find it hard to leave religion are often the same reasons it's hard to leave an abusive relationship -- is one of those ideas. I am now rethinking a ton of stuff about how to persuade people (especially women) out of religion, and how to make atheism more welcoming to people (especially women) who are leaving it.

4: JT Eberhard's talk. JT's talk, on the other hand, was anything but casual. JT's talk -- on why reason is a moral obligation, and why atheists ought not to suffer unreason gladly -- said hard things about religious belief, and hard things about religious believers, and hard things about atheists who decline to push back against it all. It was one of the darker talks I've seen him give. It was also one of the most inspiring. Not in a rah-rah "Atheists are awesome!" way, but in a "This is serious shit, we all need to be stepping up our game" way. (I still don't agree with him about the primacy of reason in all areas of life -- I think there's a hugely important place in our lives for irrationality and intuition and impulse. Just not when it comes to evaluating truth claims about the non-subjective universe. But that's a conversation for another day.)

5: My angry atheist rant. I gave my "Why Are You Atheists So Angry?" talk. I love my "Why Are You Atheists So Angry?" talk. It's one of my two favorite talks to give (running neck and neck with "Atheism and Sexuality"). And judging by the response, other people seem rather fond of it as well. I'm not going to indulge in false modesty. It's a barn-burner. And I do so enjoy burning a barn.

6: The panel discussion about "The Ledge." This took me by surprise. There was a screening of Matthew Chapman's "The Ledge" on Sunday, and a panel discussion about it with the speakers... which the speakers hadn't actually known about until it was announced from the podium on Saturday. We were all like, "We're doing what now?" And, "You want us to be coherent on the last day of a conference, about a movie we just finished watching?" But it was actually a fascinating conversation: about the characters' motivations, and whether atheist characters in movies should be role models or flawed and complex human beings, and how far a film can stretch plausibility for the sake of good storytelling, and what the atheist community can do to fill the human needs that religion is filling, and whether the movie's main character was a good guy with some asshole tendencies or an asshole with some good tendencies, and more. And it was a conversation that soon spilled out from the speakers' panel and into the audience. For the last event of the conference, when everyone was drained and sleep-deprived and had Jello for brains, it was surprisingly lively. (And the movie itself is, IMO, excellent. I'd seen it before, back when I reviewed it, and it held up to the second viewing quite nicely.)

7: Hanging out at Caffeine Dreams after it was all over. Caffeine Dreams is a truly delightful space: sprawling and spacious but also intimate, arty but also friendly and welcoming, in an old brick building that used to be two bars that used to be an architect's home. (According to the barrista, anyway.) Plus plentiful sofas for exhausted speakers/ organizers/ die-hards to collapse into. And Mountain Goats on the sound system. Aaaaaaaaaah. I was fried and jangled when we got there -- happy and satisfied, don't get me wrong, but fried and jangled nonetheless -- and Caffeine Dreams was a balm to my non-existent soul. The food wasn't wildly magnificent or anything, but it was tasty and fresh, and the coffee was strong... and the space was so delightful, it could have made a day-old Quarter Pounder seem delicious. The next time I go to Omaha, I want to eat every possible meal there.

And the company there was exquisite. Languid, meandering, post- conference- Jello- brain conversations about travel, and chocolate, and relocating the Large Hadron Collider to Columbus (ideally next to Jeni's Ice Cream), and atheist politics, and life in the military, and whether kittens or puppies are cuter and why. I felt suspended in time, and entirely happy to be exactly where I was.

There was so much about this conference that was excellent. Hemant Mehta's talk. Fred Edwords' talk. Mr. Deity's talk. The drawing of a T-Rex on the bag of Italian food that Jen and JT and I had delivered to our hotel. (JT had promised a ten-dollar tip to the delivery guy if he drew us a dinosaur, and the delivery guy came through with flying colors.)

But I've been to a lot of conferences now... and these conversations among old friends and new are almost always the best thing. You never know when the good ones are going to happen: it could be at the merch table, or at the Steak 'n' Shake, or over grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at the post-bar-hop sobering-up efforts at the late-night coffeeshop. But whenever and wherever they happen, they are worth it. This movement is becoming a real community; this community is becoming an extended family. It makes me happier than I can say.

The Santa Delusion: Why "Religion Is Useful" Is a Terrible Argument For Religion

"But religion is useful. It makes people happy. It comforts people in hard times. It makes people better-behaved. And losing religious faith can be traumatic. So what difference does it make if it isn't true? Shouldn't we be perpetuating it anyway -- or at least leaving it alone? Why do you want to persuade people out of it?"

Atheists hear this a lot. The argument from utility -- the defense of religion, not because it's true, but because it's psychologically or socially useful -- is freakishly common. If you spend any time reading debates in atheist blogs or forums, you're bound to see it come up.

Now, when atheists hear this "But religion is so useful!" argument, our most common response is to say, "Is not!" We eagerly point out that countries with high rates of atheism are also countries with high rates of happiness, ethics, and social functioning. (This doesn't prove that atheism causes high social functioning, of course -- in fact, it's probably the other way around -- but it does show that high social functioning doesn't need religion.) We'll point out the many, many examples of religious believers who cheat, steal, murder, and generally behave very badly indeed... entirely undercutting the notion that religion provides an unshakable foundation for good moral behavior. And we'll point to ourselves, and to other atheists we know -- people who clearly don't need religion, who are living happy, ethical lives without religion, who in some cases are even happier and better without religion -- as the most obvious counter-arguments we can think of to this argument.

These are all fair points. I've made them myself, many times, and I will no doubt make them again. But there's a basic problem with all these wonderful fair points.

They make the argument from utility seem valid.

And I don't want to do that. I think the argument from utility is absurd on the face of it. I think the entire idea of deciding what we think is true based on what we want to be true is laughable. Or it would be, if it weren't so appalling. I've seen this argument advanced many, many times... and it still shocks me to see otherwise intelligent, thoughtful adults making it. It is preposterous.

So today, I want to dismantle the entire premise of the argument from utility. I want to dismantle the entire premise that it's reasonable, and even a positive good, to believe in something you have no good reason to think is true... simply because it makes you happy.

The Santa Delusion

Let's draw an analogy. Let's look at another dearly treasured, deeply held belief about how the world works.

Let's look at Santa Claus.

Millions of children are made very happy by their belief in Santa. They have fun imagining the presents he's going to bring them. They like visiting him in the department store. They enjoy hearing stories about him, singing songs about him, drawing pictures of him. They get a thrill from putting cookies and cocoa out for him by the fireplace (or the gas heater, or whatever), and seeing them gone the next day. They get more and more excited as Christmas gets closer and the day of his visitation approaches.

What's more, millions of children probably behave better because they believe in Santa. The desire for really great presents, the fear of getting coal in their stockings instead of presents... this has almost certainly made many children behave better. It's probably resulted in thousands of cleaned rooms, thousands of finished homework assignments, thousands of un-punched siblings. At least during the month of December.

And millions of children get upset when they discover that Santa isn't real. Letting go of Santa can be a distressing experience, one that people remember well into adulthood. (This isn't universally true -- I was actually excited to discover that Santa wasn't real, since I figured it out on my own and it made me feel clever and grown-up to have outwitted the grown-ups -- but it's certainly not uncommon.)

Would you therefore argue that we ought to believe in Santa?

Would you argue that, because belief in Santa makes children happy and better-behaved, we therefore ought to perpetuate it? Would you argue that, because relinquishing that belief can be upsetting, we ought to go to great lengths to protect children from discovering that Santa isn't real... not only during their childhood, but throughout their adult lives? Would you attend Churches and Temples of Santa, and leave cookies and cocoa on their red-and-white-plush altars? Would you pity people who don't believe in Santa as being joyless and imprisoned in rationality... and would you chastise these a-Santa-ists as intolerant, bigoted proselytizers when they tried to persuade others that Santa isn't real?

Or would you, instead, think that people ought to grow up? Would you think that letting go of the belief in Santa (for those who grew up believing) is an essential part of becoming an adult? Would you think that we need to understand reality, so we know how to behave in it? Would you think that, in order to make good decisions and function effectively in the world, we need to have the most truthful understanding of it that we can muster... and that if the best evidence suggests that Santa isn't real, we ought to accept that conclusion? Would you look at this idea that it's okay to decide what's true about the world based on what we want to be true, and call it preposterous, laughable, appalling, absurd on the face of it?

And if you wouldn't argue that belief in Santa is valid simply because it's useful... why would you argue it about God?

Now. You might say that belief in God makes more sense than belief in Santa. You might say that, while we know Santa is a fictional character, the existence of God is, at the very least, an open question... and that therefore, belief in God is more defensible than belief in Santa.

But then you're back to arguing that God is real. Or at least plausible. You've abandoned the argument from utility (which you should, it's a terrible argument), and you've circled back around to debating whether God really exists, and whether good evidence supports that hypothesis.

And the whole freaking point of the argument from utility is that it abandons the case for God being real. The whole point is that it doesn't matter whether God is real... as long as belief in God makes people happy. So you don't get to shore up that argument by saying that God might be real after all. Not unless you're willing to make a pretty convincing case for God being real.

And if you had a convincing case for God being real... why on Earth would you be arguing that it doesn't matter whether he's real, as long as belief in him makes people happy? If you can make a better case for God than you can for Santa... then why aren't you making it? Why are you falling back on this patently absurd notion that grown-ups should believe whatever makes them feel good, regardless of whether that belief has any connection with reality?

The Argument That Eats Itself

Whenever I hear the argument from utility, I pretty much consider it a victory for my side. It's an entirely self-defeating argument, an argument that admits that it's wrong in the very stating of it. When people start arguing for the utility of their beliefs regardless of whether they're actually true, they've essentially conceded. They're essentially saying, "You're right. The things I believe almost certainly aren't true. I certainly can't make a good case for why they're true. Now will you leave me alone and let me believe them anyway?"

Well, if you want to believe things that you know almost certainly aren't true, you're certainly free to do that. I'm not sure what definition of the word "believe" you're using there... but sure. If for you, "believing" in God means "telling yourself over and over that God exists in hopes that you can make yourself really think it"... then knock yourself out.

But if that's what you think, then why are you bothering to argue with atheists? If you really just believe things because you want them to be true, why do you care what anyone else thinks about it?

I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt here. I'm going to assume that you're debating atheists because you want to test your beliefs against the people who will question them the hardest. I'm going to assume that you do, in fact, care whether the things you believe are true.

And I'm going to show the argument from utility for what it is: a last-ditch effort to hang onto a belief that you know isn't supportable, but that you're having a hard time letting go of. I know that religion is hard to let go of: I know that people have emotional attachments, psychological attachments, social attachments, to believing in God, and/or the soul, and/or the supernatural, and/or the afterlife. I've been there. I get it.

So I'm going to do you the respect of treating you like an adult. I'm going to do you the respect of assuming that you're mature enough to face realities that, at first, are hard to face. And I'm going to do you the respect of being straight with you: If you're making the argument from utility, if you're arguing in favor of wishful thinking, you're not living up to your maturity.

I will tell you here that life without religion can be really good. I'll tell you that life without religion can be liberating, that it can give you an intense and profound sense of connection with humanity and the universe. I'll tell you that atheists have meaning in our lives, and joy, and comfort in the face of hard times, and solace in the face of death, and a passion to do right. I'll tell you that atheism can be a safe place to land, and that, as the atheist community grows bigger and stronger, it's getting safer every day. I'll tell you that most former believers I know are tickled pink to have let go of their beliefs.

I'm entirely sincere about all of that. But it's not the most important thing. The most important thing about atheism is that it's almost certainly true.

And if you're defending religion because it's useful, regardless of whether it's true... then on some level, you know that.

Come on in. The water's fine.

(Note: The core analogy here about Santa was swiped from Red Neck, Blue Collar, Atheist by Hank Fox. I'm an ethical atheist, and believe in giving credit where credit is due.)

Two Large Pieces of Greta News - Reason Rally, and Freethought Blogs!

Hi, all! I have two pieces of kind of monumental news, I'm ridiculously excited about both of them, and I wanted to let y'all know.

Piece of News #1: Do you all know about the Reason Rally? The atheist/ secular March on Washington, set for March 24, 2012? It's kind of a big freaking deal: they're saying it's going to be the largest gathering of the secular movement in world history. There's going to be music, comedy, general fun and hanging out... and, of course, speakers.

And I'm going to be one of the speakers.

No shit. Check out the speakers list. I'm on it -- along with Richard Dawkins, PZ Myers, Jamila Bey, Hemant Mehta, James Randi, Taslima Nasrin, David Silverman, and a list that keeps on growing.

The Reason Rally is being put together by a kind of incredible coalition of secularist organizations, joining their efforts to make it as huge and inclusive as possible. As of this writing, the march is being sponsored by (take a deep breath): American Atheists, American Humanist Association, Atheist Alliance of America, Camp Quest, Center for Inquiry, Freethought Society, Military Atheists and Freethinkers, Secular Coalition for America, Secular Student Alliance, Society for Humanistic Judaism, Stiefel Freethought Foundation, The Brights, The James Randi Educational Foundation, The Richard Dawkins Foundation, and United COR. Who says you can't herd cats?

I am more excited and proud to be part of this than I can possibly say. This event should be entirely made of 100% Awesomnium, and if you possibly can make it, you should. Make your travel plans to DC now! And spread the word among your godless friends and colleagues -- the more people who know about this, the more awesome it's going to be!



Piece of News #2: Do you all know about the new Freethought Blogs network? The new network of atheist/ freethought/ godless bloggers, started by PZ Myers of Pharyngula and Ed Brayton of Dispatches from the Culture Wars?

I'm going to be one of the bloggers.

No shit. The network has been launched with an initial core of bloggers -- PZ and Ed as mentioned above, plus Comradde PhysioProffe, Digital Cuttlefish, This Week in Christian Nationalism, and Zingularity -- and they're currently working out the usual technical glitches associated with the launch of a big new Interweb project. They'll soon be expanding that initial core of bloggers... and I'm going to be one of them.

So be prepared. This blog will be moving. I don't yet know the exact date; I'll keep you all in the loop as soon as I know. I'll keep the Typepad blog up for archival purposes, to keep old links from getting broken, etc. ... but once I switch over to Freethought Blogs, this blog will essentially just be for storage, and Freethought Blogs will be my new home. So be prepared to switch your bookmarks/ blogrolls/ RSS feeds/ carrier pigeons/ Pony Express lines/ etc. to the new site.

I am tickled pink about this, and I keep jumping out of my seat to do a little happy dance whenever I think about it. Freethought Blogs is going to be a major nexus of atheist thought and conversation and community on the 'Net, and I am proud beyond words to have been invited to be part of it. And I am grateful beyond words to every reader of this blog who decided they liked my ideas enough to follow them and spread them. I love you guys. And I love being part of this movement. Seriously.

I'll keep you all posted about the move as soon as I know what's what. Woo-freaking-hoo!

The Best Things About the Secular Student Alliance Conference

I typically haven't been good about the whole "conference report" thing. It always seemed like an overwhelming task -- trying to sum up the essence of an entire multi-day conference in a succinct and entertaining blog post, or even in a marginally readable. But I've figured out that I don't have to report on an entire freaking conference in order to write about it. I can just report on the stuff I especially liked about it. (And, if it seems relevant, the stuff that particularly got up my nose.)

Which is good. Because the Secular Student Alliance national conference was freaking awesome, and deserves to be reported on.

I go to a lot of conferences, and they're all different, and I find something to enjoy about all of them. But the SSA has a very special place in my heart. Skepticon rocks harder, TAM is more glam... but the SSA feels like home. I feel like I can just relax and hang out there, more than I can at any other conference. If you're an atheist student, you should absolutely make this conference a priority. If you're an atheist student who doesn't belong to a student organization, come anyway -- they'll help you get one started. And if you're not a student, you can still come, and you can still have an awesomely good time.

So here, in no particular order, is The Stuff I Liked Best About The Secular Student Alliance National Conference.

1: Jessica Ahlquist. Jessica, for those who aren't familiar, is the atheist high school student who's suing her public school for having a prayer banner in the school gym. After she spoke, I kept saying, "She's one of the best speakers of her age that our movement has." Then I realized: No. I have to stop saying that. She is one of the best speakers our movement has, period. She's clear, personable, expressive, friendly and approachable but completely capable of commanding a room, with a sweet manner folded into a foundation of hardcore tough. I can't tell you how many people at the conference told me that I was their second favorite speaker, second only to Jessica. I was not insulted in the least. I was totally honored.

2. Ed Clint's talk on "transfaith" -- the alternative he's proposing to "interfaith" -- and on whether an atheist organization can be confrontational and still work with religious organizations. His conclusion: Yes. It's not always easy, but it can definitely be done. The thing I liked best about Ed's talk was that he didn't just put his opinion out there as an opinion. He backed it up with solid evidence. His own group, the Illini Secular Student Alliance, has engaged in some very confrontational atheist activism -- as just one example, they were the initiators of the "Everybody Draw Muhammad Day" event that so many non-confrontationalist atheists were so vehemently opposed to. And yet they've been very successful in forging bridges with campus religious groups... including with the campus Muslim group, who the atheist group is now on excellent terms with. So this whole idea that confrontational activism is inevitably and irrevocably divisive needs to be put to rest. (I also like the idea of "transfaith": a lot of atheists, myself included, are entirely in favor of atheist groups building relationships with religious groups, but have a strong reaction against the word "interfaith," since it implies that atheism is a faith. The word "transfaith" seems like a workable compromise. We just need to get the interfaith alliances to go along with it.)

3. Jeni's Ice Cream. Probably the best ice cream I have ever eaten. Possibly some of the best food of any kind I have ever eaten. I was in Columbus for five days, and I ate Jeni's ice cream for three of them. For the bulk of my meals. (Seriously. I had ice cream for dinner on one night, and ice cream for lunch on two different days. Because I am five years old.) My favorite flavors: lime cardamom rhubarb, and sweet corn with black raspberries, and bourbon butter pecan made with Maker's Mark, and peanut curry, and cherry lambic, and brown butter almond, and Riesling poached pear, and goat cheese with cherries, and... and... and... I pretty much wanted to fill a bathtub with all the flavors and roll around in it. (And yes, I know about Humphrey Slocombe in San Francisco. I love Humphrey Slocombe. Humphrey Slocombe is awesome. Humphrey Slocombe is almost as good as Jeni's. But not quite.)

4. Jamila Bey. What can I say? Jamila rocks. She's smart, hilarious, passionate, riveting, inspiring, and just generally a first-rate speaker. She's also Exhibit A against the whole stupid argument that "going out of our way to get women and people of color as speakers will dilute the quality of out events." Jamila is quickly becoming one of the most popular speakers on the atheism circuit... and she's someone our movement might not have noticed if event organizers hadn't been going out of their way to make events more diverse. She's also a joy to hang out with, and is now pretty much everybody's BFF. You should get her to speak for your group. Period.

5. The Brothers Drake Meadery. I freaking love Columbus. I am entirely serious. Columbus, Ohio is one of the coolest cities I know of. If I had some terrible curse put on me and for some reason couldn't live in San Francisco, Columbus would be high on my list of places I'd like to live. And one of the things I like best about Columbus is the food/ booze culture. And one of the things I like best about the food/ booze culture in Columbus -- apart from Jeni's, obviously -- is the Brothers Drake Meadery. Apparently artisanal mead is the new booze craze, and apparently Brothers Drake is leading the charge. And I can see why. They take mead seriously, they treat it like any serious vintner would treat their wine, and it pays off. I had no idea mead could be like that. And no, it's not all sugary sweet. In fact, most of their mead isn't sugary sweet. They actually make dry mead. I had no idea there was any such a thing. And the proprietors are knowledgeable without being snotty. I had a delightful time chatting with them, and drank way too much mead as a result. (There was an aggressively bad band playing there the night we showed up, which was unfortunate; but Ashley assured me that it's not usually like that.) Alas, you can't get their mead shipped to you: they take the whole "local" thing very seriously, the only way to get it is to go to Columbus. Another reason to go to the SSA conference.

Some other quick mentions of awesome Columbus food experiences, so I don't spend this entire conference report telling you about Columbus food culture: The biscuits and jam at the Northstar Cafe; pretty much everything I ate at the Northstar Cafe; and the iced hot chocolate at le Chocaholique, which was like a chocolate Slurpee. The salted turtles at Chocaholique were also pretty darned lickable.

6. Debuting my new talk. I'm always a little nervous when I give a new talk. And I really wasn't sure about how this one would go over. I feared that the topic -- "Resistance Is Not Futile: Is Arguing About Religion Worth It?" -- might be either too esoteric or too divisive. It seems it was neither. I had a ball delivering it, and it got a great response. The only downside was that most of the students already agreed with one of my central points -- that arguing with believers about religion can be effective, and does sometimes work to persuade people out of religion. Which meant I spent a certain amount of time preaching to the choir. But the choir seemed to enjoy being preached to, and appreciated the revving-up. So it worked.

7. Hanging out with SSA folks in the coffee shop after the meadery trip, talking philosophy and politics and trying to sober up.

8. Jen McCreight. I'll just say this about Jen: I've seen a lot of talks about diversity in the atheist movement. Heck, I've given a lot of talks about diversity in the atheist movement. I've even seen Jen speak about it before. And she's still entertaining, engaging, thoughtful, funny, friendly, and able to say hard things without being hostile or alienating. I've seen her other talks as well, and this is not a fluke. She is one of the best voices we have in our movement. I will happily hear her speak any time she's on stage.

9: Karaoke. This was something of a mixed bag, actually. As some of you already know, I'd pledged to pop my karaoke cherry as part of an atheist bloggers' fundraising competition for Camp Quest, and the SSA conference was the place I'd agreed to do it. Turns out, I don't actually like singing karaoke. I especially don't like singing karaoke at the tail end of a conference, when I'm terminally exhausted and my voice is shot. But hanging out in the karaoke bar was a pretty darned good time (once the whole "Oh, fuck, I have to sing karaoke" thing was behind me, anyway). Dancing with a bunch of atheist wimmin to the karaoke rendition of "I Kissed a Girl" may have been one of the high points of the entire conference. Jen McCreight delivers one hell of a version of "Sin Wagon." And I was happy to have checked karaoke off my "gotta try that one of these days" list... especially for a good cause. (More on the karaoke experience in a later post.)

10: Hanging out and meeting folks. I had so many great conversations with so many amazing students, I can't even begin to remember them all. The students in this movement blow me away on a regular basis. I hope with all my heart that every one of them stays in the movement when they leave school. In whatever capacity. Blogging, making YouTube videos, leading national organizations, organizing social events in their local atheist groups, writing letters to the editor, simply joining organizations... whatever they can and want to do, I passionately hope they do it. If they do -- if even half of them do -- then in ten years, this movement is going to rock the world. More than it already is.

There's way more I could talk about here. Anthony Pinn. David Silverman. PZ Myers. Waxing off a strip of JT Eberhard's leg hair (no, really -- it was part of the whole Camp Quest pledge drive thing, and when I'm tempted I bitch about the karaoke I remind myself that JT got it way worse than me). Hemant Mehta. Amanda Knief. Dan Barker. The silly ice-breaker at the beginning of the conference. Etc. Etc. Etc.

But I don't want to let the perfect be the enemy of the good, and if I try to write about everything that was awesome about this conference, this post will never go up. So I'm going to leave it here. Those of you who were there -- it was awesome to see you. Those of you who missed it -- hope to see you next year!

Greta Speaking in Seattle and Omaha!

Just a quick reminder: I have some nifty and exciting speaking gigs coming up in Seattle and Omaha, and I hope y'all can come by and say hi!

I'm going to be speaking at the Seattle Atheists on Saturday, August 6, about "What Can the Atheist Movement Learn From the LGBT Movement?" I'll be doing Q&A after the talk -- so come with questions! -- and I'll also be on a panel following the talk.

And I'm going to be speaking at the 2011 Midwest Humanist and Freethought Conference in Omaha, Nebraska, happening August 12-14... along with Mr. Deity, JT Eberhard, Jen McCreight, Hemant Mehta, Fred Edwords, and Brother Sam Singleton, Atheist Evangelist. The cost is super-cheap, too -- if you register by this Friday, August 5, it's just $35, and a mere $20 for students. (If you wait until after the 5th to register, the cost will be $50.)

Here's the skinny on both events. If you're attending either one, please come find me and say Hi!

*

EVENT: Seattle Atheists

DATE: Saturday, August 6

TIME: 1:30 - 4:30 pm, including my talk, Q&A, and panel discussion

LOCATION: 2100 Building, 2100 24th Ave. S., Seattle, WA

TOPIC: What Can the Atheist Movement Learn From the LGBT Movement?

SUMMARY: The atheist movement is already modeling itself on the LGBT movement in many ways -- most obviously with its focus on coming out of the closet. What else can the atheist movement learn from the LGBT movement... both from its successes and its failures?

COST: Free (donations accepted)

*

EVENT: Midwest Humanist and Freethought Conference

DATES: August 12-14

DATE AND TIME OF MY PRESENTATION: Sat., Aug. 13, 2:30pm - 3:20pm

LOCATION: University of Nebraska - Omaha
Milo Bail Student Center
North 62nd Street & Dodge Street
Omaha, NE 68182

TOPIC: Why Are You Atheists So Angry?

SUMMARY: The atheist movement is often accused of being driven by anger. What are so many atheists so angry about? Is this anger legitimate? And can anger be an effective force behind a movement for social change?

COST: $35; $20 for students, if you register before August 5. $50 if you register after the 5th.

LODGING: Special conference rates are available at the Comfort Inn & Suites, (402) 343-1000. (Hurry -- offer expires soon.)

Hope to see you there!

Resistance Is Not Futile: Why Arguing About Religion Is Not A Waste of Time - The Outline

I gave a brand new talk at the Secular Student Alliance conference last weekend, one I'd never given before: "Resistance Is Not Futile: Why Arguing About Religion Is Not A Waste of Time." The SSA asked me to provide an outline for the talk to include in their proceedings handbook, but it didn't make it in (for space reasons, I'm guessing). And I'm kind of sorry to have it go to waste, since I had a fair amount of fun putting it together. So I'm posting it here. (Sorry about the dumb formatting -- Typepad won't let me do tabs or indentations, so I'm having to improvise with asterisks.) Enjoy!

Resistance Is Not Futile: Why Arguing About Religion Is Not A Waste of Time

I: Is arguing about religion a waste of time?
* A: No.

II: Commonly held idea: Arguing against religion never works. Religious beliefs are too deeply ingrained, are held for emotional reasons and not rational ones.
* A: Bullshit.
* B: It does so work. Ask any atheist writer/ blogger/ debater/ speaker. People are persuaded by our arguments. Frequently.
* C: Why do people think it never works?
* * 1: It rarely works right away, in the course of a single argument. Leaving religion is usually a process, one that takes time. You won't persuade someone out of religion in one conversation -- but you can plant the seeds of doubt.
* * 2: Many people are conflict-averse. They convince themselves that arguing against religion doesn't work because they don't want to do it.
* * * a: So don't do it. Do whatever kind of atheist activism works for you. But don't get in the way of other atheists who do want to do it.

III: How to go about it.
* A: Don't waste your time with private debates. Have your debates in public forums: blogs, Facebook, videotape your conversations and put them on YouTube, etc.
* B: Seriously consider whether you want to debate people you're very close to -- family members, friends, etc.
* C: Don't look for a magic bullet -- there is no one perfect argument that will persuade everyone to become an atheist.
* * 1: Again, leaving religion is usually a long process, an emotional one as well as an intellectual one.
* * 2: Different arguments work with different people.
* * 3: Many people need multiple arguments to convince them.
* D: Be patient. Your ideas are old to you, but they're new to the folks you're talking with.

IV: Which goals of the atheist movement are helped by trying to argue people out of religion?
* A: All of them.
* B: Seriously.
* C: If you're doing alliance or interfaith work with believers, it makes sense to table these arguments temporarily -- but coalition work should never come at the cost of atheists shutting up permanently about our objections to religion.
* * 1: Arguing about religion does work to persuade people out of religion. (See above.)
* * 2: Arguing about religion strips religion of its special privileged status as the one idea that can never be questioned. And that helps all the goals we're working towards -- ending anti-atheist bigotry, separation of church and state, special legal exemptions for religious organizations, etc.
* * 3: Arguing about religion helps re-frame religion as an idea rather than an identity -- which makes believers more open to listening to our ideas.
* D: So consider engaging in it.
* E: And if you choose not to -- don't get in the way of other people who do.

The Santa Delusion: Why 'Religion Is Useful' Is a Terrible Argument For Religion

"But religion is useful. It makes people happy. It comforts people in hard times. It makes people better-behaved. And losing religious faith can be traumatic. So what difference does it make if it isn't true? Shouldn't we be perpetuating it anyway -- or at least leaving it alone? Why do you want to persuade people out of it?"

Atheists hear this a lot. The argument from utility -- the defense of religion, not because it's true, but because it's psychologically or socially useful -- is freakishly common. If you spend any time reading debates in atheist blogs or forums, you're bound to see it come up.

Now, when atheists hear this "But religion is so useful!" argument, our most common response is to say, "Is not!" We eagerly point out that countries with high rates of atheism are also countries with high rates of happiness, ethics, and social functioning. (This doesn't prove that atheism causes high social functioning, of course -- in fact, it's probably the other way around -- but it does show that high social functioning doesn't need religion.) We'll point out the many, many examples of religious believers who cheat, steal, murder, and generally behave very badly indeed... entirely undercutting the notion that religion provides an unshakable foundation for good moral behavior. And we'll point to ourselves, and to other atheists we know -- people who clearly don't need religion, who are living happy, ethical lives without religion, who in some cases are even happier and better without religion -- as the most obvious counter-arguments we can think of to this argument.

These are all fair points. I've made them myself, many times, and I will no doubt make them again. But there's a basic problem with all these wonderful fair points.

They make the argument from utility seem valid.

And I don't want to do that. I think the argument from utility is absurd on the face of it. I think the entire idea of deciding what we think is true based on what we want to be true is laughable. Or it would be, if it weren't so appalling. I've seen this argument advanced many, many times... and it still shocks me to see otherwise intelligent, thoughtful adults making it. It is preposterous.

So today, I want to dismantle the entire premise of the argument from utility. I want to dismantle the entire premise that it's reasonable, and even a positive good, to believe in something you have no good reason to think is true... simply because it makes you happy.

*

This begins my latest piece for Alternet, The Santa Delusion: Why 'Religion Is Useful' Is a Terrible Argument For Religion. To read more about why the argument from utility is such a terrible argument -- and to find out what Santa's got to do with it -- read the rest of the piece. Enjoy!

Greta Speaking in Columbus, Seattle, and Omaha!

I have some nifty and exciting speaking gigs coming up, and I hope y'all can come by and say hi!

I'm speaking at the Secular Student Alliance Annual Conference this week -- along with PZ Myers, Jamila Bey, Jen McCreight, Dan Barker, Jessica Ahlquist, Dave Silverman, Anthony Pinn, Debbie Goddard, Hemant Mehta, Amanda Knief, and many other godless luminaries. The conference is this weekend, July 29-31, in beautiful and exciting Columbus, Ohio. (No, I'm not being snarky -- Columbus is a seriously awesome city, with excellent food and world-class ice cream.) Registration is still available! (Online registration is now closed, though -- you'll have to register at the conference.) And no, you don't have to be a student to attend -- although they do have excellent cheap student rates, as well as group rates so lots of folks from your group can attend. I'll be debuting my newest talk there, "Resistance Is Not Futile: Is Arguing About Religion Worth It?"

I'm also going to be speaking at the Seattle Atheists on Saturday, August 6, about "What Can the Atheist Movement Learn From the LGBT Movement?" I'll be doing Q&A after the talk -- so come with questions! -- and I'll also be on a panel following the talk.

And I'm going to be speaking at the 2011 Midwest Humanist and Freethought Conference in Omaha, Nebraska, happening August 12-14... along with Mr. Deity, JT Eberhard, Jen McCreight, Hemant Mehta, Fred Edwords, and Brother Sam Singleton, Atheist Evangelist. The cost is super-cheap, too -- just $35, and a mere $20 for students.

Here's the skinny on all of them. If you're attending any of these events, please come find me and say Hi!

