New atheism’s old problem(s)

Christmas ratings suggest that the demise of network TV may have been overstated. Here in the UK the BBC’s new Dracula drama (a co-production with Netflix) has been praised by the critics and watched by millions. My interest was piqued by quotes attributed to its co-creators, Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, self-described “ageing atheists”. The thrust was that in their version of the story they had set out to respect the “Christian themes” of the original Bram Stoker book. With perhaps a gentle dig as some of their theological fellow-travelers they suggest that there’s something in these themes to be taken seriously. The cross should be respected because “that icon of morality built a civilisation”. Their broader point seems to be that Western culture has been shaped by Christianity and that the cross is a symbol that still resonates. The stubborn refusal of such symbols and what they symbolise to fade from the scene, particularly given the occasional claim that science explains everything, can be usefully contrasted with "New Atheism".

“New Atheism” was dismissed in one recent article as “..a rather slight intellectual movement [that] fizzled out quickly..”; I’ve discussed its decline previously. Its celebrity proponents have faded from view, and its project seems to have moved on. God is apparently not a big problem anymore. Maybe the New Atheists feel that they’ve so conclusively refuted His existence that it would be in bad taste to continue banging on about Him. Except of course they refuted nothing, and argued things to the same standstill as the old atheists, except with less philosophical sophistication.

In terms of winning the population at large over to their views, the evidence is not that encouraging. Recent data from the US, courtesy of the Pew Centre, does show that in the US the proportion of those who self-identify as atheists doubled between 2009 and 2019, at least that’s how an atheist (old or new) might spin it. But it went up from 2% to 4%. Mind you, after more Trump, it may have gone up further. In the UK, the figure for those identifying as atheist was 8% in a 2017 survey. However, the other thing that both of these surveys show is that the real problem isn’t atheism, but apatheism – the notion that arguments about God just don’t merit a hearing. He might exist, He might not. Either way, there is no point in bothering.

Just like "new" atheism, apatheism isn’t new. It’s as old as the Bible (and probably older). It’s a state of mind and affairs that was familiar to the Old Testament prophets. God might be there, and might even matter a bit. But His existence doesn’t make any practical difference to life, so we can basically ignore Him for the most part. In modern terms, if I like old hymns, like a bit of ritual and want to hedge my bets, I can turn up occasionally to a church service. If the best school for my kids is a church school, then it will do no harm to sign on the dotted line, appear slightly more frequently, and actually learn the words of a hymn or two. This might have the added benefit of currying some favour with the Almighty. I’ll have some ticks in the good column, to balance out the ticks in the bad column. Just as long as no one takes any of it too seriously.

This is the “practical atheism” that the prophets in the Old Testament, and the Apostles in the New, railed against. It’s a kind of hypocrisy that I suspect the New Atheists would object to. At least as far as Christian, Biblical, theism goes, it makes no sense. If Jesus Christ is not who He claims to be, then he was (because He’s clearly dead, buried and decayed) either a bad or a crazy man. He was extravagantly clear in the claims He made as to who He was, what He was going to do, and how people should respond to Him. If He was wrong you should have nothing to do with Him. But, if He is who He says He is, then C.T. Studd put it well: “If Jesus Christ be God and died for me, then no sacrifice can be too great for me to make for Him”. 

Polite respect for symbols and a wistful regret at the passing of outmoded institutions just won’t cut it. Old and new atheism’s problem (or at least one of them) has always been the cross, or more particularly the death of Jesus on the cross - a unique, Universe shaping event with eternal implications and a means of transformation for individual men and women through history. Certainly much more than an “icon of morality”.

Scientism

If “new atheism” (NA) is, if not dead, perhaps terminally ill, then one of the contributory factors to its demise is the scrutiny that its supporting doctrines have come under. Whether cause or consequence, NA has always been closely linked with “scientism”. Scientism is not science, does not work in the same way as science, and does not (or should not) have the same authority as science. A bit like NA itself, it’s not new; it has probably been around in one form or another as long as science itself. But it really began to emerge in the late 19^th century with the desire of some in science to paint the only possible relationship between science and other disciplines, or between science and religious faith, as a war in which there had to be a winner and a loser. It kicked around in the background for a while, probably pooped up in many undergraduate science courses, and came to public prominence more recently as a supporting pillar of NA.

