sheldrake

A busy day at work followed by a glass of wine, some cheese and an episode of The Mighty Boosh, led to me waking up at 3am in a panic, thinking Vince and Howard were a 44-page local town guide and directory that I had to get to the printers by 4.

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We're not really known for controversy here at the local press, we mainly like stories about tragic children or fence damage, when we're not busy being shocked about stuff other people said. One of our editors, though, has spent the last few days fielding phonecalls from irate Christians after publishing this piece on Creationism by columnist Nick Pandolfi. And then somebody spat at him in the street, so he's not in the best of moods.

Amusingly enough, considering the subject of the article, the main thrust of the argument made by one of today's callers was that 'children could have seen it'. Er, yeah... Where to start, really?

This is a very interesting and intelligent post about atheism and anger (found via burntcopper). I would have said that, yes, I was angered by 99.9% of the instances she referred to in the post... but then I read some of the comments and upped it to 100% (many thanks to Brad, the professional patronising protestant).

On the other hand, I'd be more inclined to say that they anger me as a human being, rather than as an atheist. I was about to say that I don't consider my atheism in the same way I consider my gender, sexuality or ethnic background... and then I realised I was not entirely sure about that. Is my atheism really a choice? It is, in that one has to think about these things in order to come to a conclusion... but then, I tried for many years to be religious (because I was worried about going to hell, you know) and never really managed it. I honestly think religious faith is not something I'm actually capable of, any more than I'd be capable of becoming male. That's part of who I am. But if that's true, what does it say about people who are religious? I don't know... because, you see, one of the things that makes me so, so angry is that ever-increasing tendency for religious spokespeople (particularly Christians) to style themselves as the latest oppressed minority group. Perhaps, it turns out, this is offensive to me not so much because Christians are not capable of being an oppressed minority group, but because they are so blatantly NOT one!

On the other other hand (yes, three hands!) I often find myself envying other atheists. Atheists who don't have a not only beloved but also sane, intelligent, strong, sensible, liberal and wise parent, who also happens to be a minister of the Christian faith. I can't help feeling that it would be much easier to be one of those atheists. And, actually, I know it would be easier, because I used to be one. (It would make it much easier, for instance, to say things like, As an atheist, I find myself wanting to kill every religious I see every time I think of the sheer misery caused by religion. DEATH TO ALL RELIGIONS! -- this is from a comment on the post).

I remember a friend saying incredulously to me once, in reponse to something I'd said, 'You mean you don't talk about religion with your mother?' And it's true that I don't tend to, at least not in any serious way. Partly, probably, because we're all a bit too reserved for our own good, but also because I'm just not that interested in attempting to pull down and dismantle the thing that means so much to her. I could have a go, I might have done at an earlier age, but my heart wouldn't really be in it. There has been too much pain and disunity in our family already. We have what I'm afraid I have to describe as an unspoken agreement to agree to disagree.

And I'm happy to argue amiably about religion with any amiable religious person who really wants to argue with me, but I'm almost certainly not going to start those arguments. One commenter on the blog said:

I'm angry at other atheists who can't see why they should be angry. Who take religious crap regularly and don't seem to be bothered by it. Who put up with religion in others like it's a harmless eccentricity, and don't question or challenge the ridiculous unfounded beliefs of others.

Well... tough, really. I'm angry, very angry, about the incredibly dangerous poison religion often spreads, and I will continue to be. And I don't believe in God. And I really don't want people praying for my atheist soul, either, but they can do it to their absolute hearts' content as long as I don't have to hear about it. Honestly, be my guest. Pray yourselves silly! Just don't tell me afterwards.

My mother and I often do discuss the things that happen in the world, and sometimes those things have to do with religious faith, and sometimes they don't -- and sometimes we agree, and sometimes we don't. But I have no desire at all to take away the belief-system she finds so intensely important and meaningful... inexplicable as I may find that belief-system. I'm not at all sure it would even be possible. Mainly, I wouldn't try to do that because it would be unkind.