*

EVENT: Secular Student Alliance Annual Conference
DATES: July 29-31, 2011
DATE AND TIME OF MY PRESENTATION: Saturday, July 30, 8:30 pm - 9:00 pm
LOCATION: Hitchcock Hall, Ohio State University, Columbus, OH
TOPIC: Resistance Is Not Futile: Why Arguing About Religion Is Not A Waste of Time
SUMMARY: Many atheists think that trying to persuade people out of religion never works, and simply alienates people. But debating believers about their beliefs can be effective -- in changing people's minds about religion, as well as in achieving other goals of the atheist community. When does it makes sense to debate about religion? How should we go about it? And what should our expectations be for what these debates can accomplish?
COST: See conference website for details. But a lot cheaper than you'd think -- and they have group rates for groups of students coming from the same school. They really want students to come, and want to make it as easy as possible. So come!

EVENT: Seattle Atheists
DATE: Saturday, August 6
TIME: 1:30 - 4:30 pm, including my talk, Q&A, and panel discussion
LOCATION: 2100 Building, 2100 24th Ave. S., Seattle, WA
TOPIC: What Can the Atheist Movement Learn From the LGBT Movement?
SUMMARY: The atheist movement is already modeling itself on the LGBT movement in many ways -- most obviously with its focus on coming out of the closet. What else can the atheist movement learn from the LGBT movement... both from its successes and its failures?
COST: Free (donations accepted)

EVENT: Midwest Humanist and Freethought Conference
DATES: August 12-14
DATE AND TIME OF MY PRESENTATION: Sat., Aug. 13, 2:30pm - 3:20pm
LOCATION: University of Nebraska - Omaha
Milo Bail Student Center
North 62nd Street & Dodge Street
Omaha, NE 68182
TOPIC: Why Are You Atheists So Angry?
SUMMARY: The atheist movement is often accused of being driven by anger. What are so many atheists so angry about? Is this anger legitimate? And can anger be an effective force behind a movement for social change?
COST: $35; $20 for students
LODGING: Special conference rates are available at the Comfort Inn & Suites, (402) 343-1000. (Hurry -- offer expires soon.)

Hope to see you there!

The Best Things About TAM -- And the Best Things About Las Vegas

Thanks for your patience during my blog break! I was at The Amazing Meeting last week: speaking on the diversity panel, schmoozing networking, talking deep-level strategy, drinking, giving interviews, meeting readers, getting my brain stuffed, and laughing my ass off. And because Ingrid and I haven't had a vacation alone together in approximately 865,673 years, we took a couple of extra days after TAM: to hang out in Las Vegas, stay at the kitten hotel, eat some serious food, drink some serious cocktails, see some ridiculous shows, and generally indulge ourselves.

Throughout both TAM and the post-TAM Vegas trip, I kept thinking, "Wow. This is the best thing about this trip." And then something else would happen, and I'd think, "No, this is the best thing." My head is spinning with images and ideas from all of it, and there is no way I'm going to string my thoughts about it together in any coherent fashion.

So here -- in no particular order, except the order they're coming into my exhausted, overloaded, Vegas-addled brain -- are some of the best things about TAM.

*

Best Thing About TAM #1: Neil DeGrasse Tyson. I thought I was prepared for how excellent Tyson would be. I was wrong. Brilliant, hilarious, compelling, insightful, inspiring. One of the best public speakers I've seen. And he was way harsher on religion than I'd expected.

Best Thing About TAM #2: Meeting and chatting with Richard Dawkins. Who said he likes my blog, said he liked its frankness and wisdom, and hugged me. Yeah. That didn't suck.

(Context for the hug, btw: I'd just told him that reading "The God Delusion" was why I became an atheist and an atheist activist. I'd said that I'd argued my way through the entire book, and called him many very rude names during the course of it... but that before I read it, I was calling myself an agnostic and was occasionally writing about skepticism, and after I finished I was calling myself an atheist and had decided to make atheism the core of my writing career. That's when he asked if he could hug me. I think he was genuinely touched. He also hugged Ingrid, btw. I think it was because she said she was the one who'd made me read "The God Delusion." :-) )

And for the record: No, I don't think Dawkins covered himself in glory over Elevatorgate. I was still tickled to meet him. In fact, one of the things I like best about the atheist/ skeptical movement is that we don't treat our heroes as saints. We can call people out on it when they screw up... and still respect and admire the things they do that are admirable and worthy of respect.

Best Thing About TAM #3: Rebecca Watson's Game Show and Variety Hour. I was laughing so hard I was in actual pain.

Best Thing About TAM #4: Being on the diversity panel with Jamila Bey, Debbie Goddard, Hemant Mehta, and DJ Grothe, moderated by the excellent and ever-patient Desiree Schell. It got a lot more heated than any of us had expected -- the panelists kept joking beforehand about how we needed to manufacture a controversy to keep people's interest, and we wound up with a genuine, no-joke controversy on our hands. Namely: Should the skeptic movement apply skepticism to social issues such as the drug war and abstinence-only sex education -- issues that are of interest to a more diverse population that skepticism isn't reaching as well as we could be? Or are these issues beyond the scope of skepticism, and would focusing on them constitute mission drift? (I'll almost certainly write more about this in the near future; in the meantime, Jen McCreight did a good summary of the panel as a guest post on the Friendly Atheist TAM live-blog.) The panel was more feisty than I'd expected, and at times I found it frustrating... but I also think it moved the larger conversation in this movement forward. And I'm extremely glad that we're no longer debating whether we need to take steps to make our movement more diverse. We seem to have mostly moved on from that, and are now debating the best ways to go about it.

Best Thing About TAM #5: Waltzing with Ingrid to John Lennon's atheist waltz ("God"), played by Penn Jillette's band at Jillette's Rock & Roll, Doughnut and Bacon Party. Life really doesn't get much better than that.

(Also awesome: The moment at the Doughnut and Bacon Party, when they played Patti Smith's "Gloria," and the roomful of skeptics and atheists were bellowing along to "Jesus died for somebody's sins but not mine." I took this pic at the party, and it kind of sums up the vibe, apart from its lack of either doughnuts or bacon.)

Best Thing About TAM #6: The panel discussion on "Our Future In Space," in which the discussion about NASA funding priorities turned into a WWE-style cage match. Four scientists enter; one scientist leaves. My favorite bit was when Pamela Gay told Neil DeGrasse Tyson to shush. Several times.

Best Thing About TAM #7: Carol Tavris, co-author of "Mistakes Were Made (But Not By Me): Why We Justify Foolish Beliefs, Bad Decisions, and Hurtful Acts," speaking about the science of cognitive dissonance and rationalization, and how we can apply it to argument and persuasion. I pretty much already knew most of the ideas in this talk... and I still had my brain re-arranged by it. I was re-writing my talk for the Secular Student Alliance in my head halfway through it.

Best Thing About TAM #8: Comedian Jamie Kilstein's stand-up routine at Paul Provenza's "Satiristas!" show. A rapid-fire rollercoaster of brilliance, bluntness, and shrieking hilarity, with a vibe somewhere between slam poetry and an eviscerating atheist blog rant. Meeting him was pretty awesome, too. It's always entertaining when atheists do the fanboy/ fangirl thing at each other at the same time.

Best Thing About TAM #9: The panel discussion on placebos. My mind is now seriously re-arranged. I have to re-think everything I thought about placebos... including how to talk about them.

Best Thing About TAM #10: The TAM Fashion Mafia. There was some seriously excellent fashion at TAM. Lots of it, in fact. Ingrid and I packed for Vegas glamour and then worried that we'd be overdressed -- and we so were not. Many lovely bonding moments were had with many skeptical fashionistas. (Plus I got some awesome steampunk jewelry at one of the tables. We had a running joke among the women I hung out with at TAM, about how we needed to have a TAM girls' night to talk about shopping, fashion, and cute boys.)

Best Thing About TAM #11: The impromptu fashion show in the women's bathroom at the Doughnut and Bacon Party. A sizable portion of the TAM Fashion Mafia happened to converge in the bathroom at the same time... and because it was the night of the Doughnut and Bacon Party, we were all dressed to the nines... and because it was the night of the Doughnut and Bacon Party, we were all tipsy enough to think that taking a group photo in the women's bathroom would be a really good idea.

Best Thing About TAM #12: Richard Wiseman. I don't even remember what he said now. I just remember that he was hilarious, and made us want to run out and buy all of his books.

Best Thing About TAM #13: The joke about triskaidekaphobia, and how ridiculous it is to be afraid of a number.

Best Thing About TAM #14: Richard Dawkins' talk. Elizabeth Loftus' talk. PZ Myers' talk. Bill Nye's talk. Pamela Gay's talk. Michael Shermer's talk. Eugenie Scott's talk. Steven Novella's talk. The panel on getting things done for science and skepticism. The panel on communicating skepticism. The workshop on recurring themes in medical mythology. The workshop on grassroots activism. Getting to meet Sastra -- eep! (Is it silly to be star-struck about a Pharyngula commenter? If so, I don't care.) Hanging out in the hotel hot tub at the Skeptics in the Tub party. The announcement that the Richard Dawkins Foundation would start sponsoring child care at atheist and skeptical conferences, to make them more accessible to women and lower-income folks. Meeting the woman who worked in the massage center in the spa at the hotel, who showed up in the conference hall thrilled and fascinated and gathering as many pamphlets as she could hold, who had had no idea until now that a community like this even existed. Getting to meet so many of my readers face to face. There really was a tremendous embarrassment of riches at TAM: any conference where I'm going, "Oh, yeah, Richard Dawkins and PZ Myers and Eugenie Scott and Michael Shermer were pretty great, too"... that's a good time.

But it was also kind of an overwhelming time. And Ingrid and I really needed to decompress. So since we were already in Las Vegas, and since we'd been saying we wanted to go to Las Vegas ever since we'd been going out, this seemed like the perfect opportunity.

So here -- in no particular order, except the order they are coming into my exhausted, overloaded, Vegas-addled brain -- are some of the best things about hanging out in Las Vegas after TAM was over.

*

Best Thing About Las Vegas #1: The Cosmopolitan Hotel. No shit. Las Vegas in general leaves me cold -- it's pretty much everything I loathe about American culture, distilled into one manipulative, pre-fab, oddly tedious pleasure palace. But I freaking love the Cosmopolitan. It's an exquisite blend of elegant glamour, serious art/design, and sybaritic decadence. The decor and design is glamorous and Vegas-y, but done with real artistry and care, and with a sense of both playfulness and magnificence. (We especially loved the moving, changing, 3-D art installations in the lobby. Triple especially the ones inspired by 18th century botanical drawings, and the ones that looked like naked people trapped inside the columns.) And the food and cocktails were to die for. (Jaleo was particularly delightful, and not outrageously expensive. And I loved that the room service breakfast menu had the cocktail list right at the top... and that their cereal list included Captain Crunch.) We could have spent days in Las Vegas without leaving the hotel, and been perfectly happy. The next time we visit Vegas, we might do exactly that. No white kittens or human furniture like the ads promised... but we were not disappointed. We are so coming back.

Best Thing About Las Vegas #2: The Erotic Heritage Museum. I plan to write a whole lot more about this place in a later post. For now, I just want to say this: I absolutely loved how seamlessly and shamelessly the museum blends the sex education elements, the historical/ political elements, and the porny porny porn porn. There was no sense that the arousing elements of sex culture should be hidden, or excused, or treated any differently from the educational and political and supposedly loftier elements. And I got to meet Veronica Hart! Who works at the museum, and was greeting guests and running the cash register and generally running the place. (I would like to point out that when I met Richard Dawkins, I was able to keep my cool at least somewhat and say, "It's a pleasure to meet you"... but when I met Veronica Hart, I totally lost my shit and gushed, "Oh my god! You're Veronica Hart! It's such an honor!")

Best Thing About Las Vegas #3: The dirty Cirque du Soleil show. This was rather a mixed bag, truth to tell: the show was a mix of acrobatics and comedy/ clowning, and the comedy was obnoxiously, aggressively, cringingly bad, to the point of being nearly unbearable. But the acrobatics were freaking beautiful, and very hot indeed. Every time I've seen Cirque du Soleil, I've found it highly erotic, and I've always wanted them to take the obviously erotic elements of the show and just run with them. Their "Zumanity" show does exactly that -- and it runs to a very good place indeed. There was a certain cheese factor, but it was mostly kept to a minimum (except for the vile comedy), and the cheese was eclipsed by the blend of acrobatic proficiency, visual artistry, and polymorphous perversity. I mean, come on. Half-naked lesbian acrobatics in a giant fishbowl of water. What's not to like?

Best Thing About Las Vegas #4: Jabbawockeez. These are the hip-hop dance crew who won America's Best Dance Crew the first year. They have their own Vegas show now, and when Ingrid and I found that out, we immediately put it on our list of Vegas Shows We Absolutely Had To See, Even Though It Made Our Vegas Schedule Ridiculously Overbooked. Awesome. A bit higher on the cheese factor than I might have liked -- to be expected in Vegas, I suppose -- and not quite the apotheosis of the art form's potential that I'd hoped for. (I gas on a lot about how hip-hop dancing is the great new American art form, and I don't think the show at the Monte Carlo quite lives up to that gassing.) But it was still an awfully good time, with much that was clever and inventive, and many jaw-dropping feats of power and agility, and plenty of high points indeed.

Best Thing About Las Vegas #5: Coming home. I had a ball, both at TAM and in Vegas afterwards. But I am overloaded on shiny surfaces and bright lights, and I'm thrilled to be back home, in my matte- finish San Francisco neighborhood. (Ingrid is amused, btw, by my use of the word "matte" to mean "dirty and scruffy.")

So I'm home. Home! And this is my room. And you're all here. And I'm not going to leave here ever, ever again. Until a week from now, when I head to the Secular Student Alliance Annual Conference. Which I fully expect to rock every bit as hard as TAM, if not harder. Hope to see you there!

Why the "5 Myths Atheists Have About Religion" Aren't Myths

This piece was originally published on AlterNet.

Do atheists really misunderstand religion?

I read the recent piece in Tikkun by Be Scofield, "5 Myths Atheists Believe about Religion" (reprinted in AlterNet as "5 Things Atheists Have Wrong About Religion"), with a fair degree of both trepidation and curiosity. Trepidation... because my experience has been that, when believers write about atheists, they usually get it laughably and even insultingly wrong. Curiosity... because there are things that the atheist community sometimes gets wrong, about religion and other topics, and I thought I might get some insight into stuff I might not have seen. I don't think atheists are perfect -- believe me, I am well aware of how imperfect we are -- and I'm willing and even eager to look at things we might be missing.

But when I looked at these "myths" that atheists supposedly hold about religion, I was more than a bit baffled. Because none of these "myths" looked anything like myths to me. Instead, they looked like... well, like differences of opinion. At best, they were simply areas of disagreement: controversial topics, matters of subjective opinion, semantic squabbles. And at worst, they were red herrings, bafflegab, even complete misrepresentations of atheists' actual positions.

So let's look at these supposedly "ill-informed beliefs about religion."

Let's take them apart, one by one.

And then let's look at the assumption of religious privilege that underlies them... and at how religious believers defend this privilege by taking on the mantle of oppression and victimhood.

5. Liberal and Moderate Religion Justifies Religious Extremism.

This is a perfect example of what I'm talking about. This is not a "myth" atheists have about religion, or a "mistake" we make about it. This is a topic on which believers and many atheists disagree. And it's a topic on which Mr. Scofield seems to be entirely missing the point.

The point is not that liberal and moderate religion justifies religious extremism. The point is that liberal and moderate religion justifies religion. It justifies the whole idea of religious faith: the idea that it's entirely reasonable, and even virtuous, to believe in invisible supernatural entities or forces for which there is no good evidence.

And atheists think that religion is a bad idea. At the very least, we think it's a mistaken idea. Many of us even think it's an idea that, by its very nature, does significantly more harm than good.

Now, many atheists do think that liberal and moderate religion provides intellectual cover for the more extreme varieties... again, because it makes the whole idea of religion and religious faith seem reasonable and legitimate. I happen to think that myself. But even these critics aren't saying that Unitarianism is some sort of gateway drug to fundamentalism. We aren't saying that the entire well of religion is poisoned because of the hateful, extremist versions of it, and that therefore liberals and moderates ought not to participate in it. We're saying that the entire well of religion is poisoned because it's wrong. And we're saying that liberal and moderate religion justifies that wrongness.

If you disagree about whether religion is wrong... fine. We can have that conversation. But don't say that the very idea of atheism -- namely, that we don't think there's a god or a supernatural world -- is a "myth" that atheists have about religion. It's ridiculous. And it trivializes the actual myths that many people hold about other religions or the lack thereof.

4. Religion Requires a Belief in a Supernatural God.

Sigh.

This one makes me want to facepalm my hand right through my skull.

Because it's taking a fairly minor disagreement over semantics, and treating it as a substantive difference over content, and indeed an accusation of willful ignorance.

For the overwhelming majority of people who use the word, "religion" means "belief in supernatural entities or forces with some effect on the natural world." It most typically means "belief in a god or gods"; even when it doesn't, it almost always means "belief in the supernatural." Souls, angels, ghosts, Heaven, gods, goddesses, reincarnation, karma, the spirit of the earth, a conscious creative and guiding force in the universe, etc. -- for the overwhelming majority of people who use the word, that's what "religion" means.

And when atheists criticize religion, that's what we're talking about.

Are there secular Jews? Materialists who follow a Buddhist philosophy and meditation practice? Non-believers who participate in the Unitarian community? Yes. Of course. But -- and I cannot say this strongly enough -- when atheists are talking about religion, THAT'S NOT WHAT WE'RE TALKING ABOUT. Most of us don't care about it. Light a menorah; go to a Unitarian picnic; meditate until your eyes roll back in your head. We don't care. As long as you don't think there's any god, or any soul, or any afterlife, or any sort of supernatural anything... we don't disagree with you. And we couldn't care less. Some of us even rather like it. It's the "belief in the supernatural" part that we think is mistaken. It's the "belief in the supernatural" part that many of us think does harm.

In fact, many of us atheists are secular Jews and materialist Buddhists and non-believing Unitarians and whatnot. Many secular Jews/ materialist Buddhists/ non-believing Unitarians/etc. also identify as atheists. And many of them are just as critical of the religious parts of religion -- i.e., the supernatural belief parts -- as those of us who don't have any cultural or philosophical affiliation with a religious tradition.

And yes, atheists also understand that some "religious" people have re-defined the word "God" into such vague, abstract terms that the guy becomes unrecognizable by most people who believe in him. We understand that some "religious" people have re-defined the word "God" as the creative principle in life, or the power of love in the universe, or that which by definition cannot be understood or defined, or something along those lines. We often find it incredibly annoying: we're trying to have a conversation about God as most people understand the concept, and the modern theologians come along with their deepities and vague abstractions, and totally confuse the issue. Plus, many of us strongly suspect that these abstract definitions only apply when nobody is looking, and that a more supernatural definition comes into play when the atheists go away.

But again, when we're talking about religion and God, that's not what we're talking about. We don't care about your vague, convoluted, abstract deepities, except insofar as they confuse the issue. If you don't believe in a supernatural God... then we think you're an atheist. As Richard Dawkins said to the queen of vague theology, Karen Armstrong, "Tell the congregation of a church or mosque that existence is too vulgar an attribute to fasten onto their God, and they will brand you an atheist. They'll be right."

I suppose that, every time I critique religion, I could instead type the entire phrase, "belief in supernatural entities or forces with some effect on the natural world." You know why I don't? Because I'm a good writer. I'm trying to be concise. I know that I'm already a more wordy writer than I ought to be; I'm trying to be as concise as I can. And instead of using a thirteen-word noun phrase, I'm using the word "religion," the way that it's used and understood by the overwhelming majority of people who use it.

So the next time you read an atheist critique of religion, please just do a "search and replace" in your head. If you insist on re-defining "religion" as "belief in supernatural entities or forces with some effect on the natural world... or some sort of cultural/ philosophical affiliation with a tradition of said belief, regardless of any actual belief"...then the next time you read an atheist critique of religion, just zap out the second part of that clause in your head. That's not what we're talking about. We're talking about the first part.

And please stop acting as if a semantic difference over a word whose definition is basically agreed on by almost everybody somehow constitutes willful ignorance on the part of atheists.

3. Religion Causes Bad Behavior.

And yet again: This is not a "myth" atheists have about religion. This is not a "mistake" we're making about religion. This is a point of disagreement. This is a topic on which many atheists disagree with believers.

And unless you're going to actually make a case for why your side is right, I am, respectfully, going to maintain my position.

It's certainly true that, when atheists critique religion, many of us often point to specific harms that have been inspired by religion, or that have been rationalized by it. But we don't end our analysis there. (Or at least, most of us don't.) We understand that people do bad things inspired by all sorts of ideas: political ideology, patriotism or other tribal loyalty, protecting one's family, etc. We even understand that the harms done in the name of religion have multiple causes, and that greed/ fear/ hunger for power/ etc. are a big part of it. The point we're making isn't, "People do bad things and justify them with religion." Or even, "People do bad things directly inspired by religion."

The point is that the very nature of religion itself -- the very nature of a belief in the supernatural -- is, in and of itself, harmful, and is more likely to both inspire and rationalize terrible harm than other kinds of ideas.

I don't have space here to make this argument in its most complete form. (I've made a more thorough argument elsewhere.) So here's the quick- and- dirty two-minute version: Religion is ultimately dependent on belief in invisible beings, inaudible voices, intangible entities, undetectable forces, and events and judgments that happen after we die. It therefore has no reality check. And it is therefore uniquely armored against criticism, questioning, and self- correction. It is uniquely armored against anything that might stop it from spinning into extreme absurdity, extreme denial of reality... and extreme, grotesque immorality. Any other ideology or philosophy or hypothesis about the world is eventually expected to pony up. It's expected to prove itself true and/or useful, or else correct itself, or else fall by the wayside. With religion, that is emphatically not the case. Because religion is a belief in the invisible and unknowable -- and it's therefore never expected to prove that it's right, or even show good evidence for why it's right -- its capacity to do harm can spin into the stratosphere.

That's my argument. That's the argument made by many other atheists.

And if you're going to respond to this argument, you can't simply say, "Nuh uh."

You can't just say, as Mr. Scofield does, that "the real source of bad behavior... is human nature, not religion"... and leave it at that. If you do -- as Mr. Scofield does -- then you're simply asserting the point you're trying to prove. Scofield is saying here, "Many atheists say religion causes bad behavior, but the real cause is human nature." And he apparently expects us to reply, "Oh. Well, that settles it. Never mind, then."

And we're not going to do it. Many atheists -- again, myself included -- have actually made a case for why human nature alone is not responsible for the terrible harms done by religion. We have actually made a case for why religion itself bears at least part of the blame. And you don't get to say, "Many atheists disagree with believers about this... therefore, these atheists don't understand religion." A disagreement is not a myth. If you think we're making a mistake here, you need to make a case for why we're wrong.

2. Atheists are Anti-Religious.

I will confess that I'm confused by this one. Mr. Scofield here seems to be conflating two different points into one: (a) Religion doesn't have to mean belief in God, or even belief in the supernatural, and (b) Not believing in religion doesn't necessarily mean being opposed to it.

So I'll take them one at a time.

(a): Asked and answered. See above, #4: Religion Requires a Belief in a Supernatural God.

(b) Yes, we understand that. We understand that many atheists don't think religion is inherently harmful. We understand that many atheist activists choose to focus their activism in areas other than opposing religion, such as creating a safe and supportive atheist community, or fighting for separation of church and state. (In fact, most of the more confrontational, anti-religion atheist activists I know of -- myself included -- heartily support these efforts, and even engage in them ourselves.) We understand that some atheists are involved in the interfaith movement, and are willing and even eager to work with religious believers and organizations on issues they have in common. We even understand that some atheists and atheist activists see religion as essentially neutral, or benign, or even a positive force.

I'm not familiar with this purported "silent majority" of religion- loving atheists that Scofield is talking about... but atheists are well aware of these differences within the atheist community. Look at the many debates we have about confrontationalism versus diplomacy, fighting religion directly versus creating a positive image of happy atheism, etc. We're aware of these differences. We spend a great deal of time hashing them out. A great, great deal of time. Perhaps rather more time than we ought. We thank Mr. Scofield for his concern... but he's really not telling us anything new.

Frankly, I'm a little puzzled as to why "atheists are anti-religious" is even on this list. It's not even a myth atheists supposedly have about religion. It's a myth we supposedly have about other atheists. But in any case, it's pretty easy to dismiss. It's simply not true.

1. All Religions are the Same and are "Equally Crazy."

Boy, howdy, did Scofield get this one wrong. R-O-N-G Wrong.

I take this one a little personally, since it's a direct response to something I wrote on AlterNet. And it's a gross misrepresentation of what I wrote. To the point where I'm tempted to think it's deliberate. However, I'm going to give Mr. Scofield the benefit of the doubt that he failed to give atheists. I'm going to assume that this was not a case of willful, malicious ignorance. And I'm going to spell out my point again, as plainly as I possible can.

I did not say that all religions were equally crazy, full stop, end of discussion. In fact, the entire freaking point of this piece was that the question of whether all religions are equally crazy was a complicated one, without a single simple answer. The entire freaking point was that the answer to this question depended on how you defined the word "crazy." The entire freaking point was that, on the one hand, all beliefs in the supernatural are equally out of touch with reality, since the supernatural doesn't exist and there's not a scrap of good evidence suggesting that it does... but that, on the other hand, there really are significant differences between different religions, and specifically that older religions have had more time to smooth out the rougher, more out-of-touch-with-reality edges of their doctrines, and have adjusted better to social norms (or have shaped society to adjust to their own norms.)

Scofield made a point of quoting me at length on the first point. And he made an equal point of completely ignoring the second one.

So I will make this very, very clear, as clear as I possibly can:

Atheists are aware that different religions are different.

And we still think they're all wrong.

There are a handful of atheists who don't believe in gods, but who still believe in some sort of supernatural something. But the overwhelming majority of atheists don't believe in any sort of supernatural world. We get that different religions are different -- but we still think they're all wrong. We get that some religions are more disconnected from reality than others -- but we still think they're all disconnected from reality. We get that some religions do more harm than others -- but many of us still think they all do some amount of harm. We're not as pissed off at, say, the United Church of Christ as we are at, say, the Catholic Church -- but we still think they're worshipping an invisible creator-god who turned himself into his own human son and sacrificed himself to himself in order to forgive humanity for sins he created us with the desire to commit. And we think that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.

(And yes, once again, when we say "religion," most us mean "belief in the supernatural." I've already responded to that point, and I fervently hope I never have to respond to it again in my life. An almost certainly fruitless hope, I know.)

Again: This is not a "myth" that many atheists have about religion. This is a gross misrepresentation of a position that many atheists have about religion -- a position that has serious validity. The straw man version of this "myth" isn't a myth... because no atheist that I know of actually holds it. And the actual version of this "myth" isn't a myth... because it's not a misunderstanding of religion. It's a disagreement about it. Again: It's absurd to say that the fundamental difference between atheists and believers -- namely, whether there really is a god or a supernatural world, or whether that idea is a total misunderstanding of the nature of the universe based on an unfortunate convergence of cognitive errors -- is a "myth" that atheists have about religion. And saying it totally trivializes the actual myths that many people hold about religious affiliations that are different from their own.

Which brings me to my final point.

Poor, Poor Pitiful Me

Here's the thing. Bigoted myths about religions other than one's own are a reality. Examples: All Mormons are secretly polygamists. All Muslims are hateful extremists, seeking the violent overthrow of the Western world. Jews grind up babies and put them into Passover matzohs. Etc.

And there really are myths that some atheists have about religion and religious believers. I don't see them expressed very often by the thought-leaders in the movement, but I do see them pop up now and then in forums and comment threads and so on. Examples: Believers are stupid. Believers are sheep, incapable of thinking for themselves. Believers' morality is immature, based not on a sense of empathy and justice, but on fear of punishment and desire for reward. I've even seen atheists refer to believers as "rednecks" and "hicks" in comment threads about religion in the American South... and it's made me cringe. If Scofield had been talking about any these, I would have been uncomfortable, I would have been embarrassed, but I wouldn't have had a darned thing to say about it. Other than, "Yup. You got us there. Atheists can be jerks."

But when you take legitimate areas of dissent and disagreement that many atheists have with religion, and label them as "myths"?

You're trying to take on the mantle of oppression.

The reality, in the United States and most of the rest of the world, is that religion has a tremendously privileged status. Religion is deeply embedded into our culture and our laws. So much so that it's often invisible until it's pointed out. At which point -- as is so often the case with privilege -- those whose privilege is being critiqued tend to squawk loudly, and resist vehemently, and act as if a terrible injustice is being committed.

And the reality, in the United States and most of the rest of the world, is that atheists are the targets of significant bigotry and discrimination. Most Americans wouldn't trust an atheist. Most Americans wouldn't vote for an atheist. Atheist veterans get booed when they march in a Memorial Day Parade. Atheist groups get targeted with hysterical venom when they play "Jingle Bells" in a Christmas parade. Atheist bus ads and billboards -- even the ones simply saying that atheists exist and are good people -- routinely get protested, vandalized, and even flatly rejected or removed. Atheist high schoolers trying to organize student groups routinely get stonewalled by school administrations. Atheist teenagers get threatened and ostracized by their communities and kicked out of their homes. Atheist soldiers -- in the U.S. armed forces -- get prayer ceremonies pressured on them, get atheist meetings and events broken up, get judged for their fitness as soldiers based on their "spiritual fitness"... and get harassed and even threatened with death when they complain about it. Atheists lose custody of their children, explicitly because of their atheism. Bigoted myths about atheists abound -- myths that we're amoral, selfish, hateful, despairing, close-minded, nihilistic, arrogant, intolerant, forcing our lack of belief on others, etc. -- and many of us experience real discrimination as a result.

So it totally frosts my cookies when religious believers take legitimate areas of dissent and disagreement that many atheists have with religion... and equate them with bigoted myths. It is a classic example of privileged people defending their privilege by taking on the mantle of victimhood. It is a classic example of privileged people acting as if resistance to their privilege somehow constitutes misunderstanding, bigotry, and oppression.

Tikkun, the progressive Jewish magazine where Scofield's "5 Myths" piece originally appeared, describes itself as "dedicated to healing and transforming the world," and says that they "build bridges between religious and secular progressives by delivering a forceful critique of all forms of exploitation, oppression, and domination."

But Scofield's piece in Tikkun is not a forceful critique of all forms of exploitation, oppression, and domination. It is, instead, a classic example of it.

I expect better from them.

Why We Have to Talk About This: Atheism, Sexism, and Blowing Up The Internet

I know. We're all sick of talking about it. I'm sick of talking about it; you're sick of talking about it. And not just this latest blow-up, either, the one that's been dubbed "Elevatorgate." All of it. The whole freaking topic. I don't know anybody who actually enjoys starting an Internet shitstorm about sexism (or racism, or ageism, or classism, or whatever-ism) in the atheist movement. I sure as hell don't. Whenever I turn on my computer to write about one of these incidents, I don't do it with an eager gleam in my fingers. I do it with a heavy sigh, and I brace myself for the ordeal that is likely to come. I am not happy about it.

But I'm a whole lot more unhappy being silent about it.

And I want to argue that we all should be a lot more unhappy being silent about it.

For the six of you who have spent the last three weeks under a rock in a cave on Mars with your eyes shut and your hands over your ears: Rebecca Watson of Skepchick recently made a video that mentioned an incident at an atheist conference in which she'd been propositioned by a man in an elevator at four in the morning; she said that this made her uncomfortable and briefly explained why... and an apparently unending shitstorm in the atheosphere has resulted. A shitstorm in which many men, including Richard Dawkins, have argued that this is a trivial issue, or even a non-issue: that it's ridiculous for women to be cautious or fearful when they're propositioned by a strange man in a strange country alone in an elevator at four in the morning; that men have the right to proposition women wherever and whenever they like and women should just suck it up; and that (as Dawkins seemed to be arguing) we have more serious problems to be worrying about than whether women feel comfortable and welcomed at atheist events. (This is a ridiculously inadequate summary of the explosion; Lindsay Beyerstein has a better one.)

And lot of the pushback against this feminist ruckus has come in the form of asking why the ruckus had to be raised at all... and why it had to keep getting driven into the ground.

So that's what I want to talk about today. Or, more accurately: That's not what I want to talk about -- but it's what I feel like I have to talk about.

Because, to misquote Oscar Wilde: There is only one thing worse than talking about sexism. And that is not talking about sexism. (Or racism, or ageism, or able-ism, or classism, or whatever-ism. This latest kerfuffle was about sexism, so that's what I'll be specifically talking about today... but this is also about all these touchy issues of discrimination and privilege, and the fights we keep having about them.)

