This week, upon Christopher Hitchens‘ death, more conversations about religion, faith and atheism will undoubtedly surface and the merits of each will be discussed… or not.
Hitchens was uninterested in subtle analysis. On the masthead of the Daily Hitchens, there is the legend: What can be asserted without proof can be dismissed without proof. The difficulty with this assertion is straightforward. If it has been asserted without proof, why should it be believed, and if not, where is the proof? I asked Hitchens about this during a break in our debate. We had retreated to a forlorn hotel loading ramp in order to have a cigarette. “Well, yes,” he said, “it’s just a sentence.”
David Berlinski
For years to come the world will continue to be infatuated with Hitchens’ sentences. I’ve not read him; I’ll rely on his devotees’ opinions about his brilliance and wit. And debate between the faithful and the faith-without will go on just as certainly as the earth will consume Mr. Hitchens, one cell at a time.
In my small world, what these conflicting views don’t call for is a desperate need to persuade armies of atheists to come over to the other side. I can live with atheists among us just as I can live with the Religious Right in my backyard.
Recently, a study was done on a group of pro-life and pro-choice individuals. (I regret that I can’t find the source.) It was a longitudinal study in that the researchers evaluated the two groups over a period of time, bringing the members together at certain intervals to discuss their opposing points of view. At the end of the study, the researchers found that neither side had managed to move any member over to the other side. In fact, the two groups of individuals were even more firmly entrenched in their beliefs—more solidly certain of the rightness of their positions. It turns out that discussing their opinions and feelings about their positions helped bring clarity to them; rather than weakening them through exposure to opposing views, they were strengthened. The sides remained intact.
But there are two kinds of sides: Sides that portray themselves as opposing football teams, in which one must lose and the other must win; and sides that acknowledge that both can be present at the same time, and that the debate’s holy grail is not the crushing of the other, but, rather, the acceptance that in this huge world, one can exist alongside the other.
David Berlinski can live in a world that has its Richard Dawkins. Does he ever want to take a nine-iron to the biologist’s head? I doubt it. Hitchens could and did live in a world that has its Dinesh D’Souza. Did Hitchens want to drown the Christian apologist in a shallow pool? I doubt that, too.
I embrace the atheist’s right to proclaim his or her views with gusto—with gusto, not vitriol and venom. But please don’t rain on my Christmas, don’t short out my Christmas lights with angry spittle and don’t pour bitter spirits into my eggnog. And you, the religious: go forth and ring your bells, dance your dance. But don’t damn anyone to hell and deprive others of their rights and freedom. Don’t demand the world gather under your tiny tent.
In the study mentioned above regarding the pro-choice and pro-life participants, the researchers discovered this finding as well: the two groups became close, authentic friends. That tells me something. That gives me hope.












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