I am also an atheist.

It was some years after I moved here from the comfortable anonymity of the big city before I felt comfortable admitting my beliefs (or lack thereof).  In fact, I actually attended the local Methodist church for a time, mostly on the prompting of my (now ex) wife, who felt that it was important to raise children in the social, ethical, and cultural setting that a church could offer.  Contrast that with now, two decades later, when virtually everyone who knows me knows that I am an atheist.

Despite what a geometry teacher would tell you, getting from point A to point B seldom progresses in a straight line.  I did not have a sudden “coming out,” where I went to the center of the village and made some kind of public proclamation of disbelief.  It started out because, as a teacher of biology, I yearly face the daunting task of addressing students’ preconceived notions about evolution, and inevitably someone asks, “What religion do you belong to, Mr. Bonnet?”  Even the phrasing of the question seems not to admit “None” as an answer; there is a tacit assumption of religiosity in this country, even in the relatively liberal part of it where I live, that makes a denial of faith seem almost like admitting to being some sort of pervert.

At first, I just dodged the question.  “Why is that relevant?” was my standard response, mostly because few 10^th graders had the wherewithal to come up with an answer to that question on the fly.  The fact is, of course, it is relevant, just as the religions of the presidential candidates are relevant, however much we’d like to pretend as a nation that it isn’t true.  And honestly, the deflection of the question was disingenuous, and left me with a sense of unease, a feeling that I had lost a teachable moment, not to mention left students with the impression that I was afraid to answer.

About twelve years ago, following a divorce, and perhaps feeling that I had less to lose in the public eye after the very visible collapse of my marriage, I started answering the question by saying, “I’m an atheist.  However, religion is outside the scope of this course – I’d be happy to discuss it with you another time, if you’d like.”  This seemed to satisfy the majority of students, who (to be honest) probably had figured it out anyway.  But it opened the door for the minority who were bound to see that as throwing down the gauntlet.

I’ve had letters written to me urging me to “confront my disbelief” and accept Jesus as my personal savior.  I’ve been mailed piles of religious promotional materials.  I’ve had a former student, once a skeptical rationalist but now a born-again, take it as his personal mission to save my soul.  I’ve had parents who have asked the administration to place their children in the other biology teacher’s class, because she is “less hostile toward people with opposing views.”  I even had, on one spectacularly frightening occasion, a man show up at my door and tell me that I was headed to hell because I “mislead young minds,” and he would be the one who would send me there, if need be.  (I told the man to get the hell off my property, and called the police – and, fortunately, never saw or heard from him again.)

All of this has, on the one hand, made me more militant – my general reaction being, “I’ll be damned if I’ll be bullied.”  On the other, it’s made me wonder why atheism is viewed with such hostility.  It’s not like the majority of us are saying you can’t believe in god if you want to – by and large, atheists are a pretty live-and-let-live bunch.  It more seems to be that people are bothered by someone calmly and rationally looking at all of the religious choices out there, and simply smiling and saying, “No thanks.  I don’t want any of them.”  It offends a lot of religious people, I think, because it implies that even given the smorgasbord of dishes, we atheists would prefer to forgo dinner completely.

In a well-publicized survey, it was found that when asked if Americans would vote for a person who was an atheist, a smaller percentage responded “yes” than did for almost any other stigmatized group.  Muslims, homosexuals, even convicted felons garnered more “yes” votes than atheists did.  When these results appeared in the press, I made a fairly aghast comment about it on Facebook, and a woman who was one of my high school classmates responded, “I agree!  I wouldn’t vote for an atheist!  How can you have any ethics or morals if you don’t believe in God?”

Well that, to quote Tolkien, needed a week’s answer or else none.  Sensing a losing battle, I elected the latter, all of which goes to illustrate that I’m not as self-confident as I could be.  It has been, and continues to be, a process of growth – toward, I hope, a position of respecting others while simultaneously never allowing myself to be browbeaten into silence again.

Toward that end, a little over two years ago I started a blog called Skeptophilia, intended to explore the rationalist’s view of life, with a bit of humor frequently thrown in.  What at first began as a way for me to express myself in a public forum has grown to have a significant regular following – I am currently zooming toward 50,000 lifetime hits.  More important to me personally is that I have a number of current and former students who are regular readers, and have contributed topics on many occasions.  This gives me hope – that given exposure to rational, skeptical views, people will respond positively.

Toward the same end, I am here on the HCP at the invitation of another former student of mine, and I plan to continue contributing to the humanist cause in whatever ways I can.  I may never be a Hitchens or a Dawkins, making headlines and fighting the big battles, but if I can in some small way add my voice to those championing the rationalist viewpoint, I will have succeeded.

The text of the treaty itself covers a lot of freedoms such as freedom of thought, conscience, religion, opinion, and expression, as well as more concrete things like the rights to health care and an education.  Unfortunately, objections like those at ParentalRights.org have prevented this treaty from ratification in United States (the only other nation to similarly refuse is Somalia).  What could a “pro-family” parental rights group possibly have against this?  Fancy that, they made a list of their objections [in their wording]:

• Children would have the ability to choose their own religion while parents would only have the authority to give their children advice about religion.
• According to existing interpretation, it would be illegal for a nation to spend more on national defense than it does on children’s welfare.
• Children would acquire a legally enforceable right to leisure.
• Christian schools that refuse to teach “alternative worldviews” and teach that Christianity is the only true religion “fly in the face of article 29″ of the treaty.
• Allowing parents to opt their children out of sex education has been held to be out of compliance with the CRC.
• Children would have the right to reproductive health information and services, including abortions,  without parental knowledge or consent.
• Parents would no longer be able to administer reasonable spankings to their children.

