Two Kinds of Atheists

The core of your view doesn’t have much to do with the relationship between 1). nonbelief in God and 2). religion. It deals with the relationship between 1). science and 2). felt human experience. You seem to think that Type 1 atheism affirms science and denies the reality of felt human experience, whereas Type 2 atheism embraces human experience and denies current science. The relationship of this distinction with religion seems to be as follows: Type 1 atheism entails that God does not exist, whereas, on Type 2 ‘atheism’, nonbelief in God is an aside (one could believe most of what you said and still be a theist).

What your distinction between these two kinds of atheism has in common with (some) religion is that it assumes the conflict model between science and human experience. It is a question of what has default legitimacy – empirical evidence or phenomenal experience – and an attitude about the relationship between them. Of course, not all religions, or atheisms, take that attitude.

I don’t see conflict as necessary nor the proper view, but that’s besides the point. I do find it interesting that you think science will have to change to accomodate your felt experience, yet don’t consider that we might have to give a little too as science progresses, as we already have (we already know that perception doesn’t perfectly represent reality in various respects, and we can expect more of the same). The copernican revolution was one thing, the darwinian another, but the revolution of how we think about thinking is the newest and hardest of all, and its anyone’s guess how it will shake out.

If you are looking for better terms for these views, I’d suggest “reductionistic naturalism” for #1 and “emergent humanism” for #2. These terms have some traction in the philosophical literature on these issues that you might profit from reading.

How about (1) “anti-religious atheist,” and (2) “non-religious atheist”? Terms whose meaning is not immediately obvious, but that become apparent with a brief explanation of the contrast.

LG

Here’s the problem with this distinction: I’m a Nichiren Buddhist, and, definitionally, a pantheist. But I still believe that man is nothing but an organism; that emotions and spiritual experiences are physical/chemical processes; that humans, other organisms, and objects are all simply phenomena emerging from a dynamic molecular stew; that there is no soul, no objective moral standard, “just a bunch of pitiless particles vibrating pointlessly in the primal quantum field.” Most pantheistic systems indeed hold precisely thus. So he dismisses not just some portion of all atheists with this statement, but a good number of the observant religious, as well.

Now, because I describe this view in metaphysical terms, and I hew to metaphysical concepts like Ichinen Sanzen in order to wrest a mandate for compassion from a universe that clearly has no compunction about devouring its young, I’m certainly not inclined to disavow the theist of his or her theistic notions; as a religious man, I am not opposed to religion. But I DO reject the insistence that the dignity of our species (whatever that is; I enjoy a certain amount of human dignity, but am not convinced that lichens, viruses, and even rocks don’t each experience something equally edifying) relies on a an assumption of dualism, a belief that the self and its preferences, interests, and convictions are something more than a play of cells.

I inferred that you were arguing for dualism because you use the word several times in your post as a label for what differentiates the “acceptable” atheist from the “unacceptable” one.

In a sense, I would suggest that I do believe in something like emergentism, though I wouldn’t impose such Western notions as “spirit” or “soul” onto them outside of a poetic or theatrical context, because I think they are philosophically and theologically misleading, part of the Platonic heritage that has been both a gift and a curse to Western civilization. That is, I believe that what we refer to as spirit or soul has emerged, but on an evolutionary basis, as a function of the organism. I’d say it was our unique adaptation, but I don’t really know that lichens don’t have art or philosophy, since I don’t speak lichen.

As such, I would caution you against suggesting that I espouse reductionism, except in the sense that I see value in simplifying premises and making them as responsive as possible to empirical observation.

Buddhism indeed acknowledges no personal deity, nor necessarily a soul separate from the body (though that can vary not only from sect to sect, but from Buddhist to Buddhist, and will likely center on how literally the individual takes the doctrine of reincarnation). It is pantheistic, which is not really the same thing as either theism or atheism; it centers around the idea that the physical universe and the fundamental unity (or appearance of fundamental unity) between the various phenomena contained therein can be collectively referred to in deistic terms, but that such a reference is symbolic; the overarching force of the universe may contain morality as an emergent phenomenon of organisms and their intersubjective needs, as defined by evolution, but the force is, in and of itself, amoral. Forms of pantheism can be wildly diverse, from the monistic panpsychism of Giordano Bruno to Taoism to Spinoza’s naturalistic pantheism.

As to why I’m sympathetic toward theists, I’m not sure I understand the question. I’m called as a Buddhist to show compassion for all living things. Now, I cannot honor the virus so deeply that I fail to alleviate human illness; by that same token, I cannot honor the Christian so deeply that I will allow them to legally regulate the behavior of my brethren according to principles with which I disagree. But as much as I believe my understanding of the universe is correct, I don’t possess a level of certainty that allows me to look askance upon other views. Moreover, as someone who chants gongyo twice a day (and daimoku considerably more than that), with the conviction that it elevates my life condition, I empathize with the finding of comfort, purpose, and understanding through faith constructs, through hunches and feelings and wild inductive reasoning. Which is to say that I am less a reductionist than you seem eager to insist. I may believe that man is not greater than the turnip . . . but I also believe that both man and turnip possess Buddha nature.