What is it? Definitions abound, but at its heart it’s an understandable (and now familiar) view. The only truth that counts is scientific truth, and therefore the scientific method is the only means of discovering truth. A series of classic statements can be found in Peter Atkins short essay “Science as truth” published in in 1995. Speaking of science, Atkins claims that “There appear to be no bounds to its competence… This claim of universal competence may seem arrogant, but it appears to be justified.” All religion (grouped with studies of the paranormal) is dismissed as an “obscurantist pursuit”. Science is the “greatest of humanity’s intellectual achievements”; in contrast he thinks it a defensible proposition that “no philosopher has helped to elucidate nature”! I commenced my own scientific journey in 1979 when I began my science degree at the University of Glasgow. There were certainly some lecturers to us first-year biology students who weren’t backward at dropping such sentiments into their lectures. I now suspect that this was because their own historical and philosophical education was sadly lacking. As student, I found such views baffling; as a scientist, more than thirty years Iater I find them embarrassing.

There have been and are lots of responses to scientism. Some have come from those of a theological disposition. I rather like John Polkinghorne’s comment on scientism (in “Theology in the Context of Science, p46), that it is “the rash and implausible claim that science tells us all that is worth knowing, or even that could ever be known. Embracing that belief is to take an arid and dreary view of reality..” . Polkinghorne writes as a theologian and former (distinguished) physicist. For a wide ranging and eloquent critique from a scientist’s standpoint, read Austin Hughes’ “The Folly of Scientism”. Hughes writes for more than just the sake of an argument. He has a real concern that scientism’s overreach will eventually cause science big problems: “Continued insistence on the universal competence of science will serve only to undermine the credibility of science as a whole.” With contemporary attacks on expertise ringing in our ears, and with science now worrying within about the reproducibility crisis, I think he’s right to be concerned.  

Part of Hughes’ case is that philosophers are far from innocent when it comes to the scientism. Some schools of philosophy provided a major impetus to it (ie the logical positivists), while others colluded in its rise. It always bemused me that 19^th century theology gave up the tussle so easily. But philosophy being philosophy, scientism didn’t have it entirely its own way. At least now there does seem to be something of a fight back going on whether it’s Roger Scruton’s approach from art history, or Peter Hacker’s more analytical analytical critique.  

To my non-philosophical mind, many of those objecting to scientism seem to be united in a common reaction to the ignorance of those who promulgate scientism. This is a version of the disdain for other approaches that has been so much a part of NA. From their different perspectives, scientism’s critics have pointed out that it often derides and dismisses ideas that are never fully defined or fairly discussed. Some have objected to its selective memory when it comes to the history of science itself. Others have pointed out that it has a habit of blundering to other areas of academic endeavour, oblivious to important concepts and developments, constructing weak arguments and reaching fallacious conclusions. Particularly in popular accounts, this leads to a series of illusory battles against straw men, which of course, are convincingly won.  

It’s always struck me that this is something that often marks NA’s attacks on religious belief. Of course if you take the very weakest form of an argument it will be easy to defeat it. Having defeated the weakest form, it’s a short step to the claim that all arguments of that type are also therefore defeated. Showing that diverse beliefs in fairies, Santa Claus and large lizards controlling earth from the moon are irrational is not likely to be that relevant to debunking beliefs in well attested and evidenced ancient events that believers claim to have transformative power today. Such debunking may be possible, but it was always likely to take much more careful work than many in NA were apparently able or inclined to do. And the sheer logical inappropriateness of the natural science to do this work, was clearly lost on them.

As with the reported death of NA, it’s unclear to me what the fate of scientism will be. As Hughes argued, its fate will likely have important effects on science itself. As a scientist, I’m committed to the scientific endeavour, and think that within its area of competence science offers the best way to answer certain types of questions. But it can’t answer every type of question. For that we need the tools of philosophy, history, anthropology and the rest. And for that most important type of question (the why rather than the how)? If I were you I’d turn to Scripture rather than scientism (or even science).  

The strange life and (alleged) death of “new” atheism

“New” atheism, the type of ascribed to Dawkins, Harris, Hitchens et al, began its short life (according to its Wikipedia entry as of the 12^th August, 2017) around 2006, when it is claimed the term was first coined. The writer/s of the Wikipedia article clearly doesn’t have a very good internet connection. Even a pretty cursory search of the web throws up abundant material demonstrating that the label has been around much longer. As for what is being labelled, even many atheists are unclear on what was really new about “new” atheism.

