Is religion the cause of human conflict?

Religion, claims Sam Harris, backed up by weapons of mass destruction, will destroy human civilization unless it is erased.

This stark, frightening claim is made repeatedly in the opening chapter of The End of Faith. If humanity ‘eradicates itself through war’ it will be because of religion (p.12). Unless we get rid of ideas like ‘God and ‘Allah', ‘they will unmake our world’ (p.14). Mixing weapons of mass destruction with religion is ‘a recipe for the fall of civilization’ (p.26). If people believe their holy texts, then ‘we need only count the days to Armageddon’ (p.35). If we have not ‘killed ourselves ten times over’ in two hundred years’ time, it will only be because religion has been extinguished.

Harris argues that it is wrong to absolve religion of its responsibility and instead to point the finger of blame at other factors. For both liberals and conservatives, he argues, when a suicide bomber blows himself up, ‘the role that faith played is invariably discounted. His motives must have been political, economic or entirely personal […] Faith itself is always, and everywhere, exonerated’ (p. 13).

But is it really possible to isolate religion from all other factors and identify it as the cause of all conflict? Harris appears to be confident that it is, but he unwittingly provides evidence which seems to suggest that reality is far more complex.

Take, for example, his position on Muslim suicide bombers. He claims Muslim terrorists are driven to violence by their Islamic beliefs and their hatred of the secular West, along with the inferior religions of Christianity and Judaism. Their hatred is derived directly from their belief that Koran is the perfect word of Allah, and not from any economic disadvantage. He writes, ‘There is no doubt that many well-educated, middle class fundamentalists are ready to kill and die for God. As Samuel Huntington and others have observed, religious fundamentalism in the developing world is not, principally, a movement of the poor and uneducated’ (p. 32).

Harris’s ‘evidence’ here turns out to indicate that religion cannot be isolated from other factors, even with suicide bombers. If religious fundamentalism is predominantly a movement of the educated and middle class, then this indicates that social and economic factors play a part in religious fundamentalism in the developing world (just not necessarily that they are correlated with economic disadvantage). We could add to this the fact that suicide bombers are overwhelmingly male and in their late teens and early twenties – indicating gender and age factors as well.

Harris also tries to make a direct link between Islamic terrorism and the contents of the Koran. The Koran mandates violence, he claims, citing this line ‘Believers, make war on the infidels who dwell around you.’ Of course there are many similarly appalling sections in the Bible, and yet he acknowledges that Christianity is currently less of a concern than Islam, saying that 'at this point in history, it represents a unique danger to all of us' (p.28, emphasis added). No doubt Harris recognises that people have not adhered to religious texts in a uniform way througout history, but his simplistic understanding of religion as being derived from scriptural literalism cannot be squared with the admission that people have re-interpreted and effectively re-edited their holy texts in very different ways in different historical periods.

Rather than Harris demonstrating that suicide bombing is a direct result of Islamic beliefs, he in fact raises the question, why, in this historical moment, are some Muslims currently acting on the basis of particular violent edicts in their holy text? And, by extension, why has suicide bombing become a method of attack only in relatively recent times? We might also ask, why are Islamic fundamentalists adhering to violent edicts in their texts while Christian fundamentalists in America are not stoning homosexuals to death as the Old Testament requires? If religion is defined so narrowly as literal belief in a text, we cannot answer these questions - we have to ask historical, cultural, social, economic, and other extra-religious questions.

But even if we accept that religious moderates do not adhere literally to a text, the claim that fundaentalists do seems equally problematic. What seems to me rather weak (though I am no expert on the Koran) is the evidence Harris offers for a connection between Islam and suicide attacks. The quote Harris offers to prove this connection goes: ‘Let those who would exchange the life of this world for the hereafter, fight for the cause of God.’ This appears to be a call to go to battle, knowing that there is a possibility that you may die – not a call to actively pursue your own death. In the seventh century when Mohammad was supposedly writing this, he presumably didn’t have the technology to create bombs. What method of suicide would have been available that would also have killed many others? It seems far more likely that connection between this passage in the Koran and suicide bombings was made by contemporary Islamic fundamentalists – an interpretative leap is required to understand it as a command for suicide attacks, not a literal reading.

