Religion for Atheists: A Non-Believer's Guide to the Uses of Religion [Hardcover]

Alain de Botton's new book "Religion for Atheists" is a bold attempt to convince atheists, or those who don't believe in the existence of God, that it is possible to derive important lessons from religions around the world without accepting any supernatural claims they might make. Mr. de Botton is unequivocal about his atheistic stance, and frankly says that he doesn't believe in any supernatural being or phenomenon. But this atheistic position that many people probably adopt today, he claims, should not prevent them from appreciating the effective ways religions have provided to meet what he calls the needs of souls that tend all too often to be left unattended in our secularized world but remain none the less existent.

Based on this central principle, he refers to various fields ranging from education to architecture and shows us how religions have traditionally interpreted or dealt with the problems typically associated with those fields. For example, we tend to assume that the purpose of education is to impart valuable information. Hence our puzzlement over a university lecture that focuses exclusively on certain obscure literary works of a foreign thinker who died several thousand years ago, however much importance its lecturer argues they have. This kind of situation happens because of the fact that education has forgotten its original mission: to fill the moral vacuum that was left by the ebbing of the influence of religion. Religions used to teach each of its adherents how to find happiness, how to deal with suffering, and how to become a better, mature person---a kind of therapeutic pedagogy, the need for which remains as strong as ever despite the fact that we are now living in a godless, secular world. Mr. de Botton therefore argues that education, especially in the field of humanities, should ideally provide a reasonable substitute.

Another field that he zeros in on is art. Mr. de Botton complains that the high esteem we hold museums in is made almost useless by our nonsensical prejudice that art should be only for its own sake. Religions have used works of art as important tools of reminding us of those qualities that we understand at heart are important but too often forget or fail to act upon, and have had no qualm about admitting art serves a utilitarian purpose, like that of enhancing our happiness or of healing our souls. This attitude is, according to Mr. de Botton, still relevant today, and should influence ways we appreciate works of art.

These considerations, provocative as they may be, are deeply interesting and thought-provoking. Some of his ideas, however, are more controversial. For instance, in a section on the contrast between libertarianism and paternalism, he says religious paternalism used to help people be better than they would have been left to their own devices, whereas libertarianism, in which people are permitted to do whatever they like as long as they are law abiders, leaves people at a loss for where to seek moral guidance. But it is precisely because one's conviction that s/he has an infallible understanding of what is truly good or bad for humanity brought about tremendous bloodshed that our predecessors decided to enshrine the rights of individual freedom. Even if some aspects of paternalism are indeed appealing, it seems to be difficult to let go of the well-cherished principle that every individual is a sovereign over himself.

Another topic some might find unpalatable is his discussion of The Book of Job, which he claims is one of the most consoling texts for atheists. In this biblical story, Job, a wealthy, happy man, experienced a series of grave misfortunes, lost his children, his wealth and even his health. His neighbors said that he must have sinned and been punished, but he was convinced of his innocence and began to doubt the benevolence of God. At this point God admonished him for his haughtiness. Compared with the vastness of the universe and its mysteries, human beings were petty, insignificant creatures, and as such they had no qualification to fathom God's intentions. After this admonition, Job came to realize the pettiness of human life and the nothingness of his own existence. This story, says Mr. de Botton, helps us, like Job, to realize how small and how insignificant our everyday troubles and sorrows are, in comparison with the grandeur of the universe. But if you notice an analogy between what Job experienced and the tsunami that people in the north eastern part of Japan went through last year, Mr. de Botton's argument becomes less convincing. For how many would agree that those who got indignant at the disaster's unfairness were arrogant for presuming to judge what's fair and unfair? How many would say that the disastrous event, which claimed tens of thousands of innocent lives, reminded people of the smallness of their everyday desires and sufferings and the nothingness of their own existence? Very few, indeed.

Notwithstanding these controversial points, this book as a whole is an interesting attempt to add a new dimension to, and therefore stimulate, the otherwise insipid debates between the religious and the non-religious fundamentalists.

It's refreshing to read a book by an atheist that acknowledges religion isn't a complete waste of time and space and may in fact offer much that enriches human experience and helps us live together nicely (if only we could leave out the ridiculous stories and exploitative hegemonies!).

