Does God Believe in Atheists?

Evangelical Press has just published what it is calling its 'Book of the year', a major treatment of atheism and agnosticism by Christian Ministries evangelist, John Blanchard. Entitled Does God believe in atheists? It traces the development of atheistic thinking from the 'Golden Age' of Greek philosophy to the present day. Here is an edited extract from the book's chapter on secular humanism.

The first article in Humanist Manifesto II includes the words: 'We find insufficient evidence for the existence of a supernatural'. This blunt dismissal of deity is underlined by a promotional leaflet issued by the International Humanist and Ethical Union and which 'presents the case for understanding the world without reference to a god', while in his recent book All in the mind Sir Ludovic Kennedy claims 'definitely to disprove the existence of God'.

The point being made is clear, but is it cogent or coherent? The non-existence of God is being floated not as a possibility, nor as a theory; it is being asserted as an article of faith. Yet nowhere in humanistic literature have I discovered even a remotely credible basis for such a belief. Instead, humanism falls back on old arguments from anthropology, sociology and psychology to explain the universal phenomenon of religion.

In particular it leans heavily on the idea that man invented religion to counter his overwhelming idea of inadequacy, as he faced up to the pressures in this life, and concerns about a possible life to come. Julian Huxley once said: 'Man invented the gods to protect him from loneliness, uncertainty and fear', while George Bernard Shaw maintained that 'man has created God in his own image rather than the reverse'. Yet these jaded theories surely fall a long way short of evidence that God is non-existent? It is one thing to claim that wishing for something to exist is not evidence that such a thing exists, but it is quite another thing to suggest that looking for something to exist is evidence for its non-existence!

The role of science

Another major weakness in the humanist's case is its insistence on the role of science in determining the issue. Writing in The Daily Telegraph in 1993, Richard Dawkins, arguably Britain's best-known atheist, announced: 'God cannot be proved by any scientific hypothesis. Therefore he does not exist.' Dawkins is a compelling communicator and an entertaining writer, but as a contribution to this particular issue, his claim is as crass as the one broadcast by Moscow Radio on Christmas Day 1960: 'Our rocket has by-passed the moon and is nearing the sun, and we have not discovered God. We have turned out lights in heaven that no man will be able to turn on again'. To demolish the idea of God with such sweeping statements is ignorance masquerading as intelligence.

The second article in the Manifesto includes the statement: 'As far as we know, the total personality is a function of the biological organism transacting in a social and cultural context.' This is out-and-out reductionism, which says that human beings are nothing more than accumulations of matter which can be explained in purely physical terms. In The Selfish Gene, Richard Dawkins claims that we are 'survival machines - robot vehicles blindly programmed to preserve the selfish molecules known as genes', while the British astronomer, Sir Fred Hoyle, writes that living creatures, humans included, are 'no more than ingenious machines that have evolved as strange by-products in an odd corner of the universe.'

'Nothing-buttery'

In the 1950s the distinguished British scientist, Donald MacKay, called reductionism 'nothing-buttery', and mounted a withering and effective attack on the theory that human beings could be reduced to nothing but atoms and molecules. Since then, many eminent scientists, by no means all Christians, have joined the assault. Steve Jones, Professor of Genetics at University College, London, writes: 'It is the essence of all scientific theories that they cannot resolve everything. Science cannot tell us why we are here, what is the point of being alive, how we ought to behave. Genetics has almost nothing to say about . . . what makes us human.'

Some people speak of human beings as being little more than supercomputers, but even the most sophisticated technology works only because it has been built and programmed by human beings with vastly superior qualities and attributes. Can a computer express love, hatred, pride, prejudice, sympathy, jealousy, fear or joy? Can it lose its temper, change its mind, express its independent approval or exercise self-control? Can a machine set out to create an impression, influence people's thinking or make moral judgments? Can it enjoy good music or a beautiful sunset? The American philosopher Paul Ziff hits the nail on the head: 'A machine uses power, but a man has lunch. A machine can take, but a man can borrow. A machine can kill, but a man can murder. A machine can calculate, but a man can be calculating. A machine can break down, but a man can have a breakdown.' To say that humans are just machines contradicts everything we know about both.