*

Where to begin, where to begin?

Okay. I'm going to begin with a point that I haven't seen raised very much.

To the men who have been resisting and pushing back against the feminists on this issue, there's a very important thing I want to say to you:

We are trying to help you get laid.

We're trying to do a lot more than that, of course. We're trying to make the atheist community more welcoming to women: because that would be better for women, and because it'd be better for atheism. We're trying to educate men about the reality of women's experiences, including the reality of how sex commonly gets used to trivialize women, and the reality of sexual violence. We're trying to make the world a less sexist place.

But we are also trying to help you get laid. (Many of us, anyway.) We are trying to show you the context into which your flirtations and advances and comments about our appearance are falling. We are trying to show you what it's like to be a woman: what it's like to try to be flirtatious and sex-positive and still be realistic about the no-joke threats we face every day to our safety and our lives. And we're doing this, in part, to give you a better shot with us. In fact, one of the very first feminist responses to this latest ruckus, from Jen McCreight at BlagHag, came in the form of a helpful guide: a guide about context, a guide about when/ where your flirtations and advances and comments about our appearance might be well-received... and when/ where they might be perceived as insulting, demeaning, or dangerous.

The women who are raising this issue are not a bunch of man-hating ball-busters or sex-phobic prudes. If you read Watson's blog, or McCreight's, or Amanda Marcotte's, or mine... you should know that this is patently absurd. We like sex. We like flirting. We like men. We're not saying you're all rapists. We know you're not all rapists. We know that most of you aren't rapists. We're explaining that, until we get to know you pretty well, we have no way of knowing whether you're a rapist or not, and that some situations (such as being alone with a strange man in an elevator) are well-documented as posing a greater risk of rape than others, and if you approach us in those situations, our guard is very likely going to be up.

We are trying to help you get laid.

And if you're fervently resisting that help... then I have to assume that getting laid is not the point.

When women explain to you -- in a calm, nuanced, proportionate way -- that there are some contexts in which your advances are less likely to be well-received than others, and you respond by sticking your fingers in your ears and screaming about ball-busting, man-hating feminists who are hell-bent on eradicating all flirting and sex and eroding your First Amendment right to proposition any woman at any time and place? When you resist hearing that hitting on a woman who's alone in an elevator in a strange city at four o'clock in the morning is not likely to be well-received, that it's likely to be perceived as a potential threat, and that you are likely to be perceived as an insensitive clod at best if you do it? When we explain ten times, a hundred times, a thousand times, that elevators are well-documented as a common place for women to get raped and that it's therefore not an appropriate place to make sexual advances -- and you still reply, "But I don't understand what the problem is with elevators"?

I have to assume that getting laid is not the point.

I have to assume that the point is something entirely different. I have to assume that you will do anything to resist hearing that women experience male advances in a very different context from the way men experience female advances. I have to assume that you have an active resistance to understanding that women's experiences are different from men's: that (among other things) women routinely get our professional/ intellectual/ artistic accomplishments dismissed in favor of a focus on our sexual attractiveness, and that women have to be seriously cautious about physical and sexual violence from men. When you are so vehemently unwilling to see some of the ways that privilege works in your favor, I have to assume that maintaining privilege is the point.

Even if it reduces your chances of getting laid.

I have to assume that your purported desire to get laid is a smokescreen -- although quite probably an unconscious one -- for your desire to not understand how sexism and male privilege work.

And that is EXACTLY the reason we have to keep talking about it.

Because continuing to talk about it is how people are eventually going to understand it.

And so now, I'm going to address, not just the men who have been insisting on their right to hit on any woman in any place at any time, or complaining about how trivial and self-absorbed it is to raise this issue at all... but everyone. Everyone who's been participating in this blowup. Everyone who's been following it. Everyone who sees one of these blowups on the horizon, and buries their head under the covers, and prays to the non-existent God that this one won't eat the Internet for three solid weeks.

And in particular, I want to address the people who have been asking the question, "Why do we have to keep having these fights? Why is it that every time there's an atheist conference, there's some kerfuffle about sexist comments or actions, and everyone flies into a tizzy about it, and it's the only thing anyone remembers about the event?"

Let me ask you this. When religious believers tell atheists, "Why do you have to keep talking about atheism? Why do you have to keep pointing out religious privilege, and anti-atheist bigotry, and the ways that religion is so deeply entrenched in our culture? It's so divisive. Nobody can talk about religion and atheism without starting a huge, ugly fight. So why do you keep bringing it up?"

When religious believers say this to atheists... do you say to yourself, "You're right. This is such a troubling, divisive issue. I'm so sorry I brought it up. We'll stop talking about it now."

Or do you say to yourself, "Wow. You really don't want to hear what we have to say, do you? There's a part of you that knows we're right, or that fears we're right, or that's getting some assumptions challenged that you're deeply attached to... and you're uncomfortable with that. And you're trying to shut us up. Knock it off. And try listening to what we have to say for a change."

I'm going to assume that the answer is the latter.

So why on earth would you turn around and say to people who are talking about feminism, "This is such a divisive issue -- why do you have to keep bringing it up?"

Do you see how this is the same?

I know. Everyone is tired of the huge Internet blowups about sexism. Everyone would like to avoid them. I'm right there with you. So here's a tip. You want to know how to not have huge Internet blowups every time women in the atheist movement complain about sexism? LISTEN TO WHAT THE WOMEN ARE SAYING.

Here's a perfect example of how this can play out well. At the American Atheist regional Rapture conference in Oakland, one of the speakers, David Eller, said that one of the ways to make atheism more appealing was to make greater use of pretty female videobloggers, with no mention of the actual content of what the videobloggers in question have been blogging about. Jen McCreight, and Rebecca Watson, and myself, and probably some other people, called him out on it, both at the conference and in blogs. And Eller apologized. His initial response at the conference was defensive and missed the point, but after a couple of days of thinking about it, he said (paraphrasing here), "Okay, you're right, that was a dumb thing to say, my privilege was showing, I won't do it again." His apology was accepted.

And the crisis was over. In fact, I now have more respect for Eller, whose work I hadn't really been familiar with before all this happened. Everyone screws up: I've said and done more dumb, thoughtless, privileged stuff in my life than I care to think about. It's how you handle your screw-ups that makes the difference. The fact that Eller was able to see when he'd screwed up made me think very highly of him. And the ability to acknowledge when you've made an error is highly prized among atheists and skeptics.

So listen to what the women are saying, already. Women, oddly enough, know a fair amount about sexism. Just like atheists tend to know more about religion than believers -- because we have to, because religion is the dominant voice in the culture and we have to be familiar with it -- women tend to know more about sexism than men do. Not all women are always right about it -- there are women who make critiques of sexism that I passionately disagree with -- but we're worth listening to on the subject.

And even if you don't agree with the specific point that feminists are making?

DO NOT FUCKING WELL ATTACK WOMEN FOR BRINGING IT UP IN THE FIRST PLACE.

You know how I just said that, if you want to avoid a huge Internet blowup about sexism, you should listen to what women are saying? Here's a great way to create a huge Internet blowup about sexism: Try to shut women up. Try to tell women that we shouldn't criticize sexist ideas and actions. This is a bad, bad idea. Trying to stop the latest Internet firestorm about sexism by asking women to please shut the fuck up does not work. It does worse than not work. It throws gasoline on the flames.

I am boggled by the number of people who are blaming Rebecca Watson for "creating" Elevatorgate. You want to know who "created" Elevatorgate? People trying to shut Watson up. People insisting, not only that she had no right to be upset over being propositioned by a strange man alone in an elevator at four in the morning... but that she shouldn't have said anything about it in public. If the response to Watson's videoblog had been, "Hm, that's interesting, I hadn't thought about that" -- or even, "I don't really get this... why, exactly, are elevators such a bad place to proposition women? Oh, okay, now that you've explained it, it makes sense" -- this would not have eaten the Internet for three weeks. This would have been one of many moderately interesting topics of conversation for a day or two, and we would have all moved on.

What created this firestorm was not feminists pointing out sexism. What created this firestorm was sexist men perpetuating it.

If you don't agree -- with Watson, or me, or any other feminist making a critique about sexism -- then by all means, say so. I don't always agree with every other feminist about whether such-and-such does or does not constitute sexism. (In fact... this is something of a side note, but it has bugged me during this kerfuffle when women have called other women tools of the patriarchy and the like for disagreeing about what is and isn't sexist. As a feminist who defends porn, sex work, sadomasochism, etc., I've been on the receiving end of that "you're just sucking up to sexist men" trope way, way too often. Let's not do it, okay?) So anyway... yes. If you don't agree that a comment or an incident really was sexist, say so. But keep your disagreement focused on the content of what you don't agree with and why. Don't attack us for the mere fact that we brought it up. When we express our observations about sexism in a calm, nuanced, proportionate way, and the Internet reacts by shitting all over itself, do not attack us for bringing up an ugly, divisive issue that we knew people would react to by shitting all over themselves.

Finally:

I want to address the women and men who have been raising this issue, and who have been keeping it on people's radar.

I want to say an enormous, heartfelt Thank You.

I want to encourage you to keep on doing it.

And I want to remind you -- and everyone else reading this -- that what we are doing is working.

I know there are women in the atheist movement who are reluctant to point out examples of sexism. I know there are women who have raised this issue in the past and got a faceful of backlash for it, and now... well, they don't regret it exactly, but they're wary as hell about doing it again. And I know that a lot of us -- women and men -- are exhausted by this issue, and passionately wish it would just go away.

In fact, when I'm in a cynical, pessimistic mood, I often think that this exhaustion is part of the point. The really grossly sexist men -- not the genuinely well-meaning men who don't yet get this stuff and are struggling with it, but the seriously hostile, hateful, deeply entrenched in their misogyny men -- are trying to get us so sick of the backlash, and so daunted by the prospect of having to deal with it one more freaking time, that we don't ever want to bring it up again. They are trying to wear us down.

But to the people who are getting discouraged by this fight -- and this may be the most important point I have to make about all this -- there is one more reason we have to keep talking about this:

Talking about it works.

I want to show you an email I got last week, which I'm reprinting here in full with permission of its author (and with my utmost thanks, both for the permission to reprint and the sentiments expressed in it).

Hello Greta,

After having followed your blog for awhile I eagerly looked forward to meeting you at the AHA conference in April of this year. My wife Lisa and I both attended. I remember seeing you standing in the hall between breakout sessions a couple of times and thinking to myself that you looked and dressed very sharp. In short, I was impressed seeing you in person for the first time.

We also both attended the panel discussion on outreach to women, the LGBT community and people of color. After the Q&A, I came up to the table to ask whether you might be available to speak to our group in New Jersey. And then I did it. Right after all the talk about how women at atheist conferences get sexualized by men, I told you that your hair looked great and you ought to use a picture from the conference as your avatar.

I wasn’t hitting on you, and I hope you knew that. My wife told me later that she thought my comment was inappropriate in that setting, and I agreed with her after a short discussion. I saw you speak at the AA conference later that month but never got a chance to talk to you and apologize in person.

To make a long story short, all the recent discussions of male privilege and sexism involving PZ, Richard Dawkins, Jen McCreight, Ophelia Benson, Rebecca Watson and you have further enlightened the feminist I’ve always thought I was and made me remember my faux pas.

So I want to apologize. I want to emphasize that your writing is what first gripped and inspired me. And your speaking voice only enhances your talent of putting forth ideas with a clarity that only a few can match. I am constantly thrilled to have a person of your talent advocating for both the LGBT and atheist movements and look forward to a day in the future when equality for people of both groups is accepted as a matter-of-fact proposition.

I still think you looked great. But I should have waited until we met again in a more casual environment, say, sitting around a hotel bar, to pay you that compliment.

Best regards,
Tim Ridge

And this isn't an isolated incident. Every time we have a huge shitstorm about sexism in the atheist movement, things get better. Every time the feminists break atheism, it gets put back together a little stronger, a little more conscious, a little less sexist. A couple/few years ago, whenever one of these fights broke out, it was mostly "girls against the boys": largely women making the case against sexism, mostly men making the case that sexism wasn't a problem or wasn't worth paying attention to. Now, whenever one of these fights break out, there are a hefty number of men right in there fighting alongside the women. Many of the most eloquent and passionate voices defending Watson have been men: PZ Myers at Pharyngula, Ebonmuse at Daylight Atheism, Phil Plait at Bad Astronomy, many more. And comment threads in the blogosphere, while toxic and ugly, have had loads and loads of men battling against the ugliness and toxicity.

This. Is. Getting. Better.

Yes, we all want this issue to go away. You know how it's going to go away? By dealing with it. You know what's making it better? Talking about it.

I've said this before, and I'll almost certainly say it again: As exasperated as I am at the fact that we have to keep having these fights, I am also thrilled beyond my power to express that we're dealing with it now... instead of ten years from now, or twenty, or forty. To quote myself: We have a chance in the atheist movement to learn from the mistakes of the LGBT movement, and the mistakes of every other progressive movement before ours. Our movement -- at least, the current incarnation of our movement, the visible and vocal and activist incarnation of our movement -- is still relatively new. We have a unique opportunity to handle this problem early: before these self-perpetuating cycles become entrenched, before decades of ugly history and bad feelings poison the well. Every other social change movement I know of has been bitten on the ass by this issue, and desperately wishes now that they had dealt with it early, before bad habits and self-fulfilling prophecies got set in a deep groove that are hard to break out of. As exasperating and exhausting as it is, the fact that the atheist movement is hashing this out now -- relatively early in our current incarnation as a highly visible, vocal, mobilized, activist movement -- gives me tremendous hope for the future of our movement.

We are making atheism stronger. We are making the world less sexist. What we're doing is working.

So to those of you who are trying to shut us up: Knock it off. You're making it worse. If you really are well-meaning and are genuinely trying to stop atheism from getting broken by huge fights... it's not working. The more you try to shut us up, the more thousand-plus comment threads you're going to get. So please don't throw gasoline on the flames. Please help us move this thing forward.

And to those of you who are bringing this up:

Keep up the good work. Thanks.

***

UPDATE: This piece has been linked to, on Pharyngula and lots of other places, and as a result, traffic and commenting is increasing significantly, including from many non-regulars. This is excellent... but it means that people are participating who aren't familiar with the usual standard of discourse here. Quick summary: I encourage lively debate, but I also expect it to be civil. Criticize ideas and behavior, but please keep the heated rhetoric to a minimum, and don't personally insult other commenters. I have already banned someone for trotting out the "We don't have to listen to you because you're ugly" trope. (Full comment policy is here.)

And it also means that the trolls are seriously starting to come out. Please, please, I beg of everyone: DO NOT FEED THE TROLLS. This conversation is loaded enough. If you're not sure what constitutes trolling, consult Katie Hartman's Bingo card. (My regular bulldogs are hereby authorized to give the trolls a "Thank you for sharing" on my behalf.)

My very, very strong preference would be to keep this conversation ON TOPIC. I don't think we need to re-hash the details of Elevatorgate again. The specific topics raised by this piece were: (a) the proposal that men who steadfastly and angrily refuse to listen to women giving guidance about when and where their advances are likely to be welcomed are more interested in maintaining their privilege than in actually getting laid; (b) the suggestion that, if you disagree with women who are criticizing what they think is sexist behavior or language, you focus on their ideas rather than chiding them for expressing them, and that telling women to shut up about sexism is equivalent to religious believers telling atheists to shut up about atheism; and (c) the proposal that, as unpleasant as they are, these kinds of controversies are necessary for the health of the atheist movement, and that we are far better off having them now instead of ten or twenty years from now. Please, please, if you can possibly bear it, keep your comments focused on these ideas.

I'm leaving for TAM tomorrow, where I'll be on the diversity panel -- I know, perfect timing, right? -- which means that as much as I would like to (and I'm serious, I really would like to), I won't have time to participate in this comment discussion. I will be checking in periodically to moderate (and if necessary, bring down the banhammer on trolls), but I will not have the time to jump in. Greta's Bulldogs are already doing an excellent job of saying pretty much everything I would have said on my own behalf, though, and I'll trust them to keep it up. Thanks.

5 Faulty Arguments Religious People Use Against Atheists (Debunked)

Do atheists misunderstand religion? Or do believers still misunderstand atheists?

Do atheists really misunderstand religion?

I read the recent piece in Tikkun by Be Scofield, "5 Myths Atheists Believe about Religion" (reprinted in AlterNet as "5 Things Atheists Have Wrong About Religion"), with a fair degree of both trepidation and curiosity. Trepidation... because my experience has been that, when believers write about atheists, they usually get it laughably and even insultingly wrong. Curiosity... because there are things that the atheist community sometimes gets wrong, about religion and other topics, and I thought I might get some insight into stuff I might not have seen. I don't think atheists are perfect -- believe me, I am well aware of how imperfect we are -- and I'm willing and even eager to look at things we might be missing.

But when I looked at these "myths" that atheists supposedly hold about religion, I was more than a bit baffled. Because none of these "myths" looked anything like myths to me. Instead, they looked like... well, like differences of opinion. At best, they were simply areas of disagreement: controversial topics, matters of subjective opinion, semantic squabbles. And at worst, they were red herrings, bafflegab, even complete misrepresentations of atheists' actual positions.

So let's look at these supposedly "ill-informed beliefs about religion." And then let's look at the assumption of religious privilege that underlies them... and at how religious believers defend this privilege by taking on the mantle of oppression and victimhood.

*

Thus begins my latest piece for AlterNet, 5 Faulty Arguments Religious People Use Against Atheists (Debunked). To find out the five things about religion that atheists supposedly misunderstand -- and why this accusation is not only horsepucky, but privileged horsepucky masquerading as martyrdom -- read the rest of the piece. Enjoy!

"The Ledge": Does Atheism Have Its "Brokeback Mountain"?

This piece was originally published on AlterNet. "The Ledge" is available now through On Demand and through online streaming from SundanceNow. It opens in theaters in New York and Los Angeles this Friday, July 8.

A young man walks toward the ledge of a tall building. He is clearly filled with trepidation and even terror; at the same time, he has an equally clear air of purpose and resolve. That resolve: To jump.

It soon comes out that the man is an atheist. And the audience's first thought might be, "Oh, right. Atheism -- depressing, joyless, no sense of meaning or life's value. Why wouldn't he just kill himself?" But the story unfolds in places that are miles away from any such predictable path. Far from being depressed or joyless, the potential jumper, Gavin (Charlie Hunnam), has a singular joie de vivre. Far from having no meaning, his life is filled with compassion and intense moments of connection, both large and small. And his suicide attempt is not, as it turns out, a result of his seeing life as valueless and meaningless. It is, instead, an expression of his deep sense of how precious life is.

For reasons I can't tell you without giving away the ending.

Let's get this out of the way right at the start: I enjoyed the heck out of "The Ledge," and am recommending it heartily to pretty much everyone. Atheists, believers who are curious about atheists, people who just like good movies -- I recommend "The Ledge" to all of you. Written and directed by Matthew Chapman (author of Trials of the Monkey: An Accidental Memoir and 40 Days and 40 Nights: Darwin, Intelligent Design, God, Oxycontin, and Other Oddities on Trial in Pennsylvania, as well as Charles Darwin's great-grandson), "The Ledge" is smart, riveting, complex, emotionally engaging, visually gorgeous... and best of all, almost entirely unpredictable. Its characters are, well, human -- likable, aggravating, tough, loving, damaged -- and the story is unpredictable in exactly the ways that human beings are unpredictable. It's not a perfect film -- I'll get to that in a tic -- but its imperfections are ten times more compelling than most of the boilerplate crap regularly churned out by the Hollywood machinery. (The movie is available now through On Demand and through online streaming from SundanceNow; it opens in theaters in New York and Los Angeles on July 8.)

It's hard to summarize the plot of "The Ledge" without giving too much away. And I'd truly hate to do that. Again, so much of what's good about this movie is its unpredictability, and I'd hate to take away the pleasure of seeing its surprises unfold. So I'll do my best to explain without spoiling. Soon after Gavin climbs onto on the ledge, he's confronted by a police officer, Hollis (Terrence Howard), who tries to talk him down. And as Hollis gets Gavin to tell him why he's on the ledge, we see the strange story of the events that led him out there.

It's a story of sex, love, revenge, and religion. A thriller, of sorts. Gavin meets an attractive new neighbor, Shana (Liv Tyler): a sweet, pensive, buttoned-down young woman married to an intense Christian extremist, Joe (Patrick Wilson). Joe's genuine devotion to Shana shows up in the form of paternalism and possessiveness... and his genuine devotion to God shows up in the form of close-mindedness and homophobic bigotry. So Gavin begins a scheme to liberate Shana away from Joe and into his own bed: partly out of lust, partly out of compassion, and partly out of pissy hostility towards Joe and his religion. But what starts as a casual, almost light-hearted game becomes intensely real -- as Gavin and Shana's connection grows stronger, as Shana's dilemma becomes more vivid, and as Joe's insecurity -- about both Shana and his own religious faith -- becomes increasingly volatile.

Gavin is the central character here. And in the pantheon of movie characters, he is both one of the more distinctive and one of the more instantly recognizable that I've seen in a while. As his story unfolded, I kept wondering, "Where is he going with this? What makes him tick? What on earth is he going to do next?" And at the same time, I kept thinking, "Oh, my lack of God -- I know this guy." Passionate, funny, combative, compassionate, way too quick with a snarky barb, equally quick to apologize and admit that he's an asshole, tender-hearted, quick-witted, competitive, impulsive, hard-assed, firmly realistic, fervently idealistic... I know this guy. I see dozens of people like him on atheist forums every day. Heck -- I'm more than a little like him myself. It's something I've said many times: To make characters that an audience can identify with, you don't make them generic and lowest- common- denominator. You make them personal. You make them quirky, complex, mixed-up, unique. You make them human. Humans are what other humans identify with... and writer/ director Chapman has done that in trumps with Gavin.

And he's done it with the rest of the characters in "The Ledge" as well. This is a story of heroism and villainy... but it isn't a story of cartoon heroes and villains. The villain of the piece, Joe, is almost as complex and nuanced as Gavin. The movie is clearly taking Gavin's side, but it goes out of its way to show where Joe's religious extremism comes from and why he clings to it so strongly, and whenever he came on screen, I found myself feeling an uneasy blend of compassion and revulsion. The woman caught in the middle, Shana, has a quiet, compelling strength peering out from her apparent meekness. I sometimes found her to be frustratingly passive -- it would have been nice if the main female character actually made some stuff happen and hadn't primarily been the prize in the game played between two men -- but her few moments of real choice have a thoughtful, carefully- considered gravitas, offering a dramatic contrast to Gavin's impulsive, often blundering willfulness. Hollis, the detective trying to talk Gavin down from the ledge, is a good man having a very, very bad day. The crisis with Gavin coincides with one of the worst personal crises of his own life, and he juggles both with a mix of calm and despair, morality and rage, compassion and bewilderment, a strong man being shaken to his core. In many ways, he's the foundation the film is built on, and I don't think it's an accident that the movie opens and closes on him and his story.

And the scenes between Gavin and his best friend/ roommate, Chris (Christopher Gorham), are among the most authentic of the entire movie. The way the two friends keep touching on the subject of religion, and then stepping back from it because they know they can't talk about it without it causing a rift... it felt like a hand cupping my heart and then twisting, just a little. I know that. I've lived that. It's one of the saddest, hardest things about my friendships with believers: it's this hugely important issue, for me and for them, and there's no way to talk about it seriously without it starting a fight. And so it is with Gavin and Chris. They show their love for each other, not by pushing forward on an intensely personal matter, but by carefully stepping around it. It made me want to cry... more than any of the characters' tragic histories or romantic dramas. (And yes -- the gay best friend/ roommate gets to have a love life, and even a sex life. Praise Jebus.)

There are places, I'll admit, where the dialogue gets a little... not false, exactly, but stilted. In particular, the conversations about religion often play like a bit like a comment thread in an atheist blog. An exchange of abstract ideas, rather than a personal conversation. But on the occasions when it does that, it pulls back into the human realm very quickly. And even though these debates are so absurdly familiar to me I could probably recite them in my sleep -- "The problem of suffering! The argument from locality! The utility defense!" -- I have to acknowledge that this probably won't be true for much of the audience. If you don't spend the bulk of your professional life hanging around the atheist blogosphere, the ideas and arguments in "The Ledge" about religion and atheism may be very new indeed. Unsettling. Emotionally intense. Possibly even mind-blowing.

The producers of "The Ledge" are pitching it as atheism's "Brokeback Mountain." And while I think that's something of an exaggeration, I don't think it's much of one. "The Ledge" is an intensely personal film that explores broad social questions on a private, human scale. It has an unapologetic viewpoint on the issues in question, without shying away from the complexities and sorrows and thorny, unanswerable questions they raise. It makes the marginalized character likeable and heroic, and at the same time lets him be flawed and troubled and often kind of a jerk. The parallels are hard to ignore.

I'm not quite ready to call this the atheist "Brokeback Mountain," though. It's an excellent movie, and it's an entirely unique movie; but it's not the nearly flawless work of genius that "Brokeback Mountain" was. The flaws I've already mentioned aren't the only ones. The movie is more than willing to let Gavin be troubled and morally imperfect -- but when it comes to the fact that Shana is not just his married neighbor but his employee, and that seducing her is sexual harassment, it shrugs and looks the other way. On a related note: I'm really, really, irritated that, in 2011, thoughtful, independent, culturally sensitive filmmakers are still making films that fail the Bechdel Test. (A failure that's even more troubling here, given the main female character's passivity, and her role primarily as the pawn in the two men's game.) And the tragedies in the main characters' pasts seem more than a little forced, a needlessly melodramatic way of gaining the audience's sympathy. (The sad sex work history particularly got up my nose. Can we please knock it off with that particular stereotype, folks?)

So no. I don't know if "The Ledge" is atheism's "Brokeback Mountain." But you know what? I don't know if atheism needs a "Brokeback Mountain." Atheism hasn't yet had a "Children's Hour," or a "Cabaret," or a "Philadelphia." Hell, atheism hasn't even had a "Hairspray." I can certainly think of atheist characters in mainstream American films -- mostly amoral, cynical, depressed, emotionally clueless, emotionally distant, or a combination of the above. But I can think of damn few atheist film characters who were likeable, sympathetic, and even heroic. And I can't think of a single mainstream film that was not only about an atheist, but that was about atheism. I can't think of a single mainstream film before this one that was a serious attempt to convey the reality of atheists' experience.

"The Ledge" isn't atheism's "Brokeback Mountain." "Brokeback Mountain" was the result of decades of activism and consciousness- raising -- about LGBT people in general, and about media depictions of LGBT people in particular. "The Ledge" isn't that. It isn't the culmination of a decades-long cinematic conversation about atheism.

It's the beginning of it.

And that might be even more important.

"The Ledge". Starring Charlie Hunnam, Liv Tyler, Patrick Wilson, Terrence Howard, and Christopher Gorham. Produced by Mark Damon and Michael Mailer. Written and directed by Matthew Chapman. IFC Films. Unrated.

"Evolved This Way": My Atheist Evolution-Themed Lady Gaga "Born This Way" Song Parody

Carl Sagan told me when I was young
We are all made of stars
And Darwin said all life's descended from
Ancient common ancestors...

*

Don't get me wrong. I like Lady Gaga. I respect Lady Gaga. I'm even reasonably fond of "Born This Way" (although I do think it's awfully goddamn close to "Express Yourself" -- there is a line between "homage" and "ripoff", people!).

But the lyrics kind of get up my nose. They got up my nose the first time I heard it; they get up my nose more and more on every subsequent listening. The whole "God makes no mistakes" bull keeps making me want to scream, "There is no god! And if you believe in a god who created the world and is responsible for how it's turning out, how can you not think that he makes mistakes all the freaking time! Sinuses! Knees! Too-narrow birth canals! Pediatric cancer! Have you read anything about evolution? Do you even know how it works? Rrrrrr!"

If it were just a couple of passing mentions, it wouldn't bug me so much. But religion is all over the freaking song. "'Cause he made you perfect, babe"; "God makes no mistakes"; "Believe capital H-i-m"... it's all over the song like a cheap suit. Indeed, the whole bloody theme of the song -- "I'm on the right track, baby, I was born this way," in the context of "God makes no mistakes," smacks strongly of deistic theistic predestination. Not to mention a piss-poor understanding of evolution, and how life came into being, and why we are the way we are.

And I want no part of it. I don't think we should love ourselves because God made us the way we are. I think we should love ourselves because we're awesome and lucky to be alive, and because our lives and the lives of the people around us improve vastly when we love ourselves. And the teleological fallacy seriously gets my goat. There is no reason to think that we were "born this way" because some invisible all-powerful supernatural entity shaped us into being on purpose to make him happy, or even because evolution proceeds in a specific direction towards some supposedly "higher" state of being. We're not on "the right track" -- there is no track. We were "born this way" because of natural selection, coupled with random chance. Period.

Okay. Deep breath. I am clearly taking this waaaaaay too seriously.

So anyway. When Ingrid and I marched with the atheist contingent in the LGBT Pride Parade this year, Ingrid really, really wanted to make a sign that was an atheist riff on "Born This Way." (She assumed -- rightly so, as it turns out -- that "Born This Way" would be getting played to death at this year's parade.) And at almost the very last minute, the night before the parade, she came up with her totally brilliant sign concept: "Evolved This Way." We jokingly started coming up with parody song lyrics on our way to the parade... and I got the bug in my brain, and couldn't stop until I had the whole thing done. (And can I just say: Some of the best lines are the ones lifted wholesale from the original song. "In the religion of the insecure"? I couldn't have done better.) Enjoy!

*

Evolved This Way

It doesn't matter if you sing hymns,
There's no capital H-I-M
Just put your paws up
'Cause you evolved this way, baby

Carl Sagan told me when I was young
We are all made of stars
And Darwin said all life's descended from
Ancient common ancestors

"There's nothing wrong with loving who you are,"
They said, "'Cause we're all imperfect, babe
Our knees and sinuses don't work for shit
But we're alive -- so celebrate!"

Lucky to be here today
There's no god making mistakes
I'm on the tree of life, baby
I evolved this way

Humans and seaweed and cats
Mushrooms and beetles and rats
You know there's no track, baby
We evolved this way

Could have gone another way
Thank your mutant DNA
Baby, we evolved this way

Could have gone another way
If that asteroid had strayed
No track, baby, we evolved this way

There's killer sharks, there's killer bees
There's viruses, there's willow trees
There's elephants, there's tiny fleas
And me.

It's sometimes hard to see this scary world
With life in our own puny hands
In the religion of the insecure
They think it's all a master plan.

It might be pretty to believe that lie
But it's all an S-H-A-M
I love myself, I love my friends, and I
Accept that it's all going to end.

Lucky to be here today
There's no god making mistakes
I'm a primate, baby
I evolved this way

Gorillas, roses and dogs
Amoebas, algae and frogs
You know there's no track, baby
We evolved this way

Could have gone another way
Thank your mutant DNA
Baby, we evolved this way

Could have gone another way
If mammals hadn't made the grade
No track, baby, we evolved this way

If you survive, you'll make the scene
Then reproduce, pass on your genes
Random mutations roll the dice
Change every species, moss or mice
Forget your teleology
There's no track on life's gorgeous tree
Rejoice and love yourself today
'Cause baby you evolved this way

No matter huge or small fry
Whether you swim or you fly
You know there's no track, baby
We evolved to survive

No matter feathers or fur
Whether you bark or you purr
You know there's no track, baby
We were shaped by this world

Lucky to be here today
There's no god making mistakes
I'm on the tree of life, baby
I evolved this way

Mosquitos, plankton and pigs
Canaries, leeches and figs
You know there's no track, baby
We evolved this way

Could have gone another way
Thank your mutant DNA
Baby, we evolved this way

Could have gone another way
If grandma hadn't gotten laid
No track, baby, we evolved this way

We evolved this way-hey
We evolved this way-hey
You know there's no track, baby
We evolved this way-hey

We evolved this way-hey
We evolved this way-hey
You know there's no track, baby
We evolved this way-hey

Note: I would love, love, LOVE to make a YouTube video of this. I don't have the singing chops or video-making skills to do it on my own... but if someone out there wants to collaborate, please let me know. It doesn't have to be a fancy video; I'd be totally happy with one of those "sequence of still images" numbers, and will even find the images. If you can sing ([cough] JT [cough]), and/ or if you have video-making skills, drop me a line at greta (at) gretachristina (dot) com.

