Religious
people of the world generally agree that there is a
supernatural entity of some kind, but they cannot
seem to agree upon what that entity is, or upon what,
if anything, it wants from us. Yet one belief most religious
people appear to have in common is that faith of some
kind is an inescapable part of being human, and that
anyone who does not currently believe in a god or a
devil or a transmigrating soul of some sort must
therefore be looking for something in which
to believe. As an atheist I've been
told many times: "Everyone must
believe in something!"
So if it is any
comfort to these well-meaning people, let me affirm
that I do believe in something. (It is just not what they
believe in.) What is more, casual
observation would seem to indicate that my own belief
is considerably more robust and durable than that of
most traditional believers. For it is they, not I, who must
seek periodic reinforcement of their beliefs through
rote, ritual, recitation, and tradition, lest they
find opportunity to think about those beliefs too
critically. It is they, not I, who
crave the exclusive fellowship of others of similar
belief, so they can reassure one another that because
they all share the same fantasy they are not really
fantasizing. It is they, not I, who
feel their beliefs threatened by the possibility that
others might have different ideas, and who thus feel
compelled to convert everyone they can to their own
view.
What is it that
I believe in, so easily and naturally that it does
not require a constant effort to deny and stifle the
doubt which otherwise would inevitably arise? What is it that I believe in, so
strongly and spontaneously that the combined forces
of hope and dread cannot persuade me that I ought
rather to believe in the unbelievable? What is it that I believe in,
that I did not even have to search for but simply
made itself obvious to me when I was finally ready to
see it?
It's simple. What I believe in is reality. Now, reality might include gods
or it might not. But so far I have seen
no credible evidence hinting at the existence of
gods, which is not counterbalanced by evidence of at
least equal weight to the contrary. True, I cannot disprove the
existence of gods. But neither can
believers prove their own gods' existence, nor can
they disprove the existence of the gods of other
believers. That is, after all, why
religious belief is referred to as "faith."
Granted,
unadorned reality is not nearly as appealing as the
almost cartoonish splendor of organized religion,
just as sobriety is not nearly as appealing as
intoxication. Reality doesn't pretend
to answer all of our questions with charming legends
and pretty myths. Reality doesn't promise
us life after death. Reality doesn't decree
what is right and what is wrong, but challenges us to
consider which course of action will produce the
greatest benefit and the least harm. Reality doesn't hold out the
hope that some caring but unseen entity is guiding us
when we have tough decisions to make. Reality doesn't cheer us, when
things go wrong, with the dream that a mysterious
power is shaping all events toward a happy end. Worst of all, because of the
imperfection of our own senses and reason, many
aspects of reality are infuriatingly difficult to pin
down with certainty. Yet reality has one
incontestable point in its favor: because it is real, you never
have to make-believe in it. Though considerable
investigation and experimentation are sometimes
required in order to discover the truth of reality,
once it is clear all you must do is open your eyes
and mind to it, and have the intellectual integrity
and courage to accept it.
Reality is not
always unambiguously clear, however. In such cases we must consider
the possibilities based on incomplete or questionable
information, either tentatively selecting that
hypothesis which seems most plausible or desirable at
the time, or resolving to postpone any decision until
we have more information. Now, selecting the obvious
option—that the simplest answer in accord with
the facts is the most likely to be true—is in
this case unsatisfactory to most people, no matter
how logical and pragmatic they may be in other
matters. They desperately want
all the promises of religion to be true, and because
nothing positively disproves the existence of gods,
they choose to believe. If that makes them happy that is
fine with me, so long as they do not demand that I
also accept their choice. For in my own view religion
appears a delusion, and not an entirely benign one at
that. And the thought of
allowing myself to succumb to delusion—no matter
how grand and glorious—makes me unhappy.
So, yes, I do
have my belief, though it might be quite different
from yours. If you are happy with
your belief and I am satisfied with mine, and if
exchanging beliefs would make us both unhappy and
dissatisfied, then let each be true to his own mind
and conscience, and may happiness and peace be to us
all as we walk the road of life together.
=SAJ=
This essay
reflects an earlier stage in the evolution of my own
understanding of how people relate to ideas. It
still works, provided we understand that there are
fundamentally different kinds of belief, and that we
are careful to distinguish between them. One
kind, ordinarily expressed as belief about
or that, requires only passive acceptance of
what is evident or logical, and can easily be
revoked, revised, or replaced whenever
necessary. The other, often expressed as belief
in something, demands active commitment to
an idea, often without supporting evidence, or even
in spite of evidence to the contrary. Such
active, purposeful belief in things
engenders a willful bias that the passive sort does
not. In a later essay, "Beyond
Belief," I therefore attempt to distance myself
from the term, since for many people belief carries
this automatic connotation of willful bias, which,
rather than revealing truth, all too often distorts
or hides it instead.
