Neil Carter from Godless in Dixie is someone I deeply respect. I think he is empathetic, intelligent, an oustanding public speaker, and better than about anyone I know at building bridges between Christians and atheists.

But I disagree with something he said recently, and I’d like to talk about it. In the same spirit as two people might disagree on plans to build a bridge, so to speak, or an engineer might point out to another engineer why he thinks the figures might be “off” in a certain way. Just in discussion…

Recently, he wrote an article entitled “Can Atheists Learn Anything From the Religious?” I read it with interest; it was an intriguing title. I wasn’t disappointed, but its contents gave me mixed feelings.

First, I’d like to make clear a few places where I agree.

He stated that atheists often are overconfident and haughty when it comes to scientific conclusions. I agree with that assessment. It is difficult, sometimes, to know how much certainty can be attached to certain scientific propositions, and the conclusions of studies are frequently proven wrong. So it is very likely that, in one area or another, atheists are overconfident when it comes to the results of studies — at times over-relying on them.

He also says that ethical dilemmas cannot always be solved by science — basically the Humean argument that no definition of “is” equals an “ought.” And I agree with this, as well. As Carter put it:

For example, science can teach us how to build new weapons and perhaps how to engineer new living organisms, but it cannot in itself tell us whether or not we should. Ethical, social, and moral questions don’t always reduce down to mathematical models which generate the same choices and values that human beings would choose for themselves using their own consciences.

Absolutely true. Science can help us carve out a map of what our landscape of existence looks like, but that information alone doesn’t tell us where to go.

Further, I agree with him that these spaces are not best filled by the Christian God — that secular philosophy can help us find direction where what we learn from science stops. As he puts it:

I don’t think theologians have better answers than secular philosophy can provide. I mean, just because many of our questions remain unanswered doesn’t mean that we have to embrace magic or ghosts or the kinds of “mysteries” which the church tells you to accept even when they don’t make sense. These gaps don’t have to be automatically filled with the same theistic goo, like the caulk builders squeeze into the spaces left in the construction of a new home.

All that is agreed. And that is quite a bit, I argue, that we agree on.

Before I move on, I’d like to make clear there’s another thing I agree with him on that, in agreeing with him, I’m also slightly disagreeing with him. It’s here:

Fellow atheists give me a hard time because I talk a lot about fostering constructive dialogue between ourselves and people on the other side of the aisle, so to speak. They protest and ask, “What good can come of maintaining conversation with people who believe nonsense?” I understand where they’re coming from, but my feelings on the matter are different for at least a couple of reasons.

Now, Carter goes into more detail here that seems important to consider, but I’d like to correct a misconception. I talk to Christians about Christianity plenty. So I agree that we should engage in “constructive dialogue” — but I also think that part of being constructive is being honest and straightforward, at least for me. That said, Carter is a very effective communicator, so what he’s doing is working for him.

I think we have very different definitions of “constructive dialogue.” And in a way, that’s OK. Carter does not live my life and I do not live his. We probably have fundamentally different views on religion, which fuels our different responses. I have to be honest from mine, though.

Because here’s the thing: I’ve sat in a church pew for 28 years of my life being told a story people thought would make me happy that gave me a lot of pain because it wasn’t an honest story. It was dressed up to look nice, but it was a lie. And when I found out a lie had stolen so much of my life away, I left and more-or-less vowed not to tell people lies again. I know people disagree. But it is fundamentally against my constitution to lighten the truth concerning where I stand — and I am trying to be more honest and straightforward regarding my stance, not less. I’ve sacrificed a great deal in relationships and life in general to get to where I currently am in this pursuit.

That’s my story.

It’s not Carter’s and I don’t have authority to tell him how to live his life in this way. It’s different than mine. But I do think it’s reasonable to respond to people who give me what I think is bad advice for the context of my own experience.

Again, I agree that dialogue carries importance, and I’m obsessed with discussions on philosophy, religion, and politics. The primary reason for this blog is to provide an outlet for that obsession. I’m carrying on conversations, in various formats, with thousands of people a week, because this dialogue is extremely important to me. And from my perspective, this dialogue is constructive. It’s what I wish atheists had done for me more when I was a Christian — been straightforward about my beliefs being wrong, challenged me, and engaged me in debate. I honestly think there is value there. Maybe it’s not everyone’s style or goal, but it’s mine. It’s a part of who I am, and I’ve come to terms with the fact that this is OK.