Here was a turn of phrase where you mention dualism/duality specifically:

>>What, exactly, do I mean by “duality” and “spirit” and the other turns of phrase I have been using to express what religion and fellow-traveling atheism have in common?<>Human nature is intrinsically dual—a “tangle of matter and ghost,” to quote the singer/songwriter Leonard Cohen. And this duality gives our system of values an intrinsic structure: Some values are lower, because involved more purely with the body, and other values are higher, because involved more fully with the spirit.<<

Also, when you presume that these qualities you attribute to man are separate from the body, or even that they are distinct to man and not possessed elsewhere in the animal kingdom, are you not asserting duality–a notion that "self," as understood in anthropic terms, is separate from matter?

Sorry, my post printed differently than I wrote it; I’m not particularly html savvy.

This was a quote from another post to which this one referred, and it should, in all fairness, be isolated as such:

>>>Human nature is intrinsically dual—a “tangle of matter and ghost,” to quote the singer/songwriter Leonard Cohen. And this duality gives our system of values an intrinsic structure: Some values are lower, because involved more purely with the body, and other values are higher, because involved more fully with the spirit.<<

Interesting post, James! I completely agree with you that the sciences are still in their – if not infancy so at least childhood, and that we may have great hopes to account for more aspects of our nature in the future.

I also find your description of us as spiritual beings compelling. This is indeed what sets us apart from the rest of nature.

Now, what I do not agree on is that the existence of objective standards for right and wrong follows from the introspective discovery of a sense of justice. What then when people of different cultures discover completely different views through this introspection? Our sense of what is right and wrong and good and just is in on little way dependent upon our upbringing and social conditions. I do not believe there exists a universal standard for justice that all people upon introspection are willing to accept.

This is not the same as saying an objective standard does not exist. It is merely saying that some cultures are closer to this standard than others, and that education and dialogue are necessary for us all in order to figure out what this objective standard really amounts to.

“on little way” should read “no little way”, i.e. in a big way!

I think it’s fair to say, though, that phenomenological dualism and metaphysical dualism are, at least in a cultural context, difficult–if not impossible–to extricate. If you posit that “our spirit is higher and more valuable than our body,” you suggest that the spirit is somehow separate from the body, that it’s a property or quality that other organisms do not possess, and so on.

My thesis is that not only do many of us who are in fact religious, who are not philosophical naturalists, and who are not atheists (though we do not believe in a personal deity) have no such intuition. Indeed, many of us intuit that it is our contracts that keep us from living on a strict diet of the blood of our enemies. Nonetheless, we take these contracts (and the ritual enshrinements thereof) seriously, often for metaphysical reasons.

My objection, then, is to the posit that someone cannot begin from “reductionistic”–heck, even nihilistic–premises and still have a seat at the table when it comes to molding the civic and moral character of man.

I think our metaphysical views are important, but having grown up Catholic, having had the Jewish faith enter my extended family by marriage, having lived most of my youth in Montana and Utah (where some form or other of Christianity is given), while living most of my adult life in Seattle (where atheism is more the norm, as it also tends to be in my profession), being not just tolerant, but accepting and understanding of other metaphysical viewpoints has been a bit more of a necessary skill for myself than for most. I’m tempted to reply to your posit regarding the moral nihilist to suggest that the moral Christian is almost certainly “good” despite his or her adherence to or belief in anthropomorphic-monotheistic preferences. But that would not only not be cricket; it wouldn’t even really be what I think.

To a large degree, I don’t think we decide what we believe; we simply discern truth from untruth (or likely truth from likely untruth) according to epistemic capacities and understandings, and according to experiences both material and intuitive. While I can hold one responsible for any actions, I can’t hold one responsible for his premises and conclusions; I can only offer better information and hope he has the capacity to understand it.

The very reasons you prefer the word spirit are the very reasons I reject it. Not only do I have no reason to assume that the dog or the lichen or the virus cannot experience awe, or envision a “perfect” world, but, in fact, recent discoveries in cognitive science seem to indicate that they do so. I have no doubt that there are differences in degree; I may thus hold human art or philosophy in greater esteem than whatever endeavors in the animal kingdom may be comparable. I would also assume that animal awe or morality would differ considerably from ours, since they would have arisen from the traits they evolved for their own survival. As such, they may not be responsible to “those sorts of ideals” because the ideals to which they are responsive evolved specifically to suit their needs.

So I don’t really see the difference that you do between humans and animals (and, indeed, I’m not even convinced that animal life “transcends the stasis of stones”). What I find interesting is that this somehow makes me (for instance) a Type I atheist . . . without my even being an atheist. So if I have always seen myself as a fellow traveler, while you describe me as . . . well, let’s just say “otherwise,” simply for holding premises that you offer no factual basis for rejecting, then whose doing is it, really, if we find we are not traveling together?