Atheists in the Pride Parade: Some Thoughts on Churlishness and Integrity

How can atheists be civil and friendly with religious believers -- particularly believers who are actively representing their beliefs -- while maintaining our integrity about our atheism?

Last Sunday, I marched with the atheist contingent in the San Francisco LGBT Pride Parade (hosted by San Francisco Atheists, East Bay Atheists, and Atheist Advocates of San Francisco). It was an awesomely fun day (even with the "hanging around for over three hours waiting our turn to get into the parade" part). We had a good 50 people in the contingent: it was a totally fun and marvelously motley crew, and hanging out and marching with them was a blast. And we got LOTS of love and support from the crowds watching the parade: from generic "Woo-hoo!"-ing to intense emotional outpourings. (We also got a certain amount of blank, deer- in- the- headlights stares, and the occasional bit of pushback -- but mostly, we got love and support.) It was very gratifying, and more fun than a barrel of narwhals. Causing a commotion, 'cause we are so awesome!

But because contingents in the Pride Parade are organized by theme, we wound up marching close behind the assorted gay religious groups: the Metropolitan Community Church, Dignity (the gay Catholic organization), the gay evangelical group whose name I don't remember, the ones who had the float with the giant rainbow cross on it. (I so wish I'd thought to get a photo.)

Which meant that the three-plus hours hanging around waiting our turn to get into the parade was spent in fairly close quarters with these religious groups.

Which posed an etiquette/ ethics conundrum: How can I be civil and friendly with religious believers -- particularly believers who are actively representing their beliefs -- while maintaining my integrity about my atheism? The basic principle -- respecting people and treating them with courtesy and dignity, while retaining the right to criticize and even disrespect ideas -- is a straightforward one in theory... but how does it play out in practice?

I'm going to be very clear right now: I'm speaking here only for myself. I am not speaking for any of the organizations hosting the atheist contingent in the Pride parade, or for any of the other participants in it. The thought processes and decisions I'm describing here are entirely my own.

So here was the situation. Many of the people in the religious contingents wanted to be friendly and make nice with the atheists. Many folks smiled and gave us the thumbs-up; when their contingents were moving past us on their way to filing into the parade, many of them cheered and applauded us. Some even made more overt gestures: one woman from the gay evangelical group came over to talk with us about David Byers' "Leviticus Says... Crazy Shit," sign, and how much she agreed with it, and how those bad homophobic right-wing evangelicals were getting God's true message totally bolloxed up, and how in the end it was really all about love.

Nice, right?

Yeah. See, here's the problem.

In the last several years, I've gotten into many, many conversations with progressive, tolerant, ecumenical religious believers about atheism. And in my experience, their tolerance for atheists dries up fast when we actually start discussing atheism. Once they find out that atheists don't agree with any religion -- even theirs? Once they find out that we are, in fact, familiar with the progressive and accepting versions of religion, that it really isn't new to us... and that we still don't believe? Once they find out that the reason we're atheists isn't because we think religion is hostile and ugly, but because we think it isn't, you know, true? Once they find out that most atheists' attitude towards progressive ecumenical religion is, "Yeah, it's less bad than the hateful, bigoted right-wing bullshit, but it still lends credibility to the idea that it's okay to believe whatever you feel like without any good evidence to support it -- and most importantly, it's still just flat-out wrong"?

Once they find that out -- the pro-atheist Kumbaya hand-holding dries up in a hurry.

It's not a facade or a fake, exactly. I think the believers are sincere about it. It's just not very closely examined. In many cases, they've never really talked with atheists about our atheism. So they make assumptions about what we think of them... assumptions that are generally not true. They assume that we're as uncritically accepting of progressive ecumenical religions as progressive ecumenical religions are of each other. They assume that our opposition to religion is simply opposition to the bigotry and hatred of the more conservative versions of it... and not opposition to the whole idea of belief in invisible supernatural entities. They assume that their particular beliefs get the Atheist Seal of Approval. And when they find out that they're wrong... then the "Thumbs-Up For Atheism" attitude tends to disappear into the mist.

And it was very hard to see the smiles and the applauding and the thumbs-ups at the Pride Parade, and not remember all those conversations. It was very hard to see the smiles and the applauding and the thumbs-ups, and not think, "I know how this conversation ends up." It was very hard to see the smiles and the applauding and the thumbs-ups, and not think that ultimately, it was bullshit.

I didn't want to get into an argument. Or rather... I did want to get into an argument. Very much so. When the woman who was trying to make nice with us said that the homophobic religious right had gotten God's message all wrong, I absolutely wanted to ask her, "Okay, so you think the homophobic religious right is getting Christ's message wrong. How do you know that you're getting it right? What reason do you have to think that you, personally, know what Jesus really meant, and that all these other jackasses are getting it wrong? They cherry-pick scripture to support their position; you cherry-pick scripture to support yours -- how do you know that your cherries are the ones Jesus would approve of? Oh, and while we're on the subject: What evidence do you have to believe that Jesus is the divine son of God in the first place? Are you aware of how laughably unreliable the New Testament is as a historical document? Are you familiar with the arguments that the historical Jesus probably didn't even exist, and that the case for him being the divine son of God is a total joke?" I was kind of dying to get into it, if you want to know the truth. I was chomping at the bit.

But I also felt like it would be inappropriate. This wasn't the time or the place. This wasn't a debate, or an editorial, or an atheist blog comment thread. This was the Pride Parade. A time for celebration -- not a time for divisiveness. And besides, the reason I was there to put forth a positive representation of happy, joyful, queer-positive atheism into the LGBT community... not to get into a pissing match. So I smiled weakly, and mouthed non-committal vaguenesses, and escaped from the conversation as gracefully as I could.

Which still made me feel churlish. When people are extending a "We're all brothers and sisters" hand, it feels churlish to shrug and reply, "Yeah, not so much."

The same thing happened when the religious contingents and floats went by us and applauded. I felt like they were saying to us, "Sure, we believe in God -- but we're not like those other bad religions! We think atheists are great! Don't you think we're great, too?" I felt like they were asking us for the Atheist Seal of Approval. I felt like they were expecting us to applaud them back. And I felt churlish for not doing so.

But you know what? I can't applaud religion. I just can't. I think religion is a flatly mistaken idea about the world. I think it's an idea that, on the whole, does significantly more harm than good. I'm devoting my writing career to persuading people out of it. I can be friendly and respectful with the believers... but I'm not going to express my approval for the beliefs.

And in a culture -- like progressive LGBT culture -- where uncritical acceptance of different religious beliefs is part of the standard etiquette, I don't know how to maintain that integrity without coming across as pissy, intolerant, and churlish.

Atheists talk a lot about the parallels between the LGBT movement and the atheist movement. I talk a lot about it myself. But I think we need to remember that, for all the parallels between the two movements, there are some important differences. And one of the biggest differences is this:

There is nothing about saying, "I am queer," that implies, "You are mistaken to be straight." But there is something about saying, "I am an atheist," that implies, "You are mistaken to believe in God." Coming out as queer is a subjective statement about what is true for you personally. Coming out as atheist is an assertion about what you think is objectively true about the external world. When we come out as atheists, we're not just saying what's true for us. We're saying what we think is true in the world. And by implication, we're saying that people who disagree with us are wrong. Even if we're not actively trying to persuade people out of religion -- heck, even if we don't care whether people believe in religion -- we're still saying that we think religion is wrong.

We need to cop to that.

We need to acknowledge that, for atheists, coming out is different than it is for queers. We need to acknowledge that, for atheists, even the gentlest, least- confrontational, "Don't believe in God? You are not alone" forms of coming out are, in fact, still confrontational. Not just because people don't want to hear it; not just because the conventional etiquette demands that we not say it. Because it is. Because we're telling people that they're wrong.

I think we need to accept that. And I think we need to take responsibility for it.

There are a lot of different ways for us to say it. We can say it in gentle, diplomatic, "You can be good without God" ways. We can say it in snarky, in-your-face, "You know it's a myth" ways. We can say it in bald, statement-of-fact, "There's probably no God" ways. There is room for both confrontationalism and diplomacy in this movement, and in fact the movement is stronger with both methods than it would be with just one or the other.

But I think we need to accept that this is always going to be a difficult topic. I think we need to accept that being honest about who we are and what we think is always going to ruffle some feathers. I think we need to accept that ruffling feathers is not the worst thing human beings can do to one another. It's not even in the Top Ten. And I think we need to accept that being out as atheists, and maintaining our integrity as out atheists, may always be seen -- and feel -- a little bit churlish.

Because it is.

That's just going to have to be okay with us.

Save the Students!

"For just a dollar a day, you can help guarantee these students' spiritual emptiness for years to come."

Hi-larious -- excuse me, heartbreaking, poignant, deeply touching -- video from the Secular Student Alliance, riffing off the "You can save little Sheila, or you can turn the page" motif. Hear all about the desperately needy secular students, "many of them in reason- deprived areas of the world, like the United States." Watch them try to keep straight faces. And see me and PZ Myers jump joyfully in the air!

Video below the jump, since putting it above the jump mucks up my archives.

Sex, Love, Revenge ... and Atheism? Finally, a Big New Film That Shows Non-Belief in a Positive Light

"The Ledge" is smart, riveting, complex, emotionally engaging, visually gorgeous... and best of all, almost entirely unpredictable.

A young man walks toward the ledge of a tall building. He is clearly filled with trepidation and even terror; at the same time, he has an equally clear air of purpose and resolve. That resolve: To jump.

It soon comes out that the man is an atheist. And the audience's first thought might be, "Oh, right. Atheism -- depressing, joyless, no sense of meaning or life's value. Why wouldn't he just kill himself?" But the story unfolds in places that are miles away from any such predictable path. Far from being depressed or joyless, the potential jumper, Gavin (Charlie Hunnam), has a singular joie de vivre. Far from having no meaning, his life is filled with compassion and intense moments of connection, both large and small. And his suicide attempt is not, as it turns out, a result of his seeing life as valueless and meaningless. It is, instead, an expression of his deep sense of how precious life is.

For reasons I can't tell you without giving away the ending.

Let's get this out of the way right at the start: I enjoyed the heck out of "The Ledge," and am recommending it heartily to pretty much everyone. Atheists, believers who are curious about atheists, people who just like good movies -- I recommend "The Ledge" to all of you. Written and directed by Matthew Chapman (author of Trials of the Monkey: An Accidental Memoir and 40 Days and 40 Nights: Darwin, Intelligent Design, God, Oxycontin, and Other Oddities on Trial in Pennsylvania, as well as Charles Darwin's great-grandson), "The Ledge" is smart, riveting, complex, emotionally engaging, visually gorgeous... and best of all, almost entirely unpredictable. Its characters are, well, human -- likable, aggravating, tough, loving, damaged -- and the story is unpredictable in exactly the ways that human beings are unpredictable. It's not a perfect film -- I'll get to that in a tic -- but its imperfections are ten times more compelling than most of the boilerplate crap regularly churned out by the Hollywood machinery.

*

Thus begins my review for AlterNet of the new atheist feature film, "The Ledge": Sex, Love, Revenge ... and Atheism? Finally, a Big New Film That Shows Non-Belief in a Positive Light. To find out more about what made this movie so compelling, what made it flawed, and whether I think it really is atheism's "Brokeback Mountain" (as its producers have been pitching it), read the rest of the piece. Enjoy!

Upcomng Events: Atheists at SF Pride Parade, and Greta speaking at TAM and SSA Conference

Hi, all! I'm going to be at some upcoming events that I thought you might want to know about.

I'm marching with the atheist contingent in this Sunday's LGBT Pride Parade in San Francisco.

I'm going to be speaking at The Amazing Meeting -- along with Neil deGrasse Tyson, Richard Dawkins, Carol Tavris, Adam Savage, Eugenie Scott, Bill Nye, PZ Myers, Michael Shermer, Jennifer McCreight, Debbie Goddard, Jamila Bey, Hemant Mehta, James Randi (of course), and a bunch of other skeptical all-stars.

And I'm going to be speaking at the Secular Student Alliance annual conference -- along with PZ Myers, Dan Barker, Jessica Ahlquist, Jennifer McCreight, David Silverman, Jamila Bey, Hemant Mehta, Amanda Knief, Debbie Goddard, and more totally awesome atheist speakers. Plus there'll be a game room all day Friday... and this conference is where I will be popping my karaoke cherry, as promised when Team Awesome beat PZ Myers in the Camp Quest fundraising challenge.

Here are the details for all three events. Hope to see some of you there!

EVENT: Atheist Contingent at the San Francisco LGBT Pride Parade
DATE: Sunday, Jun 26, 2011
TIME: Meeting at 10:30 am
LOCATION: We're gathering at Assembly Area K on Beale between Mission & Howard in San Francisco. Look for the banners: Atheist Advocates of SF, SF Atheists and East Bay Atheists. Please allow time to deal with walking from the BART Embarcadero Station, etc. There will be no nearby parking.
NOTE: If you're planning to go, it'd be good if you could RSVP through the Meetup event, so the organizers have an idea of how many marchers to expect. It's not absolutely necessary, though -- you can just show up!
ANOTHER NOTE: Be sure to bring water and sunscreen. We'll be outside in the sun for a long time.
STILL ANOTHER NOTE: You don't have to be LGBT to be part of this contingent! Straight allies are welcomed and indeed encouraged. I, for one, would love for the queer community to see a bunch of atheists with signs saying things like, "Straight Atheists Support Gay Rights."
ONE MORE NOTE: If you're not in the Bay Area, there might be an atheist contingent in your local Pride Parade! Check with your local atheist group or Pride Parade organizers.

EVENT: The Amazing Meeting
DATES: July 14-17, 2011
DATE AND TIME OF MY PRESENTATION: Sunday, July 17, 2011, 2:15 – 3:15 pm
LOCATION: Southpoint Hotel and Casino, Las Vegas, NV
TOPIC: Diversity in Skepticism -- panel discussion with Greta Christina , D. J. Grothe, Debbie Goddard, Jamila Bey and Hemant Mehta; moderated by Desiree Schell
COST: See convention website for details

EVENT: Secular Student Alliance annual conference
DATES: July 29-31, 2011
DATE AND TIME OF MY PRESENTATION: Saturday, July 30, 8:30 pm - 9:00 pm
LOCATION: Hitchcock Hall, Ohio State University, Columbus, OH
TOPIC: Resistance Is Not Futile: Why Arguing About Religion Is Not A Waste of Time
SUMMARY: Many atheists think that trying to persuade people out of religion never works, and simply alienates people. But debating believers about their beliefs can be effective -- in changing people's minds about religion, as well as in achieving other goals of the atheist community. When does it makes sense to debate about religion? How should we go about it? And what should our expectations be for what these debates can accomplish?
COST: See convention website for details. But a lot cheaper than you'd think -- and they have travel grants available, group rates for groups of students coming from the same school, and cheap dorm housing. They really want students to come, and want to make it as east as possible. So come!

Grief Beyond Belief: A Faith-Free Support Network Launches on Facebook

How can atheists and other non-believers deal with the reality of grief in our lives?

And how can we help one another deal with that reality?

We talk a lot in the atheist movement about making atheism a safe place to land for people who are leaving religion. We talk a lot about how religion is, for many people, the only game in town when it comes to community and support in a time of loss and grief -- and how, if we're going to make atheism a viable alternative to religion, we need to build community and support networks to replace it. We talk a lot about the commonly-held belief that religion is necessary to give comfort and solace in the face of death and grief -- and how the atheist community needs to not only make godless philosophies of death more widely known and understood, but provide one another with practical, on-the-ground support in the face of death's reality.

Some of us are even doing something about it.

My friend Rebecca Hensler is one of them. She has just started Grief Beyond Belief, a faith-free online support network for non-religious people grieving the death of a loved one.

Her announcement about the network is below. She explains it better than I can, so I'm just going to let her have the floor. Please spread the word about it. This is something many people in the atheist/ agnostic/ humanist/ skeptic/ freethinker/ non-religious world are very much in need of -- or will be in need of at some point in our lives -- and we should let people know that it's available.

*

In response to the clear need for grief support among non-religious people, Grief Beyond Belief launches today on Facebook. The Grief Beyond Belief page offers an online support network for people grieving the death of a child, parent, partner, or other loved one -- without belief in a higher power or an afterlife. Atheists, agnostics, humanists and anyone else living without religious beliefs are invited to join and participate on the page. Bereaved people in the process of questioning or letting go of previously held religious beliefs are also welcome to be part of the community and seek support.

In many ways, Grief Beyond Belief resembles other online grief support networks and forums. However, religious grief support -- including prayer, faith in god, and belief in an afterlife -- is not welcome in posts or comments. In this way Grief Beyond Belief offers a safe space for atheists and other non-religious people to share and process the death of a loved one. Recognizing that the death of a loved one sometimes leads to reevaluation of religious beliefs, every effort will be made to make the page accessible to people who are still struggling with these issues. However, the page is not intended as a venue for debate, but as a space for shared compassion and support. While religious believers may participate on the page, they are required to follow these guidelines.

Once a participant has "liked" Grief Beyond Belief, she or he will periodically receive a thought, question, quote or link in her or his News Feed addressing various aspects of grief, often focusing on grieving a death without faith. Participants are also invited to post memories, photos, thoughts, feelings or questions they would like to share, on which other members can comment. In addition, the page serves as a central location on the web where members can link to writing about grief and loss that is coming from an non-religious perspective. Bloggers are strongly encouraged to post links to blog entries on this topic on the Grief Beyond Belief wall.

Grief Beyond Belief’s founder, Rebecca Hensler, discovered the need for such a group when seeking support for her own grief after the death of her three-month-old son. “I quickly found a network of parents who were also grieving the deaths of their children at The Compassionate Friends (a 42-year-old parental grief support group). But I often felt alienated by assurances from other members that my son was in heaven or by offers to pray for me, comforts that were kindly meant but that I do not believe and cannot accept. It wasn’t until an atheist member reached out to me in friendship that I understood what I had been missing.” Hensler soon discovered that she was not the only non-believer who felt a need for safe space to grieve without faith or belief in an afterlife. “I have been particularly moved by the experiences of non-believers who are attempting to heal from loss while surrounded by religious people pressuring them to join or rejoin their religions; at its worst that kind of so-called ‘help’ can verge on abuse.”

The need for faith-free space to share grief and healing has been addressed frequently on atheist blogs, such as Friendly Atheist. (Hemant Mehta. “Are There Resources for Atheist Widows?”, Friendly Atheist, June 2, 2011.) While a Facebook page may only meet a small portion of that need, Grief Beyond Belief serves to open the door to grieving non-believers seeking community and compassion.

Contact: Rebecca Hensler, [email protected]

Join Grief Beyond Belief by going to the Facebook page and clicking the "like" button.

10 Scariest States to Be an Atheist

This piece was originally published on AlterNet.

Let's be clear. It's not like it's easy to be an atheist anywhere in the U.S. Atheists are the most distrusted and disliked of all minority groups -- more than Blacks, Hispanics, Jews, Muslims, immigrants, and gays and lesbians -- and polls show that Americans are less likely to vote for an atheist than they are for a person in any other minority or marginalized category. And this hostility can have serious consequences, in the form of harassment, bullying, ostracism, vandalism, alienation from family, loss of jobs, and more.

But to be honest, there are parts of the country where being an atheist really isn't all that awful. Heck, I live in one of them. There's some bigotry, some discrimination, a fair amount of misunderstanding and even hostility... but all things considered, it's pretty okay. And then, there are some parts of the country where being an atheist sucks giant donkey dicks.

Let's talk about a few of those, shall we?

Now, to a great extent, how badly it sucks to be an atheist may not depend on the state you live in. It's sort of like the red-state/ blue state myth: cultural differences in the United States break down more along urban/ rural lines than they do along state lines. Is it easier to be an atheist in New York than in Texas? Maybe... but it may also be easier if you're in Austin, Texas than if you're in rural upstate New York.

Many atheist and secularist leaders I spoke to stressed this point. According to Fred Edwords, National Director of the United Coalition of Reason (the organization responsible for many of the atheist billboard campaigns), "As for the worst states to be an atheist, it doesn't generally work that way. It depends on what part of a state you are in." In fact, he's not even sure that this difference always breaks down along urban/ rural lines. "Is the key idea that the more rural areas give us the most trouble?" he asked. "Maybe. But we had bus ads vandalized in Detroit, too." And he added that in Kentucky, "we had no problem in Louisville, but I still can't get a billboard company to run our ads in supposedly more liberal Lexington." And according to the Rev. Barry W. Lynn, executive director of Americans United for Separation of Church and State "No state is really safe for non-believers. You find creationist ideas in schools from Louisiana to New Jersey. You find efforts to send secular tax dollars to religious schools in Indiana and Florida. And, finally, you find polls done of all Americans demonstrating that plenty of families don't want their sons or daughters marrying atheists. There are many sad states of affairs."

So the point here isn't to show that some states suck for atheists worse than others. The point is to show that anti-atheist bigotry is real. The point is to show that it has real-world consequences. And the point is to let you know what some of those consequences are.

So with all that being said -- let's get on with the list! If you're finishing your degree in secular studies and are trying to decide where in the country you want to plant your godless stakes... here are some places you might want to avoid.

#10: Pennsylvania. Yes, I know. Everyone's expecting this list to be overloaded with the deep South. And yes, I'll be getting there soon enough. But religious privilege and anti-atheist hostility don't stay below the Mason-Dixon line. Anti-atheist bigotry can, and does, happen anywhere.

And Pennsylvania is Exhibit A. Specifically, Annville, Pennsylvania. Where atheist veterans marching in the Memorial Day parade were jeered, booed, insulted, cursed at, yelled at to leave, and told they were going to burn in hell. Not once or twice by a couple of fanatics... but repeatedly, throughout the course of the parade.

Let me spell that one out again. In small town America, veterans -- veterans, on Memorial Day, marching in a Memorial Day parade -- were jeered, booed, insulted, cursed at, yelled at to leave, and told they were going to burn in hell.

Because they were atheists.

'Nuff said.

#9: Idaho. Where atheist billboards -- not in-your-face controversial ones, but almost aggressively mild ones, simply announcing that atheists exist and are good people -- are vandalized on a regular basis. According to Maggie Ardiente, Director of Development and Communications of the American Humanist Association, "Thanks to a member of ours who lives in Moscow, Idaho, the AHA has been putting up billboards over the past two years to promote humanism and atheism. When we put up a factual, non-controversial billboard that said, 'Millions are Good Without God,' it was vandalized twice! We continue to put billboards in the area, but there is often additional security provided when we put up a new one." Just like it says in the Bible: "And whatever place will not take you in and will not give ear to you, when you go away, put off the dust from your feet... and then deface their billboards like a douchebag."

#8: Arkansas. (I told you I'd get to the deep South!) Hey, at least in Idaho, atheists can put up their dang billboards. In Arkansas, the Central Arkansas Transit Authority (CATA) has flatly rejected an atheist ad that the Central Arkansas Coalition of Reason wanted to put up on 18 buses... solely and entirely because the content of the ads -- "Are you good without God? Millions are" -- is atheist.

I am not kidding. Even the public excuses being given for rejecting the ads -- possible vandalism and even "terrorism" due to the "controversial" nature of the ad -- are based on the fact that these ads have atheist content, expressing the "controversial" view that atheists, you know, exist, and are good people. And as the behind-the-scenes scrambling reveals, they are blatantly doing this based on religious hostility to atheism. Check this out:

In response to an e-mail message dated February 28, 2011, from Plaintiff’s media broker to the Advertising Agent conveying the content of the Proposed Advertisement, the Advertising Agent forwarded the message to Betty Wineland, the Executive Director of the Authority, stating in her accompanying message (in its entirety): "Dear God……HELP!" Ms. Wineland replied: "I need Him now more than ever. Good grief. I think we need to throw religion into the advertising policy – as a negative. Stall while CATA reviews."

Let me spell this one out very plainly: A government-run public transit authority is rejecting religious-themed advertising -- solely because the religious view being advertised is the view that religion is mistaken. And no, they haven't changed their policy to reject all religious-themed ads. They still take religious-themed ads. Just not ones from atheists.

Oh, and in case you were wondering: Yes. They're being sued.

#7: Alabama. The state where the actual governor, Robert Bentley, said in actual words, "Anybody here today who has not accepted Jesus Christ as their savior, I'm telling you, you're not my brother and you're not my sister." The state where it took an interfaith delegation, led by the Anti-Defamation league, to inform him that there are non-Christians in Alabama. Non-Christians who -- I hope I don't have to remind you -- are fully fledged legal residents of the state. Non-Christians whom Bentley also serves as governor... every bit as much as he serves the Christians. As American Atheists president David Silverman says, "Top of my list is Alabama, home of Roy Moore and 'You are not my brother' Governor Bentley. It appears that to hold office in Alabama, you have to be completely ignorant of American Law and despise the Separation of Church and State."

Oh, and in case that's not enough: Let's talk about some places where it sucks to be an atheist in high school. Let's talk about the Secular Student Alliance, and their new program specifically devoted to supporting high school atheist groups. Let's talk about the resistance that atheist students routinely get from public high school administrators who want to block students from forming secular groups. And let's talk a little more about Alabama. The only state where the SSA has had to initiate a lawsuit about it.

Duncan Henderson wanted to form a secular club at his public school -- which he has the full legal right to do. But his school principal denied his request. According to JT Eberhard, campus organizer and high school specialist at the Secular Student Alliance, "When Duncan's father scheduled a meeting to discuss the matter, the principal showed up to the meeting with a lawyer, who more or less repeated, 'We're going to follow the law' in response to every question. But the school has not followed through on that promise to follow the law. The school has stonewalled, and attempts by the SSA to discuss the matter were met with an email from the school's attorney saying they're not going to speak to anybody."

Hence -- lawsuit. Which, as of this writing, is happening solely and entirely in the state of Alabama. As Eberhard added, "While it's not the first state in which we have seen pushback from adults in a position of authority over students to the idea of atheists forming clubs in the same way religious students form clubs, it is the first state in which we've had to bring in lawyers to fight for equality denied."

#6: North Carolina. Where in December of 2009, Cecil Bothwell couldn't even get elected to the Asheville city council, without people trying to invoke laws -- antiquated laws overruled by the Supreme Court, but laws nonetheless -- banning him from taking office because he's an atheist.

Okay. Let's be fair. This isn't exactly an isolated case. Lauren Becker, Vice President and Director of Outreach of the Center for Inquiry, points out that several states have antiquated laws on the books banning atheists from holding office. "The Supreme Court has said that federal law prohibits states from requiring a religious test to serve office," she says, but "there are still some states that have such laws, whether they enforce them or not."

North Carolina, however, has the distinction of actually trying to enforce one of these laws. Less than a year and a half ago.

#5. Florida. On the other hand, in Florida, you might get kicked out of a city council meeting simply for wearing an atheist T-shirt. And if you protest against prayers at city council meetings, you might actually get arrested.

So that's gotta suck.

#4: Rhode Island Did you hear the one about the public high school with the prayer banner in the school gym -- a prayer banner specifically addressed to "Our Heavenly Father"? The public high school that got asked to take the banner down by fifteen-year-old atheist high school student Jessica Ahlquist, since it's an unconstitutional promotion of religion by government? The public high school that's digging in its heels and hanging on to the banner, despite decades of unambiguous legal precedent making it clear that they're in the wrong? The public high school that's getting sued by said atheist high school student and the ACLU... and is still digging in its heels, devoting extensive time and resources to defending their promotion of religion?

That's Rhode Island, folks. And this story isn't just about a school administration insisting on its right to unconstitutionally establish religion. It's about a community's ostracization of an atheist teenager -- in some cases to the point of threats of violence. Ahlquist has been shunned, insulted, vilified, and even threatened with violence. Students in an English class in her school said -- during class -- that she should be "smacked around and beat up" for fighting the prayer banner. Comments in the Providence Journal article on the story were ugly, personal, even threatening -- to a great extent about the ACLU, but largely about Ahlquist herself. ("I think you need to talk to a doctor and get help... you are sick in the head." "Looks like we have a moon bat in the making." "Make no mistake, Jessica and the Bolshevik thugs representing her are driven by anti-Christian bigotry and intolerance and censorship... Curse them to hell.") In fact, according to the Providence Journal, Ahlquist and another student were removed from their regular classroom schedule last month -- after some students said they intended to harm her. To quote JT Eberhard, high school specialist at the Secular Student Alliance, "In the city of Cranston, an entire community, perhaps an entire state of adults, is engaging in a smear campaign against a single high school student. Her crime? Believing her school violates the first amendment by hanging a prayer banner in the gym invoking the phrases 'Our heavenly father' and 'Amen'."

And this is in New England. This is Rhode Island. The first of the 13 original colonies to declare independence from British rule. The state specifically founded as a place of religious freedom, as a response to religious persecution. A slat in the cradle of liberty. And they are vilifying and threatening a fifteen- year- old girl for being an atheist, and for insisting that her public school follow the Constitution and not shove religion down her throat. Anti-atheist bigotry is everywhere. It's not just in Alabama or Mississippi. Or even Texas.

#3: Texas. Wow. Where do you start with Texas? The public high school graduation ceremony that was like a revival meeting? The transit company that changed their policies and stopped accepting any bus ads for any religious organizations... just so they wouldn't have to take ads from atheists? The governor who responded to economic troubles, natural disasters, and terrorism by initiating a state day of prayer, and exhorted Texans to "call on Jesus"? The governor, again, who decreed three official state Days of Prayer for Rain? The public school where they distribute Bibles? The high school textbooks which teach that the Bible was a "foundational text" in the framing of the U.S., that the King James Bible "remains one of the... most-loved books in the history of the world," and that "the sun went black" when Jesus was crucified? The state Constitution that says, "No religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to any office, or public trust, in this State; nor shall any one be excluded from holding office on account of his religious sentiments, provided he acknowledge the existence of a Supreme Being"? The teachers that get fired, not for being atheists, but for being suspected of being atheists? The town where they get seriously hysterical about atheists playing "Jingle Bells" in a Christmas parade?

Come on. Did you really expect Texas not to be on this list?

#2: Mississippi. I could say a lot about Mississippi. For instance, I could talk about how, when the Second Chance Prom was being organized for lesbian student Constance McMillan, the state chapter of the freaking ACLU refused to take money from the American Humanist Association and the Stiefel Freethought Foundation... because it was atheist money. I shit you not. In an e-mail message to AHA, Jennifer Carr, the fund-raiser for the ACLU of Mississippi, said, "Although we support and understand organizations like yours, the majority of Mississippians tremble in terror at the word 'atheist.'" The ACLU would later apologize and accept the money; but, as Maggie Ardiente, Director of Development and Communications of the AHA, puts it, "We were very disappointed to see an organization that's famously known for standing up for everyone's rights -- including the right to be an atheist or humanist -- initially discriminate against us."

That's reasonably messed-up. But I want to focus instead on a much more practical, nuts-and-bolts, life-screwing-up form of anti-atheist bigotry -- child custody.

It is depressingly common for atheists to have child custody limited, or even denied, explicitly on the basis of their atheism. Cases have been documented again and again and again, in states including Michigan, Minnesota, Arkansas, Louisiana, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, South Dakota, and Texas. But according to Eugene Volokh of The Volokh Conspiracy, "Mississippi is the most serious offender." Volokh goes on to say, "In 2001, for instance, the Mississippi Supreme Court upheld an order giving a mother custody partly because she took the child to church more often than the father did, thus providing a better 'future religious example.' In 2000, it ordered a father to take the child to church each week, as a [lower] Mississippi court ordered... reasoning that 'it is certainly to the best interests of [the child] to receive regular and systematic spiritual training.'"

Try to imagine a judge in this country denying or limiting custody to a parent, explicitly and specifically, because they were Jewish. Because they were Mormon. Because they were Baptist. And now, try to imagine a judge in this country denying or limiting custody to a parent, explicitly and specifically because they're an atheist. You don't have to imagine it. This is real. This happens. And it happens in Mississippi more than anywhere else in the country.

And finally, we come to my Number One Worst State to Be an Atheist:

#1: Louisiana.

I freely admit that this list, and the order I'm presenting it, is subjective. It's not based on a careful statistical analysis of rigorously gathered data based on journalistically objective criteria about anti-atheist bigotry. It's based on stories that happened to get my atheist dander up. It's based on stories that made me sad -- and enraged.