Can you feel yourself fill with outrage against the UN’s attempt to impose its values upon the rest of us?  I say that with sarcasm – in fact, I’m cheering them on.  I want to see a world in which my child and all his friends have their basic freedoms and rights protected by international treaty.

This “pro-family” group is out there trying to block it from being ratified.  They’re trying to pass a constitutional amendment to make sure that none of the items on this list ever happen.  They want a world in which freedom of religion is limited to adults only.  They feel threatened by the limits placed on child labor and global warfare.  Make no mistake, the Parental Rights Amendment is anti-child and anti-family.

There are a few things we can do to help.  Donate to organizations (below) that support the US ratification of the CRC.  Write congress and urge them to ratify it.  Try to find teachable moments with acquaintances on how being pro-family includes supporting the rights of children.  Most of all, don’t give up.

Organizations Supporting the US Ratification of the UN CRC:

Child Right’s Campaign http://childrightscampaign.org/

UNICEF http://volunteers.unicefusa.org/activities/advocate/20-years-crc.html

Amnesty USA http://www.amnestyusa.org/our-work/issues/children-s-rights/convention-on-the-rights-of-the-child-0

Human Rights Watch http://www.hrw.org/news/2009/11/18/us-ratify-children-s-treaty

Community Alliance for the Ethical Treatment of Youth http://www.cafety.org/youth-rights-and-violations/712-us-ratification-of-convention-on-the-rights-of-the-child-crc

Change.org Petition http://www.change.org/petitions/the-united-nations-convention-on-the-rights-of-the-child

What brings joy and meaning to the lives of non-believers? To us it seems a simple question with a variety of possible answers, but this is not the view of many in our country. In the minds of most, a life without God is necessarily passionless, purposeless, and empty of joy and meaning. Countless people believe that we secular humanists and atheists are, by definition, cynical and nihilistic people who believe in nothing.

Following upon the recent death of Christopher Hitchens, a writer at the The New York Times gave his opinion on the role of atheism in our modern world:

“Rigorous atheism casts a wasting shadow over every human hope and endeavor.” – Ross Douthat, Dec. 2011

In contrast to this notion, those of us who are gnostic or agnostic atheists, humanists, secularists, or any other sort of non-believer know that our lives can be rich and fufilling.  We get joy from beholding the grandeur of the universe, and we find the deepest meaning in the faces of those whom we love and who love us.  Enjoying the wonders of science, literature, the arts, and every other human accomplishment, we find our niche within the human community and lead lives of meaning and purpose. That is the reality that I intend to capture in my upcoming book. It is the reality of life that is good without God — existence that is meaningful not in spite of the fact that we are non-believers but because of it.

My name is Chris Johnson, and I am a photographer based out of New York City. Very soon, I will be working on an important project involving my fellow atheists.  The finished product, a hard-cover coffee-table book, will contain photographic portraits of 100 atheists from around the world.  The goal of the book is to illustrate the diversity within our community and to celebrate the many ways in which we find meaning and purpose in our lives.  Among the subjects of the book will be everyday people like you and me as well as some better-known figures including illusionist Derren Brown, philosopher Dr. Daniel Dennett, neurophilosopher Dr. Pat Churchland, biologist PZ Myers, comedian Julia Sweeney, and speaker Matt Dillahunty, to name a few.

While the posts that I intend to share here in the future will be about my ideas for humanistic community-building, I thought that for my first two posts I would begin with an introduction to myself.

My blog is called www.TheAtheistRabbi.com.  A few weeks ago I was attacked by another blogger with a very uncharitable view of atheists (and gays and liberal religious people and you name it).  This led to a great deal of support and a whole lot of publicity for my blog.  As a result, I wrote what follows for new readers.  I received very warm responses and this, too, led me to re-work it a little and to post it here.  To be respectful of the space on this blog, I am posting it in two parts.

Here is part one:

As a kid I was fascinated with magic and the paranormal.  My fascination was not because I believed in it, but because I could not understand why anyone else would.  In college I majored in experimental psychology, specifically in what is now called cognitive psychology.  What I learned there began to answer my questions about how and why we humans hold superstitious beliefs.

My other major was Hebrew literature, and that was the path I ultimately followed.  Raised as a nominally Reform but really secular Jew, most of my exposure to the Hebrew Bible and other Jewish writing came as an adult.  Having more aptitude for literature than for science, combined with the fact that I was raised with a deep attachment to the Jewish community which blossomed in my college years, I entered the Reform rabbinate.

At the Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion, one of the goals was to promulgate a reasoned and rational approach to Jewish religion.  Yet other than in official texts such as prayer books, there was little inclination to articulate a modern understanding of God.  In point of fact, we mostly learned about Judaism through historical or literary methodologies.  And when we did broach the subject of reconciling our texts with science, the approach was what Steven Jay Gould later called non-overlapping magisteria.  Science and religion were two completely separate endeavors.  The former was interested in “how” and the latter in “why.”

For me, this became a problem.  Working in a religious milieu, I found that in the real world, beyond the doors of rabbinical school, “how” was as important a question as “why.”  For most people I encountered, one question made no sense without the other.  My first eleven years, spent on university campuses, drew me close to many people who were working endlessly on the questions of “how” and, inevitably, crossing into “why” territory as a result.  Neither could I separate the two.  Each made claims that contradicted the other.

I tried to lose myself in observance.  I took comfort in one biblical passage in particular:  “All that God has spoken, we will do and we will hear (Exodus 24:3-7).”  This is a passage that is often interpreted for Jews in doubt to teach that observance will lead to belief.  And there is some sound folk psychology in the idea that if you repeat an act or set of acts enough, you will come to adopt the justifications for performing them.