Relativism

The third article in the Manifesto begins: 'We affirm that moral values derive their source from human experience. Ethics is autonomous and situational, needing no theological or ideological sanction'. This makes man the sole arbiter in all matters of justice and law, right and wrong'; in John Hick's blunt assertion, 'There is no God, therefore no absolute values and no absolute laws.' There is a straight line from here to relativism, which historian Paul Johnson calls 'one of the principal formative influences on the course of 20th-century history'. In The Closing of the American Mind, the contemporary scholar Allan Bloom claims: 'There is one thing a professor can be certain of. Almost every student entering university believes, or says he believes, that truth is relative.'

One serious defect in moral relativism is that it is impossible to live it out consistently. What may sound attractive as a proposition proves absurd in practice. Does anyone really believe that other people's views on abortion, euthanasia, homosexuality, psychedelic drugs, racism or divorce, are just as valid as theirs? Is it seriously suggested that a stable society or personal happiness (a major goal of humanism) is possible if the foundations for ethics, morality and behaviour are constantly shifting? If each one of us operates from a personal set of values, what gives us the right to say that others are wrong? Is the car thief happy to have his own car stolen, or the rapist to have his daughter raped? Ernest Hemingway's creed was: 'What is moral is what you feel good after, and what is immoral is what you feel bad after', but would that make sense to both parties after a violent rape? Relativism produces chaos, not cohesion. Without an absolute, transcendent standard of ethics, nobody can successfully argue for the adoption of his own.

Annihilation

The Manifesto includes the words: 'There is no credible evidence that life survives the death of the body. We continue to exist in our progeny and in the way that our lives have influenced others in our culture.' Annihilationism has always been a party line for humanists; one contemporary spokesman, Corliss Lamont, cheerfully claims: 'While we're here, let's live in clover, for when we're dead, we're dead all over.'

On the humanist's own terms one wonders what kind of evidence could ever be accepted as being credible; on the other hand, there are powerful signs that the Manifesto's statement is puerile. History is against it, with every culture known to man offering evidence of belief in an after-life. Morality is against it; man has a conscience, a sense of right and wrong, yet in the absence of post-mortem experience, we are left to grit our teeth and accept that 'the ultimate triumph of good over evil' is romantic nonsense. This means that when the time comes for them to die, the serial killer and the tiny baby, the child molester and the gracious old lady, the ruthless dictator and the gentle nurse, together with all they have been and done, will be wiped out of existence. To accept that scenario requires a determined and unnatural effort that goes against most people's instinctive grain.

Finally, humanity is against it. Much is made (even by atheists) of human dignity, but what does this amount to if it disappears at death? What is the point of high-flown phrases at a funeral, if at that point the deceased has no more value than a few kilograms of potassium or peat? There is not much dignity in fertiliser! Nor is the issue resolved by settling for the idea that 'we continue to exist in our progeny.' When someone asked the American film producer, Woody Allen, if he was not greatly encouraged by the thought that after his death he would live on in the hearts of his countrymen through his work, he replied: 'I'm not interested in living on in the hearts of my countrymen, I'd rather live on in my apartment.' That is not going to happen - nor is the humanist's hope that 'when we're dead, we're dead all over.' Not even the most ardent humanist can ignore God for ever.

This article is an extract from John Blanchard's new book Does God believe in atheists? published by Evangelical Press at £14.95 until April 30 2000 (then £19.95), 736 pages, ISBN 0 85234 460 0, and is used with permission.

An extract from the book Does God Believe in Atheists? tracing the development of atheistic and agnostic thinking

The role of science

'Nothing-buttery'

Relativism

Annihilation

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