Why I Stopped Believing In "God"

4/25/02

I don’t believe in God anymore.

I spent years searching for resources to prop up my dying faith.  I sifted through every potentially useful theological and philosophical apparatus I could find.  Every one of them dissolved in my hands.

I can no longer look into the eyes of the suffering—all of their eyes, past and present—and believe that a God of any interesting sort is really out there.  If there is a God, this God is either a malicious tyrant, an impotent sub-deity, or somehow preoccupied with other things.  In any event, such gods hardly suffice for religious devotion.

Small excerpt from the chronicle of those burned at the stake in the city of Wurzburg in the year 1598 under suspicion of witchcraft:

“The steward of the senate named Gering; old Mrs. Kanzler; the tailor’s fat wife; the woman cook of Mr. Mengerdorf; a stranger; a strange woman; Baunach, a senator, the fattest citizen in Wurtzburg; the old smith of the court; an old woman; a little girl, nine or ten years old; a younger girl, her little sister; the mother of the two little aforementioned girls; Liebler’s daughter; Goebel’s child, the most beautiful girl in Wurtzburg; a student who knew many languages; two boys from the Minster, each twelve years old; Stepper’s little daughter; the woman who kept the bridge gate; an old woman; the little son of the town council bailiff; the wife of Knertz, the butcher; the infant daughter of Dr. Schultz; a little girl; Scharts, canon at Hach…”

Need I say more?

----

The above—the problem of evil—is my main reason for giving up on God (god?).  My second is the one cited below, a modified excerpt from a paper I wrote in grad school:

In spite of what many sociologists say, I am of the opinion that religion in a robust sense isdying.  Its death is not identifiable with, say, reduced denominational loyalty or neglect of traditional doctrine, but with a trajectory of retreat accompanied by a demotion in function.  It has assumed a defense strategy that has been formed in response to modern threats to religion. 

First, what do I mean by “demotion in function”?  I arrive at this idea by dividing the history of American religion into two stages: before and after the onset of the “quest culture.”  Before the quest culture, in keeping with the larger part of the history of religion, institutions and doctrines functioned chiefly as explanation.  Backed by divine authority and revelation, they answered questions like: Where does the world come from?  Where do humans come from?  and, Why did this or that event happen?   In the late modern era, however, this role was gradually discredited owing, among other things, the increasing acceptance of scientific forms of explanation.  For instance, only a hundred years ago, if the average American were asked, Where did the world come from?, he or she would probably reference the doctrine of creation: “God made it.”  These days, fewer and fewer people would respond this way, citing instead the Big Bang or some other science-related explanation.  This suggests that religion has largely lost its validity as a way of explaining how the nuts-and-bolts of the world hold together and where they come from.  So, when I say that religion has been demoted in its function, I mean that, except in some Fundamentalist enclaves, religion is no longer allowed to function as an authoritative explanation of the outside world (at least, not to the degree that it had in the past).  Viewed from another angle, this may simply be described as a feature of societal differentiation: religion no longer supplies an overarching umbrella of explanation and has become, alongside politics and the arts, one of many parts of a fragmented social order.

Second, in response to this demotion, religion has been forced to protect itself by assuming a trajectory of retreat.  This notion relates to the fact that American spirituality has become so radically individualized and psychological.  If, as I suggest, religion has lost its authority as explanation, the individualization of religion appears to be a kind of defense strategy: threatened by the growing dominance of secular explanations of the “outside world,” religion has retreated to the inner sphere of subjective experience where it can perform another, more practical role and can insulate itself from scientific critique.  So, whereas scientists can easily question a religious claim like, “God makes the wind blow,” they would be hard pressed to question a claim like, “When meditating, I often feel the presence of my inner goddess.”  In short, I am suggesting that American quest religion is, in part, a prophylactic strategy that keeps science on the outside where it can do no harm to religion, and which keeps religion on the inside where it will not feel threatened by science (although, of course, I have more than just science in mind).

In my view, this conception helps unify many features of contemporary American religion. 1) Quest:  without the explanatory apparatus of religion to map out the world, it has become commonplace for people to feel as if they have lost their moorings.  2)  Autonomy: without an overarching explanatory structure, it has become necessary for religion to make more modest claims about the scope of religious “truth”; a single belief system is no longer true for everybody, it need only be true “for me.”  3)  God as immanent:  secular thought forms have made it difficult to maintain that there is a personal being “out there” who, from time to time, interferes in worldly affairs.  It seems more plausible to say that God is within my subjective experience since, in that way, no one except myself can have access to it.  Having lost explanatory transcendence, God has become so immanent as to be above critique.  4)  Achieved religious identity: if religion has no power to explain my place in the universe and if it is not “out there” in the structures of reality imposing itself upon me, I must trust my inner voice and, reflexively, choose my own religious identity.  More examples could be cited, but these will suffice to illustrate how my second claim can unify a broad range of religious phenomena.  Put differently, my claim is simply this: just as a turtle retracts its head and appendages within its protective shell upon seeing a predator, so American religion has retreated to a place within where it can avoid potential attacks from science and other non-religious modes of explanation.

