This post was originally published on The Unelectables.

An incredible video went up on YouTube yesterday, in which a man named Jacob Kramer asks Representative Joe Walsh, who is running for re-election in Kramer’s district, the following simple question: “How will you represent your atheist voters?”

I watched all five minutes and thirty-eight seconds of this video, which was filmed at a town hall event that Rep. Walsh offered for his constituents, with my jaw firmly planted on the floor – but not for any of the reasons I usually drop my jaw. In this video, there is no yelling. There is no name-calling. There is no whining. There is no condescension. There is no wild-eyed terror. There is no weeping or gnashing of teeth. This video flows with milk and honey and dignity and respect and competence and maturity and reasonable, constructive dialogue.

That’s it. I’m officially converted – I’ve witnessed a bona fide miracle.

Jacob Kramer serves as the Vice President of Outreach for the newly formed National Atheist Party. (This happens to be the exact position that I hold on the board of the equally influential Harvard Secular Society. Coincidence? I think not!) The NAP, founded last March by Troy Boyle, stands for a firm separation of church and state.

And, contrary to what the Pope would have you believe about “radical secularists,” the NAP truly doesn’t want the government to favor any religious viewpoint – including non-religious ones. “We don’t want government to impose a religion,” Boyle explained in an interview, “and we don’t want government to impose no religion.”

Some, like Hemant Mehta of the Friendly Atheist blog, have been skeptical of the NAP’s usefulness. In addition to the unfortunately somnolent acronym, Mehta mentions the NAP’s positions on a whole host of non-theological issues – from gay marriage to gun control – as a downside. Not the positions themselves, that is, but the simple fact that the NAP has taken positions on issues other than the existence of god(s). Although Mehta happens to agree with all of NAP’s declared positions on these issues, he explains, “it’s crazy to imply that all atheists feel the same way. Or that we should feel the same way.” Even support for church-state separation, Mehta suggest, might be an unwarranted extrapolation from the simple belief in a godless universe.

However, Mehta is quick to (rightly) point out that simply showing the atheists of America that they’re not alone is “a big freaking deal,” and he commends the NAP for at least partly uniting an often fragmented group. He also remarks – playfully highlighting a painfully real problem – that perhaps the best thing the NAP can do to create a more atheist-friendly country is to publicly endorse an atheist-unfriendly candidate (Mehta suggests Rick Santorum), thereby ending that unlucky person’s political career by branding them with the unelectable scarlet A.

But I think the NAP can do more than ironically humiliate evangelical politicians and remind people that atheists exist. The video of Jacob Kramer and Joe Walsh demonstrates the power that we can have if we organize. Free Inquiry editor Tom Flynn demanded years ago that atheists “start punching our weight.” But, as this video reveals, our true power lies not in our fists, but in what we can accomplish when we unclench them.

I obviously disagree strongly with the majority of Rep. Walsh’s response to Kramer’s question, but I’m incredibly impressed with the tone of this conversation, on both sides. Rep. Walsh may be a poor constitutional interpreter, but he should be commended for his sincere attempt to honestly and fairly engage all of his constituents in reasonable discussion. And Kramer clearly deserves props for bringing these issues up publicly, and for doing so in a manner that encourages constructive dialogue instead of starting yet another futile shouting match.

These are the types of conversations we need to be having with all our elected officials, because these are the conversations that will actually get us somewhere. If all the NAP did was record and publicize five-minute discussions like this one with every congressperson, they would immediately advance the public discourse on religion and government far more than any other party has in years.

As for the NAP’s actual platform, I’m not sure it’s as much of an extrapolation as Mehta argues. Inasmuch as a whole lot of hot political issues stem from people’s religious beliefs, it’s entirely reasonable to believe that certain positions on such issues could follow from non-religious beliefs as well. Although I agree that the NAP might be straying into unorthodox territory with some of their policies (I’m unclear on what godlessness tells us about the economy, for example), and while I’m well aware that there are always exceptions to the rules (my friend Kelly, who held my Harvard Secular Society board position before me, is pro-life), I think you’ll be hard-pressed to find an atheist who wants the state to apply different marriage rules to different couples based on their gender composition. Of course atheists will differ on whether to provide equal marriage rights or abolish marriage altogether as a government institution and stick with civil unions, but that’s the same kind of diversity you will see within any political party. The take-home message here is that the NAP isn’t necessary overstepping its bounds by taking positions on religiously-influenced political issues.

Finally, I think the NAP possesses significant potential in another realm that has not yet been recognized by either the media or the NAP itself. Although they may be the strangest of bedfellows, the NAP could be the next great ally of the interfaith movement. Of course this is where the ostensibly extraneous parts of their platform could get in the way, but if the NAP is serious about sticking to its core purpose of firmly separating church from state, its goals and methods should significantly overlap with those of interfaith organizations like the Interfaith Youth Core. And the respectful conversation between Kramer and Rep. Walsh is like an interfaith organizer’s wet dream. I’m skeptical that this cooperative potential will be harnessed, but stranger things have happened.