OK, so now that this is out of the way — here’s where I disagree with Neil Carter:

I disagree that we should look to Christians for epistemic humility. At all.

When Christians scold me for my pride, it’s almost always in the context of, “You don’t know anything — therefore you have to be open to the possibility x.” “X” is often God. But this is not true. A more careful approach is to be closed to less likely possibilities and open to more likely possibilities — so that we employ caution (as opposed to outright confidence) in accepting, rejecting, and even considering different possibilities.

The problem with Christianity, in my experience (let me know if you’ve had a different one) is that it puts faith on a pedestal. “Faith” is a notoriously difficult concept to define, but in practice “faith” seems to be a gap-filler.

I have no problem saying that we should admit that there are things we don’t know. But I do object to learning this from someone who uses our lack of knowledge to say we should accept propositions through faith, instead of from someone who says we should be careful about attaching inaccurate weight to different possibilities in the face of uncertainty.

I’m saying this, in part, because what I learned about evangelism in church (and after) is that you’re supposed to argue your opponent to nihilism and, in the midst of the existential crisis you bring on your opponent, you are to drag him or her up from the dregs with the Good News of Jesus Christ. My current opposition to this model is fundamental — I don’t think an embrace of nihilism, or a dichotomy of faith/doubt, is the way to go. Rather, I think it is far better to carefully attach probabilities to what we do and don’t know, and try to make the best decision based on these probabilities that we can — without making “faith” in them a kind of innate virtue, and without despairing by thinking there is no real way (save “faith,” perhaps) to entertain some possibilities over others at all.

Hopefully that makes some sense. If not, feel free to comment and I’ll try to clarify.

One more thing — at the end of his post, Carter lists some things we could learn from the religious:

The importance of passing ideas on to children, and taking the time to make that a priority.

The value of intentional community, regular gatherings, and organized activities.

The value of family, perhaps enriched even more by those who sacrifice professional goals to focus on the care of the children.

Warning against the dangers of materialism and greed (depending on which kind of preacher they’ve got, of course!)

Learning to unplug sometimes from the world of electronics just long enough to remember what it’s like to be a living thing.

And I agree with them, partly, and disagree with them, partly. I agree we should pass ideas to children, but in practice — at least for religious people, it seems — it too often works out that children are blatantly expected to follow in the footsteps of their parents’ beliefs (or face often unpleasant consequences).

I think there is value in community, gatherings, and activities — but I’m not sure that it has to be intentional; I think some people might enjoy informal, relaxed gatherings, and when I was going to church it did bother me, slightly, that pastors made you feel guilty if your gathering didn’t have a distinct purpose.

I value family, and my mother sacrificed her career to raise seven kids in the “Quiverfull” movement…but at the same time, parts of that experience have had me fundamentally reconsider the value of family as opposed to singlehood or unconventional definitions of “family,” and whether our society’s exaltation of parents who “sacrifice professional goals to focus on the care of the children” actually guilt-trips women into staying at home instead of pursuing the lives they really want.

I think it’s valuable to stay away from extreme materialism and greed — but at the same time, I think that we all have things we are passionate about, and as long as your love of fast cars and big houses isn’t harming your neighbor, there may be value in it for you.

And regarding unplugging from the world of electronics to feel alive — I think that, sometimes, when I’m behind a computer writing, like I am now, to thousands of people is when I feel most alive. And I don’t think that’s anything to feel guilty about; it’s just who I am and it has become a way for me to express myself to people and for others to express themselves to me.

And I tend to think the way I do in the previous sentences because I’m not necessarily looking to learn from the “humility” or faith of religious people — I might (and, at times, have) but it’s been fairly coincidental. If you are — OK, knock yourself out. If it comes up and I have a disagreement on something in particular, we can talk about it. But this is where I stand.

It’s not like I’m not trying to build a bridge. More like I’m standing on a different part of the bank, so to speak.

Hopefully that makes some sense.

Thanks for reading.