In short, religion has been reduced to superstition (hardly a preferred destination for those who desire truth).

What is Nihilism?

In popular culture, the term "nihilism" is often used to label those who advocate anarchistic political views, deviant behavior, atheism or who otherwise resist accepted social norms.  In this vague and pejorative sense, “nihilism” is roughly synonymous with “anarchist,” “defeatist,” “nonconformist,” “suicidal” and even “mentally disordered.”  Indeed, the term “nihilism,” for many, conjures up an image of a dark, malevolent underworld that seeks the proliferation of death and chaos.  This popular conception has fomented a public suspicion and aversion to nihilism in general, including the philosophical nihilism discussed in this blog. 

The pejorative use of the term will undoubtedly persist until a more serious treatment of the philosophical nihilism appears in the popular media.  To my knowledge, there is no serious defense of the position published for wider audiences, a defense that would undoubtedly cement a more accurate, specific and useful understanding of the term in everyday language.  Of course, one might argue that Nietzsche provided a sound defense of nihilism and may be regarded as its figurehead and greatest defender.  But Nietzsche, like most great philosophers, is seldom read by the masses and, even when he is read, his meaning is often misunderstood and his nihilism obscured and unappreciated.

So, in view of the confusion attending nihilism in popular discourse, I will begin with a more specific definition and general summary as an opener for this blog.  With these preliminaries on the table, future discussions should prove more fruitful and not simply squabbles over different understandings of terms.  This will become particularly valuable when we encounter the more controversial elements of the position. 

To this end, I propose the following as a provisional summary of my own position and a starting point for discussion:

Nihilism is a philosophical position that denies the reality of values, especially moral values.  Values might include moral standards (“it is good to be honest”), claims about intrinsic worth (“the environment is our most valuable resource”), aesthetic judgments (“Mozart was a superior composer”) or any other judgment that includes notions of goodness or ethics (“we should strive to be good citizens by contributing to the political process”).  On this view, values of every kind are, at best, devoid of any legitimate support in the real world and, at worst, delusions that impair objective inquiry.  In short, nihilism is the view that, in reality, nothing matters.

In other words, nothing in the world--no object, event, idea, etc.--has any importance, purpose, goodness or meaning except in the subjective experiences of value-equipped minds.  Good and bad, ugly and beautiful, wonderful and dreadful, and all other value judgments do not exist in the real world.    

For example, consider the following moral principle:  “it is wrong to kill infants.”  Most people assume that this principle is beyond argument and is somehow a self-evident feature of reality.  In other words, like most moral principles, it appears to have intrinsic validity, so that we might say: “the killing of an infant by another human being is a special kind of event that is necessarily wrong in every time and place."  These kinds of moral judgments are so obvious and emotionally resonant that they seem to be hard-wired into the basic structure of the universe, making them impervious to refutation.  Indeed, because of the strong emotions attending these judgments, it seems almost perverse for anyone--nihilists included--to deny their validity. 

But there is no getting around the implications of the nihilist perspective:  If nihilism is true, we cannot rationally maintain that infanticide is a bad thing.  Of course, this is not to say that infanticide is a good thing either.  Good and bad do not really exist.  So in spite of our emotionally charged intuitions to the contrary, infanticides are just events alongside other events, completely devoid of moral content.    

These arguments might seem absurd and repulsive to many readers.  I can imagine a comment arriving in my inbox: “Vern, if you seriously believe that the murder of babies is not morally wrong, you are a twisted, sociopathic monster of a person and, in all likelihood, a threat to public safety.”  I can sympathize with this kind of reaction and, in spite of my philosophical convictions, I have very strong feelings about all kinds of violence.  But my feelings say nothing about the real world and nothing about the reality of value claims.  My feelings only suggest that certain value claims have very deep roots in my psyche.

Nihilism and the Hazards of Truth

Values—especially those related to birth, sex and death—are so deeply entrenched in our mental equipment and supported by such severe social pressure that most people cannot even conceive of doubting their reality.  In fact, such doubt is explicitly prohibited in many societies and the penalties backing these prohibitions can be severe.