So I davened (prayed) and observed Shabbat (the Sabbath) and kashrut (eathing kosher) and so forth.  As a closeted gay man, I could only hope that God would take note that I was married to a woman and doing all of this.  But deep inside I suspected, just as I had about magic, superstition and the paranormal, that there was no one there to take such note.

And, unfortunately for God, as it were, I kept digging into the origins of, well, just about everything.  I learned more about archeology’s findings, more about what literary critics of the bible were discovering, more about what biologists had revealed and more about the findings of cosmologists and physicists.

And finally the damn burst.  At the age of 38, I gave up on the notion of the supernatural once and for all.  I buried it in the same grave that I had long ago laid to rest magic, superstition and the paranormal.  I decided to embrace reality.  Thankfully, I then discovered Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan.

Please look for my upcoming post in which I talk more about Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan (a great humanist leader) and conclude my personal story.

“The intent is to unify, energize, and embolden secular people nationwide, while dispelling the negative opinions held by so much of American society… and having a damn good time doing it! It will be the largest secular event in world history. There will be music, comedy, great speakers, and lots of fun… and it’s free!”

If you’re a member of our community and want to attend, contact John Figdor at jfigdor@harvardhumanist.org

For more information visit http://www.reasonrally.org/

Unfortunately, the message many of us are sending out (even if unintentionally) is: if your mind or body is configured differently than mine, you’re not welcome here. Which is a shame, because I know many people with autism, hearing impairments, PTSD, reduced mobility, schizophrenia, etc, some of them as good friends and terrific contributors to the community.  Here are a few comments I’ve read recently in atheist spaces.  I’m not interested in mud-slinging, so I’m not linking to the sources, though Google probably renders my caution irrelevant:

• “You are so literal as to be autistic. Are you really that stupid?”
• “PETA is creating the next wave of young adults with scary personality disorders.”
• “Cannibalism is the same as eating a hot dog?  I’ve heard better analogies from people with Down Syndrome.”
• “Instead of writing a new generation of software to circumvent our filters, maybe they should recruit social misfits with obsessive-compulsive disorder, and write software that amplifies their efforts.”
• “I realize that this man-child is a ward of the state. Too “young in the mind” to hold a job or live on his own without assistance. This simple minded man is alone. He is most definitely frustrated. And I feel like in a way, we are one.”
• “[Insert countless remarks equating religion with mental disability/insanity.]“

We as humanists have the opportunity to show everyone that we can have superior ethics and morals without god or religion.  One way we can do this is to stick up for the dignity and rights of all people, regardless of race, gender, class, sexuality, ability, etc.  This includes people with disabilities, both physical and mental (which are really one and the same *glares at dualists*).  It is a basic humanist value that all people, including people with disabilities, deserve dignity and respect.  Not all people have the “standard model” brain, and a lot of those people are proud atheists and need the support of a freethinking community, so here are a few ways we can begin:

1. Recognize and discourage use of ableist slurs.  These include “retarded”, “lame”, “idiot”, “crip”, “insane”, etc.  Why?  Because these words still are being used as slurs against the disabled, and have not been “reclaimed” by the disabled, so they are not our words to use.  To use “idiot” [or any slur] as an insult is to say that this word can be used to degrade you, because being that identity is degrading. In the same way, a slew of all-too-familiar terms have been used to degrade people according to sexual orientation, gender and race.  And in case you’re wondering which words to use instead for biting criticisms, I like to go with “wrong”.  Or when I’m getting creative, “dangerously wrong” or “bogus” or “transparent” or any number of words which don’t equate an identity with an insult.

2. Understand that taking steps to include people with disabilities is good for everyone.  For example, if your local atheist group meets up in a room where the only entrance is up/down a flight of stairs, that is not accessible to everyone.  Anyone who has mobility impairments will have a very difficult time feeling included.  Meeting in a loud or crowded space can be difficult for those with hearing impairments or autism spectrum conditions.  Meeting at an expensive or out-of-the way location can also exclude people with disabilities on a limited income (as they are more likely to be unable to find and keep a high-paying job).  If we keep these things in mind, it improves meeting conditions for people without disabilities as well.  Realistically, we’re all going to experience a disability at some point in our lives, excepting the small chance of flat-out spontaneously dropping dead.

3. Be willing to stick your neck out for people with disabilities.  Trying to create change isn’t always easy or comfortable to everyone – if it were, people would already be doing it!  For example, I myself am not disabled and I don’t appear to be disabled.  This means I have the privilege to chose to ignore ableist actions in the world around me without being negatively affected by them.  But to me, humanism is about creating a better world for all of us, even if it involves more of a struggle to those of us with more resources.

Is this list complete?  By no means, but hopefully it is the beginning of a more open and honest look at the inner workings of our communities, both online and in meatspace.

Further reading:

http://disabledfeminists.com/2010/11/19/what-is-ableism-five-things-about-ableism-you-should-know/

http://www.stopableism.org/what.asp

http://www.disabilityisnatural.com/explore/pfl

But fast-forward to my life in 2012, and you might wonder, as a good secular humanist, where I went astray. A typical Sunday now brings me to at least three different church services, and you will be hard-pressed to find a day, Sunday or no, that does not begin and end with me knelt in prayer (or at least an attempt at it).

It was not the camaraderie of coffee hour, the satisfaction of service projects, the inspiration of sermons, or the guidance and existential comfort of scripture that revived my religious interest. Rather, my crisis of atheist faith was sparked by music.

When I joined the Harvard University Choir (“UChoir”) in my sophomore year of college, I had my first proper introduction to the world of sacred music. Any music could presumably be deemed “sacred,” but here I refer to the wealth of Christian choral and vocal-instrumental music that has sprouted over the centuries since the chant traditions of the middle ages.

