Godless (36 page)

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Authors: Dan Barker

Tags: #Religion, #Atheism

BOOK: Godless
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On the other hand, it did not take long to discover that there is no great mystery to morality. Although a few extreme ethical dilemmas might arise in one’s lifetime, basic day-to-day morality is a simple matter of kindness, respect and reason.
 
Once I shed the religio-psychological frame of mind, I learned that the Christian “struggle” with morality is overblown. I learned that relativism is all we’ve got. Human values are not absolutes—they are relative to human needs. The humanistic answer to morality, if the question is properly understood, is that the basis for values lies in nature. Since we are a part of nature, and since there is nothing “beyond” nature, it is necessary to assign value to actions in the context of nature itself. Most of us do this daily since we are born and raised in nature; as a matter of fact, we do it without much thought or distress.
 
One simplified example of how nature provides the basis for value: the human body requires water for survival. Since most humans want to survive, withholding water can be considered immoral. There is nothing cosmically “good” about water or cosmically “evil” about the lack of it. It is all relative to natural human needs. If we had evolved to require arsenic, then offering arsenic would be appreciated while serving water might be a crime. It would miss the point to complain that “water versus arsenic” is irrelevant because it addresses nouns rather than verbs—that instead we should be discussing the relative merits of “withholding versus not withholding.”
 
Morality implies avoiding or minimizing harm. This is by definition. No matter how elaborate the philosophical arguments become, moral decisions in the daily world still boil down to assessing the value of things like water and arsenic—natural things—and their effects on other natural things, such as our bodies.
 
“Value” is a concept of relative worth. And since concepts, as far as we know, exist only in brains, which are material things, it is meaningless, even dangerous, to talk of cosmic moral absolutes. The assessment of value requires the use of reason. In other words, morality comes from
within
humanity. If intelligent life had not appeared on this planet, morality would not exist.
 
Morality is in the mind—and reason is in the mind. No matter where you look for morality, it all comes down to the mind. Those believers who distrust the human mind are still required to look to some kind of mind for guidance, whether the mind of a god, prophet, preacher or pope. If there were a god, then its moral decrees would originate from
its
mind. (I am using the word “mind” as a function of the brain, just as digestion is a function of the stomach or circulation is a function of the heart. I do not mean to concede that the natural brain/mind of a human is any way comparable to the intangible, “spiritual” mind of a deity—whatever that might mean—that believers imagine existing somewhere outside of nature.)
 
Why should the mind of a deity—an outsider—be better able to judge human actions than the minds of humans themselves? Has God ever been thirsty? The human mind and human actions are part of the natural world; the mind of a god is not. Human minds interact with each other in the real world. A human mind feels physical pain. The human mind can know sorrow, grief, regret and embarrassment, while the mind of a perfect deity cannot. Can a god shed a tear, smell a flower or hug a child? Does a god perspire after a day of hard work under a burning sun, or shiver while trudging through a blizzard? Which mind is in a better position to make judgments about human actions and feelings? Which mind has more credibility? Which has more experience in the real world? Which mind has more of a right?
 
Christians who argue that Jesus became human, that the “Word became flesh,” to give the supernatural deity an opportunity to relate to natural human suffering forget that the Ten Commandments were written long before the first century. The Man from Galilee said, “Think not that I am come to destroy the law, or the prophets: I am not come to destroy, but to fulfill. For verily I say unto you, Till heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law, till all be fulfilled.” (Matthew 5:17-18) The Law, according to the bible, originated in the mind of God long before he stuck his toe into our world.
 
In any event, how can the temporal sufferings of Jesus compare to the sufferings of the entire human race? Did Jesus ever experience the pain of childbirth? The billions of women going through labor are much more life giving, much more nurturing of value than a few hours of self-imposed bleeding on a cross. The short life of Jesus can hardly compare with the suffering of brave heretics who have been persecuted for criticizing Christianity, or with the agony of the “witches” who were burned, drowned and hanged by bible believers (quoting Exodus 22:18: “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live”). Nor can the one day of suffering Jesus supposedly endured compare with the Holocaust, the genocide of Native Americans or the pain of those who were tortured during the Inquisition. His supposed contribution to the world hardly compares with the hard work, sacrifice and discipline of intelligent individuals who have dedicated their lives to science and medicine. Just because Jesus was considered a Higher Power does not make his alleged suffering any higher than yours or mine.
 
Why do believers assume that a
higher
power is necessarily a more moral power? How do they know it is not the other way around? If you look at nature, you discover that there is very little crime in the plant kingdom. (Ignoring dandelions.) Is it a felony when an eagle kills a field mouse? Immorality, crime, malice and cruelty belong to the “higher” forms of life. Chimpanzees and other primates sometimes show behavior that appears malicious, but they are “higher” animals. “Higher” does not mean “better”—it means perhaps more complex, or more conscious, or more cultural, or “more like us humans.” If there is a Higher Power, shouldn’t we be all the more suspicious of its motives and actions? A Higher Power can create a Higher Crime. Perhaps we would all benefit from revering the Lower Powers of the universe, and would improve morality if we were to get back in touch with the fact that we are animals living in a natural environment, and that we are truly part of nature, not something separate and above.
 
