Random Shots in the Dark
Another wannabe polemicist has decided to take down the “New Atheists”* a peg or two. Today’s issue of The Chronicle Review includes an article entitled “The New Atheists’ Narrow Worldview“, in which a teacher of philosophy Stephen T. Asma — it only needs a ‘th’, and it suggests the kind of intellectual congestion involved in what he has to tell us — suggests that “most friends and even enemies of the new atheism have not yet noticed the provincialism of the current debate.”
After casually insulting the so-called Four Horsmen, in which he calls them “soldiers of reason”, and suggests that, “[l]ampooning the anxieties of evangelicals, these best-selling atheists are embracing their “dangerous” status and daring believers to match their formidable philosophical acumen,” he goes on to point out that most of the world’s people are animists, and that the contemporary New Atheism scarcely touches on this type of religion which dominates the developing world, in which people pay their respects to local nature spirits, belief in which, Asma claims, “may be every bit as empirical and rational as Western science, if we take a closer look at life in the developing world.”
*I’ll leave the quotes off ‘New Atheism’ and its variants, but they should be understood, since it is not really clear what Asma means by speaking of new as opposed to (what must now be assumed to be) old atheists.
The world, for most people in the undeveloped parts of the world, suggests Asma, is capricious and unpredictable, and life is, if neither solitary nor short, in Hobbes’ grim words, then at least poor, nasty and brutish, and placating the spirits provides some sense of meaning and comfort amidst the buzzing confusion of lives otherwise devoid of meaning. Even he, he says, found himself praying when his back was against the wall:
I’m an agnostic and a citizen of a wealthy nation, but when my own son was in the emergency room with an illness, I prayed spontaneously. I’m not naïve—I don’t think it did a damn thing to heal him. But when people have their backs against the wall, when they are truly helpless and hopeless, then groveling and negotiating with anything more powerful than themselves is a very human response.
Yes, and even Marghanita Laski, the atheist broadcaster and novelest, as I recall, found herself praying, once, on a visit to the hospital. Which is very strange, because, though a priest myself, I did not once pray for Elizabeth when she was struck down by primary progressive MS — not once, because I knew that prayers are just a dream of hopefulness, and provide neither comfort nor hope when once you know this. Those who find comfort in them have not quite given up belief in their effectiveness. As a priest, of course, prayer could still be used as a kind of pastoral hug, as Don Cupitt suggests, but belief that they alter the mind of God? Well, precisely!
But why, I wonder, does Asma take the New Atheists to task because they do not take animism into account? Why did he not point out — which would have been a more reasonable thing to do — that the entire Western philosophical tradition does not take animism into account any more than the Four Horsemen of the Atheist Apocalypse do. It seems that, for some undiscriminating critics like Asma, the New Atheism simply functions as a cautionary example, not because of anything new, particularly, and not for any of the arguments they use, but simply as a cultural whipping boy that makes their own small contributions stand out against contributions to the cultural conversation much more distinguished than their own.
For what more does Asma say, in such a distinguished publication as The Chronicle Review, that merits attention? After the requisite genuflection before the image of Marx, who said, we are told, with only marginal relevance, that religion is the opiate of the people, Asma goes on to speak of the Khmer Rouge, who rooted out the good as well as the bad in trying to obliterate Buddhism from the minds of Cambodians, and reminds us, with astonishing irrelevance, that “Religion is not the only ideology with blood on its hands.” Did he want, I wonder, to draw a parallel between the Khmer Rouge and the New Atheism? If so, it got lost in the confusion somewhere.
However, this seems to be the heart of Asma’s argument:
Not only should the more rational and therapeutic elements be distilled from the opiate of religion. But the wacky, superstitious, cloud-cuckoo-land forms of religion, too, should be cherished and preserved, for those forms of religion sometimes do great good for our emotional lives, even when they compromise our more-rational lives.
And while, he suggests, Western critics think of animism as primitive, and of animists as uneducated, it is reasonably held (in words I quoted at the start), Asma believes, that the “animistic explanations of one’s daily experience may be every bit as empirical and rational as Western science, if we take a closer look at life in the developing world.”
Isn’t there something missing here? It is one thing to find consolation in imaginary entities. Asma reminds us that Roger Scruton said that
The consolation of imaginary things is not imaginary consolation.