And the story that happened in Louisiana made me sad, and enraged, more than almost any other.

I'm talking about Damon Fowler.

I'm talking about the atheist high school student who opposed his public school having a school-sponsored prayer at his graduation. Whose name was leaked. And who, as a result, was hounded, pilloried, and ostracized by his community; publicly demeaned by one of his teachers; physically threatened; and thrown out by his parents, who cut off his financial support, kicked him out of the house, and threw his belongings onto the front porch. Whose public school went ahead and had the graduation prayer anyway. Who has had to leave his home and move in with his sister near Dallas, Texas.

You know things are bad when your atheist safe haven from extremist religious persecution is in Texas.

That's Louisiana.

Worst. State. Ever.

*

And you wanna know the really sad thing? This piece could have been a lot longer. This could easily have been the 20 Worst States to Be an Atheist. The 30 Worst. Heck... the 50 Worst.

You've got Maryland. Where yet another atheist high school student started a group, whose posters were torn down by other students -- and where actual parents of those students wrote letters to the editor supporting the vandalism, and calling the atheist posters "an atrocity." You've got Georgia. Where students taking their AP tests at a church were proselytized to by church members. You've got Utah. Where, says American Atheists president David Silverman, "the State Attorney General is trying to have the Roman Cross pronounced secular so it can be placed on public buildings and schools without regard to equal access." You've got Oklahoma. Where still another public high school student tried to start an atheist group, and was accused by his principle of trying to start a "hate group"... and where the faculty advisor for the group suddenly withdrew, saying she had been told sponsoring the group would be "a bad career move." You've got... oh, you get the idea.

Is anti-atheist bigotry as bad as homophobia or racism, misogyny or transphobia? No, probably not. Not for the most part. I don't like comparing oppressions: it's divisive and pointless, and I don't think anything is gained by playing "more oppressed than thou." There are a few ways that anti-atheist bigotry is worse than others -- the roadblocks being tossed up against high school students leap to mind, as does the whole "least trusted/ least likely to be voted for" thing. But atheists don't seem to be subject to the same level of physical violence as gay or trans people -- or the same level of economic oppression as women or people of color. And I'm not saying that they are.

My point is not that anti-atheist bigotry is as bad as other forms of bigotry. My point is simply that it exists. It is real. It happens all over the country. And it has real-world consequences.

So if you're ever tempted to ask why atheists are so angry, or why they have to kick up such a fuss all the time, or why they want to organize and form groups based on what they don't believe in... remember that.

"I was kind of an aimless teenager": Greta's Interview with Teen Skepchick

There's a cool interview with me on Teen Skepchick! We talk about boys, clothes, makeup, Justin Bieber... no, no, no. Totally kidding. I've just always wanted to be interviewed by Teen Something magazine, and I'm letting my imagination run away with me. We talk about shifting identities, connections between skepticism and sexuality, career paths or the lack thereof, making atheism a safer place for teens to come out into, and more. Here's an excerpt:

When you were a teen, where did you see yourself going in your adult life? Are you the person you thought you would be?

Honestly? I was kind of an aimless teenager. My goal as a teenager was to get into a good college where I knew I’d be happy -- and I was very focused on that goal. I actually graduated high school in three years (which took a lot of work) so I could get the hell out of there and get on with my life. But beyond college, my future was kind of a blur. And it was still very much a blur once I left college. I took a long, long time to figure out what I wanted to do with my life, and while I’ve been writing professionally off and on since my late twenties, I didn’t get serious about it until I turned 40. For many years, I drifted from job to job, mostly based on what was catching my interest at the time. (And on what jobs were available at times when I needed to find new work!)

Which actually worked out really well for me. I know adults aren’t supposed to say that to teenagers -- but it’s true. I do wish I’d gotten more serious about the writing earlier -- I missed a lot of opportunities that I still regret. But drifting from job to job got me into some very interesting jobs. I’ve worked at an abortion clinic, a public library, a lesbian sex magazine, a gay newspaper, a sex toy company, a small press book publisher and distributor. Even my boring job at the ticket company exposed me to music and theater and dance and other culture that I never would have explored on my own.

And a lot of those “drifting” jobs opened professional doors. The job at the lesbian sex magazine was just a clerical job, but they were the first place to publish my writing. Ditto the gay newspaper -- it was initially just a clerical job, but they eventually hired me to write as well. And most of my jobs exposed me to new political and cultural ideas, about feminism and sexuality and LGBT rights and censorship and so on -- ideas I’m still exploring in my writing. I would much rather have a boring job at an interesting place than an interesting job at a boring place. I don’t know if I’d give that as general career advice... but it’s certainly been true for me.

To read more, read the rest of the interview. And if you feel inspired to comment here, please consider cross-posting your comments to the Teen Skepchick site -- they like comments there, too. Enjoy!

10 Scariest States to Be an Atheist

Let's be clear. It's not like it's easy to be an atheist anywhere in the U.S. Atheists are the most distrusted and disliked of all minority groups -- more than Blacks, Hispanics, Jews, Muslims, immigrants, and gays and lesbians -- and polls show that Americans are less likely to vote for an atheist than they are for a person in any other minority or marginalized category. And this hostility can have serious consequences, in the form of harassment, bullying, ostracism, vandalism, alienation from family, loss of jobs, and more.

But to be honest, there are parts of the country where being an atheist really isn't all that awful. Heck, I live in one of them. There's some bigotry, some discrimination, a fair amount of misunderstanding and even hostility... but all things considered, it's pretty okay. And then, there are some parts of the country where being an atheist sucks.

Let's talk about a few of those, shall we?

Now, to a great extent, how badly it sucks to be an atheist may not depend on the state you live in. It's sort of like the red-state/ blue state myth: cultural differences in the United States break down more along urban/ rural lines than they do along state lines. Is it easier to be an atheist in New York than in Texas? Maybe... but it may also be easier if you're in Austin, Texas than if you're in rural upstate New York.

Many atheist and secularist leaders I spoke to stressed this point. According to Fred Edwords, National Director of the United Coalition of Reason (the organization responsible for many of the atheist billboard campaigns), "As for the worst states to be an atheist, it doesn't generally work that way. It depends on what part of a state you are in." In fact, he's not even sure that this difference always breaks down along urban/ rural lines. "Is the key idea that the more rural areas give us the most trouble?" he asked. "Maybe. But we had bus ads vandalized in Detroit, too." And he added that in Kentucky, "we had no problem in Louisville, but I still can't get a billboard company to run our ads in supposedly more liberal Lexington." And according to the Rev. Barry W. Lynn, executive director of Americans United for Separation of Church and State "No state is really safe for non-believers. You find creationist ideas in schools from Louisiana to New Jersey. You find efforts to send secular tax dollars to religious schools in Indiana and Florida. And, finally, you find polls done of all Americans demonstrating that plenty of families don't want their sons or daughters marrying atheists. There are many sad states of affairs."

So the point here isn't to show that some states suck for atheists worse than others. The point is to show that anti-atheist bigotry is real. The point is to show that it has real-world consequences. And the point is to let you know what some of those consequences are.

So with all that being said -- let's get on with the list! If you're finishing your degree in secular studies and are trying to decide where in the country you want to plant your godless stakes... here are some places you might want to avoid.

*

Thus begins my latest piece for AlterNet, 10 Scariest States to Be an Atheist. To find out... well, which are the ten scariest states to be an atheist -- and no, they're not all in the deep South -- read the rest of the piece. Enjoy!

High School Atheist Ostracized by Town -- Atheist Community Steps Up

This piece was originally published on AlterNet.

When a high school atheist tried to stop prayer at his graduation, he was ostracized, threatened, and kicked out of his house. But the atheist community stepped in.

Whatever you think about atheists -- good, bad, mixed, indifferent -- this story should seriously trouble you.

Damon Fowler, an atheist student at Bastrop High School in Louisiana, was about to graduate. His public school was planning to have a prayer as part of the graduation ceremony: as they traditionally did, as so many public schools around the country do every year. But Fowler -- knowing that government- sponsored prayer in the public schools are unconstitutional and legally forbidden -- contacted the school superintendent to let him know that he opposed the prayer, and would be contacting the ACLU if it happened. The school -- at first, anyway -- agreed, and cancelled the prayer.

Then Fowler's name, and his role in this incident, was leaked. And, as a direct result:

1) Fowler has been hounded, pilloried, and ostracized by his community.

2) One of Fowler's teachers has publicly demeaned him.

3) Fowler has been physically threatened. Students have threatened to "jump him" at graduation practice, and he has received multiple threats of bodily harm, and even death threats.

4) Fowler's parents have cut off his financial support, kicked him out of the house, and thrown his belongings onto the front porch.

Oh, and by the way? They went ahead and had the graduation prayer anyway.


Before we get into the details of all this, let's be very, very clear about the facts and the law here: Nobody -- not Fowler, not the ACLU, nobody -- is telling anybody at Bastrop High School that they can't pray. People can pray at graduations and other school events all they want. The sole issue here is whether a public school can have a prayer at a graduation or other school event as an official, school- sponsored part of the program. Individual prayer? Hunky dory. Off-campus prayers at churches or private events? Knock yourself out. Government promotion of a religious agenda? Not so much. What with the First Amendment and the "establishment of religion" bit and all. And it's a law and a Constitution that protects everybody -- not just atheists. If you wouldn't want to be subjected to a government- sponsored Buddhist prayer, you ought not to be subjecting others to a government- sponsored Christian prayer.

Okay. I hope that's clear.

So here's a little more detail about what exactly happened with Damon Fowler.

1) Fowler has been hounded, pilloried, and ostracized by his community.. He's become the center of what he terms a "shitstorm": he has been harassed, vilified, targeted with insults and name-calling and hateful remarks. He's been told that he's the Devil. He's been told, "Go cry to your mommy... oh, wait. You can't." (A reference to him being disowned by his parents.) He's been told that he's only doing this to get attention. A student's public prayer at a pre-graduation "Class Night" event was turned into an opportunity for the school and community to gang up on Fowler and publicly close ranks against him -- teachers as well as students. (Here's video). And people seen defending him have been targeted as well.

As just a taste, here are a few comments on the Bastrop Enterprise news story about the controversy: "I personally see him as a coward." "I hope they [Christians] put enough pressure on this kid to convert him and save his soul from the fire of hell." "The kid was likely a recluse and apathetic about most everything until now." "If he don't want prayer at graduation he can stay at home and not come to graduation." "Afterall, that's what she or he wants isn't it to be singled out! This just makes me ill." "I hope that the little athiest is offended." "What he is really doing is trying to shove his views down people's throats." "Why does this student only now decide to get engaged in what is happening at the school? Is it nothing more than our own self-destructive human nature to break down anything of which we may not approve?" "That student should just have to have his/her one man graduation ceremony all alone." "Satan continues to prowl and is deceiving many in this world."

2) One of Fowler's teachers has publicly demeaned him. From the story in the Bastrop Enterprise:

Mitzi Quinn has been on the staff at BHS for almost 25 years, much of that time as a senior advisor. In the past, Quinn said there have been students who were atheist, agnostic and other non-Christian religions who "had no problems" with the prayer.

"They respected the majority of their classmates and didn't say anything," Quinn said. "We've never had this come up before. Never."

Throughout her time working with the student, Quinn said they never expressed their personal beliefs or that they had any problems with other students' Christian faiths.

"And what's even more sad is this is a student who really hasn't contributed anything to graduation or to their classmates," Quinn said. (emphasis mine)

In other words: Because the majority of students want an unconstitutional prayer at their graduation, therefore they're in the right. Because nobody's ever had the courage to speak up about this before, therefore the law was not being broken, and everything was okay. (After all, it's not like anything bad happened when Fowler spoke up... right?) And because Fowler hasn't "contributed anything" -- other than, you know, a model of risking safety and security to stand up for a principle he believed in -- therefore his basic legal right to not be targeted with religious proselytization by his public school is irrelevant... and he deserves to be publicly derided by one of his teachers.

3) Fowler has been physically threatened. Students have threatened to "jump him" at graduation practice, and he has received multiple threats of bodily harm, and even death threats.

Enough said.

4) Fowler's parents have cut off his financial support, kicked him out of the house, and thrown his belongings onto the porch.

Let's be very, very clear about this one. At a time when their son was being bullied, threatened, publicly pilloried, and ostracized from his school and his community, his parents joined the party. Their initial response was to hold him in their house against his will, take his cel phone and cut off his contact with the outside world, and even cut him off from contact with his older brother, Jerrett. Their more recent response has been to cut off financial support, kick him out of the house, and throw his belongings onto the porch.

Fortunately, Damon isn't entirely alone. His brother Jerrett is assisting Damon, and will help put him through college; and as of the last report I've seen, Damon is currently living with his sister, also in Texas. And Damon is fortunate enough to have the backing of the atheist community, who are providing encouragement, emotional support, practical assistance, and even a scholarship fund. (UPDATE: The scholarship fund is now closed. Info on where you can make donations is at the end of this piece.)

More on that in a moment.

Since that's a lot of what this story is really about.

There are a lot of hot-button issues in Damon Fowler's story. There's the depressing fact of how common this kind of story is: the fact that, despite the law being unambiguous on the subject, public schools around the country are continuing to sponsor prayers and otherwise promote theocracy, in flagrant violation of the law... apparently in the hopes that nobody will want to make waves and speak out against it. There's the lack of understanding in the United States about fundamental civics: the all-too-common belief that "majority rules" in every situation, and the all-too-common failure to comprehend the principle that the minority has basic civil rights. There's the ugly reality of anti-atheist bigotry and discrimination across the country -- especially in high schools. According to JT Eberhard, high school specialist for the Secular Student Alliance, "In Alabama, Auburn High School is refusing to allow an SSA affiliate. In Cranston, Rhode Island, a public school is facing an ACLU suit for refusing to take down a sectarian prayer [a banner posted in the school gym]. In Texas we had a student who was told he could have a secular club if he called it a philosophy club and didn't affiliate with the SSA. The list of similar situations is a mile long and these are only the ones I've become aware of in my first four and a half months on the job. The Fowler incident is much closer to being the norm than the exception."

There are rants about religion to be had here as well. There's the level of not only hostility, but panicked hostility, when entrenched religion gets its privileged status threatened. There's the way that religion relies on social consensus to perpetuate itself -- and how, when that consensus is threatened, it commonly reacts by smacking down dissent and expelling dissenters. There's the idea that the unverifiability of religion -- the beliefs in invisible, inaudible, intangible gods promising an afterlife nobody can know anything about -- means that the harm done in its name has the unique capacity to spin off into the stratosphere... since there's no reality check. There's the image of religion as a colossal fortress protecting a house of cards: powerful, massive structures and institutions staunchly buttressed and hotly defended to ensure that nobody ever examines the ideas inside and sees how flimsy they are.

And of course -- duh -- there's separation of church and state. There's the principle that a public school should not be sponsoring prayers at graduations. What with that being a government establishment of religion and all, and thus being -- oh, what's that word? -- unconstitutional.

All of that is important.

But there's something else important going on here.

And that's the way the atheist community has stepped up to the plate.

Damon Fowler was ostracized by his school, his town, even his parents. But he has been embraced and welcomed by the atheist community. Atheist writers have been all over this story from the moment it broke: it's been covered on Friendly Atheist, Pharyngula, BlagHag, the Richard Dawkins Foundation, Atheist Revolution, The Thinking Atheist, Atheist Underworld, WWJTD, Rock Beyond Belief... the list goes on. Several atheist organizations are applauding Fowler for his courage. American Atheists said of Fowler, "This kid deserves mad props for letting his principal know on no uncertain terms that ACLU would be contacted if the prayer wasn't cancelled. Good job, Damon, you speak for the freedoms of people who are trapped in the bible-belt!" JT Eberhard, high school specialist for the Secular Student Alliance, said, "Despite the vile threats, bullying, and hatred his community has given him, we recognize Damon for what he is: a brave student speaking up for religious liberty and inclusion." Freedom From Religion Foundation spoke about "his courage in speaking out for his and other students' rights."

And it's not just the atheist thought leaders. It's the on-the-ground community. Fowler has received an outpouring of support from atheists around the country and around the world. The "Support Damon" group on Facebook has over 10,000 members as of this writing. The Reddit post from Damon and his brother Jerrett discussing these events has been loaded with expressions of empathy and outrage. Atheist forums and blog comment threads about Fowler all over the Internet have been extensive and passionate. And many atheists have written letters to the Bastrop High School administration expressing their support for Fowler's position and their opposition to the prayer.

This support isn't only emotional, either. Emotional support is not trivial, of course: it's hugely important, especially when you're being ostracized, targeted with a hateful smear campaign, and driven from your home. But a tremendous amount of practical and financial support is coming from the atheist community as well. Many atheists have offered Fowler transportation, legal advice, meetup groups, places to stay, physical protection, connections with others who could provide additional practical help, and more. The Freedom From Religion Foundation has given Fowler a $1,000 college scholarship. And perhaps most dramatically, Friendly Atheist blogger Hemant Mehta has established a scholarship fund for Fowler, so he can attend college despite being cut off financially by his parents -- and the response has been overwhelming. At the closing of the scholarship fund, the atheist community had donated over $31,000. Essentially filling the role that his parents have abandoned.

Why am I bringing this up?

One of the chunks of mud that's most commonly slung at atheists is that we're selfish. Amoral. That without a belief in God and the afterlife, people would have no moral compass, and would just act to please themselves, without any consideration for others. That without a belief in eternal punishment in the afterlife for bad behavior, eternal reward in the afterlife for good behavior, and a supernatural authority figure refereeing it all, people would have no reason to be good people, and no reason to avoid doing terrible things. That without religion, people would have no compassion, no sense of justice, no empathy, no desire to see society running smoothly... and would just do whatever we wanted to do.

But when Damon Fowler was suffering and in need, the atheist community stepped up. It provided compassion. It demanded justice. It offered emotional support. It offered practical support. It opened its wallets. It made it unassailably clear to Damon Fowler that he was not alone: that although his school, his community, even his parents, had all turned their backs on him, atheists would take care of him, as best they could, until he could take care of himself. It made it clear that, even though he no longer had a home in Bastrop, he had a home in this movement. When Damon Fowler was suffering and in need, the atheist community proved itself to be a real community.

If atheism means we just do whatever we want to do... then apparently, what we want to do is take care of each other. Apparently, what we want to do is help people who have been injured. Apparently, what we want to do is speak out against wrongdoing. Apparently, what we want to do is put a stop to injustice. Apparently, what we want to do is make sacrifices for people in need.

A whole lot more than the Christians in Bastrop, Louisiana.

I'm not saying that atheists are morally superior to religious believers. I don't think that, and I'm not saying it. I'm aware that many religious believers are good, compassionate people with a strong sense of justice. I'm even aware that many religious believers, indeed many Christians, are appalled by what's happening to Damon Fowler, and oppose it with every breath in their bodies. And I'm aware that many atheists are hostile, self-involved schmucks. (Believe me... I'm aware of that.) That's not my point.

My point is this: Human beings don't need God to be good. Human ethics seem to be wired into our brains, through millions of years of evolution as a social species, and every human being who isn't a sociopath has them. Some of us act on them better than others... but we all have them. Christian, Jew, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, Rastafarian, Wiccan -- and atheist.

And my point is this: The next time someone tells you that atheists are selfish and amoral? Remember Damon Fowler. Remember the religious community that bullied him, harassed him, ostracized him, and drove him out.

And remember the atheist community that took him in.

Damon Fowler's scholarship fund is now closed. If you're inspired by this story to make a donation, Damon has asked donations to go to the Freedom From Religion Foundation, the ACLU, the Richard Dawkins Foundation for Reason and Science, the Secular Student Alliance... "any will do. As long as it's going toward students, secularization, or teaching critical thinking over superstition."

Do Atheists Have Better Sex?

This piece was originally published on AlterNet.

Leaving religion doesn't change people's sexual behavior very much -- but it vastly improves how they feel about it.

Do atheists have better sex?

Yes.

According to science, that is -- and more specifically, according to the recently released "Sex and Secularism" study.

In January 2011, organizational psychologist Darrel Ray, Ed.D. (psychologist for 30 years and author of The God Virus as well as two books on psychology) and Amanda Brown (undergraduate at Kansas University, focused on sexuality and sex therapy) conducted a sex survey of over 14,500 people -- atheists, agnostics, and other people in the secular community. The survey was looking at religion, atheism, and sex: how religion affects sex, how leaving religion affects sex, whether lifelong atheists feel differently about sex than people who have recently deconverted, and so on. The report -- "Sex and Secularism: What Happens When You Leave Religion?" -- is on the Internet, and if you want all 46 pages of the naughty details, including the charts and graphs and personal stories, you can download it free (you just need to register on the site).

But if you just want to know the gist?

Leaving religion improves people's sex lives.

A lot.

Atheists and other non-believers, as a whole, experience a lot more satisfaction in their sex lives than they did when they were believers. They feel much less guilt about their sex lives and their sexuality. The sexual guilt instilled by so many religions tends to fade, and indeed disappear, when people leave religion -- much more thoroughly than you might expect. And according to the respondents of this study, non-believers give significantly better sex education to their kids than believers do.

Now, when it comes to people's actual sexual behavior, religion doesn't have nearly as much impact as you might think. Religious and non-religious people have pretty much the same kinds of sex, at pretty much the same age of onset, and at pretty much the same rate. Believers are just as likely to masturbate, watch porn, have oral sex, have sex outside marriage, and so on, as non-believers are, and they start at about the same ages. So it's not like religious sexual guilt is actually making people abstain from forbidden sexual activity. All it's doing is making people feel crummy about it. And when people leave religion, this crumminess decreases -- at a dramatic rate. Believers and atheists are having pretty much the same kinds of sex... but when it comes to the pleasure and satisfaction experienced during this sex, it's like night and day.

Okay. Before anyone squawks, I'll start the squawking myself: There are some demographic problems with this study, and it shouldn't be relied on as the absolute final word on this topic. In particular, the participants in the study aren't statistically representative of the population: they're statistically representative of whoever heard about it on the Internet, and they're disproportionately represented by readers of the hugely popular atheist blog, Pharyngula. (In fact, in several places throughout the report, the researchers themselves freely acknowledge the limitations of their research.)

But that being said: The results of this report that aren't new? They're entirely consistent with the results of other research. Lots of other research, both on human sexuality and on religion/ atheism. And that makes those results a whole lot more plausible. As researcher Darrel Ray told me, "Our data is virtually identical to other national surveys on the basics of when and how people start sexual behavior." (Citations of those studies are in the report.) Yes, it's virtually impossible to get completely accurate, statistically representative information about human sexuality under any circumstances: there's not really any ethical way to get information about sex other than relying on people's self-reporting, and it's a topic that people tend to, you know, lie about. But on the reliability scale of human sex research, this report seems to rank on the higher end.

You might also argue -- as I myself did when I first saw this research -- that atheists are often pretty hostile to religion, and aren't going to give a fair assessment of their sex lives when they were religious. I think this is a valid question, and one that's worth investigating: in fact, I sincerely hope this report is the beginning of research into this topic instead of the end of it, and I'd be very interested to see studies of people who are currently religious and how they see their sex lives. (I'd be especially interested to compare the "Sex and Secularism" results to people who have converted from one religion to another, and whether they view their sex lives differently with the new religion.) But I'd also point out that the atheists who responded to this survey didn't give homogenous answers. Not by a long shot. Their responses varied a fair amount, depending on which religion they used to belong to, and how intensely religious their upbringing was. Their responses ranged from "ZOMG, my sex life totally sucked and now it's beyond awesome, I was blind but now I see"... to, "Meh, it's a little better, but it's really not all that different." So the idea that this report simply reflects a knee-jerk atheist hostility to religion... it's worth considering, but it's probably not what's going on here.

So what is going on here?

What, specifically, does this report say?

And what is its take-home message -- both for believers and atheists?

Atheism Is for Lovers

If there's one take-home message from the "Sex and Secularism" report, it's this: Atheists fuck better. Or rather: Atheists have a better time fucking. They feel less guilt about it; they experience more satisfaction with it; and the effect on their sex lives of leaving religion is almost universally positive. Believers of almost every stripe -- Mormon to Islam, Mennonite to Methodist, Catholic to New Age -- reported a significant improvement in their sex lives after becoming non-believers.

These differences do vary based on the religion. According to the "Sex and Secularism" report, some religions have a harsher impact on people's sex lives than others. People raised as Mormons and Jehovah's Witnesses, for instance, ranked much higher on the sexual guilt scale than people raised as, say, Buddhists and Episcopalians. (And no, we shouldn't just assume that Catholicism is the guiltiest party. In fact, when it comes to which religions make its practitioners feel guiltiest about sex, Catholicism lands pretty much smack in the middle. The top of the list is Mormonism, Jehovah's Witness, Pentecostal, Seventh Day Adventist, and Baptist. One of many results from this report that run counter to conventional wisdom.) And a similar pattern shows up again and again throughout the report. Conservative religions have a much more harmful effect on people's sex lives than more moderate or progressive ones -- in terms of guilt, sexual education and information, the ability to experience pleasure, the ability to accept one's sexual identity, and more.

But with only two exceptions -- Unitarianism and Judaism -- atheists experience less sexual guilt than religious believers of any denomination. On a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being no sexual guilt and 10 being extreme sexual guilt, atheists and agnostics ranked at 4.71 and 4.81 respectively... and except for Unitarianism and Judaism (which ranked slightly lower, 4.14 and 4.48 respectively), all other religions ranked higher in sexual guilt: from 5.88 for Lutherans, to 6.25 for Hindus, to 6.34 for Catholics, all the way up to a whopping 8.19 for Mormons.

And sexual guilt doesn't just go up with more conservative religions. It goes up with more religiosity, period. The more religious your upbringing is, the worse your sexual guilt is likely to be. Of people raised in very religious homes, 22.5% said they were shamed or ridiculed for masturbating (to give just one example)... compared to only 5.5% of people brought up in the least religious homes. And of people raised in very religious homes, 79.9% felt guilty about a specific sexual activity or desire... while among people raised in the least religious and most secular homes, that number drops to 26.3%. That's a huge, huge difference.

But one of the most surprising conclusions of this research? Sexual guilt from religion doesn't wreck people's sex lives forever.

According to conventional wisdom -- and I will freely admit that I held this conventional wisdom myself -- religious guilt about sex continues to torment people long after the religion itself has lost its hold. But according to the "Sex and Secularism" report, that's rarely the case. Once people let go of religion, people's positive experiences of sex, and their relative lack of guilt, happen at about the same rate as people who were never religious in the first place.

Ray was surprised by this result as well. (Surprising results -- a sign of good science!) "We did think that religion would have residual effects in people after they left," he told me, "but our data did not show this. That was a very pleasant surprise. That is not to say that some people don't continue to experience problems, but the vast majority seem to shake it off and get on with their sexual lives pretty well." So letting go of religion means a rebound to a sex life that's as satisfying, and as guilt-free, as a sex life that was never touched by religion in the first place.

Now, some hard-core religious believers might argue that this isn't a good thing. "People SHOULD feel sexual guilt!", they'd argue. "These kinds of sex are bad, mmmkay? God doesn't like them. People should feel guilty about them."

But it's worth pointing out two things. First of all, the activities being studied in this research are, from any rational perspective, morally neutral. This report isn't looking at rape, or non-consensual voyeurism, or groping people on the subway. It's looking at masturbation, oral sex, non-marital sex, homosexuality, etc.: sex acts and sexualities that are consensual, egalitarian, reasonably safe, and harmless to society. The taboos against them are just that: taboos. If there were ever any solid practical or moral reasons behind them, they're buried in the mists of history. And different religions have entirely different sets of these sexual taboos: some religions denounce some sex acts and accept others, while other religions accept Column A and denounce Column B. Without any apparent rhyme or reason. If God has a message for us about who and how he wants us to boff, he's not being very clear about it.

And maybe more to the point: According to the "Sex and Secularism" report, religion has essentially no effect on people's actual sexual behavior. Atheists and believers engage in the same practices, at basically the same rate, starting at essentially the same age. We're all doing pretty much the same stuff. Believers just feel worse about it. As Ray told me, "Our data shows that people feel very guilty about their sexual behavior when they are religious, but that does not stop them: it just makes them feel bad. Of course, they have to return to their religion to get forgiveness. It's like the church gives you the disease, then offers you a fake cure." So the argument that religious sexual guilt is good because it polices immoral sexual behavior falls down on two fronts. The sexual behavior it's policing isn't actually immoral... and the policing is almost entirely ineffective.

Oh, by the way? This improvement in people's sex lives when they leave religion? It isn't just about sexual guilt. It shows up in many aspects of people's sex lives, such as (to give just one example) their willingness to share sex fantasies with a partner. And, most importantly, it shows up in people's assessments of their sex lives overall. This is primarily true of people who had been heavily religious before their deconversion. On a scale of 1 to 10 -- 1 being a sex life that was much worse after leaving religion, 10 being a sex life that was much improved -- people who'd had the most religious lives averaged at the very high number of 7.81, and 61.6% gave an answer of 8, 9 or 10 -- greatly improved. People with little or no religion in their life before they became atheists mostly report that their sex lives didn't change that much.

In fact, for the handful of atheists who reported that their sex lives worsened when they left religion -- 2.2% of participants -- almost all tell the exact same story: Their sex lives got worse because... well, to put it bluntly, their partners or potential partners were still religious, and now that they were atheists, they weren't getting any. Their spouses got upset because they'd become atheists; their pool of potential sex partners dried up. As one respondent commented, "My wife said to me, 'How can I sleep with someone who doesn't share my faith?'" And another, somewhat more waggishly: "When I was a Christian I could lay any girl in church, now that I am an atheist, they won't even talk to me."

And perhaps one of the most powerful messages in this report -- if one of the least surprising -- is the decidedly negative effect of religion on sexual education and information. People raised in more strongly religious homes ranked the quality of their sex education as significantly worse than people raised in less religious homes: 2.4 on a five-point scale, as opposed to 3.2 from the less religious folks. And more religious kids were less likely to get sex information from their parents than the less religious ones -- 13.5%, as opposed to 38.2% -- and more likely to get it from personal sexual experience and pornography.

In case the irony of this is escaping anyone, I'm going to hammer it in: The highly religious, "family values" crowd are more likely to get their sexual information from porn and fooling around... while the less religious folks are more likely to talk to their parents. And in case anyone's wondering why sex information is being included in this study on sexual happiness: Accurate sex education and information has been consistently shown to be one of the cornerstones of a happy, satisfying sex life.

Which, again, atheists are a lot more likely to have.

Happy Endings

So what should this research say to believers?

Well, the most obvious message should be: "Come on in -- the water's fine."

In debates with atheists, many believers will argue for religion on the basis of how good it makes them feel. They'll argue that religion is emotionally useful, psychologically useful, socially useful: that religion gives people a sense of meaning, moral guidance, comfort in hard times, etc. It's an argument that drives many atheists up a tree -- myself included -- since it has absolutely nothing to do with whether religion is, you know, true. (Believing in Santa Claus might make kids happy and better-behaved, but you wouldn't argue that people should keep putting cookies by the fireplace on Christmas Eve well into their adult years.)

But if this report is to be believed, then this argument is conclusively shown to be bogus... even on its own terms. At least when it comes to sex. (It's probably bogus when it comes to the rest of our lives as well -- or rather, it would be bogus if our society didn't privilege religious belief and treat atheism with bigotry and contempt. Countries with higher rates of atheism actually have higher levels of happiness and social functioning than more religious countries. But I digress.)

Religion doesn't make people happier. Not in the sack, anyway. Religion makes people less happy. Leaving religion makes people happier. There's no reason to hang on to beliefs you don't actually believe in and that don't actually make sense to you, just because you can't imagine a happy and fulfilling life without them. We know that leaving religion can be a scary and painful process... but once it's behind you, life is good. And the sex is great. Come on in. The water's fine.

And what does report this say to atheists?

This report, people, is our sales pitch.

Again, I will make this very clear: The fact that atheists fuck better has no bearing whatsoever on whether atheism is correct. And atheists should not pretend that it does.

But when believers make the argument from utility -- when they argue that religion is important and necessary because it makes people happy -- we don't have to just tear our hair out and say, "Does not! Does not!" We can print out this report, and hand it to them with a smile.

A satisfied smile.

Are All Religions Equally Crazy?

This piece was originally published on AlterNet. Please note the addendum at the end about my use of the word "crazy" in this piece.