I was an experienced musician when I joined UChoir, and I had already, for an upstate-NY villager, excelled considerably in clarinet, piano and vocal performance. But singing for the weekly Harvard Memorial Church services with UChoir was unlike anything I had done before. I will not explicate here the array of emotional, physical –and dare I say “spiritual”?– sensations that were produced in me by the motets of Palestrina and Gabrieli and choruses of Handel and Mozart. I think one afternoon of my sophomore fall is sufficiently illustrative, when, sweeping down the sidewalk from rehearsal in an exultant rush of fresh air and Hubert Parry’s “Blessed Pair of Sirens” echoing in my mind’s ear, I groped for words as I tried to explain myself to my mother on the phone: “I think this is what it must feel like to believe in God,” I ventured.

I was far from religious conversion, as the doctrines and narratives promulgated by my beloved church music still failed to convince my rational mind. But there was something about that music that I had failed to find in secular music. It humbled me, filled me with reverent respect for something I couldn’t identify. It filled me with a sometimes-serene and sometimes-exultant hope, not for eternal life, in which I could not believe, but for great life. Through the sublime polyphony of William Byrd and the tender, glorious melodies of Mendelssohn I felt connected to the world, to the depth of life beyond my own place and time in it.

For better or worse, the words seemed an inextricable part of the magic of the music. Mind experiments in which I substituted “God” with “love” or “forever” with “for life” — or, worse, replaced the text of a whole motet with secular material– added a cheapened, phony quality that I couldn’t shake.

So there I was left with the enormous canon of Western sacred music, much of which, if you’ll forgive my drama, seemed to make my life worth living; and, on the other hand science, rationalism, honest empiricism. As an evolutionary biologist as well as a musician, this tension was never far from my heart.

Could there be a resolution? I saw two primary possibilities:

1) Find a metaphorical or philosophically clever way to honestly believe in Christian theology
2) Find (or create) music that achieves the beauty and profundity of sacred music without talking about God or anything else scientifically dubious

Now, to be perfectly honest, I haven’t completely given up on the first option. But I certainly haven’t succeeded with it either. And since this is the Humanist Community Project, and, whatever else I might be, I am a humanist, I would like to focus on challenge #2.

I want meaning, I want morals, I want connection, I want beauty, I want truth. Those are five quintessentially humanist values, and I could go on. I see no reason why secular humanist texts can’t encompass such values. And where there is text, there can be music made with which to sing it!

So, where is all the great humanist music?

I do not wish to suggest that it is non-existent. But if you would argue that it is abundant, I would love to meet you.

My impression is that there is a dearth of quality humanist music. Granted, one might argue that all instrumental music is humanist, since violins can’t promote creation myths or preach about fire and brimstone. But truly great vocal repertoire (which, in a conversation for another day, I would argue has a unique and indispensable role in our lives), that explicitly articulates, without religion, ideas that are important to us as humans — ideas beyond romance, whining and satire — seems to be in grossly short supply.

Dispensing for now with the hypothesis that humanist music simply can’t have the same power as religious music, I would propose that so much of the best music in history has been religious because so much of the power and money to sponsor musical composition has belonged to churches. Secular music, which until recently was the domain of folk and popular artists, seldom deals with the big questions and values of a meaningful life.

I could continue speculating, but I would rather start a conversation. Singing can be an incredibly powerful activity for expression, inspiration, comfort and community-building. What humanistic music is already out there, and who is composing more of it?

I applaud the work of artists like Quiet Company and the British Humanist Association Choir, and I encourage other humanist musicians to compose, talk to each other (and to me!) and exchange music and ideas. As humanists seek to build a new culture that is good, meaningful and beautiful without God, we need music — and literature, and art, and drama — to reflect and support that culture. So let’s get talking (and writing, and singing). What music have you found, or what music will you make, that speaks to your depths, that sings of what’s most important to you? As a humanist, or whoever you are, what role does music play in your life?

See Also:  The Freethinkers’ Political Textbook – Know the Audience

Update: Ernest Perce V has responded to the criticism of his statement in this post to clarify that his words were directed to an individual Muslim judge who, he claims, justified the not-guilty sentence handed down to an individual who had attacked him by referencing his own beliefs, even pulling out a Koran during the trial. You can find the audio of the Judge’s remarks here, which was released only yesterday (after this post was written). Clearly this is highly irregular and unacceptable behavior for a Judge, and it should be challenged. I have called Judge Mark Martin’s office today to express my disbelief at this unacceptable conduct, and encourage you to do so too.

However, none of this changes the essential elements of this post. Although this new information makes Perce’s statement more understandable, it does not make it more effective. Because, even given the context, I submit Perce would have still been more persuasive had he stuck with steel and velvet rather than going for the extreme, derogatory, imprecise raging that he responded with. This is especially true given that Perce at that moment knew he was speaking to a Muslim. As a matter of strategy, Perce’s spectacularly backfired. So while I have enormous sympathy for his plight, and think the judge acted disgracefully, my point still stands.

Failed Dichotomies

Accommodation or Confrontation? Firebrand or Diplomat? New Atheist or ‘Faitheist’?

Disagreements over how to challenge religious claims, confront religious practices, and relate to religious people are common in the freethinking community, sometimes becoming acrimonious and personal. On occasion, representatives of different viewpoints attack each other’s motives and commitment instead of focusing on the central strategic questions: what works and what’s ethical? When the discussion remains civil and strategic, too often recommendations are made without a full understanding of the available evidence. Activists are categorized into different compartments, accusations of “intolerance” and “fundamentalism” fly, and the movement suffers.

We can do better – we simply need to look to the evidence.