Well said, no doubt. Placebos work. Yes, we knew that already. The question is: Why does this make the New Atheists wrong or animism rational and empirical? Or has the consolation of imaginary things the ability suddenly to create the entities imagined? But animism is not a serious concern of the New Atheists. Not only are the New Atheists writing within the Western tradition (where the critique of animism plays a very small part, as Asma must know, if he really does teach philosophy), they are also taking exception to religion in so far as it has become politically entangled with governance, and is a continuing threat to peace and security. We know, or at least we think we know, that religion tends to flourish where life is insecure and unpredictable. One explanation for the continued vitality of fundamentalist Christianity in the United States — the odd one out in the developed world — although Canada seems to suffer somewhat by contagion — is that there is an inadequate social safety net in the United States, where disparity of income, and insecurity of employment, remain very high, thus increasing people’s sense of insecurity. And American religion may well feed on this insecurity, just as Third World animism feeds on the capriciousness and unpredictability of life lived on the edge of survival.
In these situations, as Asma points out, the consolations of religion play an important role, but none of the New Atheists — so far, anyway, as I am aware — questions this. Their main attention and concern has been directed towards the very powerful monotheisms, and the increasingly intrusive role they are playing on the world stage, at the United Nations and in international UN organisations such as the Human Rights Council, as well as in national politics and governance. These are the issues that the New Atheists address. New Atheism does not offer a theory of religion. What it does offer is a critique of religion in so far as it intrudes itself where it should not.
Asma’s article is, in a sense, a complete non sequitur. It pretends to address the New Atheism, but then fails to do so in a way that actually makes sense. He talks a lot of irrelevant boiler plate about the comforts of animism, but that is all. It is, as I suggest in the title, a matter of taking random shots in the dark. Before Asma sets out to criticise something, he should at least have thought about it. It almost always helps.

“Or has the consolation of imaginary things the ability suddenly to create the entities imagined?”
That does seem to be exactly what he’s implying, doesn’t it.
More patronization by the rich and powerful – we can’t take religion away from the poor and weak because it is the only comfort they have or the only comfort we are willing to provide. When we should be empowering people so they can take control of their lives – providing education and land – and we give them religion instead. Deities don’t have a chance to solve these people’s problems, but the people themselves do.
When this guy can produce a single one of these nature spirits, then we can regard animism as rational and empirical. Until then, it’s a fictional system, or rather, many many fictional systems.
I once had a nasty argument with a very nice and well-meaning anthropologist, who didn’t like it when I claimed that the statement “The Grand Canyon was formed by erosion over millions of years” is true, and is different from “The Grand Canyon was formed when the Thunderbird struck the ground with his wing”, which is not a true statement about the real world, but part of a story; fiction. Apparently I was being close-minded.
Anyway, if he thinks animism is true, why is he not an animist? And if he thinks it’s false, why is he so keen to champion it? Is he scared that people will stop telling stories?
The great virtue of animism over Christianity is that it does not try to de-humanise and demean its adherents, at least in large measure.
His main point as I see it is that religion is often uncoupled from morality, and he offers animism and atheistic Buddhism as examples. Both are pragmatic, with little concern for theological issues, and offer considerable solace even if via placebo. Importantly they coexist with the Abramic religions, especially among the less educated, and the current debate ignores this, leaving them with no answers to the questions Asma poses:
How to differentiate between benign and malignant religions? (the comments make it clear humanism is lumped into the former category, and it’s no answer to say all religions are bad, or the benign ones are not religions), and, What does atheism or humanism offer in place of gangs, drugs–or Abramism?
Agnostics.
Meh.
Too many agnostics pretend it means “The likelihood for and against your beliefs are about equal and reasonable and I’m not sure I can lean more one way or another at this time” when communicating with those who do believe something without evidence while it means “”I don’t know for sure and neither do you, you impertinent twit” with those who see no reason to believe anything without cause.
I could intellectually tolerate agnostics much better if they maintained their non position with steadfast honesty: we can’t know anything for sure so we’d better not reach any conclusions whatsoever about anything ever. But agnostics generally don’t have that kind of strength of intellectual character to remain so consistent in their inability to form a reasonable conclusion; instead, they tend to prefer playing intellectual whack-a-mole taking scatter shots at only one side of the believer/non believer debate in order to feel superior to both.
Such intellectual cowardice and hypocrisy by so many who claim agnosticism as the ‘high ground’ in this important debate is both tiresome and tedious with neither substance nor insight to offer either side in exchange for their participation.
Asma’s argument… No, I’ve started all wrong, let me start over.
Asma’s impressionistic rambling essay is an embarrassment to my discipline. The Chronicle editors clearly have an axe to grind, as they publish poorly conceived, badly written, borderline-incoherent broadsides against unrecognizable straw versions of atheism and that perpetual bogyman “scientism” with appalling regularity. Most of them are by Chronicle critic-at-large Carlin Romano, a respected literary critic who has repeatedly demonstrated his total ignorance of philosophy, but Asma’s mash-up of complete irrelevancies and smarmy innuendo may be a new low.
