Anyone who really knows me, or at least knows how I think on the matter, knows that I don’t rush to override other people’s self-identification.
“Muslim? You’re not a Muslim! Where’s your beard?”
Self-identification is something that is an important part of everyone’s psychological make-up. A human without a concept of self, even if a selfless member of a collective, is missing something.
As an atheist, it’s particularly annoying when someone (in disingenuous, self-serving fashion) tells me that I’m really a religious person who is in a state of rebellion. Naturally following upon this that I need to submit to God’s will, which strangely enough involves me doing exactly what the religious person wants me to do.
The religious people who make this kind of argument, at least those making it to my face, never do so in good faith. I’d be much happier if they’d just cut to the chase.
“There probably is a God, so start worrying and get on with doing what I tell you to!”
I’m not in the habit of going around telling people that they aren’t a “True Christian”, or a “True Muslim” or a “True” whatever else, at the very least because it often involves the No True Scotsman fallacy. Furthermore, I don’t do it because I know that in addition to being a bit logically flaky, it pisses me off so it’s likely to piss others off. I can appreciate something truthful and honest pissing people off, and I don’t care too much about that, but when it’s poorly thought out argumentation that offends, then I’m prone to take issue. I assume other reasonable people do the same.
Even further still, there’s the matter of what is essential to being Christian et. al. – you can draw the line anywhere, and people often do so for the sake of convenience. But what is essential to a True Christian? Belief in a literal Christ? Belief in the message of Christ, if Christ is only metaphorical? Depending how you define Christianity, you can exclude all sorts of people from being True Christians.
If you believe that St Peter was the recipient of divine revelation, and that the acceptance of this divine mandate defines Christianity, then Eastern Christians – the first Christians – aren’t True Christians. If you believe that St Peter had no divine mandate, and that this is essential to Christianity, then Western Christianity is an oxymoron. Both outcomes are absurd.
It’s clear that one can pick and chose with the greatest of ease, the essential qualities of any group in order to generate a convenient definition of group members. It follows that as absurd as these definitions may be, they do allow people to be selective with their samples. And when equivocation on these definitions occur, it allows people to apply conclusions derived from one population, to be applied surreptitiously to another – even if unintentionally.
(And don’t get me started on skin colour and race – I’ll get back to that in good time.)
The alternative, is not to engage in essentialism in the first place. Instead to just assume that any given cultural identity has inherent diversity, and that membership is something negotiated between self-identification and general group-acceptance. A role in which out-group members have little, if any, say.
Still, being able to self-identify is one thing. Having your own group-identity deferred to in a civil sense is another. And having other individuals accept the definitions of your own identity in is another again.
I think it fair enough to expect society and other individuals not to run rough-shod over your cultural membership/identification, but after some preponderance on the matter, I’ve come to the conclusion that this is different from expecting other individuals to accept your identity. After all I can’t just call myself Catholic, get my friends to accept that I’m Catholic, then rock up to a Catholic church and expect to be given communion. That would be an imposture upon the Catholic church – a coercion of its clergy. I’m entitled to no such thing.
(I’m unsure as to why I’d want a Catholic communion – to have communion with the Catholics in attendance who are my fellow human beings?)
So while not forcing my definition of “Christian”, what I accept as Christian is as I’ve detailed above; no essential qualities, just self-identification and a reasonable level (allowing for a degree of dissent) of group-acceptance amongst one of the denominations. This by-and-large leaves me deferring to Christian self-identification, and leaves me out of politics such as “Catholics aren’t real Christians”.
However…
I don’t see defining Christianity as a question of religiosity. I see defining Christianity as a question of culture. A very messy question.
Religiosity is another thing altogether. It’s an acceptance of a particular ontological persuasion. So the question in my mind is not “do you identify as religious?”, but “do you accept the ontological acceptance of a deity with an interest in human affairs?”
If you identify as religious, and you don’t accept the ontology of an interested deity, then I won’t accept your religiosity. You can self-identify as much as you like, and I won’t stop you. I won’t try to push to have culture exclude your perspective. But I won’t, I can’t, see you as religious.
I can’t see “religiously deistic” as anything other than an oxymoron.
I can’t even see the census question of selecting a religion as meaningful. “Are you religious?”, with “Yes” or “No” as answers, perhaps with another question for the tradition(s) one identifies as belonging to*.
And I see religious and theistic as synonymous. So when John Shelby Spong calls his approach “non-theistic”, I call it non-religious and atheistic.
Importantly, I still defer to Spong’s self-identification as Christian. I don’t think “atheist Christian” is oxymoronic. Dawkins refers to himself as a culturally Christian atheist with a fondness for the Church of England – in this respect I don’t actually see him as that different to Spong, although what they both take from the culture probably differs considerably.
Religious identity is something that I can no longer personally accept in deference to self-identification. I have an objective test for that – which is I think acceptable, considering that were are dealing with a priori concepts.
There is a meaningful consequence to this.
When I critique religion, I’m not going to be talking about the recognition of a deistic intelligence, or a metaphorical god, or The-Universe-renamed-as-God or God-infintely-beyond-any-term-we-can-apply-to-it. I’m talking about the observance of old-grey-beard-and-genocide.