Small parties like the NAP frequently pop up for a few years and then die out, much like the vast majority of organisms in the history of Earth. But I believe the NAP has the potential to truly “evolve our politics,” just as they promise.

Chelsea Link is a senior at Harvard University, studying History and Science with a focus in the history of medicine. She recently founded and currently writes for two other blogs, The Unelectables (following religious minority candidates in the 2012 election) and Blogging Biblically (documenting her attempt to read the Bible in a year). She is the Vice President of Outreach of the Harvard Secular Society, the former President of the Harvard College Interfaith Council, and a Volunteer Ambassador for the Be the Match bone marrow donor registry. She likes to cook while pretending she’s on Top Chef (hasty breakfast? more like Quickfire Challenge!), adores word games of all kinds (and was once the President of the illustrious Harvard College Crossword Society), and tends to kill the mood at parties by unnecessarily reciting Shakespeare. Last summer, she interned at the Humanist Chaplaincy at Harvard. You can ask her what she’s doing after graduation, but she’ll give you a different answer every time.

Just a short post today, as moving back into my dorm and restarting classes has been quite the day-ful.

Recent events have left significant attention on Iran’s nuclear program– questions of whether the nation will soon have access to, as it were, weapons of mass destruction, and who would be at risk if they did, are not uncommon in newsrooms across the globe. And yet, there seems to be an underlying assumption about the nature of totalitarianism– particularly that of Muslim rulers– in these conversations that I think should be challenged.

There’s an idea that floats throughout discussions of Iran: President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad is a lunatic, an irrational megalomaniac with the social ethics of The Joker. Now megalomaniac he may be– his totalitarian regime is responsible for a plethora of human rights abuses, corruptions, and suppressions across his state.

And yet, he’s not ignorant of the rest of the world. The second he gets his fingers on a functional nuclear launch red button won’t be the second he directs a warhead towards Israel, or the United States. The backlash from such an action would be utterly untenable– a wall of missiles directed Iran’s way in response. I think it an absurd thing to say this has never crossed the man’s mind.

President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, of the Islamic Republic of Iran

This idea, though, that the ramifications of aggression are entirely ignored by dictators like Ahmadinejad, seems to me to stem from an exceptionality of horror placed on the religion of Islam. People in the mindset of, to use a quite prominent example, Sam Harris, who would claim that the religion expresses a particular sort of evil that warrants our Western attention, seem to take a leap from the extraordinary differences in language and culture between this side of the Atlantic and the Middle East to the notion that they therefore are essentially incapable of making rational, or moral, decisions themselves. However different we, as peoples, may be, should not characterize either of us as inherently anti-human, or irrational.

Ahmadinejad is himself a Shia Muslim, an engineer by trade whose rise to power in Iran has been subject to significant, and I would certainly consider well-deserved, criticism and investigation. I don’t mean to endorse him or his policies in any way, nor do I think the horrors that crop up under many instances of Sharia Law are defensible– I think human rights, particularly in Iran, ought to command humanity’s absolute attention. But to do that, we have to be clear, honest, and accurate in our characterizations of those who would violate those rights, lest we find ourselves entirely self-centered when real, actionable issues in the world are blown out of view.

Walker Bristol is an undergraduate studying religion and linguistics at Tufts University, and the Community Organizer and Interfaith Representative for the Tufts Freethought Society. Originally from North Carolina, Walker was raised in a largely Quaker community before exploring several Christian traditions throughout high school and ultimately becoming a secular humanist at age 15. Walker serves as the chair of the Committee to Establish a Humanist Chaplaincy at Tufts, and has worked as a student intern at the Humanist Chaplaincy at Harvard. Along with fellow Tufts Freethought board member Lauren Rose, Walker hosts the internet radio show FreethoughtCast. In addition to being involved in secular student activism, Walker is a hobbyist musician, ballroom dancer, and far-too-avid science-fiction fan. He tweets nonsense @GodlessWalker.

About sixteen months ago, the Pew Research Center announced the results of their study of religious literacy in the United States. This study caused such a buzz that the Pew website crashed from all the traffic. Atheists and agnostics  were – perhaps unsurprisingly? – found to be the most religiously literate belief group, and we’ve hardly stopped bragging since. Hemant Mehta wrote a good Friendly Atheist post assembling some choice excerpts from the flurry of atheist commentary attempting to explain the results, including his own very compelling Chicago Tribune piece on the topic (in which he suggests that we’re atheists precisely because we’re so religiously literate).

Before you break out the confetti all over again, I’d like to point out that the study results might not be as impressive as we non-religious apologists have all made it out to be. Yes, we scored the highest, but barely: on the 32-question quiz used in the study, atheists/agnostics answered an average of 20.9 questions correctly, but the Jews and Mormons were breathing down our necks at 20.5 and 20.3, respectively.

But, even more importantly, it’s time to acknowledge that 21 out of 32 is an embarrassingly low score on such an appallingly simple test. Sure, we did better than the rest of America, but I think a more accurate characterization of the results is, “holy shit, everyone else is even more ignorant than we are.”