With deftness, wit, and a wry tone, de Botton explores some of religion's greatest hits, including wisdom, community, kindness, tenderness, perspective, education, architecture, and art. He shows us how effective religion is at what we might call a customer-centric approach to presenting itself and suggests many secular institutions like universities, art galleries, and museums might be much more effective at engaging us with our culture if they borrowed a few tips from the assorted god squads. My favourite is his suggestion that we order human knowledge and learning in easy to grasp thematic ways (stuff about love, loss, marriage etc) rather than the dull, inaccessible academic boffin way (19th century x-ism, early 20th century z-ism etc) we're all so fond of.

What's implied here is that we have a soul (psyche, imagination, heart, whatever) that used to be fed and sustained by religion, a soul that is now starved and in need of sustenance, a soul that needs regular doses of meaning and wisdom so we can make it through the day, a soul we ignore at our peril, a soul that rewards those who care for it, if only we could remember how to do that.

It's not all plain sailing, and some of de Botton's suggestions ring the "yeah, right" bell. But even when his answers are a big wobbly, the questions are smack on the money and must be asked, pondered, and contemplated. So read on, as I did, and dare to imagine how we as a secular society can better meet our great need for a life filled with soul, perhaps with a little help from religion's vast experience.

OK, so this is the crux of the book's message:
While we are materially very well off today, our souls are parched and under-nourished more than ever. Our secular societies haven't been able to provide the kind of soul nourishment that religions used to. So, even though we should dismiss the super-natural elements of religion, its cosmological stories and so on, we should embrace its moral, ethical and its institutional contributions. The author talks about how religion teaches us kindness and tenderness and points out the positive role played by religious art, architecture and institutions in guiding humanity. As the author says, "We are most of us lambs in need of good shepherds ..." and institutionalized religions and its caretakers can act as shepherds guiding us sheep.

I agree with the author on some of the points while I found myself disagreeing with many. I agree that there is nothing but supreme goodness in the teachings of the founders of some religions, say, Jesus and Buddha (though none of these founders claimed to be super-natural beings). I personally start my day by reading notes I've compiled from the writings of the Stoics. I think most reasonable people would agree that Buddha's teachings or the Sermon on the Mount, the message of kindness, compassion, eliminating the vices of pride and wrath, can only help us lead better and richer lives. However, I cannot seem to agree with the completely positive outlook the author seems to have on the institutionalized versions of these religions.

Institutionalized religions took the founder's teachings as the kernel and, after adding a layer of tropes and myths, built around it a mighty organizational and power structure. Granted, they have made many contributions. But, while partaking of these contributions, history has shown that we have also allowed ourselves to be yoked. Sure, institutionalized religions have played a key role in many places in fostering the community (Chapter 2). But one can see examples of strong sense of community and culture even in places where there weren't any mighty religious organizations. For example, ancient Chinese followed the ethics and conduct set forth by Confucius even though he was known to be a mere mortal. If the Catholic church is seen to play a dominant role in certain communities it is because since the dark ages the Church has spread its reach in people's lives and subsumed everything under it in the process of making the early Popes ever more powerful. And we all know that things weren't always so nice and pretty as they seem today. Didn't the institutionalized version of Christianity wreak terror on groups that were closer and truer to Jesus' teachings, example, the Waldensians. Didn't the institutionalized version of Christianity, while providing the poor and suffering with food and salvation, make them fight one another and spill blood over the abstract and bizarre Homoiousianism/Arian controversy. And, how about throwing a spanner in the progress of discovery and science in the 15th century. Here in India, where I'm from, religious leaders and high priests are vote banks for political parties. Once institutionalized (even an innocent sounding secular creed, as the author suggests) everything takes a life of its own.

I agree, some level of guidance is necessary in life. But the author seems to be taking this a bit too far to the point of surrendering one's ability to think on his/her own. For example, we are told (in the chapter on Education) that professors should conduct classes the way preachers do. "How much more expansive the scope of meaning in Montaigne's essays would seem if a 100-strong and transported chorus were to voice its approval after every sentence." Well, what would such a society produce? a bunch of yes-sayers?

I do think the author's intent to cut a new channel of debate is commendable. However, I don't think the solution to our parched and dry souls is to embrace a new secularized organized religion. Instead we should look at the root cause that is making our souls go dry, our loneliness and our estrangement. It may have to do with our pace of life and our separation from nature. Instead of building Agape restaurants in the middle of city concrete jungle and have swinger/release parties once a year, I say, we should plant a giant oak tree, we should consume less, pollute less, breed less, slow down, develop a philosopher's outlook in life and our soul perhaps might 'go green' once again. I don't know if that's going to solve our predicament, but running towards organized religions for answers ain't it for sure. After all, didn't Jesus say, "The kingdom of God is within you."

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