In any case, I still maintain that one should be able to live according to one’s premises to whatever degree that doing so does not run afoul of the liberty of others to do the same.

I will be looking forward to that metaphysical post, then! I just have to point out that you really have been reading my posts rather hastily if you are under the impression that I don’t believe human behaviour should be guided by normative considerations. I could quote several lines to the contrary. As I just said, I DO think there exists an objective standard for right and wrong, I just don’t think all people would agree what that standard is – because they have been raised in different cultures. This really is nothing more than saying that different cultures have different standards for what is normal and what is right. That does not mean that I think that all these cultures are right. I do indeed believe some cultures have quite horrific views on this and most definitely fail to adhere to that objective standard that I just referred to. Do you see the difference here?

You are quite right, this is exactly the point I’m trying to make:

You said: “Conversely, to say that there are objective standards of right and wrong means being prepared to say that some cultural practices may be wrong, even though the practitioners themselves would of course disagree with you.”

This is what I was trying to say in my first reply to this topic. I will try to be very clear, both for my own sake and for anyone who reads it:

1) There is an objective standard for right and wrong. Objective, not in the sense of inter-subjective, but in the sense of universal, ever lasting, valid for all times and places.

2) There usually is a standard for right and wrong within any given culture. These may change quite considerably through time.

3) The standards of #2 may be more or less similar to that of #1. This means, they may be judged according to how wrong or right they are. This supposes that the judge knows what the standards of #1 really are.

4) Humans main source of reference when passing judgements on individual behaviour are the standards of the #2-type, the one they have grown up with or otherwise come to feel most at home with.

5) Any persons action may be judged to be in accordance with the principles of #1 or #2. Only actions that adhere to the principles of #1 are objectively right.

6) When a person through introspection finds a sense of justice, what he or she finds are the principles of the #2 type.

7) From this follows that many people through introspection will find differing views of what is right and what is just. THIS DOES NOT MAKE THEM RIGHT, objectively, as it may not be in accordance with the type #1 standards.

Now, it was point #7 that I was trying to make in my first reply to this post, when I did not accept that the introspection will lead us to a justice that is objective.

So, what we can only hope for is that our type #2 standards are as much in accordance with the #1 standard as possible. I believe that education, research and dialogue are among the best tools we have to make sure this is really so. I do not, however, believe that the true and full substance of the #1 standards are known to us. We can strive towards them, but probably never know them to the full extent. (In this life, at least. What happens later on might be a whole other story.)

This makes me a transcendentalist as well as a universalist.

Well, at the risk of putting myself back in the reductionist camp, I should say that I don’t believe purpose, value, and meaning are ever “objective.” We can categorize individual or collective desires as fulfilling or stifling the abstraction we call “purpose”; we can observe quantities as they exist in nature or are generated by organisms and individually or collectively “value” them; we can observe phenomena and assign them “meaning.”

But since so many of these notions are subjective, what we can achieve is a contractual agreement on purposes, values, and meanings that satisfy ever larger numbers of subjective interests. Generally, I see it as ideal that these hierarchies of interest be more specific at the micro level, more general at the macro level; that is, that religious groups, families, or geographically bound communities have greater recourse to specific value systems, while states/nation-states are limited to those values, purposes, and meanings that allow these disparate, smaller groups to peacefully co-exist, or–and this is very important, especially in light of clear violations of civic principle done in the name of, say, Sharia Law–the right of the individual within any of these groups to remain physically intact and maintain basic right of egress.

But that’s getting into political view; what I believe as a Buddhist goes in different directions. Nonetheless, Buddhism takes as its central tenet cause & effect, as well as the posit that all being(s) possesses Buddha nature; the aspiration to Buddha nature is defined not by objective standards of right & wrong, but by attaching causes to likely or inevitable effects and pointing out the individual or collective desirability of those effects.

I disagree that dogs do not know the difference between right and wrong; I would suggest, rather, that they do not conceive of right and wrong in the same way we do because right and wrong, for them as for us, emerges from understanding of cause & effect; what effects they find desirable, individually and collectively, will differ from what effects we find desirable both as a function of their particular adaptation to their environments and their own limitations (which are, in turn, again, adaptations in their own rights). Dogs to not understand Kant’s Maxim of Nature because dogs have no use for Kant. Whether they have their own Kant, or even a canimorphic (okay, I just made that word up, but I kinda like it) conception of deity, I cannot say. But I have no certain basis on which to doubt it.

Likewise, the way a chimpanzee mother carries the body of her infant around with her, finally discarding it, doesn’t suggest that chimps have no moral framework; it only suggests that their moral framework is different from ours, because it serves a different purpose.

As an actor and playwright, I value art; I’m not sure, however, that quantities like art and philosophy represent anything other than evolutionary adaptations, vestiges of higher cognitive functions that allowed us to eliminate or isolate ourselves from our natural predators (and other hostile effects of natural cycles).