So you think you’re an atheist?

Two weeks ago, Richard Dawkins visited the IU Auditorium and things haven’t been the same since.

Immediately, conversations started across campus as students began to question their faith. While atheists commended the words of their most notable leader, concerned believers persistently questioned his claims.

Shocked by Dawkins’ confident rejections of faith, many were quick to label him a militant atheist extremist. I did.

But now, I’m not buying it.  

While Dawkins might be an intelligent, Oxford-educated biologist with a keen ability to piss people off, he’s hardly hardcore. In fact, compared to the founding fathers of atheism, he’s a wimp, according to recent campus lecturer John Haught.

In his 2006 bestseller, “The God Delusion,” Dawkins claims, “We can give up belief in God while not losing touch with a treasured heritage.”

This isn’t exactly the view of the classical atheists. When famed existentialist/pioneering atheist Jean-Paul Sartre spoke about his beliefs, he said, “Atheism is a cruel and long-range affair.” Friedrich Nietzsche, though confident in God’s death, maintained that most would be too weak to accept the terrifying reality of a world without religion.

In overthrowing something as fundamental as God, classical atheists understood that intense cultural change would necessarily occur. Dawkins’ post-religious world, however, seems much like ours – just without churches, mosques, religious prejudice, absolute values and, most importantly, freedom from the greatest of all evils: creationists. 

But that’s not how it works.

You can’t say no to something without saying yes to something else. Atheism isn’t a simple shunning of “irrational,” faith-based belief. It’s an embrace of naturalism. It’s an acceptance that this is all there is. It demands a willingness to wonder if there’s a purpose to life. It requires that individuals assume total responsibility for their actions, which is an incredible burden.

True atheists must grapple with lawless nihilism. They should see no tragedy in suffering and should find no praise for altruism. Certain ways might be preferable, but they cannot be inherently better. Because things just are. Period.

This doesn’t mean that atheists want us to suffer or that they desire a world without happiness. It doesn’t imply that many atheists have come to their belief without processing these bleak thoughts.

This doesn’t mean that atheists are bad people. I love them. Many are my friends.
I’m simply asserting that atheism is not a world view that should be as easily and rationally accepted as Dawkins suggests. It’s not a joyous enlightenment that one experiences.

It should be tough.

And though he can be quite the attack dog, I’d never call Richard Dawkins tough.
While I might be intimidated by his bold denunciations of all faiths, I see him for what he is: a half-hearted atheist, who only partially embraces the implications of his belief.

He is, at best, a naive proponent, fully knowledgeable of the biology behind his world view but reluctant to acknowledge the depressing reality of the existence he advocates. He’s one who would attack God, but not finish Him off. A pansy. A juvenile noob.

Or, as Dawkins might say in his refined British way, a bloody sissy.