But I have confidence in the Chronicle; they’ll publish something worse before the year is out.
*sigh*
Methinks I smell William James somewhere around. Here’s the treatment: The Ethics of Belief, followed by a round of the chapter on William James in Russell’s History of Western Philosophy.
It’s always nice to be chastised for our ignorance of centuries-old arguments already heard and handled a million times.
That can’t be true. Wherever there’s a myth, there’s somebody exploiting it to extract resources from its adherents, and I’m quite certain that animism is no exception.
Tell that to the African children being tortured and killed as “witches” and albinos killed so their body parts can be used in “magic potions” by witchdoctors.
“And while, he suggests, Western critics think of animism as primitive, and of animists as uneducated, it is reasonably held (in words I quoted at the start), Asma believes, that the “animistic explanations of one’s daily experience may be every bit as empirical and rational as Western science, if we take a closer look at life in the developing world.”
Sure when you don’t know any better. When life is reduced to bare essentials and is lived in the harshest of environments, when you have no technology beyond the seal spear and the fire-drill then everything does seem random and arbitrary and the angiokook does have an inside track with the spirits – who are real because you often see them in the night sky……
What’s missing here is the idea, long since ditched in Western experience, of imagination as a path of knowledge. As far as I know, you only hear Henry Corbin, Jung and James Hillman taking it seriously as an intellectual proposition in the 20th century. Practised as Hillman intends it, soul-making, as he calls it, is a difficult discipline; neither philosophical nor literal/materialistic. So far as I can tell it induces changes in the way a person experiences the world. Presumably, that means neurological changes (in the same way that any long-term discipline will do). Musical training of 10 years or longer may reduce the risk of dementia, for example. My experience of working with the imagination and dreams over more than a decade is that they affect neurology and brain chemistry, so that I experience myself more in harmony with the world around me. The benefit to me has been improved mental health, self-awareness and a drug-free management system for depression and anxiety (and blood pressure). If lots of people did this, there might be a benefit to the planet, too, ecologically speaking. I don’t think it matters how you do it, as long as it’s meaningful to you. It’s not a religion. There is no set path through the imagination; it’s a question of individual exploration and experimentation. I am guessing [from reading science journalism] that there is probably an adaptive benefit to the lived experience of harmony with nature and other humans. Harmony isn’t conflict-free. But conflicts that can be played out more fully in the imagination are less damaging than those that are immediately literalised. I am also guessing from recent writings about the religious brain that an appreciation of cosmic harmony might be part of our neurobiology, might link us up to a less literal way of seeing and being. I think it might work as an evolutionary tool that keeps us alive as a species. It has included imagining various deities for me, but they don’t make a system, they don’t answer prayers, and they don’t punish me if I don’t worship them. I don’t try to control, placate or manipulate them, although I treat them with respect. For me, they are nexuses (nexi??!!) of collective image, thought and emotion all rolled into one. I think they help to synthesise neurological changes (which includes changes in top-speed limbic-system-level emotional response to stimulu and also in the much slower processes of cognition.) I have also found that a lot of images (from my dreams and imaginal journeys) contain very close-packed ideas that take years of unravelling through reading, writing and thinking. But there is no God and no scripture. Just an imagined structure for ‘getting in there’ that anyone could make in their innerworld if they imagined it enough times and laid down enough neurological pathways to make it stable. This is basically what Jung did in the Red Book, and then had to distil further in a more scientific manner through his clinical practice, theorising and lecturing. The result was a system for understanding people’s social and emotional difficulties as seen by psychoanalysts. In my experience, it’s a useful one: defined enough to be communicable to other people, but still open enough to be modified by and synthesised with other systems. Like Freud’s, Winnicott’s and Bowlby’s it does a good job, not a perfect one, of describing psychological experience. If Jung had been someone else, that imaginative/imaginal process could have resulted in other forms of understanding. Like dreams of scientific problem-solving. They’re not scientific or reliable. But they make the crucial contribution of allowing the individual scientist to step into the imagination for the synthesis of an important piece of knowledge that s/he can’t yet see, although they have all the parts there. My view is that the irrational can lead to more inclusive and creative forms of knowledge and synthesis, if used as a working partner with the rational ego, and not continually talked down to or treated with contempt. (Personification and dialogue seem to go with the territory.) These atheists treat reason as a god, and are oppressive to anyone who doesn’t worship the intellect as the primary source of all knowledge.
Luisetta