*

Are less established religions really crazier than older mainstream ones? Or are mainstream religions just more familiar?

Does any religion make more sense than any other?

Atheists, by definition, don't think any religion has any reasonable likelihood of being true. And yet, for some weird reason, we're often asked to choose between them. Believers often accuse us of ignoring more moderate and progressive religions while we trash the low-hanging fruit of hard-line fundamentalism. We're accused of disregarding sophisticated modern theology so we can zero in on the simplistic faiths held by the hoi polloi. (Neither accusation is fair; many atheists, including myself, have taken aim at both modern theology and progressive religion, and in any case fundamentalism and other widely-held religions are valid targets for critique -- but that's another rant.) Yet at the same time, many believers seek our approval for their particular beliefs. "Sure," they'll say, "a lot of those other religions are silly -- but my religion makes sense! Don't you agree? Don't you? Huh?"

For the most part, it's a game I don't like to play. I think all religions are equally implausible, equally based on cognitive biases, equally unsupported by any good evidence whatsoever. But sometimes, the battiness of a particular religion is powerfully borne in on me, to the point where it becomes impossible to ignore. And it forces me to consider the question: Is this religion really any more batty than any other? Or is it just less popular? Less familiar? Is it simply newer, and thus has had less time for the more wildly ragged edges of its wackiness to smooth out? Is this religion really as crazy as it seems -- or are all religions equally crazy?

Magic Hats Versus Magic Snakes

First, just to be very clear: I'm not saying that all religious believers are crazy. I'm saying that religious beliefs are crazy. I'm criticizing the ideas, not the people. And when I say "crazy" (or "nutty" or "batshit" or "lunatic" or what have you), I don't mean "literally, clinically mentally ill." I mean "crazy" in the colloquial sense. I mean... well, I'll get to that.

I was in Salt Lake City a few weeks ago giving a talk, and I took the opportunity to visit the Mormon Temple Square. If you're not a Mormon, you can't go inside the Mormon Temple itself; but Temple Square has all sorts of attractions for the non-Mormon visitor, including the tabernacle, the assembly hall... and two different visitors' centers, specifically designed to explain Mormonism to the non-Mormon, and to make the religion seem inspiring, and to entice people into the faith.

I have no doubt that it has that effect on many people. Mormonism is one of the fastest-growing religions on the planet; there must be something about it that people like. But its effect on me... Well, it was inspiring, all right. It inspired me right into a rollercoaster ride of hilarity and horror. It inspired me, at one point, to out-loud laughter that I was literally, physically unable to control. It inspired me to get the hell off their property, take several deep breaths, and rant incoherently with my wife about what an appalling nightmare of indoctrination and brainwashing it was, before we plunged back in. It inspired me to work on my atheist activism ten times harder than I ever had. Its effect on me was not to entice me into the faith. Its effect was to make me think, even more strongly than I had before, "This religion is batshit crazy."

But then I started thinking.

How much crazier is this, really, than any other religion?

Let's not mince words. There is some profoundly crazy stuff in Mormonism. The magic underwear. The retroactive baptism of the dead. Getting to be a god on your own planet after you die. The Garden of Eden being in Missouri. The foundational story of Joseph Smith reading secret magical golden plates through a magic hat. The baptismal font sitting on the backs of twelve cows. (Okay, fine, oxen. Still.) The washings and anointings and veils and temple garments and secret handshakes and other highly ritualized pseudo-Masonic ceremonies. Lying for the Lord. (No, really. Look it up.) The casual shrugging-off of well-known, thoroughly documented facts of history and archaeology that contradict Church doctrine. The shameless, barefaced retroactive continuity, to the point of actually lying about the religion's history. ("Polygamy is not a central tenet of Mormonism, and it never was. Racial bigotry is not a central tenet of Mormonism, and it never was. Stop looking at The Book of Mormon. No, stop it. We'll tell you what our religion says, thank you very much.") Mormonism loves to present a wholesome, clean-cut image of almost obsessive normality to the public... but when you scratch the surface, what you see is howling, chaotic lunacy. That assessment may seem harsh -- but if these ideas were presented in any context other than a religious one, nobody would be debating it.

But then I started thinking:

How much crazier is this than any other religion?

How much crazier is this than talking snakes? People living inside giant fish? Boats that carry two of every living creature on the planet? Magic crackers that turn into the body of your god when you eat them? Magic fruit that ruins the lives of all your descendants? Virgins giving birth? Sprinkling magic water on babies so if they die they won't burn forever in Hell? A planet that was created 6,000 years ago, despite an overwhelming body of evidence to the contrary from every relevant scientific field? A god who sacrifices himself to himself to save the world from the punishment he himself was planning to dole out?

And let's not just pick on Christianity. How much crazier is this than ritual washing in a polluted magic river? Transferring your sins to a live chicken, waving it over your head, and having it slaughtered? Transferring your sins to a bundle of money, waving it over your head, and donating the money to charity, because the chicken thing is just too weird? The compulsory covering of women's bodies from head to toe? The compulsory wearing of hats? A god who's okay with you smoking weed, but doesn't want you drinking alcohol? A god who's okay with you drinking alcohol, but doesn't want you smoking weed? A god who doesn't want you to draw pictures of real things? A god who wants you to cut off your daughter's clitoris? A god who wants you to cut off the tip of your baby boy's penis?

Plenty of religions are loaded with crazy when you scratch the surface. You don't even have to scratch very hard.

So why do these older, more mainstream religions seem less crazy?

A lot of it, I think, is popularity. If lots of people believe something, we're more likely to give it credibility. This is a bias that all human brains are vulnerable to, and it's largely unconscious. (Although many religious believers will make this argument consciously and overtly. Spend enough time in the atheist blogosphere, and I guarantee you'll see it pop up: "How can you dismiss something that so many people believe in?") We're social animals, and we're wired to think that if everyone else thinks something, it's probably true. Or at the very least, that it's not batshit insane on the face of it, and we ought to give it serious consideration.

From a strictly evolutionary standpoint, this bias makes sense. Other people can, in fact, be a useful reality check: if everyone in your tribe is screaming "Tiger!" and you don't see one, it still makes sense to run. But it's a confounding bias to contend with when you're rigorously examining a truth claim. It makes it hard to voice unpopular perceptions... and indeed even to conceive of them. It's very, very difficult to be the first person to say out loud, "The Emperor has no clothes." It's even more difficult to say it to ourselves.

Then adding to this de-crazification phenomenon, we have the power of time. In the earlier days of a religion, the battier elements are much more prominent. But with time, if a religion flourishes and becomes more mainstream, the rough edges get smoothed off. "Our Savior is returning within a generation" turns into "Our Savior is returning one of these days." "You have to wear a ginormous hat all the time" turns into "It'd be nice if you wore a little hat in the temple." "God created the entire universe out of nothing in six days" turns into "God created matter and energy and the laws of physics and let them unfold into life as we know it, and when we say 'day' we don't mean a literal 'day,' and it's absurd and unfair for you to think that we do." The battier elements get abandoned entirely, or get hidden out of sight, or get shoved to the back burner as trivial and peripheral, or start being seen as metaphorical instead of literal. (45% of all U.S. Catholics don't even know that, according to the doctrine of their own Catholic Church, the magic cracker literally becomes the body of their god when they eat it. They think it's symbolic. They apparently weren't paying attention in catechism class.)

The fascinating thing about Mormonism is that we can see this process happening in real time. As a religion founded within the last two centuries, during a time of good historical record-keeping, Mormonism is an intriguing case study of how a religion transforms from a despised fringe cult to a popular branch of mainstream modern faith. And part of that picture is the ways that the fringier elements have either been abandoned wholesale or kept out of the public eye. .. and indeed kept out of the eyes of its own adherents until they've already bought in. (Mormonism even has a "milk before meat" concept: teach the easy, non-controversial stuff about Mormonism first, and wait to teach the batty stuff until adherents are too deeply invested to leave.) The degree to which Mormonism has become mainstream is the degree to which the less digestible nuts have been eliminated from the fruitcake.

But most of this phenomenon, I think, is simple familiarity.

I didn't learn about magic Mormon underwear until I was an adult. So when I did, the battiness of the belief smacked me in the face. I was like, "Really? Magic underwear? Really?" And the same was true for the magic hat, and the secret handshakes, and the Garden of Eden being in Missouri, and so on and so on. Every time I learn something new about Mormonism and Mormon history, it's... well, it's new. And I can see its craziness with fresh eyes.

But I've known about magic crackers and talking snakes since I was very young. So they just seemed normal. Part of the cultural landscape. I didn't believe in them -- but for years, I didn't think about them very hard. And again, because these beliefs were widely held, when I did think about them I gave them more credit than they actually deserved.

So is it fair to think that Mormonism -- or Jehovah's Witnesses, or Scientology, or any other relatively new religion -- is really any crazier than more mainstream religions? Is it fair to think that it's crazier than the mainstream varieties of Catholicism or Baptism, Hinduism or Buddhism, Judaism or Islam?

I spent my day at Temple Square going back and forth on this question. One minute, I'd be thinking, "Well, okay, this is pretty nuts... but it's not really any crazier than magic crackers and magic snakes." The next minute, I'd be confronted with some new form of wacko, and I'd be thinking, "No, this really is crazier."

So which is it?

I think the answer depends on what exactly we mean by "crazy."

Crazy Is as Crazy Does

Like I said earlier, when I say "crazy" here, I don't mean "mentally ill." I mean... well, what, exactly?

If by "crazy" we mean "out of step with cultural norms"... then yes, Mormonism really is crazier. Pretty much by definition. To some extent, battiness and reasonableness are defined by social norms. In the Victorian era, it was considered entirely normal for women to wear tightly-laced corsets, all day, every day of their adult lives, to the point where their physical functioning was seriously impaired and their internal organs were deformed. In modern society, doing this would generally be considered pretty damn freaky. Instead, many women in modern society wear high-heeled shoes that impair their functioning and deform their feet, all day, every day of their adult lives... and this is considered standard, non-crazy behavior. So yes, by this definition, the more mainstream a religion is, the less crazy it is. And so yes, by this definition, Mormonism is crazier than, say, Catholicism.

But if what you mean by "crazy" is "out of touch with reality"?

Then it's all equally crazy.

Any belief in a supernatural world that affects the natural one is equally implausible, equally the product of cognitive biases, equally unsupported by any good evidence. Some religions contradict reality quite blatantly, flatly stating that well-established historical and scientific facts aren't true. (Young-earth Creationism does this with basic facts of evolution; Mormonism does it with basic facts of human history.) Other religions do a better job of presenting a plausible face and shoehorning their beliefs around reality. (The standard progressive Christian belief in theistic evolution is Exhibit A. Theistic evolution is entirely inconsistent with even the most basic facts of evolution, but these believers can still convincingly tell themselves and others, "No, no, we think science is great, of course we accept evolution, we're not out of touch with reality.")

But all religions are out of touch with reality. All religions are implausible, based on cognitive biases, and unsupported by any good evidence whatsoever. All of them ultimately rely on faith -- i.e., an irrational attachment to a pre-existing idea regardless of any evidence that contradicts it -- as the core foundation of their belief. All of them contort, ignore, or deny reality in order to maintain their attachment to their faith.

And by that definition, all religions are equally crazy.

Some just hide their craziness better than others.

*

Note: I have read the comments criticizing my colloquial use of the word "crazy" in this piece, and am seriously considering them. I'm not sure I agree with them, and I'm a bit puzzled at the automatic assumption that I don't have any experience myself with mental illness. (That's not, in fact, the case. I've struggled with depression off and on for most of my adult life, and while I don't currently consider myself as someone with mental illness, I am someone with a history of mental illness, and I have to carefully manage my life so as to minimize a chance of a recurrence.) But I have heard the criticisms, and I am taking them seriously. I've decided to go ahead and reprint this piece as originally written, with the original language, since I think it's important that the stuff I write for AlterNet be archived here in more or less its original form. (Especially since the comment threads on AlterNet are so -- how shall I put this? -- challenging, and re-posting them here gives my readers a chance to discuss my pieces in a more welcoming forum.) But the message has been received, and I'll be re-thinking this language in the future.

TEAM AWESOME IS VICTORIOUS!

We are the champions, my friend
And we'll keep on fighting 'til the end...

The scrappy underdogs have won it!

In the epic battle to raise more money for Camp Quest -- the kids' camp for children of atheists, freethinkers, humanists, and other non-supernaturalists -- Team Awesome/ Beat PZ -- made up of me, Hemant Mehta of Friendly Atheist, Jen McCreight of Blag Hag, JT Eberhard of WWJTD?, Digital Cuttlefish at The Digital Cuttlefish, Sikivu Hutchinson at Black Skeptics Group, Adam Lee at Daylight Atheism, The Chaplain at An Apostate's Chapel, C.L. Hanson at Letters From a Broad, and Matt Dillahunty at The Atheist Experience -- has raised $13,550.06. $1,868.73 of which was matched by the Stiefel Freethought Foundation. For a total of $15,418.79.

And PZ Myers at Pharyngula, Lone Squidly Overlord, has raised a paltry $13,016.01. $1,640.00 of which was matched by the Stiefel Freethought Foundation. For a total of $14,656.01.

Raising -- just so we don't lose sight of the actual point of all this -- a grand total between all of us of $30,074.80 for Camp Quest, the kids' camp for children of atheists, freethinkers, humanists, and other non-supernaturalists.

WE ARE VICTORIOUS!

Yes, yes, I know. PZ tried to play us. In a pathetic attempt to save face, with the prospect of humiliating defeat bearing down on him, PZ tried to throw the match -- asking his minions to support our team instead of his, and pretending that Team Awesome's noble offer to make fools of ourselves in public was his master plan all along. Yeah, right. Nice try. Kind of sad, really.

So yes. Ahem. Re that "making fools of ourselves in public" bit.

[looks around frantically for an exit]

Yes, I'm on it. At the Secular Student Alliance conference in July, I will take to the karaoke stage, and pop my karaoke cherry. I will post the video, on this blog and on Facebook. I will do a solo -- no, I don't yet know what song -- AND I encourage any and all members of Team Awesome who are at the conference to join me on stage for a stirring rendition of "We Are The Champions." PZ is speaking at the conference as well, and if he's man squid enough, he'll attend the Karaoke Victory Ritual as well, and suck up his defeat in person.

Altruism is so much fun. Many, many thanks to everyone who played. Thanks to everyone on Team Awesome. Thanks to the Stiefel Freethought Foundation. Thanks, even, to our worthy opponent PZ Myers, who made this an epic and hilarious battle. And most of all -- thanks to everyone who donated to Camp Quest. For either team. This is a truly worthy cause, and we've improved the lives of a whole bunch of freethought families. If godlessness really means that we have no moral compass and can just do whatever we want to do, then apparently what we want to do is help other people.

And because I can't finish this on a sappy note, I'm going to finish with a stirring round of rubbing it in.

We are the champions
We are the champions,
No time for losers
'Cause we are the champions
Of the WOOOOORLD!

Camp Quest Fundraising Contest - Matching Offer for the Final Hours!

The Camp Quest Fundraising Contest is in its final hours -- it ends at 2pm Eastern time today -- and an amazingly awesome monkey wrench has just been thrown into the works.

The Stiefel Freethought Foundation has just pledged a 1 to 1 match of up to $5,000 per team for the last 3 hours of the contest!

The Stiefel Freethought Foundation is a a 501(c)3 non-profit private foundation that provides financial support and volunteer strategy consulting to the Freethought Movement. And if you donate to the Camp Quest Fundraising Contest -- to either side, either to Team Awesome/ Beat PZ or to Beat PZ -- your donation will be doubled by the foundation. Everything above $11,681.33 for Beat PZ and $11,376.01 for Team PZ will be matched, up to $5,000 per team.

But you have to do it NOW. You have only a few hours. So donate to Camp Quest now! Donate through Team Awesome if you like scrappy underdogs. Donate through Team PZ if you like conniving cephalopods. I don't even care. At this point, I've actually lost track of the complex, Machiavellian, "if we win, PZ wins, but if PZ loses, then we lose, unless we also win, in which case we really win" machinations. (Although I still want you to support Team Awesome/ Beat PZ. And I still say that if we win, then we win, and PZ's efforts to throw the fight were simply a sad attempt to save face in the view of almost certain defeat.)

In case you haven't been following the saga, here -- quickly copied and pasted from my last post about it, so I can get this up in time -- are the details. Donate NOW -- and get your donation doubled!

*

I am prepared to publicly humiliate myself for atheism.

And so are Matt Dillahunty, Adam Lee, JT Eberhard, and Jen McCreight.

One-time offer. Take it or leave it.

Here's the deal. There's the blogger contest I've been gassing on about, a competition to see who can raise more money for Camp Quest, the kids' camp for children of atheists, freethinkers, humanists, and other non-supernaturalists. The contest is between Team Awesome on one side -- a bunch of scrappy underdog atheist bloggers, with me, Hemant Mehta of Friendly Atheist, Jen McCreight of Blag Hag, JT Eberhard of WWJTD?, Digital Cuttlefish at The Digital Cuttlefish, Sikivu Hutchinson at Black Skeptics Group, Adam Lee at Daylight Atheism, The Chaplain at An Apostate's Chapel, C.L. Hanson at Letters From a Broad, and Matt Dillahunty at The Atheist Experience -- and on the opposing team, PZ Myers, evil cephalopod overlord at Pharyngula, all by his lonesome on the other side.

You may have noticed that there are more players on Team Awesome than had been originally announced. That's because we are amoral atheists.We took a page from the religious apologists' handbook, moved the goalposts, and frantically rounded up a bunch of other atheist bloggers to battle for our side.

And yet, as of this writing, PZ is... what's that word?... winning. Not by much -- we're closing in, and have narrowed the gap to less than $2,000 -- but we only have a few days to finish the job. If we don't raise more money for Camp Quest by June 1, PZ will officially pwn each and every one of us.

We can't let that happen. Well, okay, we can... but we really, really don't want to.

So a few of us have agreed to make fools of ourselves in public for the cause. If Team Awesome wins, the following bloggers will make the following absurd public gestures:

* Since PZ Myers has offered to shave his beard into a hideous '80s mustache if he wins -- and really, you should donate to our side for that reason alone -- Adam Lee at Daylight Atheism has agreed to grow a beard if Team Awesome wins. Thus preserving Atheist Blogger Beard Homeostasis, and preventing the world as we know it from collapsing into some sort of hideous beardly space-time nexus.

* Matt Dillahunty at The Atheist Experience TV program will do one episode of the show in drag.

* JT Eberhard of WWJTD? will shave his head... and wax his legs.

* Jen McCreight at Blag Hag will attempt to learn how to ride a bicycle, and, in her words, "videotape the whole inevitably hilarious experience."

* C.L. Hanson at Letters from a Broad will organize a showtunes sing-along.

And what will Greta Christina do? I hear you cry.

* Greta Christina -- she said, with a quiver of dread in her voice -- will do karaoke.

Let me be very clear about this: I have never done karaoke. I have never wanted to do karaoke. I am a karaoke virgin.

But if Team Awesome wins the Camp Quest fundraising challenge, I will pop my karaoke cherry.

And I will get it on video, and post the video to this blog and to my Facebook page.

You can't pass that up, can you?

You have until June 1. Here's the ChipIn widget. Make it so!

Oh, right. The actual cause we're raising money for. You probably want to know a little more about that, don't you?

If you're not familiar with them, Camp Quest is the first residential summer camp in the history of the United States aimed at the children of Atheists, Freethinkers, Humanists, Brights, or whatever other terms might be applied to those who hold to a naturalistic, not supernatural world view. The purpose of Camp Quest is to provide children of freethinking parents a residential summer camp dedicated to improving the human condition through rational inquiry, critical and creative thinking, scientific method, self-respect, ethics, competency, democracy, free speech, and the separation of religion and government.

The nontheist community offers many programs for adults, but very few for children. To provide a future for our values we need to provide freethinking families with a place for their kids to find community, develop critical thinking skills, and learn ethics and values. Fortunately, that is what Camp Quest is all about. Well, that, and all of the summer camp fun that you can pack into a week.

Camp Quest builds a community for children and teenagers from atheist, agnostic, humanist and other freethinking families. They provide campers a place to explore their developing worldviews, ask questions, and make friends in an environment supportive of critical thinking and skepticism. Camp Quest is open to campers from all backgrounds. They encourage campers to think for themselves, be comfortable with who they are, and engage respectfully with people who have different views.

And yes, Camp Quest is a 501(c)(3) non-profit corporation, and donations are tax deductible.

You can help support this awesome cause, strengthen the future of the atheist community... and help stave off the crushing arms of PZ's cephalopod army! Just click on the handy Chipin widget. That number again:



How can you pass this up? Get that jolt of good altruism chemicals in your brain... and get the entertainment value of seeing your favorite atheist bloggers make public spectacles of themselves! It's win-win!

Supporting Camp Quest and Crushing PZ Myers -- The Last Ditch

UPDATE: Jen McCreight at Blag Hag is throwing her hat into the "make a public spectacle of one's self for this cause" ring. If Team Awesome wins this contest, she will attempt to learn how to ride a bicycle, and, in her words, "videotape the whole inevitably hilarious experience." Come on, folks. There is no way you can pass this up.

*

I am prepared to publicly humiliate myself for atheism.

And so are Matt Dillahunty, Adam Lee, and JT Eberhard.

One-time offer. Take it or leave it.

Here's the deal. There's the blogger contest I've been gassing on about, a competition to see who can raise more money for Camp Quest, the kids' camp for children of atheists, freethinkers, humanists, and other non-supernaturalists. The contest is between Team Awesome on one side -- a bunch of scrappy underdog atheist bloggers, with me, Hemant Mehta of Friendly Atheist, Jen McCreight of Blag Hag, JT Eberhard of WWJTD?, Digital Cuttlefish at The Digital Cuttlefish, Sikivu Hutchinson at Black Skeptics Group, Adam Lee at Daylight Atheism, The Chaplain at An Apostate's Chapel, C.L. Hanson at Letters From a Broad, and Matt Dillahunty at The Atheist Experience -- and on the opposing team, PZ Myers, evil cephalopod overlord at Pharyngula, all by his lonesome on the other side.

You may have noticed that there are more players on Team Awesome than had been originally announced. That's because we are amoral atheists.We took a page from the religious apologists' handbook, moved the goalposts, and frantically rounded up a bunch of other atheist bloggers to battle for our side.

And yet, as of this writing, PZ is... what's that word?... winning. Not by much -- we're closing in, and have narrowed the gap to less than $2,000 -- but we only have a few days to finish the job. If we don't raise more money for Camp Quest by June 1, PZ will officially pwn each and every one of us.

We can't let that happen. Well, okay, we can... but we really, really don't want to.

So a few of us have agreed to make fools of ourselves in public for the cause. If Team Awesome wins, the following bloggers will make the following absurd public gestures:

* Since PZ Myers has offered to shave his beard into a hideous '80s mustache if he wins -- and really, you should donate to our side for that reason alone -- Adam Lee at Daylight Atheism has agreed to grow a beard if Team Awesome wins. Thus preserving Atheist Blogger Beard Homeostasis, and preventing the world as we know it from collapsing into some sort of hideous beardly space-time nexus.

* Matt Dillahunty at The Atheist Experience TV program will do one episode of the show in drag.

* JT Eberhard of WWJTD? will shave his head... and wax his legs.

And what will Greta Christina do? I hear you cry.

* Greta Christina -- she said, with a quiver of dread in her voice -- will do karaoke.

Let me be very clear about this: I have never done karaoke. I have never wanted to do karaoke. I am a karaoke virgin.

But if Team Awesome wins the Camp Quest fundraising challenge, I will pop my karaoke cherry.

And I will get it on video, and post the video to this blog and to my Facebook page.

You can't pass that up, can you?

You have until June 1. Here's the ChipIn widget. Make it so!

Oh, right. The actual cause we're raising money for. You probably want to know a little more about that, don't you?

If you're not familiar with them, Camp Quest is the first residential summer camp in the history of the United States aimed at the children of Atheists, Freethinkers, Humanists, Brights, or whatever other terms might be applied to those who hold to a naturalistic, not supernatural world view. The purpose of Camp Quest is to provide children of freethinking parents a residential summer camp dedicated to improving the human condition through rational inquiry, critical and creative thinking, scientific method, self-respect, ethics, competency, democracy, free speech, and the separation of religion and government.

The nontheist community offers many programs for adults, but very few for children. To provide a future for our values we need to provide freethinking families with a place for their kids to find community, develop critical thinking skills, and learn ethics and values. Fortunately, that is what Camp Quest is all about. Well, that, and all of the summer camp fun that you can pack into a week.

Camp Quest builds a community for children and teenagers from atheist, agnostic, humanist and other freethinking families. They provide campers a place to explore their developing worldviews, ask questions, and make friends in an environment supportive of critical thinking and skepticism. Camp Quest is open to campers from all backgrounds. They encourage campers to think for themselves, be comfortable with who they are, and engage respectfully with people who have different views.

And yes, Camp Quest is a 501(c)(3) non-profit corporation, and donations are tax deductible.

You can help support this awesome cause, strengthen the future of the atheist community... and help stave off the crushing arms of PZ's cephalopod army! Just click on the handy Chipin widget. That number again:



How can you pass this up? Get that jolt of good altruism chemicals in your brain... and get the entertainment value of seeing your favorite atheist bloggers make public spectacles of themselves! It's win-win!

High School Student Stands Up Against Prayer at Public School and Is Ostracized, Demeaned and Threatened

When a high school atheist tried to stop prayer at his graduation, he was harassed and kicked out of his house. But the atheist community stepped in.

Whatever you think about atheists -- good, bad, mixed, indifferent -- this story should seriously trouble you.

Damon Fowler, an atheist student at Bastrop High School in Louisiana, was about to graduate. His public school was planning to have a prayer as part of the graduation ceremony: as they traditionally did, as so many public schools around the country do every year. But Fowler -- knowing that government- sponsored prayer in the public schools are unconstitutional and legally forbidden -- contacted the school superintendent to let him know that he opposed the prayer, and would be contacting the ACLU if it happened. The school -- at first, anyway -- agreed, and cancelled the prayer.

Then Fowler's name, and his role in this incident, was leaked. And, as a direct result:

1) Fowler has been hounded, pilloried, and ostracized by his community.

2) One of Fowler's teachers has publicly demeaned him.

3) Fowler has been physically threatened. Students have threatened to "jump him" at graduation practice, and he has received multiple threats of bodily harm, and even death threats.

4) Fowler's parents have cut off his financial support, kicked him out of the house, and thrown his belongings onto the front porch.

Oh, and by the way? They went ahead and had the graduation prayer anyway.

Before we get into the details of all this, let's be very, very clear about the facts and the law here: Nobody -- not Fowler, not the ACLU, nobody -- is telling anybody at Bastrop High School that they can't pray. People can pray at graduations and other school events all they want. The sole issue here is whether a public school can have a prayer at a graduation or other school event as an official, school- sponsored part of the program. Individual prayer? Hunky dory. Off-campus prayers at churches or private events? Knock yourself out. Government promotion of a religious agenda? Not so much. What with the First Amendment and the "establishment of religion" bit and all.

It's a law and a Constitution that protects everybody, not just atheists. If you wouldn't want to be subjected to a government- sponsored Buddhist prayer, you ought not to be subjecting others to a government- sponsored Christian prayer.

Okay. I hope that's clear.

So here's a little more detail about what exactly happened with Damon Fowler.

*

Thus begins my latest piece for AlterNet, High School Student Stands Up Against Prayer at Public School and Is Ostracized, Demeaned and Threatened. To find out more about how exactly the ostracization of Damon Fowler has unfolded -- and how the atheist community has stepped up to the plate -- read the rest of the piece. Enjoy!

Atheism, Sexism, Etc.: An Update

Important update on yesterday's post about sexist comments made by David Eller at the Oakland Rapture RAM:

David Eller has offered an apology. A genuine one this time. It's posted on Jen's blog: Eller offers an apology. Good for him. This sort of situation can go south and get ugly very quickly: good for Eller for not going there, and for acknowledging his error. That's exactly the kind of behavior atheists should be modeling, and he's done a good job of it here. I posted this update as an addendum to the original post, but thought I should also post it separately, in case anyone missed it.

Atheism, Sexism, and Pretty Blonde Videobloggers: or, What Jen Said

UPDATE: Eller has offered an apology. A genuine one this time. It's posted on Jen's blog: Eller offers an apology. Good for him. This sort of situation can go south and get ugly very quickly: good for Eller for not going there, and for acknowledging his error. That's exactly the kind of behavior atheists should be modeling, and he's done a good job of it here.

So I'm going to start by saying: What Jen McCreight said. The American Atheists Regional Atheist Meetup/ Rapture party in Oakland was neat. I heard many excellent speakers (including Jen herself); I met some wonderful new people, and got better acquainted with some wonderful folks I'd already met; I feel more connected now with my local atheist community. The stuff I'm going to talk about here was not the responsibility of the organizers, who did a fine job putting this event together.

So. The stuff I'm going to talk about here. Specifically, David Eller's talk on Sunday at the conference, about how atheists needs to work more on creating an appealing culture/ community that's an alternative to religion. At which he said and did the following (paraphrasing here, sorry -- as far as I know there's no video or audio record of any of this):

a) Gave, as examples of how we're offering an attractive atheist alternative to religious culture, popular videobloggers Laci Green and Cristina Rad (ZOMGitsCriss), with photos of them on his PowerPoint screen -- and made a point of saying how great it was that these videobloggers were so pretty, and how it was helpful to have a pretty blonde Romanian videoblogging to make atheism more appealing. Without any mention of any other qualities these women had that made them popular and appealing, other than their prettiness and blondeness. (And, I guess, their Romanian-ness.)

b) Provided a list of positive atheist role models we could promote -- all but one of whom were male, and every single freaking one of whom was white.

c) Suggested that we should keep doing Boobquake every year, since it was exactly the sort of fun event that made atheism seem appealing. At which point, someone in the audience shouted out, "Boobs are great!"

d) When called on the videoblogger thing by Jen McCreight during the Q&A, semi-apologized for having offended anyone -- and then went to on say that of course he thought these female videobloggers were smart and thoughtful and witty and insightful and inspiring and so on, and of course we should have understood that he'd meant all that (even though he didn't say it). And then went on to say that it was still a good thing that these women were pretty, because that made atheism more appealing to men.

So again, I pretty much want to say, "What Jen said." (Or, to be more accurate, "What Jen said... and another thing...")

Okay. Deep breath. Let's take these one at a time. And then let's look at the big picture.

a) Do we really have to explain -- again -- that women in the atheist movement, or anywhere for that matter, have value other than as ornaments? Do we really have to explain -- again -- that women in our culture routinely get treated as if we don't matter except to be sexually and aesthetically enjoyed by men, and that this is demeaning and belittling, and that men (and women, for that matter) need to be very careful not to go there? Do we really have to explain -- again -- what women feel like when this happens? What it feels like to be a pretty young blonde woman in that audience who is smart and talented and hard-working, and who suddenly gets her smarts and talent and hard work dismissed as secondary to her looks? What it feels like to be a non-pretty, non-young, non-blonde woman in that audience who is smart and talented and hard-working, and who suddenly gets her smarts and talent and hard work eradicated, because her looks apparently aren't tempting enough to get anyone to listen to her ideas? Do we really have to explain -- again -- that there is a time and place for everything, and that while we're not trying to squelch sexuality or flirtatiousness, and while there are appropriate times and places for commenting favorably on women's attractiveness, a serious talk about strategy in the atheist movement is not one of them?

And do we really have to explain -- again -- that this isn't just insulting to women? That it's insulting to men as well? Do we have to explain -- as was pointed out in the comment thread on Jen's post -- how insulting it is to men to tell them that the main reason they'll be drawn to atheism is the pretty girls, and that they'll only care about female atheists because of their looks? Do we have to explain that this attitude is heterosexist as well as sexist: that it assumes all atheist men want to look at pretty girls... and no atheist women do?

Do we really have to explain all this again?

Yes. I guess we do.

Okay. Consider it explained. Again.

b) When we're discussing leaders, icons, and other role models in the atheist movement, there is no excuse for our lists to be dominated by white men. And there is not even a shred of an excuse for those lists to be overwhelmingly dominated by men, to the point where women get relegated to the status of a single token... and people of color are rendered entirely invisible.