What I am trying to show here is that you do not have to query your atheist credentials to be critical of what the New Atheists claim. Harris comes across not as any expert on religion, but like an over-confident intellectual teenager - he is intelligent, writes good prose, and is able to construct what seems like a logical argument. He just doesn't seem to know very much about how religion works.

Prelude to an Essay on Sam Harris's 'The End of Faith'

Sam Harris is a very frightened man. So would you be, if you realised how perilously we are teetering on the edge of world destruction. And there is no mistaking how we arrived at this historical juncture. With weapons of mass destruction increasingly finding their way into the hands of people who hold irrational beliefs about God, morality and the afterlife, Harris points the finger of blame for the impending apocalypse squarely at religion.

The End of Faith (first published August 2004) was the first of the books around which the term ‘New Atheism’ crystallised. It is very much bears the imprint of its time, begun, according to Harris, on 12^th September 2001 and developed during the height of the Bush era. Liberalism in America was being attacked by Islamic fundamentalism from without and by Christian fundamentalism from within. This raised a major question for political progressives who previously may have championed the equal validity of all cultures: how is it possible to be tolerant towards people who reject the very notion of our tolerance? Harris’s book signalled a possible new direction – a determination to stand up for the values of liberalism on its own terms, and to go on the attack against those alternative cultures which may have been afforded more respect in the postmodern era.

There was clearly a need to speak out about some of the more dangerous manifestations of religious belief, and this book performed a timely and important service in encouraging secularists, atheists and humanists to be openly critical of the excesses of religious irrationalism, be it Christian, Muslim or whatever. As an atheist who has very little sympathy for baseless religious beliefs, I read the book expecting to have my own attitudes confirmed. And yet there were many aspects of the book which I felt were just not right. None of my objections have anything to do with my non-belief in gods; the aspects of the book I had problems with were his depiction of the impacts of religion, and whether it was really possible to make a clear distinction between ‘irrational’ religious beliefs (more moderate ones, at least) and the beliefs of atheists – his claims were all over-simplified, over-generalised, and logically flawed. It was this initial reaction which has encouraged me to examine more closely the nature of religion, beliefs, values and how we make life meaningful.

In the ‘review’ that follows, I want to critically examine the claims that Harris makes – not the claims about whether or not God exists, or whether Jesus really was born of a virgin – but his claims about what religious belief means and its impacts in the real world. I’ll be looking at three aspects in turn: his understanding of religion itself, his attitude towards religious and cultural tolerance, and then Harris’s own belief system which he outlines toward the end of the book – and asking how it is possible to distinguish this from 'religion'.

The Johann Hari debate Is About Politics, Not Plagiarism

The Johann Hari debate of the past week has fascinated me, but I’m not particularly interested in whether or not he has misled his readers. I’m much more interested in the way that the debate has escalated into a symbolic war of principles between Right and Left

Although the debate is ostensibly about the conduct of a single journalist, it appears that no-one has arrived at their judgement on Hari via an open-minded process, objectively assessing evidence and subjecting it to rational analysis. People’s positions have generally been correlative to the political orientation of the publication they write for, so it seems that their judgement has instead been determined by their pre-existing political positions. Admittedly, the New Statesman has admirably bucked this trend, summed up by Stephen Baxter, who says ‘we can’t let Hari off the hook because he’s “one of us”’. However, in general, if you are on the Left, Hari has committed only a misdemeanour, and the outcry is cynical bullying, typical of the nasty Right. If you are on the Right, Hari is a plagiarist who has misrepresented the truth, his conduct epitomising the dishonesty and hypocrisy of the Left

The recent storm began with a blog post on 17^th June by the far left Deterritorial Support Group which revealed how, in an article for The Independent in 2004, Hari had used quotes from books by Italian communist Toni Negri, and presented them as if Negri had actually used those words in an interview. This was followed by a blogger called Brian Whelan who discovered that Hari had used the same tactic in an interview with Israeli journalist Gideon Levy. Hari initially defended the practice on his blog, but this led to outcry on Twitter and the appearance of a hashtag of #interviewsbyhari in which people created spoof cut-and-paste interview quotes.

Although still denying that he had passed off other people’s words as his own or misrepresented anyone’s sentiments, he eventually admitted on 29th June that the practice was wrong and that he wouldn’t do it again. The matter is far from over, however, and Damien Thompson at the Telegraph has dug up some previous allegations about Hari’s conduct which has the potential to further damage him.