This makes nihilism rather unique among philosophies.  Granted, it challenges the most fundamental assumptions governing society and culture, but in reality it is nothing more than a simple philosophical claim that has no practical implications and no ethical imperatives (it rejects both).  Nevertheless, nihilism can expose its outspoken adherents to many risks, from depression and suicide to social persecution and alienation.  In addition, consider how life would change if, in America, religion died off and nihilism became the dominant philosophy.  I cannot imagine a more horrifying vision. 

This furnishes an important lesson about intellectual honesty.  If you consider yourself a “truth seeker,” you will concur when I say that the sole target of honest inquiry should always be truth (i.e., the facts, reality, what is really the case or what have you).  If an unbiased investigation uncovers a fact about the world, we are bound as truth-seekers to at least admit that the truth of this fact.  Regardless of how ugly or unpopular or nauseating the facts may be, the target must not be moved: Truth and truth alone is the goal of honest inquiry.  So if—like most—your ultimate concern in philosophy is to pick out the best candidates for truth when approaching life’s most compelling questions, you cannot allow the social implications or emotional difficulties of nihilism to have any bearing on your analysis of it.  In other words, if what you really want is the truth, you have no choice but to accept or reject the nihilist position on its own rational merits and without any consideration of its potential consequences for your life or for society.  Only in myths and storybooks does truth exist to make us happy.  In the real world, it doesn’t give a damn how we feel about it.

Pardon me while I brandish some values of my own for the sake of persuasion.  In my view, it is naïve and intellectually dishonest to judge the truthfulness any idea with recourse to whether or not it promotes peace, happiness, self-esteem or any other emotionally amenable results.  Indeed, it just might turn out that, in reality, the world is a dark, depressing and terrifying place, and if you eliminate this possibility in advance, you will never be certain whether you’ve got things right and you will lose access to the least trod paths of thought.  Of course, you could always be upfront about your intentions and admit that, if the world turns out to be a dark and hopeless place, you would rather remain ignorant of that truth in the interests of your own happiness.  If that’s your approach, more power to you.  But if you want to claim that you are a philosopher or that truth is your sole concern, be prepared to enter the dark forests as well as the sunny meadows.

I have been speaking of truth as a valuable commodity that is worthy of pursuit.  Obviously, this conflicts with my claim that nothing matters since, if nothing matters, truth doesn’t matter either.  I’ll grant this point.  However, in my own defense, I’ll freely admit that my obsession with truth is entirely without foundations and forces me to adopt false motives to keep it moving.  There is nothing worthwhile about truth.  But there is nothing worthwhile about anything and no purpose in life, so I don’t need a good reason to seek truth.  Frankly, philosophical inquiry is so deeply rooted that I can’t keep away from it. 

With this said, let us return to the problem of child killing.  I have a very simple request to make of those who would deny the nihilist position.  Show me how the killing of a child in itself, as a bare event in the world, includes the raw materials to form and support a full-fledged moral judgment.  It is clear that, no matter how closely you scrutinize the details of a child-killing event, there is nothing about the event or about the structure of the universe that exhibits value judgments.  To repeat:  Infanticide, homicide, earthquake, bombing: These are nothing more than segments in space time that have distinguishable characteristics allowing us to name them.  There is nothing "out there" in the events themselves implying anything about goodness, tragedy, or any other value. 

In other words, values do not exist except as features exhibited in subjective experiences.  No experiences, no values.  Frankly, I’m not convinced that evolutionary biologists have adequately explained the evolutionary circumstances behind the development of values.  I suspect that values have emerged, in part, to organize and strengthen social groups in response to various kinds of threats and competitors.  It is not difficult to see why a group would be advantaged by built-in value systems to organize, assign roles, eliminate socially hazardous behaviors, and convince members to give their lives for the survival of the group.  However, for my purposes I simply want to argue that values have no extra-mental origins, no extra-mental sustenance, and no extra-mental justification.  They are, for lack of a better term, delusions that developed during the course of evolution.  

My argument may also be summarized as follows:

(1) For anything in the world to "exist" or be "real", it must exist in the world and not solely in some aspect of a person's experience that has been added by the mind.  Anything that exists solely in the mind of a perceiver but is believed to exist in the extra-mental objects of their perception (i.e., out in the world), is the object of false belief and therefore a delusion.   

(2)  It is absurd to suppose that values or the raw materials to construct and support values could be excavated from the brute facts of the world without any recourse to emotion, moral intuition and other mental phenomena.  Values have never appeared outside of subjective experience.

(3)  Since values exist only in our heads (in experience, in emotional intuitions, et al), they do not pass the test for being real and, if believed to be real, must be regarded as delusions.

This leaves us with nihilism: Values are unreal and nothing matters.