This is the last of a three-part series by Alex DiBranco.  Read part one here, part two here.

The Arrogant Atheist Part II: How Do You Know Whether Someone is an Atheist?

Although much of the myth of the “arrogant atheist” I’ve ascribed to a disconnect between what not believing in God means to a theists versus an atheist, I’ve heard stories from friends about truly arrogant atheists who I wouldn’t like either. Which got me thinking about how, exactly, you know whether a given person is an atheist, or otherwise non-religious.

In a conversation with Dartmouth sophomore Joseph, a former Protestant who now considers himself non-religious, I took my first opportunity to test out a theory: that the only time theists become aware that they are talking with an agnostic or atheist is if their companion brings it up. “Do most of your friends and acquaintances know you do not believe in God?” I asked toward the end of our conversation. “You know,” Joseph responded thoughtfully after a moment, “they probably think I’m Protestant.”

“I completely assume that whoever I’m talking to is Christian,” confirmed junior Sharon, a somewhat agnostic Catholic friend.

But what if the only time religious people realize they’re talking to an atheist is when they get an arrogant one looking to attack them for their belief in God? People don’t tend to identify their religious views off-hand, particularly since religion is not viewed as an acceptable topic for polite society, and even saying you’re an atheist can be taken by religious people as aggressive.

Fundamentally, this works both ways. The people who I know without a doubt to be Christian are the ones condemning me to Hell. If I based my perspective of all religious people on that, I’d have a decidedly negative perspective on religion. But the difference is that we often simply assume that decent people who don’t mention their beliefs are religious. Furthermore, religious symbols like the cross or Star of David identify people subtly, and while mentioning God makes a person’s religious affiliation clear, not mentioning God tells us nothing about someone’s core beliefs. And if the non-arrogant nonbelievers don’t find a reason to say “by the way, I’m an atheist,” religious people don’t realize they do know atheists without inflated egos.

Then there is the added difficulty that many people are uncomfortable “coming out” as atheists. At first, the idea of “coming out” as an atheist—terminology borrowed from the gay rights movement—seemed odd to me. But then I heard stories. Michael Amini, president of the University of Washington chapter of the Secular Student Alliance, said that when he came out to his family as an atheist, his Mormon parents didn’t even trust him enough to leave him alone with his siblings. And if you wanted to go into politics, being known as an atheist would kill most campaigns for high-level positions. Suddenly, the similarities in terminology make more sense.

In addition, while plenty of nonreligious people are involved in activism and community service, they work within secular groups, where the members are not advertising their belief systems

Organizations such as the student groups under the umbrella of the Secular Student Alliance are attempting to counteract the negative view of atheists. SSA’s Executive Director August Brunsman said they try to provide support to students coming out as atheists, to educate campuses about what it means to be atheist, and to engage in atheism. Secular groups are now trying to step into the role traditionally filled by religious centers—Amini said that the U-Washington Secular Student Union has increased their focus on participating in local/community service, often in conjunction with Christian student groups, so gain recognition as overtly nonreligious people. Amini’s group also hosts “Ask a Religious Person” nights, where they invite a person of a given faith to their meeting and have a respectful dialogue about their beliefs in an attempt to erode the suspicion and negative prejudices toward atheists by religious communities.

Most religious people only hear about atheism in negative terms from their religious mentors, so beside thinking they don’t know atheists in their personal lives, they also tend not to be able to think of good famous people who are atheists or nonbelievers. Nathan, an Episcopalian Dartmouth senior, saw atheism as having a negative impact on society due to Richard Dawkins and the other “new atheists,” who he considered no better than Pat Robertson or Jerry Falwell. (Incidentally, I found Dawkins’ The God Delusion much more interesting and informative, and much less arrogant and downright offensive than any work of Robertson or Falwell.) I asked whether the existence of Robertson and Falwall then made religion a negative impact on society. “There is a certain logic to that conclusion,” Nathan admitted, but “while religion does have equivalents for Stalin and Dawkins, who are the atheist equivalents for Gandhi, Bonhoeffer, or King?” (The religiosity of Gandhi is debatable.) I emailed him pointing out that, while I don’t like the game of tallying up points for every positive (or negative) person to come from theism versus atheism—not to mention there have been far more nominally religious persons so it’s hardly an equivalent comparison—I had to point out that many key members of the women’s movement were atheists or nonreligious (since Bible teaching weren’t in their favor), such as Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton. I thought they alone outweighed any negative impact Dawkins and Hitchens might have had in being offensive and arrogant.