What is revealing about the response to all this in the Telegraph is not just the fact that they have attacked Hari’s conduct, but that they have used it to discredit the Left in general. Richard Alleyne’s article is typical in highlighting Hari’s political orientation with the heading 'left-wing commentator in plagiarism row’ (emphasis added). Alleyne accuses him of double standards, claiming to be in pursuit of truth while actually distorting it. Again, this is not just about personal conduct, but his political position. He writes: 'He has been a renowned critic of other organisations if he believed they strayed from the truth, especially those on the right'. Toby Young relished the fact that Hari had been ‘busted’, describing him as ‘a holier-than-thou, butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth, supercilious Lefty’. spikedonline editor and resident troll Brendan O’Neill accused Hari of being patronising to readers by claiming that clearer quotes required than those given in actual interviews, assuming that they are ‘so in need of hearing some liberal’s “vital messages” that those messages can be spoonfed to him in a deceitful fashion'.

The clearest attempt to associate dishonesty and malpractice with the Left in general came from Damien Thompson, who wrote ‘For nearly a decade now, a Left-wing journalist called Johann Hari who writes for the Independent has produced a falsetto squeak of outrage every time anyone in public life does, says or thinks something conservative.’ The revelation that Hari had misrepresented the interviews he conducted ‘confirms suspicions that certain “progressive” writers have moved away from old-fashioned facts: they are happy to tell lies in order to communicate a “greater truth”.’

On the other side, Hari has been defended by the (now ex-) editor of the Independent Simon Kelner, who described the row as ‘politically motivated’ on Radio 4. Although wrong, Hari was motivated by ‘an honest ambition to give the clearest possible representation of what the interviewee was saying.’ The campaign against him arises not from the need to reveal malpractice, but is politically inspired [and] some of it is fabricated anger about what Johann has done." ‘Fabricated’ implies, like the accusation levelled at Hari by Damien Thompson, that there is an element of dishonesty in the conduct of other side. Peter Preston in the Guardian described the attacks as ‘ethically ludicrous’ and Polly Toynbee also defended Hari on Twitter, adding ‘Save your wrath for the abominartions and harassments [sic] by the Murdoch/Mail press.’

Two things trouble me about the nature of this debate. Firstly, as acknowledged by Stephen Baxter, the teams had been effectively selected long before the game had even been announced. Preordained group affiliations have taken priority over making rational judgements as individuals. Secondly, neither side can accept that the other could possibly be acting out of sincerity. Kelner sees the anti-Hari group as ‘fabricating’ their anger to discredit Hari and the Left in general; Damien Thompson sees the Left have ‘moved away from old-fashioned facts.’ This precludes any possibility of rational engagement with the other side. Why should I conduct a debate with someone whose views are held dishonestly? There is no point in telling someone that they are wrong to be angry if their anger is fabricated. There is an important debate to be had here about journalistic ethics, but it should be conducted rationally and on the issue at stake – it has nothing to do with being on the Right or Left.

The issues of group affiliation and suspicion of the motives of the opposition are symptomatic of a wider lack of trust between people who hold different perspectives on important issues. On the issue of climate change, to give just one example, the IPCC is often accused of corruption and incompetence – and there are clearly real issues with the way their reports are put together. And yet those who make such actions often appear to motivated by links to businesses which would be harmed by any attempt to reduce greenhouse gas emissions. Again the sides are almost exclusively defined by political positions (there are very view left-wing climate change sceptics). There seems little space in the public sphere for a rational, evidence-based debate, and this leads to division and confusion in the public mind.

In my particular area of interest – religion and atheism – I have found a similar pattern. I share Richard Dawkins’s view on the likelihood of God’s existence but profoundly disagree about what he says about the actual impacts of religion. There is nothing at all contradictory about this position, and yet I find myself getting shouted down by both fellow atheists, who see me as some kind of religious apologist, and by believers who see me as an ‘arrogant’ atheist. It is another debate in which ideological battle-lines have been drawn and teams have been chosen; it is difficult for an independent voice to be heard.

My position can be summarised by a single tweet from David Allen Green which appeared just I finished the last paragraph: “The Johann Hari plagarism mess separated out those who prioritised intellectual honesty/accuracy from those who prioritised mere ideology.” Well done to the New Statesman for standing up for intellectual honesty.