The Irony of Dawkins

 

Richard Dawkins is probably the most influential atheist of the past few decades, with a huge fanbase and waves of adulation. The trouble is, Dawkins’ fans must miss this huge irony – he puts himself forward as a man who values knowledge, truth, evidence and understanding as the main pretext for his rejection and dismissal of religious belief, but when discussing religious belief he is almost entirely devoid of knowledge, truth, evidence and understanding of the subject. In discussing religion he displays the same ignorance that he rightly abhors in people ignorant of the subjects he values. If he ever got hit with the irony it would knock him flat on his backside.

Suppose I kept telling you that it’s important to acquire knowledge, truth, evidence and understanding of economics in order to make economic arguments. But then I joined a forum on Scottish whiskey – a subject I know virtually nothing about – and proceeded to criticise all the points inveterate whiskey drinkers were making. I kept telling them they were wrong, that they were foolish to believe what they do, and that my ill-thought-out whiskey ignorance was superior to their seasoned palates, honed over years of careful tasting and study. You’d rightly chide me, and tell me to get back in my box.

Similarly, anyone who has read execrable The God Delusion or heard Dawkins debate religion would see this as clear as day. He spends brief moments dismissing complex philosophical propositions from great theologians, without caring that he has no interest in understanding the intricacies of the arguments he critiques. He confidently dismisses the Bible, yet he knowingly has no grasp on even the basics of the reasoning that leads to such dismissals, or the historical, theological, moral or psychological context associated with the texts.

All this reflects badly on Dawkins, but easily the biggest charge against him is such a blatant hypocrisy and a ignoble lack of curiosity. Intellectual laziness and proud ignorance are traits that are the very opposite to the scientific principles he claims to value. I find him to be one of the most frustrating public thinkers on the subject of faith, not merely because he’s so wrong, but because he does not seem interested in what it means to think wisely and engage informatively.

It’s no surprise, then, that the wave of smug atheists that Dawkins-esque rhetoric has emboldened continues to flourish, parroting his brand of shallow dismissal rather than engaging in thoughtful critique. Due to his influence (and that of others like Hitchens), countless others have adopted this intellectually negligent approach - one that prioritises ridicule over honest reflection and substance. In doing so, they have not only weakened their own arguments but have also contributed to a broader culture in which the serious discussion of faith, philosophy, and meaning is replaced with facile mockery. I find it a regrettable irony that a man who so publicly championed reason for so many years has, during the same period, inspired so many to compromise or abandon it.

Finally, people like Dawkins have a subsidiary problem applicable to those who are all-but inextricably rooted to a viewpoint. We know how hard it is generally for people to change their mind, even in light of new evidence that should prompt them - and that barrier is exacerbated when the individual in question is a public figure whose status, reputation and income depends on holding the views for which they are famous. Once you’re in this position, it makes it hard to revise your view on the basis of new evidence, because doing so requires you to admit not only that you were mistaken about the fact but that you were misjudged about how you arrived at it. The second is that, if you do admit you were wrong, you fear people who trusted you on this may not be able to trust you on other things on which you express confidence. The third is that if you change your view you may alienate your supporters and invite more criticism from those who always thought differently to you. And the fourth - and perhaps most damning of all - is that the cognitive dissonance of reversing course is often too uncomfortable to contemplate, let alone bear if undertaken.