Steel and Velvet – Lincoln Leads the Way

As some have noted (Ed Clint’s talk for the Secular Students Alliance is helpful), the dichotomy which has held-sway in our community for so long between “Accommodationists” and “Confrontationists” is false. So is the contrast between “firebrands” and “diplomats”. These dichotomies also obscure essential distinctions, as Jen McCreight has noted: sometimes the labels delineate differences of opinion as to what makes for an effective communication strategy, while sometimes the monikers are used to distinguish between those with fundamental differences of view.

In this post, I will be discussing communication strategy, from the perspective of someone who believes that faith and reason cannot ultimately be reconciled. I will argue that highly effective persuasion requires the use of tactics favored by both confrontationists and by diplomats. As Prof. Gary Orren of the Harvard Kennedy School teaches in his legendary class on persuasion, President Lincoln was once described by biographer Carl Sandburg as a man of “steel and velvet … hard as rock and soft as drifting fog.” In our terms Lincoln, one of the most effective persuaders in history, was a firebrand and a diplomat. He was able to accommodate and confront – often within the same speech. He was steel and he was velvet. He was, to coin a phrase, an honorable duelist.

This is a model freethinkers could emulate and, I believe, should seek to do so. There are ways of conveying our values that are both strong and civil, which avoid insults and (except in certain cases) ridicule without giving one inch of ground on the battlefield of our core values. All the evidence shows that this hybrid approach is more effective than simply seeking to be likable, or relying on confrontation alone.  Combining steel with velvet is the subject of this post.

Steel: Assertiveness, Authority, Principle

Effective persuaders are assertive. They have a clear point of view, and they articulate it in a forthright manner. Without being dogmatic, they make clear what they believe, and convey their ideas with confidence and conviction. They don’t waffle, obfuscate, or equivocate. Most important, they stick to their principles, and are willing to say honestly what they believe even when they face a hostile audience. People with steel never pander – they never say something they don’t believe, or hide their true opinions, in order to curry favor with a crowd.

These traits are important because of the principles of persuasion they activate. A clear, unequivocal stance is easier to understand and to remember than one that is shifty and hedge-betting. Someone who sticks to their principles gains authority in the eyes of an audience: case studies cited by Orren show that people find someone who clearly and with principle asserts an unpopular point of view is likely to be more respected than someone who presents a more popular view in a less principled manner. This was clear in the eulogies which followed Christopher Hitchens’ death: many religious figures responded with variations on “I didn’t agree with him, but I knew where he stood, and I respected him as a man of principle.” And we all know the fate of perceived flip-floppers: John Kerry was sunk by the charge, and Mitt Romney struggles against a similar narrative – we don’t know where they stand. They have too little steel.

Showing steel is not primarily about tone (an important message to those who respond to almost any criticism of how freethinkers express themselves as “tone trolling”). Sometimes steel is shown in a calm, firm reiteration of a principled stance: Sam Harris is a master at this. Sometimes steel is wielded in righteous anger, as when attacking a vile practice or damaging belief. You can even shine your steel with laughter, as Christopher Hitchens did when he delivered devastating points with such wit that even his opponents laughed.

Freethinkers show steel when they refuse to hide their religious skepticism in an environment hostile to their views. They demonstrate assertiveness when they criticize specific damaging religious beliefs and practices, even when they know the reaction from some quarters will be negative. They flash their steel when they take an uncompromising view when it comes to science, arguing truthfully that a full understanding of the available evidence doesn’t leave room for belief in God.

The most effective persuaders, however, recognize that steel must be wielded carefully. Though we may speak in anger, we never speak in rage – this way demagoguery lies. If a speaker is perceived as too angry, or if their anger becomes seen as a character trait rather than a reasonable response to a particular situation, their authority drains away (Drew Westen gives the example of Howard Dean’s infamous Iowa “Yawp”, which defined his candidacy and his character as rageful). Rash, general attacks on individuals and groups do not convey strength as much as lack of control and an inability to be discriminating. Slashing your blade around wildly may seem impressive, and may indeed dazzle some of your supporters, but it is a waste of energy, and leaves you open to counterattack from those with greater precision. An effective attack is direct, precise, and delivered with the exact amount of energy required: no more, no less.

Steel Well- and Ill-Wielded – Examples

Greta Christina’s Righteous Anger

Greta Christina’s speech “Atheists and Anger” is a fantastic example of steel wielded with precision, grace, and power:

Note how Christina makes her argument here. She certainly compromises none of her principles as she steadfastly enumerates many specific reasons why atheists are rightly angry about many of the damaging practices and beliefs of the religious. She shows real anger when she decries the hypocrisy and venality of the Catholic Church, and its protection of child rapists. She pulls no punches in her criticism, even though some are likely to take offense. She doesn’t hide or veil her views.

At the same time, she is not consistently raging. She doesn’t yell, or scream, or rant. She targets her criticism at specific beliefs and practices, and doesn’t wildly slash at all religion or at all religious people. Her tone is one of controlled, righteous indignation, not wide-eyed rage. She uses humor effectively throughout the talk. I believe she conveys conviction, self-control, and strength, without conveying rashness, volatility, or lack of perspective.  When she says “most of the time, I am not an angry person”, I believe her – which makes her displays of anger in the speech more effective. This is principled criticism at its finest. The enthusiastic response of the audience seems to demonstrate the effectiveness of her approach.

