Why I’m an Atheist—And Why It’s Not Enough

Pursuing and achieving true happiness requires a positive, life-affirming, secular philosophy

In an article a few weeks ago I mentioned in passing when introducing guest poster Rich Sokol that I’m an atheist. I received a couple of surprise responses implying that “You seem to be a nice guy with a lot of good ideas. How can you be an atheist?” I thought now would be as good a time as any to address the question (to the extent it may be done in an article or two), especially in the light of poster-atheist Ayaan Hirsi Ali having abandoned our ranks for Christianity. 

Growing up in Sweden I was nominally raised Lutheran. I probably spent more time being involved in the church than most of my peers (Swedes, like most other Northern and Western Europeans, are much less traditionally religious than Americans). I attended Sunday school for a few years, followed by time spent in a church youth group through my teens. But it was primarily a social enterprise because that’s where I had my closest friends. We went to youth camp and on excursions and trips together and had mostly a great time. The only part that everybody dreaded was bible study, but it was a small price to pay for all the fun. 

I date my becoming an atheist to a youth leadership seminar when a pastor tried to “reason” us into the position that the bible’s version of Creation made sense. He was one of a rare breed: a Swedish 1970s intelligent design proponent. I was stunned that someone would advocate for this, and decided pretty much on the spot that this was no longer for me. I stopped saying my evening prayers when I got back home. It was a bit unsettling at first, but nothing happened which I thought validated my decision. To an outsider, it may sound simple; not much struggle with doubts or thoughts of the Devil having led me astray, and no pressure from my parents or peers. I attribute it to the fact that I hadn’t really taken my faith very seriously in the first place, and my family and friends weren’t that vested in it either. 

I’ve never made a big deal of my atheism. I neither hide nor proselytize for it. I have many religious friends and acquaintances that I get along with famously (at least until this article is published). Being religious is their private decision, just as not being religious is mine. It’s a topic on which we have—implicitly or explicitly—agreed to disagree.  

However, this obviously won’t prevent me from having opinions about religion. My main objection is that, taken seriously, faith undermines the capacity for living a truly happy life. You may obviously consider yourself happy while religious, but in my view, you could be even happier without it. As I see it, two main aspects of religion are responsible for the undermining (I’m primarily referring to Christianity, the religion I’m most familiar with, but I suspect it applies to most faiths): one epistemological (how we know¹) and one moral. I consider both aspects to be out of lockstep with human nature. 

Epistemologically, religion requires us at some level to abandon the primary toolbox for survival and thriving that nature has provided us: our senses to perceive reality, and our ability to reason, to think, and to logically evaluate facts and the cause and effect of countless actions. As newborns, we have a huge task in front of us figuring out how the world is working. We learn to differentiate people from one another, how to control our bodies, and perhaps the biggest feat of all, language. Throughout childhood and adolescence, we continue to develop our life skills, accumulating knowledge, and hopefully become prepared for adult life, confident in our ability to deal with the world.  

But religion teaches us that in some areas we must abandon nature’s toolbox. It tells us that reason only takes us so far. Instead of relying on our capacity to think, we must accept miscellaneous “truths” on faith—Mary’s immaculate conception, Jesus Christ walking on water, being resurrected, being the son of God, etc. The problem is that faith taken seriously overtime introduces epistemological uncertainty because it contradicts what we know about the real world. It sows seeds of doubt in our capacity to think rationally and deal competently with this world. We may be able to contain it to church on Sundays, but the tendency is for it to spread to other areas of our lives. Because, consciously or subconsciously, we’re carrying that uncertainty or doubt with us in the back of our minds like a dormant infection. On some level, faith may be comforting in a threatening world. But in my book, true happiness requires full confidence in the efficacy of your mind in all areas of life, which faith is undercutting. 

Morally, Christianity preaches sacrifice as the cardinal virtue. It goes back to Jesus Christ sacrificing himself for our alleged sins (another claim to be accepted on faith). But by nature, we are not sacrificial animals. As independently thinking individuals striving to live a happy and fulfilling life, we must be free to act on our thoughts, use our time as we best see fit, and keep the fruits of our labors. We interact with others by trading material (stuff) and immaterial (friendship, love, etc.) value for value—not by sacrificing one another.  

A morality grounded in human nature—a morality of rational self-interest—acknowledges this. Deep down, we are by nature selfish: we put ourselves and our loved ones first while respecting that others do the same. It’s a fact of life. It is good.  

A morality of sacrifice, on the other hand, is contra human nature. It’s like trying to fit a square plug in a round hole. One practical result of adopting a morality that goes against human nature by upholding sacrifice as a cardinal virtue is guilt, in most cases unearned. Unearned guilt occurs when we feel guilty for pursuing a truly higher value to us instead of a lesser value: If we’re feeling guilty for spending $5 on that treasured morning brew instead of giving it to a vagrant on the street corner; or for wanting to take the family on a long awaited Christmas vacation instead of staying home with Aunt Betsy who always complains about our holiday cooking; or for buying the new car that has been put on hold for so long because of more urgent outlays, instead of financially supporting a “worthy” cause; or for pursuing a career we love instead of following in moms or dads footsteps in the family business.  

Obviously, life is full of difficult choices, and our values are not always clearcut. And previously lesser values such as contributing to worthy causes may become higher as our basic needs and our near and dear are provided for. But most of us have core values that are relatively straight forward and not that hard to prioritize. If having unearned guilt for prioritizing higher values over lesser values, my suspicion is that, to the extent Christian faith is involved, the guilt can be traced to the morality of sacrifice: that to be morally good is to give up a higher value for a lesser value. And my view is that living life with unearned guilt because of subscribing to a morality that goes against our nature is not a recipe for a truly happy life. 

There you have it—an attempt at explaining my two main reasons for being an atheist. But atheism is a negative—it means the absence of theism, that is, the absence of belief in a supernatural deity—God, Allah, Jahve, Buddha, Vishnu, etc.—and the associated code of morality. Becoming an atheist without filling the void that religion leaves behind is just another recipe for unhappiness. Ayaan Hirsi-Ali is right when she says that “atheism failed to answer a simple question: ‘what is the meaning and purpose of life?’” But filling the void with another, traditional or modern, faith is not the solution, because it just trades one version of “accepting on faith” for another. It doesn’t solve the problems of epistemological uncertainty and doubt, and moral, unearned guilt. Which brings us to non-faith-based alternatives that attempt to address the meaning and purpose of life. Stay tuned for part two to find out. 

PS. One aspect of my past nominal religiosity has stayed with me: my love of Christmas hymns. Here’s one of my absolute favorites: Mariah Carey’s rendition of Adolphe Adams’ “O Holy Night.” I simply tune out the message and immerse myself in the music, the performance and the setting. It sends chills down my spine every time I listen to it.  

A Merry Secular Christmas to all! 

1. Epistemology is the science devoted to the discovery of the proper methods of acquiring and validating knowledge.