Since there’s no atheist identifying equivalent for wearing a crucifix, the star of David, or a headscarf, my friends and I tried to come up with a new atheist symbol. The best we could come up with was the Jesusfish with legs attached (go evolution), but while my Catholic friend thought that was fantastic, we concluded that it would probably be considered offensive—plus, it could just denote Christians who also accept evolution. It turns out that Richard Dawkins has come up with merchandise with a scarlet “A” for Atheist—but people would probably just think the “A” was for “Alex” if I wore it.

But Why Be An Atheist?

“How can life have any meaning whatsoever without belief in the fact that God will help you through the rough times and that he will always be by your side,” asked an anonymous Protestant Catholic. “An atheist might as well be an animal: live, breath, eat and die.”

Another Christian student responded, “I have nothing against atheists and I think they can be great moral people. As somebody who believes in the love and grace God has to offer us all, I feel like atheists are missing out on something incredibly profound, and that saddens me. I also think that some of the attitudes atheists perpetuate can be destructive and counterproductive toward human progress (as harmful as the intolerant attitudes held by some believers).”

When I decide to admit to myself that I was an atheist, not an agnostic, it seemed frightening, this idea that there’s no god, no afterlife, nothing but this world, myself and other people. Today, my beliefs make me very happy. For one thing, I can’t just snap my fingers and change my beliefs, and it would be worse for me to delude myself. But as it happens, I don’t want to change my beliefs.

Believing that this is the only chance I get inspires me to pour myself into making this world as full of meaning as I can, for myself and for others. Isaac Asimov put it better than I can:

I am an atheist, out and out. It took me a long time to say it… Somehow it was better to say one was a humanist or agnostic. I don’t have the evidence to prove the God doesn’t exist, but I so strongly suspect that he doesn’t that I don’t want to waste my time.

If religious people’s attempts to convert atheists are defended as motivated by their true belief that otherwise they’ll go to Hell, I could see an atheist attempting to convert somebody out of their true belief that there’s nowhere else for that person to go after death, so they’re wasting their life on belief. (Honestly, if when I die it turns out God exists, and the only big black mark against me heading to heaven is that the mind He gave me didn’t believe in him, and that condemned me to Hell, I’d live my life the exact same way, because the benevolent God I’d be willing to worship would never have envisioned Hell.) No, I’m not promoting atheist missionaries—the Christian ones are annoying enough—but I definitely am happy that I found my way to atheism, and would be happy to help anyone else who was interested come to terms with that belief.

But anyway, from my perspective, you can lose a lot by believing in God if there is none (the inverse of Pascal’s Wager). David Mills puts it harshly in Atheist Universe: “The fact is that, whether we like it or not, our earthy life is the only life we’re ever going to experience. If we sacrifice this one life in doormat subservience to a nonexistent god, then we have lost everything!” Dawkin’s The God Delusion argues “it could be said that you will lead a better, fuller life if you bet on his not existing, than if you bet on his existing and therefore squander your precious time on worshipping him, sacrificing to him, fighting and dying for him, etc.” Mills’ and Dawkins’ statements could be objected to by religious persons on the grounds that they aren’t considering the good parts of religion—for instance, my friend Catherine says she “sees God in everything,” which makes the world particularly beautiful to her.

I don’t know what that’s like, but I often find the world breathtakingly beautiful without believing in a god, and I have a lot of faith in humanity. Although sometimes, I’m deeply upset by the terrible things that are done by people or that happen to them arbitrarily, at least I’m not tempted to consider the people killed by the Katrina hurricane casualties of the wrath of God—many may focus on the love of God, yet there are plenty of Hell houses and intolerant diatribes religion gives rise to as well. I don’t want to get too in-depth in weighing the plusses and minuses of religion versus atheism, just indicate that embracing atheism can be a very good thing.

Atheism is a motivation for my campus activism and job search in the non-profit/humanitarian sphere, since I believe that every person who suffers or dies a miserable death in this world has lost their one chance for fulfillment and happiness, each a tragic waste. Nathan raised an objection to viewing activists in the women’s rights movement as like Martin Luther King: “I’m not speaking to accomplishments, I’m speaking to driving factors,” he stated, claiming that King was driven by his faith, while Elizabeth Cady Stanton was not motivated by her atheism. I argued that Stanton was driven by her atheism. Not only because it gave her freedom to act—as she said, “The Bible and the Church have been the greatest stumbling blocks in the way of women’s emancipation”—but also because if she believed that there wouldn’t being any afterlife offering women benefits for having been nice and humble on Earth, it would certainly be more important to her to get women freedom and rights in this world.

Nathan’s response: “Hmm, that's a motivation I’d never considered, but it makes sense. I’m glad we’re having this conversation”

Nobody Understands

While people attack books like Richard Dawin’s The God Delusions as offensive and arrogant, it’s still a best-seller (and it can’t all be selling to self-described atheists, since there’s only about 2% of us), so maybe the attention it’s bringing to atheism can be utilized toward more understanding.

Atheist organizations such as the American Atheists and the Freedom From Religion Foundation work toward atheist/freethinking-friendly legislation and educating people on atheism. In Washington, the Seattle Atheists run weekly meetings, blood drives, picnics, gift-wrapping to raise money for charity, and a Darwin Day celebration—attempting to provide the positive community aspects of religious membership without the doctrine. At the University of Washington, a Secular Student Union provides a forum for the discussion of religious and non-religious beliefs. What impact might a Secular Student Union have here? Or an atheist on Dartmouth’s Multi-Faith Council?

Only 45% percent of Americans would vote for an atheist, making atheism the most discriminated against characteristic a political candidate can have. It is less desirable than homosexuality, being female, being black, and a number of other oft-discriminated against characteristics. But other faith consider themselves discriminated against as well. Shannon, an Evangelical Christian, pointed to Jon Stewart’s mocking the “Christian Right.” Ellie, a Catholic junior getting married at the end of the summer, feels that she has to put up with a lot of “crap” over her religion—like a friend who dressed up as a priest to represent pedophilia at a “14 Deadly Sins” party on campus, and told her to “lighten up” when she was offended.

On the one hand, I’m tempted to point out that, like Jon Stewart’s mocking of George W. Bush, it’s acceptable to make jokes at the expense of the person, or group (GOP) in power. But, reading the 1700 word blitz Smith dashed off and sent me, in which she even promoted “respectful disagreement,” I was willing to admit that she had a valid point.

It’s still significant that the surveys—mine and the national one—both show that 95% of respondents would be willing to vote for a Catholic, so they aren’t that poorly off in comparison to atheists. Many of the theist students I spoke to also saw atheism as the far more discriminated against belief system. But nonetheless, that doesn’t mean understanding atheism shouldn’t go along with understanding other religions better. Dartmouth students are remarkably willing to take time out from their finals cocoons to answer questions in-depth about their beliefs and their perspective on other people’s beliefs.

While there are many people who are less than willing to even respectfully discuss the merits of and try to understand different beliefs, dialogue seems to be the only thing that’s going to bridge the gap, so that this generation of college students still has the chance to shape a more accepting future.

Alex DiBranco is a senior at Dartmouth College studying Creative Writing and Government. She is the editor-in-chief of the progressive campus paper the Dartmouth Free Press, vice president of the Dartmouth Coalition for Progress, and just finished an internship with the progressive think tank Political Research Associates. Atheism and feminism are a couple of her favorite topics of conversation, and she hopes to work for a progressive non-profit or publication after graduation.