Ernest Perce’s Wild Rage

This is the dark-side of steel. Instead of anger, rage; instead of precision, wild flailing; instead of assertiveness, dogmatism. This statement by Ernest Perce V (and I call-out specific counter-examples because I believe in open and honest criticism), PA State Director for American Atheists, Inc., captured on their official Facebook page,  is a classic example of steel wielded poorly:

I will say to you Islam, “I do not respect your filthy, repugnant, and vile views. I will not allow you put fear in my mind or those whom I know! I will not be silent with my disdain and disgust for your culture or your terroristic ways. I am an American Atheist, and I am not afraid to deal with you openly and in the same manner that I treat christianity. I am not afraid to publicly blaspheme your pedophile prophet Mohammed of Islam. I will do this on a corner, in a crowd or a parade! While so many others draw mohammed, I am Mohammed in open public! Am I worried about being attacked or death threats? I’m more worried that if I stay silent that the energy and emotion within me will be worse to me than being attacked or even death threats! So do your worst and I will do mine.”

This statement caused a predictable firestorm of criticism from atheists and believers alike. The use of extremely charged words like “filthy” and “repugnant”, common to race-baiting, makes a sensitive reader immediately distrustful of the character of the writer. The lack of precision in the attack, with phrases directed at “Islam”, “your culture”, “you”, and “your” – to whom precisely is this all directed? – makes the reader wonder if the author knows what he’s talking about. The repeated exclamatory statements, in combination with the heightened rhetoric, give a wide-eyed, froth-mouthed sense to the statement, further draining the speaker’s authority. The stated lack of emotional self-control in the penultimate sentence makes you question the writer’s stability of mind. The bizarre nature of the phrase “I am Mohammed in open public!”, and the inconsistent capitalization of “Mohammed”, makes you wonder if the speaker can convey themselves clearly. All these elements drain authority from the author. Though the language might seem “strong”, it is in fact extremely weak: it comes across as a wild display of mis-targeted bravado rather than as principled, authoritative criticism.

To achieve his persuasive goals Perce needs to be more careful with how he wields his steel. His rhetoric is sometimes powerful, but without a well-chosen target it is wasted energy, and leaves him open to charges of stereotyping and bigotry. He comes across to me, someone inclined to agree with him on many substantive issues, as incensed (more than angry), uncontrolled, and difficult to take seriously. The steel flashes but fails to cut.

A crucial point: my criticism of this post is more than an expression of personal taste, and is certainly not a representation of personal animus (I have never met Mr. Perce or had any personal encounter with him). It is an analysis of the words used and their likely effectiveness in achieving a persuasive goal, based on the best evidence available, and on years of experience. If Perce wishes to persuade his readers (and not just communicate with those who already agree with him) he needs to consider more carefully how he presents his message. It’s of little use to say “That’s not what I meant!” While it is certainly possible for readers to misinterpret a work, if numerous fair-minded readers take you to mean something other than what you wanted to convey, the fault is with the writer, not with the reader.

Velvet: Likability, Humor, Emotional Intelligence

As important as being assertive is being likable. Likability is not a matter of “being nice”, of fawning over someone and debasing yourself to please them. People don’t like pushovers and they don’t like sycophants. Rather, likability is a complex mixture of factors which includes a person’s blend of positivity and negativity, their similarity to the audience, their use of humor, and their ability to demonstrate that they understand their audience’s point of view (more on the importance of knowing your audience here). Having strong principles which you stick to is also a component of likability (thus steel can support velvet).

Studies show that people are more likely to be persuaded of a point of view by people they like (Cialdini details numerous such studies). Conversely, if someone is disliked by an audience, they will be less persuasive. This seems so obvious as to not bear pointing out, but in the freethinking community it is not uncommon to encounter the point of view that ridicule, insult and belittling is a good method of achieving our goals. Certainly, it is not uncommon to encounter blog posts, magazine articles, books and podcasts which engage in such practices. Sometimes it seems like our community understands steel, but disdains velvet.

Setting aside any moral concerns we might have with such tactics, the evidence shows that they are unlikely to be successful if our aim is persuasion. By insulting, ridiculing or demeaning our audience we make it more difficult for them to hear our arguments, let alone accept them. It is much easier to dismiss the point of view of a person or group we dislike than one we respect or admire. Indeed, this factor is so important that Westen puts likability at the top of his list of desirable traits for a political party and candidate.

Furthermore, likability has no downside. There is hardly any cost to trying to seem more likable to your audience by using humor, by trying to understand their point of view, by demonstrating your similarity to them, and by being positive and upbeat – as long as you sacrifice no principles in doing so. When velvet is so powerful and so inexpensive, it’s surprising it isn’t used more often.

Again, clothing our appeals in velvet is not about pandering. It is not about hiding our principles for fear of giving offense, or about saying things we don’t believe to curry favor with our opponents. I am not advocating obsequiousness. When we sacrifice our values for a cheap laugh, or fail to raise a vital criticism for fear of alienating our audience (or our friends), we sell our soul to burnish our image, and diminish our cause in the process. Rather, velvet is about presenting our most profound values in the most appealing way.

Velvet and Velour – Examples

Carl Sagan, Master of Velvet

Of all freethinking advocates I know, Carl Sagan was the foremost master of velvet. While he never betrayed his principles, and was always willing to strongly criticize foolish and dangerous ideas, he conveyed himself and his ideas in a way which was immensely likable to religious and nonreligious people alike. His boundless enthusiasm for science and the natural world, conveyed in evocative metaphors and richly poetic language, turned millions onto science and critical thinking. His humor, grace, and positivity swayed many to listen to the voice of reason who otherwise would have closed their ears to it.

He was also, often, intensely sensitive to the thoughts and feelings of those who disagreed with him. In his writing, while not pulling any punches in the critique of dangerous ideas, he takes pains not to demean or belittle others. He wasn’t afraid to talk about religious experiences, saying in one lecture “I do not mean in any way to reject or deride religious experiences”, before going on to offer a naturalistic account of them.  He liberally used language and concepts more common to the religious, speaking of his “worshipful” “reverence” of nature, of the sky “calling to us”, and of a coming “religion of science”. He encouraged people to engage in “the religious sensibility” by looking up at the stars. His portrayal of religious figures in his works is both critical and sympathetic (showing a fantastic combination of steel and velvet) – think of Contact with its Luddite fundamentalist contrasted with the passionate, visionary (and totally hot) moral voice of Christian Palmer Joss.

