Flourishing in the Company of Like-Minded People
By Rebecca Newberger Goldstein, 2011 Humanist of the Year
I WAS, UNTIL QUITE RECENTLY, unaware of the existence of the secular humanist community, organized around the values of rationality, free inquiry, and the right that each of us has to flourish in this life—the only life that any of us will ever have. I had long believed, with all my being, in these values. But the process that had brought me to my conclusions didn’t connect me with any normative community, organized around shared values. In fact, I tended to think of normative communities as strictly religious communities.
I had been raised in one such community, and my journey out of it was silent, solitary, and estranged. For many decades after I’d thought my way out of the belief system into which I’d been born and indoctrinated, I didn’t speak a word of my internal dissent. I shied away from causing any discomfort to those closest to me, fearing that the rejection of their beliefs would be felt as a rejection of them. And my reluctance to cause such discomfort was compounded by the female “modesty” that had been pounded into my psyche since earliest childhood, a modesty interpreted so broadly as to merge into self-effacement. Mine certainly is not the only religious tradition that asserts strict control over its women, the sartorial draping heavy with the symbolism of disappearance. The sense that there is something shameful in the very state of being a female is quite effective in stifling demurral.
Nevertheless, demur I did, though ever so demurely. I found the books I needed to read, thought the thoughts I needed to think, and repeated the process. Read, reflect, repeat. I trained myself to go through the motions of religious obedience as mindlessly as possible, even when they offended the conclusions at which I’d arrived—which was constantly. I sought my solace in the fact that, no matter how constrained my external behavior might be, nobody could assert his authority over the autonomy of my mind. I’d do what was asked of me, but they couldn’t get at my thoughts. For decades, I told myself that was the only autonomy I required.
But of course it wasn’t. Such a split between one’s inner and outer selves exacts its toll. The bloody inconvenience of the intrusive religious requirements, very onerous in the particular tradition that bound up my life, was the least of it. More serious was the loneliness of inhabiting a place of unvoiced convictions, forever foregoing the give-and-take promoted by mutual respect. For me, every thought I had was first rigorously assessed before it was expressed, not only for its soundness but also for its possible potential to give offense. As time went on, and my thinking progressed, the proportion of propositions that failed to meet the second requirement began to dominate. That’s a lonely space in which to be confined.
But far more debilitating was the damage delivered to my sense of integrity. Yes, I could tell myself that I was behaving as I was out of regard for others, particularly my family, who would be privately pained and publicly humiliated by my speaking my thoughts. And, too, I could be scrupulous, as I tried to be, in never professing beliefs I didn’t possess, in keeping mum while I went through the motions. Still, my observance itself spoke assent to propositions I vehemently rejected, and the clash between convictions and actions gradually chipped away at my sense of integrity.
It’s an interesting word, integrity, sharing its root with the words integer, meaning a whole number, and integrate. In other words, this term that refers to a high level of moral achievement also speaks of wholeness. Is it possible to be a person of integrity while maintaining a radical bifurcation between one’s outer and inner lives? And if that inner life should value rationality, free inquiry, and the right of us all to flourish to our fullest, then how can you keep silent about the conclusions to which your rational free inquiry has brought you? How can you deny for yourself the right to flourish in the company of like-minded people who will not disapprove of you for subjecting your beliefs and actions to the standards of rational accountability? If you believe in the integrity of your conclusions then you must show them to the world, making the case for them not only by the arguments you hash out in the privacy of your own mind but by the life that you publicly lead. There was a lot I had to overcome—not least of all that blasted female modesty—before I could follow through on this line of reasoning.
Betraying Spinoza: The Renegade Jew Who Gave Us Modernity was the eighth book I’d published, but it was the first in which I took the long-delayed and irrevocable step of integrating my private and public selves. Integrity is, like all the virtues, its own reward, but an additional reward came to me as a result of publishing that book. The humanist movement, of which I’d been ignorant, reached out to me. I have to say that at first I was stunned. I’d never imagined a movement composed of freethinkers. There seemed something, at first, almost paradoxical about it. But that’s only because for so long I’d thought that the price of integrity, at least for a person like me, had to be estrangement and solitude, a forfeiting of the support and solace of community. Secular humanism proves otherwise.
Why the Humanist Magazine Matters
By Lawrence Krauss, 2015 Humanist of the Year
I FRANKLY ADMIT that when I first learned the Humanist magazine and the American Humanist Association were turning seventy-five in 2016, I was surprised. I had assumed that the bold stance maintained by the AHA and the Humanist in the current world had been devised more recently, as religious entrenchment in the face of growing secularism has produced a loony fundamentalist political backlash that requires a concerted response.
Upon reflection, however, the importance of the longstanding tradition of the Humanist became more clear. The effort to obscure the obvious, to rely on fear, ideology, or religious pressure to limit debate has been a policy of governments, democratic or not, for far longer than seventy-five years. What many in the mainstream world of journalism seem to have forgotten is that a free press is the basis of a sound democracy. If the press is unwilling to openly question even the sacred—indeed, especially the sacred—who will? The Humanist magazine therefore continues to be an important source of critical analysis and commentary.
Skepticism and freethought are not an agenda, nor should they be the province of any political party. The need for magazines like the Humanist will therefore continue independent of the winds of political and ideological fad and fashion. In the current U.S. political climate it is easy to imagine that Republicans, who seem to have given up on reality-based policy, have a monopoly on nonsense. But it is worth remembering, for example, that a broad-based recent survey of American adults demonstrated that atheists were viewed on par with rapists on a scale of trustworthiness. We still have our work cut out for us.
The slow pace of political progress, when it comes to the need for free thought in all areas of the public sphere, is frustrating. When reading the work of our founding fathers, including Thomas Paine, it seems we have taken a giant step backward in the intervening centuries. As I write this, a leading candidate for President of the United States in one of the two major political parties has openly declared that evolution is the work of Satan, that the Big Bang never happened, and that the world is 6,000 years old. Somehow this colossal level of ignorance was not obviated by his Yale education or his subsequent training as a doctor.
Clearly the need to believe in invisible things that help you deal with a world that otherwise is not centered on your own existence runs deep and strong. Yet the history of human progress centers around our ability to overcome our innate myopia and solipsism, and allow our beliefs to conform to the evidence of reality instead of vice versa. We do live in amazing times, and as a scientist it is often hard to believe how much our vision of the universe has evolved even since I was a student, and one can only marvel at the remarkable new windows on the cosmos that have been designed and built.
The dichotomy between the ability of scientific skepticism to produce progress and our ability as human beings to hold two contradictory notions in our heads at the same time is striking. But by openly recognizing this fact, by bringing such contradictions to light, as the Humanist does in different ways in each issue, we can help one aspect of being human have a positive impact on the other aspect.
We live in a remarkable universe and we shouldn’t lose sight of the fact that this deserves celebration. We don’t need the garbage, the myth, or the superstition to make life interesting. Indeed, I’ve just finished writing a new book titled, The Greatest Story Ever Told…So Far, because the story of the real universe is so much more fascinating, and full of so much more drama, compassion, and intrigue than stale books written by Iron Age peasants several millennia ago.
The challenge to the Humanist is therefore great: to steer a course between criticism and wonder. I am sure that the effort must be frustrating, but I thank the editors of the magazine for their continued efforts. Please keep producing articles for seventy-five more years. Because even if we win the current battles against superstition, ideology, and lies, the longer-term effort to preserve enlightenment must continue. Thank you for continuing to be on the front lines for so many years. Live long and prosper.