We've been over this. And over it, and over it, and over it. (Here are my own rants about it.) This one is a no-brainer. This one is easy and painless. When you want to talk about atheist role models, in history or alive and active today, you need to spend ten minutes looking at lists of prominent female atheists and atheists of color, and put a few of them on your list. (If they're not just popping into your mind automatically, that is.) It's an easy and painless way to make atheism not look like a Whites Only, Men Only club. It's an easy and painless way to make it clear that you recognize that women and people of color, you know, exist, and are part of this movement, and have always been part of this movement, and are welcomed and appreciated as equal participants and contributors. It's not rocket science. Why is this still not happening?

As Jen said, better than I could ever say it myself, "Yep, someone giving a talk on how to improve our community was horrendously out of touch with one of the most important and commonly discussed issues in said community. The irony has not escaped me."

c) Boobquake. Okay. First of all: Should we keep doing Boobquake every year? Oh, I don't know. Maybe we should ask the woman who instigated it? The woman who has made it clear, repeatedly, that the answer is a clear, resounding "NO!"?

Jen McCreight has made it clear that Boobquake was a one-time event. She's explained her reasons. She even explained her reasons during her talk at this event. (Given that multiple people at this conference made inappropriate comments about her chest, I can't blame her.) Perhaps, when considering whether we should continue doing Boobquake every year, we first ought to consult the woman who created it.

And second of all: Do we really have to explain -- again -- that Boobquake was not just about boobs? Boobquake was about the demonization and suppression of women's bodies and women's sexuality. It was a fun, sexy, "the Emperor has no clothes" mockery of this demonization and suppression -- but it was ultimately about the demonization and suppression. The idea that we should keep doing Boobquake because boobs are cool... that is missing the whole freaking point.

Now, I'll be honest: This one probably wouldn't have bugged me that much if it hadn't been for the other stuff that happened during this talk. Boobquake was a complicated event, and a big part of its point was a celebration of women's bodies and women's sexuality, and if people treat it solely as such without what I consider to be a properly nuanced perspective... well, whatever. I don't like it, but it's not the crime of the century. In any other context, I would have let this one slide. But given all the other stuff that happened during this talk... it was part of the vibe, part of the bigger picture. And the bigger picture was seriously not okay.

d) The semi-apology.

I have to take a big, deep breath for this one.

Okay. First of all. If you want your audience to understand that of course you recognize that female videobloggers are smart and thoughtful and witty and insightful and inspiring and so on and don't have value simply for their appearance... then you should say that the first time around. You shouldn't assume that this is a given, that of course we understand that. Again: We live in a culture that routinely treats women as ornaments, as having worth only for the sexual and aesthetic pleasure we give men and for our ability to produce children. When you point to women who are icons in the movement, and only mention how pretty they are, without saying anything about their other qualities? It plays right into that trope.

Eller is an anthropologist. He is also, clearly, a smart guy. He should know all this.

And second: When you say that having pretty women as atheist icons is good because it will make atheism more appealing to men? You aren't just playing into the "women have value only as ornaments" trope. You are actively perpetuating it. You are directly feeding it. You are essentially saying that the male atheists are the ones who count, the ones we need to worry about. You are essentially saying that female atheists have value only as bait, to draw the important atheists, the male atheists, into the community. You are essentially saying -- to use a cliche of old-school feminism, but in this case it's a cliche because it's true -- that men are the subjects of our community, and women are the objects of it.

That. Is. Not. Okay.

I get that, when we're put on the spot about a screw-up , we don't always handle it well. We get defensive, we get our backs up, we find it hard to admit that we screwed up. We are rationalizing creatures, and when someone tells us that we made a mistake or hurt someone, our brains are wired to defend our image of ourselves as good, smart people. I get that. I've done it myself. I don't always handle criticism well. Especially public criticism. It's how our brains are wired.

But if you're a public figure, you need to find a way to re-wire your brain. You need to suck it up and deal.

Here's a sentence to memorize: "I need to think about this." If you have your back up and you're getting defensive and you don't have it in you at that moment to simply say, "I'm sorry, you're right, that was screwed up, full stop"... say, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize the effect that would have, I need to think about this." It gives you time to absorb the cognitive dissonance. It gives you a way to apologize and still save face. (Especially in the atheist/ skeptical movement, where we value the ability to admit mistakes and change one's mind.) And it gives you time to seriously reflect on whether you did, in fact, screw up, and what you might do differently in the future.

When you get called on your shit in public? Your apology should not make it clear that you don't, in fact, get why it is that people are criticizing you. Your apology should not be a repetition of the same mistakes you're being called on. Your apology should not make things worse.

*

Okay. Now. Some big picture stuff.

This isn't about "David Eller is a bad bad man." David Eller is clearly a smart guy, and while I disagree with him on some strategy stuff, I think he has some good ideas that are worth listening to. I don't think this was conscious, mean-spirited sexism; I think it was unconscious, unintentional sexism. And I hope he can take this post in the spirit in which it's intended. This isn't about "David Eller is a bad bad man": this is about "This is an all-too-common pattern in the atheist community: it happens far too often, and it happened again at this event, and we need to point it out when it happens so hopefully it doesn't happen again."

Because this is not an isolated incident. Far from it. This kind of stuff keeps happening. It's a pattern. Women in the atheist movement commonly feel trivialized, invisible-ized, and inappropriately sexualized. (The wide applause and cries of "Thank you!" that met Jen's comment at this event should make that clear.) And many women stay away from the atheist movement as a result of this. I see some signs that this is getting better, and I have hopes that it will continue to get better -- but it's still a common problem, and it's still a serious problem.

And it's not going to get better unless we talk about it. And keep talking about it.

I've explained before why we should care about this. I'm not going to explain that again in detail here. The quick and dirty summary: We should care because sexism hurts people, and we're good people who don't want to hurt other people. And we should care because it's creating real problems in the community and the movement, and our movement will be stronger in ten or twenty or fifty years if we deal with this stuff now.

Like Jen, I don't love making a stink about this. I really wanted my conference report to be, "I heard many excellent speakers; I met some wonderful new people, and got better acquainted with some wonderful folks I'd already met; I feel more connected now with my local atheist community." I don't want to start the next firestorm that eats the atheosphere for a week, and I sincerely hope that doesn't happen here.

But as Jen said, "The more we let crap like this slide, the more it's going to get perpetuated. And I don't want the atheist movement of 2021 to be a room full of white men scratching their heads, wondering what went wrong."

So yeah.

What Jen said.

Live-blogging the Rapture

Well, if the end of the world really is nigh, there ought to be some documentation of it for future generations. Oh, wait. There won't be any future generations. Still. It stand to reason. I mean, if hundreds of years from now, space aliens or something visit the charred remains of our post-Apocalyptic planet and wonder, "What the heck happened here?", perhaps there ought to be a record. It seems like the sensible thing to do.

So JT Eberhard (WWJTD?), Jen McCreight (BlagHag), and I are going to be live-blogging the Rapture.

Because where will be the first place that visiting space aliens will search for a record of the last days of human life on Earth? Snarky atheist blogs, of course!

Supposedly, the Rapture will be happening at 6pm, in each time zone around the globe. Because God cares so very much about the international date line. (As Ingrid said when we were talking about this on Facebook, "It's almost scientific, except for the part where it has no basis in reality.") Okay, yes, it has been pointed out that this lends an unfair advantage to those of us living in the more Westerly time zones -- if we see news reports of people being raptured in Australia and Tokyo, we'll have a chance to repent that they didn't get. (Let's hear it for the argument for locality!) And I don't know what's supposed to happen to the people on the space station. But who are we to question God's wisdom and might? Well, his might, anyway.

So I'll be keeping an eye on world events as they unfold at 6pm in each time zone, from New Zealand to Hawaii. And just to be fair, in case they got the 6pm thing wrong, I'll also keep an eye on world events as they unfold at midnight in each time zone, from New Zealand to Hawaii. I won't be making a point of being awake for each of these time zone changes -- I'm not going to stay up around the clock for this damn dumb thing, especially since I'm giving a talk on Sunday the 22nd -- but I'll take a peek at the New York Times at occasional intervals, and report on how we're doing.

If we make it to midnight of May 22 everywhere around the world, I think we can assume we're in the clear.

***

Okay. We're starting. 5:11 pm in San Francisco; just past midnight in New Zealand. No rapture-type events reported as of this writing. Most recent New Zealand headline on the New York Times: "Air New Zealand Videos Get Tailwind From Social Media." To quote Peter Cook, "Not exactly the conflagration we'd been looking for." But heck -- it's not 6pm yet. It still could happen. And monkeys could fly out of my butt. There is a vanishingly small but non-zero chance of butt monkeys.

***

Damn. It's been pointed out to me that it's actually just past noon in New Zealand, not just past midnight. Boy, do I have egg on my face. How am I supposed to document the beginning of the eradication of humanity if I can't even read my World Clock right? Some Rapture reporter I am.

Anyway. It's now 5/21 in New Zealand, Tokyo, Moscow, and London. Not 6pm yet, though. So we could still be on the hook for this thing. Stay tuned to this station for further developments.

***

It's past 6pm in the first time zone where it could be past 6pm; an island in the Pacific called Kiribati. No earthquakes, apparently. CNN is discussing "Celebrity Apprentice." They are clearly covering up the the real truth.

***

Well past 6pm in New Zealand: 7:54 pm, in fact. Top headline of the New Zealand Herald as of this writing: "Labour proposes dedicated 'Ministry for Children.'" Lacking a bit in that "earthquakes/ conflagrations/ sea of blood" quality, but I suppose it could be a sign of God's wrath in some way. Other headlines from New Zealand: "Hubbard asset freeze to be reviewed," "MasterChef's backer drops support for school breakfasts," and, "MPs love property and petanque." Well, I guess that word "petanque" could be code for something...

A few other updates on the news coverage of this literally earth-shattering event. Top headline of the New York Times as of this writing: "Divisions Are Clear as Obama and Netanyahu Discuss Peace." On TV, Headline News has Donny and Marie on the Joy Behar Show. CNBC has a "get rich now" infomercial. MSNBC has "Lockup: Indiana." CSPAN has the Asia Society & U.S. Institute of Peace on the Future of Pakistan. The NASA channel -- and you'd think if anyone would be covering the global conflagration cascading across the globe time zone by time zone, it'd be the NASA channel -- has still photos of the space station. And CNN is talking to Dick Van Dyke about his new book. I didn't know Dick Van Dyke was still alive. I suppose that could be a supernatural event of some kind...

Oh, and the in the Los Angeles Times? New Zealand region yet to suffer destruction forecast by Oakland-based doomsday predictor. They are reporting no earthquakes in the region. I freaking love that the L.A. Times is live-blogging the Rapture.

***

7:30am California time. Tokyo and Moscow should be dust by now. Hm. Apparently not. CNN has the Doomsday story right now, but it's a jokey, "Gee, some people think the world is ending today" piece -- not a "Tokyo, Moscow collapse into the earth, repent now before it's too late" story. Google search for "Moscow news" gets "IDF attaché sought intel. on Russia-Arab arms trade," and "Tokyo news" gets "Wen, Lee Show Support for Japan Recovery Effort." No, no, no! Recovery effort? That's not apocalyptic at all! That's, like, the opposite of apocalyptic! Harumph.

***

9:15 am California time. Family Radio (Harold Camping's station) was on in the car ride over to the conference. Strangely non-apocalyptic. Music, light chatter, and some kid's story about inviting people to meet Jesus. You'd think it'd be a little late for that now.

***

BTW, if you want to track earthquake activity for the day, you can do it on the U.S. Geological Survey website.

(checking)

Sheesh, dude. Is that all you got?

***

Just past 6pm in London. Main headline in the London Times as of this writing: "Twitter fury as footballer takes legal action." Well, Twitter fury is sort of like the wrath of God... right?

***

Update in London: Guardian U.K. DOES have a story about the Rapture!

Oh, wait. It's about how the Rapture isn't happening. Never mind.

You know, I really do love how many news outlets are covering the "Rapture Not Happening" story. It's as if the worldwide news media was covering the story, "Suspension Bridges Around the World Not Turning Into Fish."

***

Well, Jesus did make an appearance in Oakland.



A little ahead of schedule, but mysterious ways, who are we to question, yada yada yada. Here at the atheist convention, oddly enough. Told a few jokes, took a few questions. Nice guy. Has some sort of beef with Ed Hardy, but pretty easy-going overall. Didn't say anything about the world ending today, though. Hm. Wonder if they got that wrong. Naaaaah.

(Photo by Jen McCreight at BlagHag, shamelessly swiped from her own live-blogging of the Rapture.)

***

Okay. It should be hitting New York right about now.

***

OOO! Is that it? The New York Times is doing live updates!

***

Nope. False alarm. The New York Times is doing live updates of the Preakness Stakes.

***

Hm. 6:10 pm in New York City. Headlines on the New York Times website as of this reading: "Promise of Arab Uprisings Is Threatened by Divisions." Okay: uprisings, divisions.. that's sort of apocalyptic, right? How about, "In the Golan Heights, Anxious Eyes Look East to Syria." Okay, anxious eyes on Syria... because of the people being raptured there, right? No? Okay, how about, "Guard Dog to the Stars (Legally Speaking)."

Oh, piffle. This is just sad.

***

Just talked to my brother in Chicago. All seems to be normal there. Or normal for Chicago. Rapture-free, at any rate. No earthquakes, no brimstone, no flocks of the faithful ascending through the skies. He says the weather was grey and drizzly earlier in the morning, but the sun came out later in the day, which may be a sign of some sort.

***

6pm in Oakland!

***

Aaaaaaaaaand...

***

Well, my soul might have been raptured up to Heaven. But Greta without a soul is indistinguishable from Greta with a soul. So I'm not sure how anybody would know.

***

Ingrid says Hi, by the way. And she says, "Cheer up. It's not the end of the world."

***

Oh, wait. Something's happening...

***

***

This is me, Mr. Deity, Jen McCreight, Matt Dillahunty, Ashley Paramore, and several other atheists being raptured. We bounced off the ceiling, though, and came back. Damn acoustic tile.

***

Apparently there was just a little earthquake in Oakland. I didn't feel it, but other people at the atheist conference did. Ripple of derisive, slightly nervous laughter. The world seems to be continuing on, though. Maybe the apocalypse is waiting until Mr. Deity finishes his talk.

***

Earthquake was a 3.6. Yeah, that's Armageddon all right. [facepalm]

***

Well, fine. It's past 6pm on May 21, everywhere in the world. According to Reuters, Harold Camping has gone entirely silent; the shades are drawn on his house, nobody is answering the door, and he has yet to issue any sort of comment on the complete lack of anything interesting or unusual happening today. (Well... anything other than Rapture parties, anyway...)

Headlines on the New York Times: Many of the same ones as my last update, but a few new ones. "Ivory Coast’s New President Urges Unity." "Daniels Decides Against G.O.P. Presidential Bid." "Blogger With 'Man Crush' Wins Putin Scoop." Oh, for goodness' sake. It's like they're trying to make the news as bland and non-apocalyptic as possible. (I especially love that last one.)

I'm going to give this way more of the benefit of the doubt than it deserves, and wait 'til it's May 22 everywhere in the world before I absolutely officially call it. But I wouldn't hold my breath. Sleep tight, everybody!

***

That's it. It's today, everywhere in the world, except in the places where it's tomorrow. May 21, 2011 has 100% come and gone, and no Rapture. The world continues to turn, more or less as usual.

And now, a quick, slightly serious word.

Lots of us have been making fun of the Rapture in recent days and weeks. And we should: it was a ridiculous idea, and ridiculous ideas should be ridiculed. But real harm was done during this hysteria. People depleted their life's savings, their childrens' college funds, ran up their credit cards, to fund this stupid billboard campaign -- which whipped up more people into more hysteria so they could deplete their life's savings. Religion does real harm in the world. I am entirely in favor of making fun of it... partly because it's fun to do so, but mostly because religion does real harm, and making fun of it is one of the most effective tools we have for dismantling it. Religion depends on social consent to survive and perpetuate itself. We have to deny that consent. We have to keep pointing out, at every available opportunity, that the Emperor has no clothes.

And we have to keep pointing out, at every available opportunity, that this world -- this beautiful, terrible, ordinary, spectacular, fascinating, sad, hard, funny, and entirely small-R rapturous world -- is enough.

Thank you for your patience. We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.

Rapture Fear: What If The End Really Is Nigh?

So I have something embarrassing to admit.

With all the talk about the Rapture that's supposedly coming on May 21? With all the Rapture parties, the snarky jokes, the atheist conferences around the country specifically scheduled on Rapture Weekend for the purpose of making fun of it?

There is a tiny, tiny part of me that's scared.

There is a tiny, tiny part of me that's been wondering, for occasional intermittent nanoseconds, "What if they're right?"

And I'm wondering if that's happening with anyone else.

Now, let me make this very clear, very quickly: There is no part of me that seriously thinks this Rapture thing is going to happen. It's beyond absurd. The number of times that people have predicted the exact date of the Rapture, or some other supernatural end of the world, is off the charts. Even if the hypothesis of any sort of God or supernatural world were plausible -- which I don't think it is -- this particular hypothesis? The hypothesis that if you take a demonstrably inaccurate book written by Bronze Age goatherders and crunch the numbers in it in a special way like it was the Da Vinci Code or something, you'll know the exact date and hour that God is coming to pour suckitude on his beloved creation while he carries a handful of his bestest friends to a permanent party in the sky? It's laughable on the face of it. It's the equivalent of a hand-scrawled sign held up by a raving street-corner preacher saying, "The End Is Nigh"... except it's a really big sign, being held up on street corners around the country, by a preacher who happens to have a radio show and a budget instead of a soapbox on the corner. I am appalled at how many people are taking this thing so seriously, to the point where they're quitting their jobs and spending their life savings on this stupid ad campaign. And I'm tickled pink at the degree to which the defiant, mocking, festively scornful response to it has caught on... not just among atheist activists, but in the public at large.

And yet, when I see the Rapture billboards or hear the news stories about them, there is this tiny part of me that -- just for a nanosecond -- gets scared. There's a tiny part of me that wonders, just for a nanosecond, "Could this Rapture thing really happen?"

It's embarrassing to admit this. I feel like it makes me a failure as an atheist, a failure as a skeptic. I haven't wanted to say anything about it... even to myself. I had to screw up my courage even to mention it to Ingrid. Acknowledging it in public feels seriously uncomfortable.

But I've built my career on saying things that people don't want to talk about; things that people are embarrassed and uncomfortable about; things that people keep secret. And almost every time I have, I've been glad. I've felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. And almost always every time, I've gotten a grateful and relieved response from other people saying, "Oh, thank goodness you said something -- I thought I was the only one!"

I'm not going to stop now.

I want to talk about this -- and I want to look at what's going on.

*

Here's what I think is going on. Part of my mammalian hindbrain reflexively assumes that, if a whole lot of other people believe something, it's probably true. Or at least, that it's plausible. Or at the very least, that it can't be completely ruled out, and isn't just flatly stupid on the face of it, and ought to be given a moment of serious consideration. There is a part of my mammalian hindbrain that, when it sees a whole bunch of people freaking out over what they see as an imminent terrible danger, gets a little jolt of alarmed adrenaline.

And it's not just my own mammalian hindbrain. It's all our mammalian hindbrains. (Even if you're not scared about the Rapture.) The human brain is wired with a number of cognitive biases and errors in thinking: biases and errors that have good evolutionary reasons to be there, that have helped our ancestors survive and reproduce, but that do get in the way when we're trying to carefully figure out what is and isn't true in the world. And of all these biases, one of the trickiest is communal reinforcement -- otherwise known as the argument from popularity. "If lots of other people think this," our mammalian hindbrain tells us, "it must be true!"

It's a bias that does have real evolutionary value. If everyone in your tribe is screaming "Tiger!", and you don't see one, it still makes sense to run. And I would argue that this bias has some genuine philosophical value as well. Other people can, in fact, be a useful reality check. After all, it's not like I'm always right about everything. If everyone I know is telling me I'm wrong about something... well, that's not automatically a reason to change my mind, but it is a reason to stop and think for a moment about whether I might want to.

So the more I thought about this, the more I realized that these fleeting moments of Rapture fear don't actually make me a bad skeptic. In a sense, they make me a good skeptic. They show that I recognize my own limitations, and that I'm willing to consider the possibility that I might be mistaken.

And more to the point: They just make me human.

Being a good skeptic doesn't mean that I don't have cognitive biases. Skeptics still have human brains. Skeptics are still subject to confirmation bias, rationalization, wishful thinking, the perception of pattern where there is none, the perception of intention where there is none, yada yada yada... and yes, the argument from popularity.

Being good skeptics doesn't mean we don't have these cognitive biases. It means we're aware of them. It means we can say, "My computer sure has been crashing a lot lately... but that could just be a pseudo-pattern." It means we can say, "It seems like I've been getting sick less often since I started taking Vitamin C... but that could just be selective memory." It means we can say, "I think cardamom is becoming the newest food trend... but that could be confirmation bias, and I'm just seeing the stuff everywhere because I'm looking for it." Being good skeptics means we can see these cognitive biases, in ourselves as well as others. And that means we can compensate for them. It means that, when we're trying to figure out what's true in the world, we can set up systems specifically designed to filter them out, as much as we humanly can. It means we don't have to let our lives be controlled by them.

So yes. When I see the Rapture billboards, for a flashing nanosecond, I get scared. I hear a bunch of other people in the tribe screaming, "Tiger!", and I flinch and glance around reflexively for a nanosecond... before I remember that these are the same people who have been screaming "Tiger!" for years and decades and generations, and they have never once been right about the tiger or anything else, and it is entirely reasonable and safe to ignore them.

And then I come back to my senses, and rejoin the party.

*



P.S. Speaking of Rapture parties, just a quick reminder: I'm going to be speaking at one! The Regional Atheists Meeting in Oakland, hosted by American Atheists, is happening on Rapture weekend, May 21-22, at at the Oakland Masonic Center at 3903 Broadway. Other speakers will include Mr. Deity, Jen McCreight (Blag Hag), Matt Dillahunty (The Atheist Experience), Rebecca Watson (Skepchick), and many more. There'll be stand-up comedy from Troy Conrad and Keith Lowell Jensen, as well as the fun, inspiring talks and an after- conference party. Advance tickets are no longer available, alas; tickets at the door are $59 for the whole weekend. The conference per se starts at 9:00 each morning, but registration takes some time, so they're recommending that people arrive at 8:15.

My topic for the conference: "Why Are Atheists So Angry?" Summary: The atheist movement is often accused of being driven by anger. What are so many atheists so angry about? Is this anger legitimate? And can anger be an effective force behind a movement for social change? My talk is on Sunday, May 22. Assuming we're not drowning in a sea of blood by then.

There's also a special, pre-conference fundraising breakfast for Camp Quest West on Sunday 5/22 at 7:30 am. You'll get to eat and schmooze with many of the featured speakers: me, Jen McCreight, Matt Dillahunty, Brian Dalton (Mr. Deity), Rebecca Watson, David Byars, Mark Calladus and Lewis Marshall. Menu options include blood pudding, steak a la brimstone (a Bay Area specialty!), honey-roasted locusts, and lamb. (Kidding. I wish. It's been way too long since I've had a good locust.) Tickets are $50 each. Come join us! I'll be as chatty and sparkly as I can be at 7:30 in the morning after a bath of sulfur and frogs.

Atheists Do It Better: Why Leaving Religion Leads to Better Sex

A new study shows that religious people have as much sex as atheists, but with less sexual satisfaction and more guilt.

Do atheists have better sex? Yes. According to science, that is -- and more specifically, according to the recently released "Sex and Secularism" study.

In January 2011, organizational psychologist Darrel Ray, Ed.D. (psychologist for 30 years and author of The God Virus as well as two books on psychology) and Amanda Brown (undergraduate at Kansas University, focused on sexuality and sex therapy) conducted a sex survey of over 14,500 people -- atheists, agnostics, and other people in the secular community. The survey was looking at religion, atheism, and sex: how religion affects sex, how leaving religion affects sex, whether lifelong atheists feel differently about sex than people who have recently deconverted, and so on. The report -- "Sex and Secularism: What Happens When You Leave Religion?" -- is on the Internet, and if you want all 46 pages of the naughty details, including the charts and graphs and personal stories, you can download it free (you just need to register on the site).

But if you just want to know the gist?

Leaving religion improves people's sex lives.

A lot.

Atheists and other non-believers, as a whole, experience a lot more satisfaction in their sex lives than they did when they were believers. They feel much less guilt about their sex lives and their sexuality. The sexual guilt instilled by so many religions tends to fade, and indeed disappear, when people leave religion -- much more thoroughly than you might expect. And according to the respondents of this study, non-believers give significantly better sex education to their kids than believers do.

Now, when it comes to people's actual sexual behavior, religion doesn't have nearly as much impact as you might think. Religious and non-religious people have pretty much the same kinds of sex, at pretty much the same age of onset, and at pretty much the same rate. Believers are just as likely to masturbate, watch porn, have oral sex, have sex outside marriage, and so on, as non-believers are, and they start at about the same ages. So it's not like religious sexual guilt is actually making people abstain from forbidden sexual activity. All it's doing is making people feel crummy about it. And when people leave religion, this crumminess decreases -- at a dramatic rate. Believers and atheists are having pretty much the same kinds of sex... but when it comes to the pleasure and satisfaction experienced during this sex, it's like night and day.

*

Thus begins my latest piece for AlterNet, Atheists Do It Better: Why Leaving Religion Leads to Better Sex. To find out more about the new "Sex and Secularism" report on the sexual effects of religion and the lack thereof -- and to find out my analysis of the report and its implications, both for believers and for atheists -- read the rest of the piece. Enjoy!

Are All Religions Equally Crazy?

Are less established religions really crazier than older mainstream ones? Or are mainstream religions just more familiar?

Does any religion make more sense than any other?

Atheists, by definition, don't think any religion has any reasonable likelihood of being true. And yet, for some weird reason, we're often asked to choose between them. Believers often accuse us of ignoring more moderate and progressive religions while we trash the low-hanging fruit of hard-line fundamentalism. We're accused of disregarding sophisticated modern theology so we can zero in on the simplistic faiths held by the hoi polloi. (Neither accusation is fair; many atheists, including myself, have taken aim at both modern theology and progressive religion, and in any case fundamentalism and other widely-held religions are valid targets for critique -- but that's another rant.) Yet at the same time, many believers seek our approval for their particular beliefs. "Sure," they'll say, "a lot of those other religions are silly -- but my religion makes sense! Don't you agree? Don't you? Huh?"

For the most part, it's a game I don't like to play. I think all religions are equally implausible, equally based on cognitive biases, equally unsupported by any good evidence whatsoever. But sometimes, the battiness of a particular religion is powerfully borne in on me, to the point where it becomes impossible to ignore. And it forces me to consider the question: Is this religion really any more batty than any other? Or is it just less popular? Less familiar? Is it simply newer, and thus has had less time for the more wildly ragged edges of its wackiness to smooth out? Is this religion really as crazy as it seems -- or are all religions equally crazy?

*

Thus begins my latest piece for AlterNet, Are All Religions Equally Crazy? To read my thoughts on whether some newer, less-established religions ([cough] Mormonism [cough]) really are much battier than more conventional religions, or whether all religions are equally out to lunch, read the rest of the piece. Enjoy!

How Religion Contorts Morality: Respected Theologian Defends Genocide and Infanticide

This piece was originally published on AlterNet.

"Respected Theologian Defends Infanticide."

Why did this story not make headlines?

In a recent post on his Reasonable Faith site, famed Christian apologist and debater William Lane Craig published an explanation for why the genocide and infanticide ordered by God against the Canaanites in the Old Testament was morally defensible. For God, at any rate -- and for people following God's orders. Short version: When guilty people got killed, they deserved it because they were guilty and bad... and when innocent people got killed, even when innocent babies were killed, they went to Heaven, and it was all hunky dory in the end.

No, really.

Here are some choice excerpts:

God had morally sufficient reasons for His judgement upon Canaan, and Israel was merely the instrument of His justice, just as centuries later God would use the pagan nations of Assyria and Babylon to judge Israel.

and:

Moreover, if we believe, as I do, that God's grace is extended to those who die in infancy or as small children, the death of these children was actually their salvation. We are so wedded to an earthly, naturalistic perspective that we forget that those who die are happy to quit this earth for heaven's incomparable joy. Therefore, God does these children no wrong in taking their lives.

and:

So whom does God wrong in commanding the destruction of the Canaanites? Not the Canaanite adults, for they were corrupt and deserving of judgement. Not the children, for they inherit eternal life.

I want to make something very clear before I go on: William Lane Craig is not some drooling wingnut. He's not some extremist Fred Phelps type, ranting about how God's hateful vengeance is upon us for tolerating homosexuality. He's not some itinerant street preacher, railing on college campuses about premarital holding hands. He's an extensively- educated, widely-published, widely-read theological scholar and debater. When believers accuse atheists of ignoring sophisticated modern theology, Craig is one of the people they're talking about.

And he said that as long as God gives the thumbs-up, it's okay to kill pretty much anybody. It's okay to kill bad people, because they're bad and they deserve it... and it's okay to kill good people, because they wind up in Heaven. As long as God gives the thumbs-up, it's okay to systematically wipe out entire races. As long as God gives the thumbs-up, it's okay to slaughter babies and children. Craig said -- not essentially, not as a paraphrase, but literally, in quotable words -- "the death of these children was actually their salvation."

So why did this story not make headlines? Why was there not an appalled outcry from the Christian world? Why didn't Christian leaders from all sects take to the pulpits to disavow Craig, and to express their utter repugnance with his views, and to explain in no uncertain terms that their religion does not, and will not, defend the extermination of races or the slaughter of children?

Because the things he said are not that unusual.

Because lots of people share his views.

Because these kinds of contortions are far too common in religious morality. Because all too often, religion twists even the most fundamental human morality into positions that, in any other circumstance, most people would see as repulsive, monstrous, and entirely indefensible.

Step One: Admit Your Mistakes

See, here's the thing. When faced with horrors in our past -- our personal history, or our human history -- non-believers don't have any need to defend them. When non-believers look at a human history full of genocide, infanticide, slavery, forced marriage, etc. etc. etc., we're entirely free to say, "Damn. That was terrible. That was some seriously screwed-up shit we did. We were wrong to do that. Let's not ever do that again."

But for people who believe in a holy book, it's not that simple. When faced with horrors in their religion's history -- horrors that their holy book defends, and even praises -- believers have to do one of two things. They have to either (a) cherry-pick the bits they like and ignore the bits they don't, or (b) come up with contorted rationalizations for why the most blatant, grotesque, black- and- white evil really isn't all that bad.

Now, progressive and moderate believers usually go the cherry-picking route. But that requires its own contortions. Once you acknowledge that your holy books really aren't that holy, once you admit that they have moral as well as factual errors, then you have to start asking why any of it is special, why any of it should be treated any differently from any other flawed books of history or philosophy. You have to start asking why -- since your religion's holy books are just as screwed-up as every other religion's -- your religion is still somehow the right one, and all other religions are mistaken. You have to start asking how you know which parts of your holy book are right and which parts are wrong -- and how you know that people who disagree with you, who've picked the exact opposite cherries from the ones you've picked, who feel their faith in their hearts exactly as much as you do, have somehow gotten it terribly wrong. You have to start asking how you know the things you know. And to do that, and still maintain religious faith, requires its own contorted thinking, its own denial of reality, its own sticking of one's fingers in one's ears and chanting, "I can't hear you! I can't hear you!"

And when you don't go the cherry-picking route? When you insist -- as Craig apparently does -- that your holy book is special and perfect, that the events and motivations in the text all took place exactly as described, and that the actions of God described in it are right and good by their very definition?

You put yourself in the position of defending the indefensible.

When your holy book says that God ordered his chosen people to slaughter an entire race, down to the babies and children -- and you insist that this book is special and perfect -- you put yourself in the position of defending genocide. You put yourself in the position of defending infanticide. You put yourself in the position of defending slavery, rape, forced marriage, ethnic hatred, the systematic subjugation of women, human sacrifice, and any number of moral grotesqueries that your holy book not only defends, but praises to the skies and offers as models of exemplary behavior.

And you can't cut the Gordian knot. You can't simply say, "This is wrong. This is vile and indefensible. This kind of behavior comes from a tribal morality that humanity has evolved beyond, and we should repudiate it without reservation."

Not without relinquishing your faith.

And if you refuse to relinquish your faith? If you cling to the assumption that your faith, by definition, is the highest good there is, and that by definition it trumps all other moral considerations?