I believe Sagan’s approach gave the religious, and those not disposed to engage with science, the feeling that, in some sense, he understood them, their passions and concerns. He spoke in their idiom and, in response, they listened to what he had to say.

Not Velvet but Velour? Eugenie Scott, the NCSE, and Accommodationism

If the dark-side of steel is raging, the dark-side of velvet is pandering. We pander when we sacrifice our own principles in order to please others who do not share our views or values. Perhaps we claim some similarity with our audience we do not truly share with them, or modify our position slightly in order to win a debate. When we make such concessions – however small – if they are dishonest, we sacrifice of our integrity. And a speaker perceived of having no integrity by a particular audience has no authority with that audience. Our persuasiveness plummets (Greta Christina has written an excellent post in which she outlines the difference between what I would call velvet and pandering).

Much of the criticism of Eugenie Scott‘s (Executive Director of the National Center for Science Education) stance on the compatibility of evolution with religious views of creation is essentially a discussion of the problem of pandering. In a panel on “Confrontation vs. Accommodation” at Skepticon 3, prominent figures in the freethought movement discuss this problem (watch from around 12:00 for the relevant discussion):

Intriguingly to me, Richard Carrier gives Scott a pass for (in my terminology) pandering to religious audiences to gain support from evolution, saying “I don’t mind Eugenie Scott doing it because she has to achieve certain political objectives. I don’t mind politicians who lie to get things done as long as they’re doing it in the interests of the people instead of their own interests”. I do object to this, not just because I think it is unethical, but because it is likely to be ineffective. The very fact that the NCSE has lost a lot of credibility among one of its core audiences – skeptical, science-friendly people who might be at Skepticon – is a clear demonstration of the dangers of pandering. It is harder to persuade an audience who thinks you have no backbone and will say anything to get others to like you.

PZ Myers is more direct with his criticism. Although he encourages people to support the work of the NCSE, he also states: “I think they’re hurting the cause. What they’re doing…is peddling a load of bullshit about science and religion. They’ve been falsely stating that there is no incompatibility between the two.”

The charge, essentially, is that Scott is pandering: she is telling lies in order to get religious people to support science. She is compromising her own views and principles to achieve a wider aim, and although we support the wider aim we cannot support the sacrifice of principles involved in achieving it.

Critically, whether Scott is indeed pandering depends on whether or not she sincerely holds the view that science and religion are compatible in the way she advocates. If she truly believes the message she is presenting, this is not pandering. In such a situation, she disagrees with PZ that what she is saying is “bullshit”, and is honestly presenting her view. However, if she in fact believes that science and religion are not compatible, and yet she is claiming that they are, she is pandering – and we should object to that on ethical and strategic grounds, as it will make the NCSE less persuasive, not more. We want velvet, not velour.

Conclusion

I have argued here that effective persuaders combine steel and velvet: authoritative language, strong arguments, and principled criticism with emotional intelligence, positivity, and sensitivity to the audience. The dichotomy between “firebrand” and “diplomat” thus breaks down, in favor of a more nuanced, evidence-based conception of fiery diplomats who can pierce with steel and caress with velvet, battling with precision and principle, strength and style. It is time for a new label: long live the honorable duelist!

References

Influence: Science and Practice (5th Edition), Robert B. Cialdini, 2009
Influence: The Psychology of Persuasion, Robert B. Cialdini, 1993
The Political Brain: How We Make Up Our Minds Without Using Our Heads, Drew Westen, 2007
Persuasion: The Art and Science of Effective Influence, Gary Orren, Course Taught at Harvard Kennedy School of Government, Book Forthcoming
The Varieties of Scientific Experience, Carl Sagan, 2006

Latinos are considered to be a very religious and socially conservative group. While the assumption is that most Latinos are Catholic, every once in a while there are reports of waves of Latino immigrants abandoning their traditional Catholicism as they get used to life in the U.S. The bulk of the attention is given to other Christian churches, particularly Pentecostal churches, which are considered to be receiving the lion’s share of former Catholic Latinos.

These assumptions about Latinos don’t hold up to scrutiny.

Last year, the Institute for the Study of Secularism in Society and Culture, which produces the oft-cited American Religious Identification Survey (ARIS), explored the changes in the religious identification of Latinos. The report, which I co-authored with my ISSSC colleagues Barry A. Kosmin and Ariela Keysar, shows that in just one generation (between 1990 and 2008) the percentage of Nones (people with no religious identification) among Latinos doubled from 6% to 12%. These proportions are comparable to ARIS findings in the general U.S. population, which went from 8% in 1990 to 15% in 2008.

This growing secularity among Latinos was the subject of my talk on December 4 at the Harvard Humanist Chaplaincy. My goal, then and now, is to explain how deep secularism runs in the Latino community and the important role of Latinos in the growth of American secularism over the last two decades.

These are several ways in which Latinos have contributed to the growing secularism in the U.S. “No religion” is the fastest-growing category in the Latino community since 1990, accounting for about a fifth of Latinos. Latino Nones are as likely as American Nones to identify as atheist or agnostic (11%) and 16% of atheists and agnostics in the U.S. are Latinos. Similarly to the American None population in general, Latino Nones are very young — over 40% are under the age of 30 — and well educated, with about a quarter reportedly having earned a college degree or higher.

The youth of Latino Nones suggests that secularism will increase among Latinos. Since Latinos are expected to become even a larger share of the U.S. population in the future, the future of American secularism is intrinsically linked to the increased secularity among Latinos.