There’s a penchant for some people to complain that “My God isn’t like that! You’re not addressing me! You’re attributing the wrong belief to me!”
This is true of responses to Dawkins’ writing, where over and over and over (ad nauseum), people self-identifying as religious complain that Dawkins is dealing with a caricature of religion as a strawman tactic against actual religion.
Of course, he’s doing nothing of the sort. Dear aggrieved; he’s not talking about your “God” because your “God”, being metaphorical, disinterested, beyond-ontological-comprehension, or whatever, is not an object of religious worship. Why would Dawkins consider your perspective as representative of religion if he couldn’t in good faith, define it as religious? That’d be dishonest!
Consider the following, typical complaint.
“Professor Dawkins is a good scientist but a poor theologian. His book quotes exclusively the views of fundamentalist preachers, many from the United States.
He ignores the significant range of alternative theological perspectives that understand God not in terms of “old man in the sky” caricatures but in such concepts as spirit, life, love, and mystery – concepts that have an ancient pedigree, being found, for example, in Celtic expressions of religion and many others.”**
(Richard Randerson, 2010)
But if you can’t define “spirit, life, love, and mystery” (and all the other empirical things re-branded as God) as theistic, one can’t claim that Dawkins “ignores the significant range of alternative theological perspectives…” (emphasis added), because these perspectives are in these terms, not theological. Or in other words, not-religious.
I’ve put my cards on table in this post. Although I don’t think that Dawkins did quite a good enough job of defining religion in The God Delusion (2006) and I think this may be a problem for some readers. However, for the book reviewers, and theologians and assorted critics who make a living out of their opinion, there is a responsibility to go deeper when critiquing Dawkins’ views.
A careful consideration by critics should at least speculate on what Dawkins means by “religious” and how that influences the examples he selects. An ideal consideration would look at his past works to try to elucidate further.
I’d recommend that the critics read Dawkins’ essay, ‘The Great Convergence’, wherein Dawkins addresses what he sees as “neo-deistic pseudo-religion”, and goes on to ask…
“But if ‘religion’ is allowed such a flabbily elastic definition, what word is left for real religion, religion as the ordinary person in the pew or on the prayer-mat understands it today; religion, indeed, as any intellectual would have understood it in previous centuries, when intellectuals were religious like everybody else?”
(Richard Dawkins, ‘The Creat Convergence’ in A Devil’s Chaplain, 2003, formerly ‘Snake Oil and Holy Water’ in Forbes, 1999)
The quote is in relation to the scientific awe of scientists like Goodenough, Davies, Hawking, Sagan, and atheist priests like Don Cupitt, being redefined as a religious experience. I would argue that this extends to any experience that Dawkins would define as natural; emotional spirit, life, love and mystery. I would argue that Randerson’s “alternative theological perspectives” would not in fact qualify as religious for Dawkins (I missed the opportunity to ask him in person this morning – although it seems like a bit of a Dorothy Dixer).
Dawkins isn’t ridiculing these perspectives by way of caricature, because he’s not pretending to represent them at all. Frankly, it looks increasingly egocentric each time that I see people complaining that “Dawkins isn’t addressing my beliefs”; he’s not talking about you at all buddy.
Now I’ve been mulling this over for quite a while. At first, in 2006, I simply didn’t accept Dawkins’ terms, and perhaps in some very specific cases, I still don’t.
I still accept that there is a diversity of religious belief, and that it ultimately needs to be addressed as a natural phenomena in full recognition of that diversity. But in my opinion, this diversity is over-inflated by the critics who add the views of ersatz religion, the views of spiritual-but-not-religious life stances – human experiences we have been told time and time again that you can’t have without God.
Perhaps if The West were more accepting of the notion that you can be good without God, there would be more recognition that there was no God in these good experiences.
At any rate, I’ve made my position clear. Take it or leave it, I’m not coercing you. Just as I won’t be coerced into accepting others’ terms; I’ll either take or leave them as well.
Self-identified-religious people…
If I don’t recognise you as religious, try not to take offence. Even if I don’t think much of your ideas, I don’t think any less of them because I don’t think them religious. And much less do I think that it reflects on your character.
Perhaps you should indulge me, and others like me, in the same way that I tolerate the people who compliment me that I’m “doing God’s work” whenever I do something charitable.
Perhaps you should view my including you in the club-of-the-Godless as a welcome sign to my in-group; take it that I’m not going to discriminate against you just because you’re culturally Muslim, or culturally Christian, or culturally whatever. (Not that’d I’d discriminate against the religiously Muslim, Christian or whatever, either – it’s just an added guarantee).
Those are the terms of my perspective, so please include them in any consideration of my views on religion!
~ Bruce
Update: I read The God Delusion three times between 2006 and 2008. I’ve just checked some of the above against a reading of the relevant part and it seems to me my issue with the way Dawkins defines religion is overstated. Dawkins seems to have defined religion quite clearly. The change from my prior position not withstanding, could it be a reader-effect due to having more contextual understanding than I did in 2008?
* Perhaps this could put to rest the dubious practice of the state denying religious status to religions based on their numbers – granting tax breaks and consideration to the big ones, while discriminating against the small.
** It has to be said that while Randerson’s triumphalism is unfounded, his civics on the matter of the New Zealand atheist bus campaign is to be commended.