For simplicity, I am using “morality” and “ethics” synonymously in this book, though they are technically not the same. My understanding is that ethics is the study of behavioral values, while morality is a set of values a particular culture chooses. Ethics deals with principles while morality deals with rules. Simplistically stated, ethics
asks
what is actually good or bad, while morality
states
what is good or bad. The two words often overlap. For example, if you walk down the middle of the street naked by a schoolyard many cultures will call you immoral, though there is nothing inherently unethical about such an act. Killing a person for no reason other than pleasure is both unethical and immoral. Insulting a prophet may be immoral to a particular group of religious people, but it is not unethical outside of that framework.
 
For me, the phrase “moral relativism” refers to the differences between cultural mores, while “ethical relativism” refers to the same act being right or wrong depending on the situation. I know that some thinkers use ethical relativism to mean moral relativism, and I want to make the distinction clear. I do not embrace moral relativism, but I do embrace ethical relativism. Moral relativism means that the same action in the same context can be right in one culture and wrong in another. Ethical relativism (to me) means that the same action can be right in one context and wrong in another. For me, ethical relativism means situational ethics. In this book, my own informal usage treats the word “moral” as a synonym for “ethical,” not the other way around. It may not be “nice” to criticize Jesus or God, resulting in some hurt feelings, but it is not unethical—and since I treat ethics and morality roughly synonymously, I would say it is not immoral to criticize religion. In fact, if we consider ourselves to be moral (or ethical), we ought not to refrain from denouncing religious teachings and practices that cause harm.
 
“How does an atheist account for the existence of objective moral values?” is a question I often hear. “If you don’t believe in God, then what is your basis for morality?” To me, the answer is obvious: we atheists find our basis for morality in nature. Where else would we look?
 
Most atheists think moral values are real, but that does not mean they are “objective.” They can’t be. A value is not a “thing”—it is a function of a mind (which is itself a function). To be objective is to exist independently of a mind. So, an “objective value” is an oxymoron: the existence in the mind of something that is independent of the mind.
 
Most atheists think that values, though not objective things in themselves, can be objectively justified by reference to the real world. Our actions have consequences, and those consequences can be objectively measured.
 
Although most atheists accept the importance of morality, this is not conceding that morality exists in the universe—that it is a cosmic object waiting to be discovered. The word “morality” is just a label for a concept, and concepts exist only in minds. If no minds existed, no morality would exist.
 
There is no big mystery to morality. Morality is simply acting with the intention to minimize harm. Since harm is natural, its avoidance is a material exercise. Organisms suffer as they bump into their environment and each other, and as rational animals with some ability to anticipate the future, we humans have some choice about how this happens. If we try to minimize harm and enhance the quality of life, we are moral. If we don’t, we are immoral or amoral, depending on our intentions. Even if we make a mistake, we can still be called moral or ethical if it is truly our intention to minimize harm. And the way to avoid making a mistake is to try to be as informed as possible about the likely consequences of the actions being considered. To be moral, atheists have access to the simple tools of reason and kindness. There is no cosmic code book directing our actions.
 
Of course, relative to humanity, certain general actions can be deemed almost uniformly right or wrong. Without the Ten Commandments, would it never have dawned on the human race that there is a problem with killing? Prohibitions against homicide and theft existed millennia before the Israelite story of Moses coming down from Sinai.
 
The way to be moral is to first learn what causes harm and how to avoid it. This means investigating nature—especially human nature: who we are, what we need, where we live, how we function and why we behave the way we do.
 
Why should I treat my neighbor nicely? Because we are all connected. We are part of the same species, genetically linked. Since I value myself and my species, and the other species to which we are related, I recognize that when someone is hurting, my natural family is suffering. By nature, those of us who are mentally healthy recoil from pain and wish to see it ended.
 
Of course, we often act in positive ways to stop the pain of others. This is compassion. Although I don’t think there is a “moral imperative” nor a “compassion imperative”—you can be considered moral if you are passively not causing unnecessary harm—I do think most human beings who are mentally healthy will empathize with the sufferings of others and will naturally want to reach out. Atheists can perhaps express compassion more easily than believers can because we are not confused by:
• Fatalism: “Whatever happens is God’s will.”
• Pessimism: “We deserve to suffer.”
• Salvation: “Death is not the end.”
• Retribution: “Justice will prevail in the afterlife.”
• Magic: “Pray for help.”
• Holy war: “Kill for God.”
• Forgiveness: “I won’t be held responsible for my mistakes.”
• Glory: “Suffering with Christ is an honor.”
 
Since this is the only life we atheists have, each decision is crucial and we are accountable for our actions right now.
 
Yet notice how leading theists deal with the real world: “Ye have the poor with you always,” said the “loving” Jesus, who never lifted a finger to eradicate poverty, wasting precious ointment on his own luxury rather than selling it to feed the hungry (Matthew 26:6-11). “I think it is very beautiful for the poor to accept their lot, to share it with the passion of Christ,” Mother Teresa added. “I think the world is much helped by the suffering of the poor people.” So much for theistic compassion!
 
Jefferson may have been wrong to call compassion an “instinct” because many appear not to have it—it seems optional. Or perhaps he was right and the “compassion gene” (to oversimplify) varies across the population like any other human feature (height, intelligence, musical ability, etc.), and some of us have more of the instinct than others have. But it is fortunate that there are enough of us who love life to protect ourselves from those who don’t. We have systems of law, enforcement, justice and defense. We encourage kind, ethical actions through moral education and critical thinking. And though there is no cosmic moral imperative, all of us who value life and consider ourselves moral—atheists and believers alike—can choose to actively exhort others to join us in expressing our innate feelings of altruism and compassion.

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