The increasing secularism among Latinos also manifests itself in politics. For years, there’s been an expectation that the supposedly growing religious conservatism among Latinos will drive most of us to the Republican Party (most Latinos support Democratic candidates, including Barack Obama, who received 67% of the Latino vote in 2008). President Reagan used to say that Latinos were Republicans, they just didn’t know it. When President Bush received about 44% of the Latino vote in his reelection bid in 2004 many suggested that the Latino GOP wave was about to materialize.

As of 2011 the huge wave of religious Latino GOP voters has not materialized. The stereotype remains, though. The importance of religion for Latinos at the polls was the subject of a new survey by the Latino Decisions group. The study, released on December 8^th, found that for a majority of Latinos — 55% to be precise — religion doesn’t play a major factor when voting for a particular candidate.

While this may come as a surprise to many in American politics, it is not a surprise to those who have witnessed and documented the increasing secularity among Latinos. As we approach the 2012 elections politicians must learn that to capture the future Latino vote, they’ll need to work harder than just inviting a couple of preachers. Most Latinos don’t vote as “guided” by their religion and many more are leaving religion altogether. It is time to stop writing about Latinos and religion in a way that reinforces old cliches and stereotypes and understand that our reality is more complicated.

Some polling has indicated that nonreligious people may make up the largest minority in America. Yet polls famously show that an openly atheistic presidential candidate simply isn’t electable. Worse, the word “godless” is still hurled as a slur, meaning “completely devoid of morals,” when people who don’t believe in any sort of deity tend to take great pride in the amount of time and thought they put into developing their own ethical views. So why is “atheist” still a dirty word when there are so many more people now who do not identify as religious? In part, it’s because the number of atheists, agnostics, skeptics, and freethinkers remains largely invisible.

Since we appear to be isolated individuals scattered about without a unifying creed, the vast amount we have in common when it comes to our beliefs and values often goes unnoticed––even among ourselves. This makes it difficult for us to recognize and communicate our shared visions for the world, and act together to bring them into reality. Freethinkers are politically weak as a group. No politicians are spending as much time courting “the Humanist vote” as the Catholic vote or the Jewish one. But it doesn’t have to stay that way forever.

On the microcredit lending site, Kiva, secular do-gooders have organized a “lending team” for self-identified atheists, agnostics, skeptics, and freethinkers to make small loans to poor entrepreneurs in the developing world in response to the group called “Kiva Christians.” Not only has the secular group now made more loans to help lift people out of poverty than the Christian group but it has also made the most loans out of all the teams on the site, coming to over 6.2 million dollars. Think of what else Humanists could accomplish as an organized group! Notice too, in this example, that the tension we’ve come to expect between atheists and Christians in society was transformed into friendly competition and that the two groups were united in the cause of lifting people out of poverty.

Organizing ourselves makes us a powerful force for progress, and working with others across our differences helps us turn our hopes for the world into reality. A true religiously pluralistic global community has room for theists and nontheists of all stripes, and encourages them to work together to make the world a more just, equitable, and compassionate place.

For far too long, skeptics and freethinkers have been unable to enjoy the benefits of being in meaningful community with one another as they promote their worldviews. Think of all the nominal Christians who only go to church on Christmas, and privately doubt the veracity of the Virgin Birth and Jesus’ Resurrection. I know many nominal Christians, Jews, Muslims, and Buddhists who are still affiliated with their religious backgrounds but no longer identify with them and have not yet found another spiritual, philosophical, or ethical home. These people often retain their ties with their religious background, despite their skepticism, because of their relationships with other good-hearted people from the group and the sense of community they feel. That’s how powerful fellowship is to us, as social creatures. We yearn to belong. We want to have company on the journey of our lives, as we try to make sense of them. So much so that we sometimes humor explanations that are no longer compatible with our worldview. Since nominally religious people often hold Humanistic beliefs, they could benefit from being part of an explicitly Humanist community.

Those who put more distance between themselves and their religious background or were raised in atheist households often float about on their own, without the support of the vast network of atheists, agnostics, skeptics, and freethinkers. This means most of them don’t come together in intentional community, to search for truth and meaning and share their lives with one another, the way members of religious groups do. This also means they lose out on an opportunity to promote their collective vision for the world. In the end, some people who were skeptics and freethinkers during their lives are given religious funerals which inappropriately represent them because there was no meaningful secular community to which they could belong. Like nominally religious people, free-floating skeptics could benefit from coming together in Humanist community.

Imagine if there were as many Humanist societies as there are churches, synagogues, mosques, or temples. Imagine that they were as well-respected by the general public as these organizations, and that they had cooperative relationships with them. Picture each one being a center for lifelong learning and meaningful community, made up of people who encouraged you in your personal growth and supported you during hard times

This would be a place where you could celebrate births in the family and weddings with secular ceremonies, gather for Humanist holidays like Human Light Day and other holidays that have meaning to you, and hold memorials for lost loved ones. Humanist chaplains would be available to you, to help you sort things out in life.

These societies would also promote a Humanist vision for the world. Like their religious counterparts, they might raise money for local charities, engage in community service projects, organize food drives, provide affordable daycare programs for low-income people, function as a homeless shelter at night, energize and register voters, or perform a wide range of other vital services. Kids could develop critical thinking skills, learn about Humanist history and values, and explore what it means to live a good life in their Humanist Education classes, so they grow up grounded in Humanism.

This would be a home of our own.

If you like the idea, maybe it’s time to get involved with a Humanist group or maybe it’s time to start one. You might:

• Join a Humanist community
• Host a Humanist meeting
• Start a Humanist congregation

I invite you to continue reading this series for practical advice on each.