Then you cut yourself off from your own moral compass.

I've made this point before, and I'm sure I'll make it again: Religion, by its very nature as an untestable belief in undetectable beings and an unknowable afterlife, disables our reality checks. It ends the conversation. It cuts off inquiry: not only factual inquiry, but moral inquiry. Because God's law trumps human law, people who think they're obeying God can easily get cut off from their own moral instincts. And these moral contortions don't always lie in the realm of theological game-playing. They can have real-world consequences: from genocide to infanticide, from honor killings to abandoned gay children, from burned witches to battered wives to blown-up buildings.

As just one example among so very many: Look at the Lafferty brothers, Mormon fundamentalists who murdered an innocent woman and her fifteen- month-old daughter because they thought God had commanded them to do it. At many points in their journey across the continent on their way to the killings, they questioned whether brutally slaughtering their brother's wife and her infant child was really the right thing to do. But they always came to the same answer: Yes. It was right. They thought God had commanded it -- and that settled the question. It ended the conversation. It stopped their moral query dead in its tracks.

But don't just look at sociopathic murderers from a bonkers religious cult. That's too easy. Look at Mr. Theological Scholar himself, William Lane Craig. In this piece, Craig says that the Canaanites were evil, and deserving of genocide, because (among other things) they practiced infanticide. The very crime that God ordered the Israelites to commit. I shit you not. Quote: "By the time of their destruction, Canaanite culture was, in fact, debauched and cruel, embracing such practices as ritual prostitution and even child sacrifice." (Emphasis -- and dumbstruck bafflement -- mine.) And he says the infanticide of the Canaanite children was defensible and necessary because the Israelites needed to keep their tribal identity pure, and keep their God-given morality untainted by the Canaanite wickedness. Again, I shit you not. Again, quote: "By setting such strong, harsh dichotomies God taught Israel that any assimilation to pagan idolatry is intolerable." As if an all-powerful, all-knowing, all-good god couldn't come up with a better way to teach a lesson about assimilation to pagan idolatry than murdering children.

I could sit here all day and pick apart everything that's intellectually wrong with Craig's arguments. But it seems that a far more appropriate response would be, "Are you fucking kidding me? Do you hear what you're saying? Can you really not hear how grotesque, repulsive, flatly evil, totally batshit insane that sounds? Yeah, sure, if you start with your assumptions, then genocide and infanticide are morally defensible. Doesn't that tell you that there is something monstrously, ludicrously wrong with your assumptions?"

If I were trying to make up a more blatant example of ethical contortionism, of morality so twisted by its need to defend the indefensible that it has blinded itself to its own contradictions and grotesqueries, I couldn't have done a better job. Craig, like so many believers before him, has made my best arguments for me.

What's Sauce for the Creation is Sauce for the Creator

Now. Some people might argue that the rules of morality aren't the same for God as they are for people. They might argue that, while it would certainly be wrong for people to kill babies and eradicate entire races on their own initiative, it's not wrong for God to do it. Craig himself makes that argument in this piece. Quote:

According to the version of divine command ethics which I’ve defended, our moral duties are constituted by the commands of a holy and loving God. Since God doesn't issue commands to Himself, He has no moral duties to fulfill. (emphasis mine) He is certainly not subject to the same moral obligations and prohibitions that we are. For example, I have no right to take an innocent life. For me to do so would be murder. But God has no such prohibition. He can give and take life as He chooses. We all recognize this when we accuse some authority who presumes to take life as "playing God." Human authorities arrogate to themselves rights which belong only to God. God is under no obligation whatsoever to extend my life for another second. If He wanted to strike me dead right now, that's His prerogative.

Yeah. See, here's the problem with that. If the moral rules for God are different from the moral rules for people? If the very definitions of good and evil are different for God than they are for us?

Then what does it even mean to say that God is good?

If you say that what "good" means for God is totally different from what "good" means for people -- if you say that murdering infants and systematically eradicating entire races is evil for people but good for God -- then you're pretty much saying that what it means for God to be "good," and what it means for us to be "good," are such radically different concepts that the one has virtually nothing to do with the other. You have rendered the entire concept of "good and evil" meaningless.

And I, for one, don't want the entire concept of good and evil to be rendered meaningless.

Of course, if you're a progressive/ moderate/ non-literalist believer, you're not stuck with defending every tenet of your holy book. You can say, "No, no, God didn't command these horrors. He couldn't have. The Bible is an inspired but flawed document, and it must be mistaken here when it says this command came from God. The Israelites wanted to slaughter the Canaanites, so they went ahead with it and told themselves the order came from God. But my God is good, and my God would never tell anyone to do any such a thing."

But then we're back to the cherry-picking problem: How do you know? How do you know which parts of your holy book are the ones that God meant? The Bible, and indeed most other religious texts, is loaded with instances of God commanding his followers to commit murder or worse. How do you know that God really wasn't giving those orders... but he really was giving the orders to love our neighbors and give to the poor? No two Christian sects agree on which bits of the Bible are God's true word and which bits are the "Just kidding" bits. And every sect has just as much "feeling in their heart" about their interpretation as you do.

So in order to pick those cherries, you have to twist yourself into just as many contortions as the fundies do.

Irony Meter Goes Off the Scale

It's funny. One of the most common pieces of bigotry aimed at atheism is that it doesn't provide any basis for morality. It's widely assumed that without religion -- without moral teachings from religious traditions, and without fear of eternal punishment and desire for eternal reward -- people would behave entirely selfishly, with no concern for others. And atheists are commonly accused of moral relativism: of thinking that there are no fundamental moral principles, and that all morality can be adapted to suit the needs of the moment.

But it isn't atheists who are saying, "Well, sure, genocide seems wrong... but under some circumstances, it actually makes a certain amount of sense." It isn't atheists who are saying, "Well, sure, infanticide seems wrong... but looked at in a certain light, it really isn't all that bad." It isn't atheists who are prioritizing an attachment to an ancient ideology over the clearest moral principles one can imagine: the principle that entire races ought not to be systematically exterminated, and the principle that children ought not to be slaughtered.

Human beings have intrinsic compassion. We have a sense of justice. We have feelings of revulsion and rage when we see others harmed. We have a desire to help create a livable world. We have a willingness to make personal sacrifices -- sometimes great sacrifices -- to help others in need. And contrary to what Craig and many other Christians think, these moral emotions don't derive from the Bible, and don't require belief in God. They're taught by virtually every religion and every society, and atheists feel them every bit as much as believers. Humans are a social species, and these emotions and principles evolved because they help members of a social species survive and reproduce. (Other social species seem to have some or all of these moral emotions as well.)

But our compassion and justice, our altruism and moral revulsion, can be twisted. They can be stunted. They can be denied, ignored, shoved to the back burner, rationalized away. They can be contorted to the point where we're saying that black is white, war is peace, and the most blatant evil is actually goodness if you squint your eyes just right. They can be contorted to the point where we're saying that genocide is okay because everyone gets what they deserve in the afterlife, and that infanticide is morally necessary to teach a lesson about the evils of murdering children.

And religion is Exhibit A in how this can happen.

"Let me know if there are flaws in my reasoning": From the Mailbag

"Functionally there is no difference whether we live on this earth for hours, like some babies that die at birth, or live to see our twilight years."

I get a fair amount of mail from religious believers, wanting to debate with me about things I've written. Back in the days when I didn't have ten hours worth of work for every hour of spare time I had, I used to engage with these people in private email. I sometimes miss being able to do that. But I simply don't have time anymore. And in any case, it seems like a waste of time. Why waste my efforts on just one person, when I could be sharing them with thousands? And why waste the eloquence and intellectual powers of my regular readers and commenters? (Which are, quite frequently, prodigious. I love having an army of bulldogs who can make my arguments for me, and often make better ones than I would have, at the times when I just don't have the time and energy to get into the fray myself.)

So from now on, when I get these emails, I've decided to start throwing them to the wolves opening them up to vigorous public debate. I now ask my querants if it's okay to publish their letters on my blog, and debate them publicly instead of privately. If they say yes, it's game on. (Names will only ever be published with permission of the authors.)

Our first contestant is Aaron deOliveira, responding to my April 27 piece on AlterNet, One More Reason Religion Is So Messed Up: Respected Theologian Defends Genocide and Infanticide. Here is his letter, published in its entirety, with no edits, and no illustrations until my reply.

*

sorry it's taken me this long to say anything about your post. i've been a lurker on your blog for a little while. the post gave me a lot to reflect on before i felt i had a suitable answer to your post. also, i'm emailing you rather than posting in the comments because the conversation there has already snaked in several directions.

i myself am LDS. i particularly enjoy talking with atheists and reading their blogs. on the whole, atheists ask very profound questions. i think it's because they are able to be 100% critical and skeptical of religious actions whether by god or man.

so back to your post. first, lets call a stone a stone. what the Israelites did to the various people's of Canaan was genocide. it's functionally no different than the genocides that happened in Sudan, Bosnia/Croatia, etc. one group of people finds a reason to exterminate another group of people. anyone that argues that it was something else is being disingenuous.

so this leads us to the morality of the action. i picture god as a gardener and this earth as a garden. all the peoples of the earth are plants in this garden. by comparison, in the gardens that we till here on earth, the gardener exercises judgement over life and death frequently. he decides which plants to prune, which weeds to pull, which bugs to attracted for pollination and which to kill as pests. the garden is just as valuable to the weed's continued existence as the flowers and the aphid is just as hungry as the bee. so why does the gardener get to decide what lives and what dies in his garden? shouldn't he preserve all life unmolested in his garden?

the morality of the gardeners actions are usually judged by measuring against his purpose. the gardeners purpose is to raise up the best plants he can. so he naturally removes things detrimental to their development. because the gardener has designated this particular plot of land as a garden, when he exercises authority over the life and death of what is there, his actions are seen as moral because they fulfill his purpose.

if the gardener were to exercise the same authority over life and death in the wild, his actions would no longer be seen as moral. if he went into the wilderness and killed trees or destroyed animals because they didn't please him, most people would censure the gardener for his actions even though they are functionally the same as what he does in his garden.

so coming full circle with my god as a gardener analogy. there are times where god as the creator and owner of both the earth and its inhabitants (ie. the garden) exercises authority over the life and death of those that dwell there. god's purpose of making every inhabitant, both the committer of the genocide and the and the victim of it, into their best selves is fulfilled the same way as the gardener in the analogy.

leaving the analogy, i want to touch on something that you probably don't accept, but is necessary in discussing god and man's actions as they pertain to life and death. we are eternal beings. we existed before we came to this earth. we will exist long after we pass through death. functionally there is no difference whether we live on this earth for hours, like some babies that die at birth, or live to see our twilight years. life on earth is just one part of the entire spectrum of our existence.

another quick analogy to explain how god killing someone or directing that someone be killed isn't immoral. picture every person passing through life as being on a highway. when god exercises his authority and pulls someone over, ie killing them, he does not prevent them from their destination. because of the resurrection, every person will live again and have full exercise of their life and all of its potentials. it is a generally acknowledged maxim that 'life isn't fair'. and yet, although it is intrinsically unfair, people don't impute evil to life not being fair which gives rise to another maxim, 'you play the hand your dealt'. so from these maxims we see that the length of each life and the manner in which it ends is not intrinsically immoral. because god provided the resurrection, all men, women and children will see the full potential of their lives, just in different orders. some die young and in the resurrection will live out their days. some die old and in the resurrection will receive renewed bodies to continue to become their best selves.

so does my 'god as a gardener' analogy hold water? let me know if there are flaws in my reasoning.

great blog.

regards,

Aaron deOliveira

*

Okay. I don't really have time and energy to take this apart line by line. But I can get the ball rolling.

Yes, Aaron, I think there are flaws in your reasoning.

First, and maybe most importantly: Are you really arguing that human life has no more value than plant life? That killing an infant, or wiping out an entire race, has no more moral impact than pulling a weed?

2: Do you think that God the gardener is all-powerful? If so, why did he create weeds in the first place? Why did he create people in such a way that, in order to reach their "potential," many of them had to suffer terribly and/or die prematurely, either by natural causes or at the hands of their fellow human beings? (Which leads back to #1: Are you really arguing that human life has no more value than plant life?)

3: If we hear voices in our heads telling us to kill people, how are we to know whether they come from God, and are therefore okay -- or whether they came from from hatred/ fear/ selfishness/ desire for conquest/ psychosis, and therefore ought to be resisted? How are we to know that the Israelites really were listening to God, and therefore the command to commit genocide against the Canaanites was okay... but that Osama Bin Laden was not listening to God, and therefore the command to fly airplanes into the World Trade Center was grotesquely evil?

4: You are absolutely correct: I don't accept the premise that life is eternal. Why do you think that premise is correct? You are coming to a moral conclusion based on this premise -- namely, that mortal human life is pretty much irrelevant, and that what happens to us in the afterlife is all that really matters. If your premise is mistaken, then your conclusion is questionable at best, profoundly disturbing and morally grotesque at worst. Given that, I assume you want to be very certain indeed that your premise is correct. Do you have any good evidence to suggest that it is? Or do you simply feel it in your heart? And if the latter, again I ask: How do you know that the feelings in your heart are correct, but the feelings in the hearts of people with radically different religious beliefs from yours are mistaken? I can tell you why I don't believe in God or an afterlife, and can even tell you what evidence would persuade me that I was mistaken. Can you do the same?

Summary: You are basically making the "mysterious ways" argument. God has a plan, and it's not up to us to judge his plan. You say that "his [God's] actions are seen as moral because they fulfill his purpose"... while completely punting the question of whether his purpose is moral. It's a terrible argument for many reasons. When used as a response to truth claims and the lack of good evidence for them, it's an evasion of the question, pure and simple. When used as a response to questions of morality, it is negating the entire concept of "good" and "evil." (Your argument that "his [God's] actions are seen as moral because they fulfill his purpose" is a tautology: God's actions are moral because they fulfill God's purpose, and God's purpose must, by definition, be moral, because he's God.) As I said in the piece we're discussing: If you say that what "good" means for God is totally different from what "good" means for people -- if you say that murdering infants and systematically eradicating entire races is evil for people but good for God -- then you're pretty much saying that what it means for God to be "good," and what it means for us to be "good," are such radically different concepts that the one has virtually nothing to do with the other. You have rendered the entire concept of "good and evil" meaningless. And I, for one, don't want the entire concept of good and evil to be rendered meaningless.

But if you're going to make the "mysterious ways" argument, then at least I hope you're consistent. I hope that you never, ever, ever try to claim that anything at all happened in life because God willed it. I hope you never claim that good things happened because God made them happen. You don't get to have it both ways: you don't get to sometimes say that you clearly see God's plan in your life and the lives of others, and at other times say that God moves in mysterious ways that elude us puny mortals, and we're not competent to judge him or even understand him.

And if you are being consistent, and see God as entirely mysterious and incomprehensible, with both practical plans and moral guidelines that mean nothing to us... then what meaning does he have in your life? Are you motivated to obey him purely from fear of punishment and desire for reward? Do you see him as an unpredictable abusive parent, who hits or hugs for no reason you can discern, and whose patterns of behavior you're desperately trying to understand so you can avoid the worst of it?

Is that really how you want to live?

So that's my quick- and- dirty response. Readers, what have I missed here? Aaron, what do you think? Everybody, please remember the ground rules: Stay civil. Critique ideas as harshly as you like, but don't engage in personal insults. And please don't critique grammar, spelling, tone patrolling, or other irrelevancies: please stay focused on content. Go for it!

Greta Speaking at American Atheists' Rapture Party in Oakland, May 21-22

In case you haven't heard, the end of the world is nigh. The Rapture is supposedly coming on May 21 of this year, and if you haven't made things right with the Lord by then, it'll be too late. (Look, he's been very patient with us, but he has things to do, and a deadline is a deadline...)

To mark this momentous occasion, American Atheists is holding a party/ RAM (Regional Atheists Meeting) in Oakland on Rapture Weekend, May 21 - 22. And I'm going to be speaking!



If you're in the Bay Area, you may have seen this billboard on the approach to the Bay Bridge. "The Rapture: You KNOW it's nonsense. 2000 Years of 'Any Day Now.' Learn the truth at our Rapture Party, May 21-22. atheists.org/oakland ." You may have even seen/ heard/ read the news coverage about the billboard. This is the thing the billboard is advertising! I'll be speaking there, on the entertaining and enlivening topic, "Why Are Atheists So Angry?" Summary:

The atheist movement is often accused of being driven by anger. What are so many atheists so angry about? Is this anger legitimate? And can anger be an effective force behind a movement for social change?

Other awesome speakers will include Mr. Deity, Jen McCreight (Blag Hag), Matt Dillahunty (The Atheist Experience), Rebecca Watson (Skepchick), and many more. There'll be stand-up comedy from Troy Conrad and Keith Lowell Jensen, as well as the fun, inspiring talks and an after- conference party. It should be a hootenanny! And it's pretty cheap -- just $49 for the entire weekend, $39 for American Atheists members (you can join when you register), and $20 for students (for advance purchases).

The party/ conference will be held at the Oakland Masonic Center at 3903 Broadway: it's near MacArthur BART, and is wheelchair accessible. It goes from 9am to 9pm on Saturday, May 21, including lunch, dinner, and the party, and -- assuming we're all still alive by then -- from 9m to 1pm on Sunday, May 22. (Lunch and dinner cost extra, but not much -- just $25 for both. It's strongly recommended that you get the meal package, since dining options in the area are limited.) It'll be a great opportunity for community building, activism, networking and just plain fun. There'll be planning being done for the Reason Rally, the godless march on Washington, D.C. in 2012... and more immediately, for the godless contingent at the San Francisco LGBT Pride Parade this year. There'll also be a special breakfast on Sunday morning (again, assuming Armageddon hasn't begun), fundraising for Camp Quest West, and you'll get to eat and schmooze with the speakers -- including me! Not that I promise to be very coherent at 7:30 in the morning on a Sunday, but you'll have the privilege of watching me fall asleep into my French toast. (Tickets for the breakfast are limited, so if you want to attend, register now.)

Sounds like a good time? It will be! So register for the conference. party now! Hope to see you there!

Supporting Camp Quest and Crushing PZ Myers -- Round Two

Well, well, well. So PZ Myers thinks he has us licked, eh?

As I mentioned here a few days ago, we've started a blogging contest to see who can raise more money for Camp Quest, the kids' camp for children of atheists, freethinkers, humanists, and other non-supernaturalists. On Team Awesome, we have me, Hemant Mehta of Friendly Atheist, Jen McCreight of Blag Hag, and JT Eberhard of WWJTD?.

On Team Evil Cephalopod Overlord: PZ Myers at Pharyngula, all by his lonesome self.

And so okay, fine, PZ kicked our ass. For Round One, anyway. In the rules of the initial contest, whichever team raised more money by June 1, or raised $5,000 first, would be the winner. But PZ cheated. He cheated by getting up early in the morning, and gaining the unfair advantage of many hours of valuable fundraising time before the more civilized late risers among us could get started. He cheated by being in the Central time zone and getting the jump on us West Coast folks. And he cheated by using the patently unfair advantage of having more readers than the rest of us combined. His "team" reached $5,000 just as Team Awesome was closing the gap.

But Team Awesome will not admit defeat. We don't know when we've been beaten. We don't know when we're winning, either. We don't have any sort of sensory apparatus known to man.

So we are doing what any amoral atheists with no reason to care about right and wrong would do: We are moving the goalposts. We are changing the rules in the middle of the game. We are -- grudgingly -- conceding that PZ has won Round One... and have unilaterally decided that the real winner will be whichever team has raised more money for Camp Quest by June 1, 2011. (The race is not always to the swift, my tentacled friend...) And we're proving ourselves to be clever and devious beyond PZ's wildest imaginings -- and are adding new members to our fundraising team! Already, Adam Lee of Daylight Atheism has thrown his hat into the ring. And still more reinforcements and secret weapons are being worked on, even as we speak. (Any other bloggers who want to join Team Awesome, drop me an email, at greta at gretachristina dot com.)

So help support Camp Quest... and support Team Awesome when you do! Click on the Chipin widget below, and spend the rest of your day basking in the knowledge that you have not only helped support an eminently worthy and fun cause, but that you have struck a blow for the underdogs. Cute, fluffy, tail-wagging underdogs who want to be your friend.

Oh, right. The actual cause we're raising money for. You probably want to know a little more about that, don't you?

If you're not familiar with them, Camp Quest is the first residential summer camp in the history of the United States aimed at the children of Atheists, Freethinkers, Humanists, Brights, or whatever other terms might be applied to those who hold to a naturalistic, not supernatural world view. The purpose of Camp Quest is to provide children of freethinking parents a residential summer camp dedicated to improving the human condition through rational inquiry, critical and creative thinking, scientific method, self-respect, ethics, competency, democracy, free speech, and the separation of religion and government.

The nontheist community offers many programs for adults, but very few for children. To provide a future for our values we need to provide freethinking families with a place for their kids to find community, develop critical thinking skills, and learn ethics and values. Fortunately, that is what Camp Quest is all about. Well, that, and all of the summer camp fun that you can pack into a week.

Camp Quest builds a community for children and teenagers from atheist, agnostic, humanist and other freethinking families. They provide campers a place to explore their developing worldviews, ask questions, and make friends in an environment supportive of critical thinking and skepticism. Camp Quest is open to campers from all backgrounds. They encourage campers to think for themselves, be comfortable with who they are, and engage respectfully with people who have different views.

And yes, Camp Quest is a 501(c)(3) non-profit corporation, and donations are tax deductible.

You can help support this awesome cause, strengthen the future of the atheist community... and help stave off the crushing arms of PZ's cephalopod army! Just click on the handy Chipin widget. That number again:

Diversity in the Atheist Movement: Video of AHA Panel with Me, Jen McCreight, and Debbie Goddard

About a month ago, I was part of a panel discussion on "Diversity in the Atheist Movement," along with Jen McCreight and Debbie Goddard, at the American Humanist Association conference. (It was part of the Secular Student Alliance's leadership track at the conference.) For those of you who've been asking about it, there's now video of the event!

The three of us each give short talks -- Jen on women in the atheist movement, Debbie on people of color, and me on LGBT folks -- and then there's Q&A afterward. I got a lot out of the conversation -- Jen and Debbie both had stuff to say that I hadn't thought about before, and all three of us are fun and interesting to listen to -- and I hope you will, too. (Video below the jump, since putting it above the jump mucks up my archives.) Enjoy!

A Crisis of Faithlessness

So I had this miniature crisis of faith a few weeks ago -- "crisis of faithlessness" would maybe be more accurate -- and I'm wondering if any other atheist activists have experienced anything like this, and if so, how you've dealt with it.

It wasn't about the atheism per se. It wasn't about thinking atheism wasn't correct and maybe God was real. Not even a little. I haven't had a serious moment of doubt about my atheism in quite a while. In my last four years as an atheist activist, I've engaged more with religious believers, and have thought more about religious belief, than I have in the forty-five years before... and it's done nothing to make me change my mind about my atheism. Quite the opposite. Years of seeing the same terrible arguments for God again and again and again; years of seeing religious believers slip and dodge and evade when asked what exactly they believe and why; years of seeing believers try to shut atheists up and stop our arguments before we've even begun them; years of seeing believers get hostile and combative at the mere fact of atheists saying out loud, "We're atheists"; years of seeing believers say, out loud, in actual words, that it doesn't matter whether the things they believe are true as long as it makes them feel good... these years have made me more certain about my atheism than ever. They have given me a vivid image of religion as a massive fortress protecting a house of cards: the ideas themselves weak and flimsy to the point of being pathetic, all the power of it lying in protecting the ideas from any sort of careful attention.

The crisis wasn't about my atheism. It was about my atheist activism.

My crisis of faithlessness happened during that awful, awful week. You know. The one with the earthquake in Japan, and the union-busting in Wisconsin, and the war in Libya, and absolutely everything stupid and horrible in Congress.

I was reeling under that week like everyone else... and part of me was thinking, "With all this horrible shit going on in the world, why do I care whether people believe in God? So much so that I'm devoting the bulk of my professional life to trying to talk them out of it?" I spent that terrible week reading about war, and tsunamis, and possible nuclear meltdowns, and Planned Parenthood maybe getting defunded, and the erosion of one of the last remaining weapons working people have against the increasingly powerful and corrupt plutocracy, and on and on and on and on and on... and it made it kind of hard to get seriously worked up about Pascal's Wager.

I don't want to alarm you. It's not like I was seriously contemplating an immediate change of career, or even an eventual one. I was just having a momentary moment of being overwhelmed by the suckage of the world, and feeling helpless about it, and wondering if I was putting my limited energy where it could do the most good.

Now.

I realize, of course, that no matter what cause I devoted my life to, there would still be eighty thousand other causes demanding my attention, and making my one little cause feel trivial. If I devoted my life to, say, unionizing and labor rights instead of atheism, I still might have been spending that terrible week wondering, "Shouldn't I be fighting to save birth control? Fighting against aggressive imperialist wars in volatile regions? Fighting against unsafe nuclear power plants being built on, for fuck's sake, earthquake fault lines?" No matter what path we take, it means not taking eighty thousand other paths... and sometimes one of those eighty thousand paths can suddenly seem extremely important, or even just really interesting. That doesn't mean we should suddenly switch gears. Of course we should be willing to re-think our choices in life -- but if we keep hopping from path to path depending on the flare-up of the moment, we'll never get anywhere.

When it comes to picking our battles, I think that, to some extent, we have to do what we're inspired to do, and what we're good at, and what we think is fun. I mean, it's not like I think that people in the labor movement are dilettantes for not working on reproductive rights, or that people in the reproductive rights movement are dilettantes for not working on poverty in Africa, or that people in the anti-poverty movement are dilettantes for not working on global climate change. And I don't think I'm a dilettante for working on atheism. Atheism has caught my imagination. I'm not sure I entirely understand why (although I have some ideas), but it has. I'm inspired to work in this movement; I'm good at it; I think it's so far beyond fun that I sometimes just burst with excitement about it and have to get up from my computer to do a little happy-dance. I don't entirely understand why... but I don't feel that way about other political movements. Awesomely important though they are. And getting involved in a movement that isn't fun and exciting for you is a sure recipe for burnout.

What's more, atheism is a fight where I can make a difference. In a way that I can't do nearly as much in other fights. If for no other reason: I'm already in this movement, and I already have a respected voice in it. And the fact that I care so much about this movement, the fact that I find it so inspiring and fun, is of course a huge part of why I'm good at it... and the fact that I'm good at it is a huge part of why I can make an impact in it.

And maybe most importantly? This is a fight that, in the long run, I think has potential -- maybe a seriously large potential -- to help with these other fights.

I mean -- if we win? If in a hundred years, even half the world population has stopped believing in religion? If in two hundred years, almost nobody does? If in three or four or five hundred years, historians are writing about religion as a fascinating relic of human history, the way we now write about geocentrism or the theory of the four bodily humours?

How much of a game-changer would that be?

How different would the world be... not just about religion, but about sexism and science education and same-sex marriage and reproductive rights and eighty thousand other areas of life that religion fucks up?

It's not like I think the spread of atheism will bring the dawn of a Utopia, a new age of reason in which critical thinking is king and humanist values are treasured by all. Human nature is what it is, and even if religion completely disappeared from the human mindset and became a historical relic, people will still be wired with cognitive errors we evolved a hundred thousand years ago to help us find food and escape from predators, and we'll still believe silly things for no good reason. Atheism isn't going to make that go away. (There are way too many atheists who believe silly things for me to convince myself of that.)

But I do think that a huge number of the world's greatest ills are made far worse, and in some cases are directly caused, by religion. I think religious belief, by its very nature, is a bad influence on humanity, one that does significantly more harm than good. I don't think the world would be perfect without religion... but I do think it would be better.

And to get back to my specific point: I think that, without religion in the world, or even with less religion in the world, a lot of these other fights I'm talking about would be a whole lot easier. In some cases, they might not need to be happening at all. Without religion, homophobia would be a lot less rampant. Without religion, sexism would be a lot less rampant. Without religion, the U.S. wouldn't be freaking out over government funding of birth control. Without religion, the Middle East wouldn't be such a freaking mess. Without religion, we might even be less vulnerable to manipulation of irrational fears and false hopes by disgustingly rich fuckers trying to get even richer. I think the atheist movement has the potential, in the long run and maybe even the medium run, to make a serious dent in all these other issues I care about, and to be a positive force for the human race.

So no. I'm not going anywhere. I just need to question these things now and then, is all. After all, when I do this work, I'm asking other people to question some of their most fundamental ideas and assumptions about their lives and the world. I'd be a pretty big hypocrite if I wasn't willing to periodically question my own.

And Pascal's Wager still sucks.

Greta Speaking in San Francisco, Sat. April 30

Hi, all! Just a reminder: I'll be speaking in San Francisco tomorrow, Saturday April 30, at the monthly meeting of the San Francisco Atheists. The event is downtown (Schroeder's Restaurant, 240 Front St.), near both BART and MUNI. The topic du jour: "Why Are You Atheists So Angry?" Here's the summary:

Why are you atheists so angry? The atheist movement is often accused of being driven by anger. What are so many atheists so angry about? Is this anger legitimate? And can anger be an effective force behind a movement for social change?

And here are the details:

LOCATION: San Francisco, CA, Schroeder's Restaurant, 240 Front St.
DATE: Saturday, April 30
TIME: 4:30pm - 7:00 pm
TOPIC: Why Are You Atheists So Angry?
SPONSOR: San Francisco Atheists
DURATION: 60 minutes, plus Q&A
COST: Free

I'll be doing Q&A, so come prepared with questions... or just come by to say howdy! Hope to see you there!

Crush PZ Myers -- And Support Camp Quest!

We're having a blogging contest to see who can raise more money for Camp Quest, the kids' camp for children of atheists, freethinkers, humanists, and other non-supernaturalists.

Five awesome atheist bloggers are competing to see who can raise the most money to support Camp Quest!

Since one of those bloggers is the indomitable PZ Myers of Pharyngula, we have made two teams in order to make this competition more fair.

Team 1 (yaaaaay!): Greta Christina of Greta Christina's Blog (that's me!), Hemant Mehta of Friendly Atheist, Jen McCreight of Blag Hag, and JT Eberhard of Zerowing21.

Team 2 (BOOOOOOO! Unclean! Unclean!): PZ Myers of Pharyngula.

The first team to raise $5,000 for Camp Quest, or the team that has raised the most by June 1, 2011 will win!

You obviously want to support Team Greta/ Hemant/ Jen/ JT... right? You don't want the evil tentacles of PZ's cephalopod army to dominate the atheosphere? Fight for the underdog! Fight for the cause of freedom and justice! Fight for puppies, and apple pie, and Christmas!

What will the winning team receive? Bragging rights. Pure and simple. All contestants and contributors receive: the knowledge that they have supported a fantastic program for freethinking families and their children. And the knowledge that we have CRUSHED PZ! Click on the Chipin widget below, and spend the rest of your day basking in the knowledge that you have struck a blow for goodness and light.

Oh, right. The actual cause we're raising money for. You probably want to know a little more about that, don't you?

If you're not familiar with them, Camp Quest is the first residential summer camp in the history of the United States aimed at the children of Atheists, Freethinkers, Humanists, Brights, or whatever other terms might be applied to those who hold to a naturalistic, not supernatural world view. The purpose of Camp Quest is to provide children of freethinking parents a residential summer camp dedicated to improving the human condition through rational inquiry, critical and creative thinking, scientific method, self-respect, ethics, competency, democracy, free speech, and the separation of religion and government.

The nontheist community offers many programs for adults, but very few for children. To provide a future for our values we need to provide freethinking families with a place for their kids to find community, develop critical thinking skills, and learn ethics and values. Fortunately, that is what Camp Quest is all about. Well, that, and all of the summer camp fun that you can pack into a week.

Camp Quest builds a community for children and teenagers from atheist, agnostic, humanist and other freethinking families. They provide campers a place to explore their developing worldviews, ask questions, and make friends in an environment supportive of critical thinking and skepticism. Camp Quest is open to campers from all backgrounds. They encourage campers to think for themselves, be comfortable with who they are, and engage respectfully with people who have different views.

And yes, Camp Quest is a 501(c)(3) non-profit corporation, and donations are tax deductible.

You can help support this awesome cause, strengthen the future of the atheist community... and help stave off the crushing arms of PZ's cephalopod army! Just click on the handy Chipin widget. That number again: