Out in the air

Out in the air
Out in the air

Tuesday, 18 June 2013

Why I am not an Atheist





 I am not a theist. I am not an atheist, either. Although there are many things inbetween, declaring not to be one or the other can only lead to one assumption: I am an agnostic. To some degree, I am - to an infinitesimal degree. For scores of years, atheists and agnostics had a congenial relationship. After ‘Darwin's Bulldog,’ Thomas H. Huxley coined the word agnostic, those who came to describe themselves – or were (still are) described – that way and atheists became fellow travellers on the high road of religionless reasonableness. But in recent times, particularly since the advent of the intensely antitheistic New Atheists, agnosticism seems to have begun to suffer some pejoration, so much so that a lot of people now hesitate at describing themselves as 'agnostic.'
This state of play is unfortunate - it somewhat props up the argument that a certain strain of atheism, otherwise called New Atheism, is almost as intolerant of dissent as any religion. Now let me give potted definitions of atheism and agnosticism. Atheism is the total moral and evidential negation of God, gods and, by extension, religion. Agnosticism, for its own part, thrives on scepticism and doubt, a serious doubt which, taking its cue from Huxley, errs on the side of nonbelief in any god. However, unlike atheism, there are several strands to agnosticism. Although I have only known and identified with 'strong agnostics' - that is, those whose doubt and scepticism are absolute - it is believed that there are also 'weak agnostics' - those who imagine evidence might be found for the existence of God one day. While ‘strong agnostics’ may otherwise be called ‘agnostic atheists,’ ‘weak agnostics’ may be synonymised as ‘agnostic theists.’ Wheels within wheels? Well, there is also the ‘apathetic agnostic’ who believes that dwelling on the existence or nonexistence of God (or gods) is pointless and unnecessary because the likelihood that any god oversees the affairs of the world is in itself nonexistent.
One of the greatest irreligious and finest secular reasoners of all time is Robert Green Ingersoll, otherwise called ‘The Great Agnostic.’ Ingersoll was a brilliant oracle of rationalism, far more impressive and trenchant than any atheist of his generation or even many of those who came before and after him. Huxley himself was resolute in his sceptical agnosticism and was even more ‘godless’ than Darwin. And though Voltaire might see himself as a deist – a believer in the absconded, absentee God, a god conjured up in the first place by reason and not revelation – he was almost as imbued with pragmatic observational insight as the fiercely atheistic Baron d’Holbach.
Not long ago when Neil deGrasse Tyson declared that he is not exactly an atheist, that although he does not like tags, he would prefer the epithet ‘agnostic,’ atheists waxed petulant. They would not even cut Tyson any slack, considering how clear it is that the physicist is a strong/atheistic agnostic. The editor of Sceptic magazine, Michael Sherner, also made a point of describing himself as... well, a sceptic. In an essay, Sherner describes scepticism as the most reasonable position for him; ‘I do not know that there is no God, but I do not believe in God,’ he writes. This would have made him an agnostic if he had not declared earlier: ‘No one is agnostic behaviourally... we act as if there is a God or as if there is no God.’ For all this, 21st-century atheists believe that every agnostic is a confused, weak-willed softie who is waiting to be proven right that god exists. Postmodern, postmillennial new-assertiveness might be the reason why New Atheists no longer suffer agnostics gladly. Taking sheaves of leaves out of the books of atheist bruisers and brights like Richard Dawkins and the late Christopher Hitchens, many atheists want an all-out battle against the forces of religion and superstition, so to express any sort of epistemic doubt about the possibility of a god is seen a cop-out. So why is there a schism between atheism and agnosticism today? For the new atheists, the middle ground is too safe; the mean is not golden; agnosticism, to them, is a halfway house whose back door leads to the realm of religion and God-worship – or at least it has a rear lookout towards belief. All it takes for the agnostic to gain the realm is a ‘leap of faith.’
Naturally, as a secular humanist, I am as nontheistic as any atheist out there. Do I think it is delusional to believe in any sort of deity? Certainly. Do I accept that God is not great? Certainly – I daresay, if he/she/it exists, he/she/it is a sinister protosadist and necrophile.  After all, death and decay are the ultimation of the lives of his poor, choiceless creatures. Does religion poison everything? Pretty much – although since it acts as opiate and pabulum for some people, it has its Machiavellian, if not mephistophelian, uses. So why not declare myself an atheist? Well, though I do not believe that God (or gods) exists, there is no way I can prove anything one way or the other. Using the ethnocentric books of Abrahamites as a guide, Allah or Yahweh might as well exist in the shape of a torturous, callous demiurge. This bloodthirsty, capricious booby-trapper uses his/her/its creatures as pawns on a chessboard on which he plays with his alter ego, Mister Lucifer. So am I really interested in putting myself at the mercy of this fickle filicidal Palestinian god? No. Nor at the mercy of any sort of god.
If you decide to call me an agnostic, I am what you may call an ‘apathetic agnostic.’ The operative word here is 'apathetic,' an adjective of apathy – indifference. But then again, I am more of an ‘apathetic atheist’ than apathetic agnostic because, beyond the tautological character of the latter phrase, if I am pulled up short by someone and told, ‘Hey, God lives in the next street,’ I’ll only say to the person – assuming I allow that he is sane – to go back to God and tell him/her that I think he/she/it is a nasty piece of work and that I am not interested in knowing him/her/it. It makes no odds to me whether or not God exists; I am not questing after any god or gods; I am not interested in gods, whichever vestments they are adorned with. My attitude is that of unconcern. I am an irreligious indifferentist. But unlike many atheists, I am not interested in trying to prove or impress on anyone that God does not exist, as its existence or nonexistence means absolutely nothing to me.   
How do I arrive at this position? Well, although I sometimes describe myself as a sceptic, I am, not to put too fine a point on it, an apatheist – someone apathetic towards theos. Apatheism is a dynamic term that may be used for categorical indifference to God and religion and for mere lukewarmness towards religious practice while describing oneself as religious. Attitudinally speaking, apatheism is mainly used for the overlap of disbelief in God and an uninterest in religion and unconcern about both. For me, apatheism is the satori position of secular sensibility. It is the apotheosis of unbelief and godlessness. Apatheism is a far stronger position to take than atheism because while it correspondingly anchors its premise in lack of belief in God, it clinches its argument with this cavalier, neither-nor, shut-your-face coda: ‘Even if by any chance proof is provided that there is God, I don’t give a cuss about him/it/her.’ Unlike the theists, I see no point in wasting my time trying to defend the indefensible, striving to provide proof for something that is eternally unprovable. And while I am in complete agreement with the views of atheists and ‘strong agnostics,’ I do not think I should spend precious time cutting down an airy-fairy hypothesis or idea like ‘God.’ Even so, every once in a while, I do go out of my way to puncture the myth of God, particularly when God-botherers invade my space with their ludicrous certainties and fantasies. Just as it is conceptually impossible to be agnostic about God and religious belief, apatheism is indeed a ticklish stance to take in a world where a lot of people would like to muddy the faces of others with a cosmetic cocktail of God, religion, superstition and mumbo-jumbo. There is always the urge to stare down the chimaera that is God and religion – and these days, I prefer to do the staring down calmly, coolly, even dispassionately, and that is the whole point of apatheism, the idiosyncratic species of apatheism that I embrace.