Let’s start with the label. Back in 1984 Robert Morey published “The New Atheism and the Erosion of Freedom” (he was not a supporter). But the term has a much older history than even that. A French Jesuit in the 1690’s wrote a book called “The New Atheism” against the philosopher Spinoza. In the 19^th century William James is reported to have used the term. Spinoza, Hegel, Nietzsche (all philosophers) probably thought they were up to something new, and would not be too troubled with the label atheist. Mind you, being philosophers, they’d probably want to embark on a long definitional discussion (of the sort that wouldn’t sell these days) and conduct extensive research. The intellectual attention span seems to have shortened considerably. Towards the end of the 19^th century, scientists like T.H. Huxley and Ernst Haeckel clearly fitted the mould of the scientifically educated and inspired atheism of Dawkins and Sam Harris. I’ve heard the term “new atheist” applied to them (and the other late 19^th century Darwinists), although I haven’t been able to track down its use in contemporary sources. However, it seems that neither the label, nor the thing labelled, is particularly new.

Some have argued that it was not so much the content of the New Atheists that was new and exciting, but it was their style (a classic example of style over substance then). It was the militancy, swagger and verbal dexterity of the likes of Dawkins, Harris and Hitchens; their lack of respect for their theist interlocutors, and lack of deference for transparently fatuous arguments. Personally, I’ve always rather liked Richard Dawkins’ ability to turn a phrase. When it comes to his passion and skill in communicating science and its achievements, there’s much to admire. It’s when he wandered out of his area of expertise, and got on to the subject of religion, trying to smuggle his undoubted authority in the first realm into the second, he became less admirable (a view also echoed here). It’s not that he’s not entitled to anti-theist or more widely anti-religious views; nor is it that he’s not entitled to write and talk about them with a passion. It’s that when he does this, he has no special authority. Clearly the new atheists were observers of (some) religious practice and had strong views on the subject. But there was a lack of expertise on the issues they often tackled. Theologians, religious scholars and scholars of religion, and philosophers (including some who were by no means theists) pointed out this lack of expertise. But coming back to the issue of newness, in terms of the militancy and verbal skill of the “new” atheists, are the crop any more militant and skilful than Bertrand Russell (or a host of others from previous generations) in full flow?

It’s only fair to point out some atheists have contended that both the concept and the content of “New Atheism” is a straw man. Perhaps somewhat disconcerted by the naivety of some new atheist writing, some “old” atheists might be tempted to claim that “new” atheism is a bit of a theist hoax. But now another twist. As well as it’s disputed birth, and it’s somewhat ill-defined life, it now looks like its demise has been pronounced.

Throughout the internet, blogosphere and across the commentariat the question has been posed – is new atheism dead? In some cases death is pronounced with enthusiasm and comes as no surprise (eg Ed West in the Catholic Herald, “New Atheism is Dead”). In other cases (like here) its demise is perhaps tinged with more regret. For some the problem lies with the causes and views some of its prominent proponents have been linked with, although in the political sphere it has been called out for both right wing and left wing bias. The charge of misogyny has been levelled occasionally. A quick search will provide examples for anyone who’s interested, but this Phil Torres article provides an interesting starting point. Now again, a conspiracy theorist could claim that this is all some kind of theist plot. But the criticism is so wide ranging in terms of sources and content that this is scarcely sustainable. While I don’t want to appear overly gleeful, it is interesting that the new atheists do seem to be a bit friendless.

Perhaps it is because of their style after all. So very often the tone they adopted was one of disdain. But this seemed to spring from an almost wilful ignorance of their opponents various positions and arguments. Arguments for and against theism in particular and religion in general (particularly the organised sort) have flowed back and forth over a very long period. This longevity alone is suggestive that the issues at stake may be genuinely complex, and for all sorts of reasons. Of course if you pick the weakest caricature of the arguments you oppose, you’ll always be tempted to treat them with disdain. A starting assumption seemed to be that those of a religious persuasion were just so obviously stupid, that they deserved no kind of respect. Now it may be that there are things that are believed, which could count as religious, which are stupid. And there may well be religious people who are stupid, and who do and say stupid things. But it seemed as if the starting point for new atheists was that all religious views, and all religious people, were obviously stupid. This has no more traction as an argument than the contention that if I find a single stupid atheist, then atheism is clearly stupid. I have more respect for atheists than that, whether old or new. And its sheer unreasonableness probably did the new atheists no favours with a wide audience.

I admit that this may be perception as much as reality. If you were a theist on the end of, or an observer of, a typically robust new atheist critique, a sneer may have been detected where none was intended. If you were a fellow traveller with the alleged sneerer, you might just hear robust and triumphant argumentative thrusts. But given the friendlessness of new atheism, it would appear that more has been going on than the offending of sensitive theists.

Even if the death of “new” atheism has been somewhat exaggerated (to misquote Twain), a more respectful dialogue, one that is more comfortable with complexity and subtlety, and the need for hard thinking rather than just good put downs, would perhaps be a fitting legacy.