Seriously, this was not a hard quiz. We are not talking about theological minutiae or obscure sects here. We’re talking about very basic, fundamental ideas in the world’s most prominent belief systems, and major, world-changing events in the history of religion. This Huffington Post article and this Vancouver Sun piece provide some horrifying examples of America’s rampant ignorance. For a taste, here are just a few of the things that over half of Americans don’t know:

- that Judaism is a religion

- that the Qur’an is the sacred text of Muslims

- that Martin Luther was a leader of the Protestant Reformation

Again, this is not complex stuff. Forget about the tenets of Judaism; a majority of people don’t even know what Judaism is.

And it gets worse: not only do people have no idea what everyone else believes, they’re also totally ignorant of the basic ideas that make up their own beliefs.

- Almost half of Catholics don’t know that their church officially teaches that, during communion, the bread and wine literally turn into Jesus. Keep in mind that this exact belief was a huge source of violence and general chaos in the sixteenth century, and is a major reason for the split between Catholicism and Protestantism.

- Speaking of which, more than half of Protestants don’t know that Martin Luther was a major player in that whole debacle.

- Over a third of Jews don’t know that Maimonides – who, as Rachel Zoll notes in the HuffPo piece, was “one of the greatest rabbis and intellectuals in history” – was Jewish.

I think you probably get the idea. The fact that atheists are, on average, very slightly more religiously literate than everybody else isn’t very impressive when you realize just how low the bar is.

So, while 2012 is still young and there is still time to make belated resolutions, I’d like to issue a challenge to my fellow atheists (and everyone else): this year, try to learn a little more and suck a little less.

To this end, my New Year’s resolution is to read the Bible in its entirety before 2013 rolls around. It’s the most influential piece of literature in the Western canon – and, arguably, in history – and I’m embarrassed to have lived 22 years and change in the most Christian country in the world without reading it cover-to-cover. I’m documenting my journey from Genesis to Revelation at Blogging Biblically; each post includes a [snarky and unorthodox] summary of that day’s reading, so if you prefer your scriptures partly digested, I invite you to subscribe and follow along. And I’m very interested in other people’s thoughts on the Bible and reactions to my ideas about it, so please feel free to join in the conversation in the comments. </shameless plug>

Whether or not you give a rat’s ass about my Bible blog, I hope you’ll take seriously my challenge to boost your religious literacy this year. Richard Dawkins’s disgruntled complaints about fairyology aside, there are clear benefits to understanding what other people – billions of them – believe about life, death, morality, fate, and the universe. Indeed, in a country where sharia law and fetal ensoulment are hot political issues, and in a world where centuries-old beliefs inspire bloodshed in theocracies and democracies alike, you can hardly afford not to.

Chelsea Link is a senior at Harvard University, studying History and Science with a focus in the history of medicine. She recently founded and currently writes for two other blogs, The Unelectables (following religious minority candidates in the 2012 election) and Blogging Biblically (documenting her attempt to read the Bible in a year). She is the Vice President of Outreach of the Harvard Secular Society, the former President of the Harvard College Interfaith Council, and a Volunteer Ambassador for the Be the Match bone marrow donor registry. She likes to cook while pretending she’s on Top Chef (hasty breakfast? more like Quickfire Challenge!), adores word games of all kinds (and was once the President of the illustrious Harvard College Crossword Society), and tends to kill the mood at parties by unnecessarily reciting Shakespeare. Last summer, she interned at the Humanist Chaplaincy at Harvard. You can ask her what she’s doing after graduation, but she’ll give you a different answer every time.

Dear NPS readers: I’ve started up a blog of my own, which I hope you’ll check out at here. The following post originally went up yesterday, and I’ve expanded upon it a bit below. Check out the original if you want (and you know, subscribe or whatever).

Earlier this week, Cee Lo Green ruffled some feathers with his rendition of John Lennon’s “Imagine” on NBC’s New Year’s Eve with Carson Daly. He offended Beatles fans and atheists alike by changing the last line of the following verse:

Imagine there’s no countries
It isn’t hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too

His replacement? “And all religion’s true.”

Personally, I don’t much care for the Beatles, so while I think the change was a bit dumb I’m not too bothered by it. On a deeper level, though, it got me thinking about what a world without religion would really be like.

Greta Christina blogged a few weeks ago about the goals of the atheist movement. She points out that a lot of the infighting seems to stem from a conflict of goals, and I think on this point she’s mostly right. She says:

Many of us don’t just want a world where believers and atheists get along and let each other practice their religion or lack thereof in peace. Many of us want a world where there’s no religion.

I wouldn’t say I’d be happy with a world where everyone did as they pleased in peace, because I’m not happy to simply say “you do you” to the fundamentalists who compare homosexuality to child molestation or bestiality. But a world where atheists and the religious can get along, because they have no legitimate complaints to raise towards the other, would I think be a better goal to strive toward. The more liberal brands of Abrahamic faiths, as well as some Eastern religions seem like they can fit in this picture just fine, and I think the interfaith work done by the Interfaith Youth Core and my buddy Chris Stedman is making good strides in that direction (though Greta may disagree).

It’s the second goal, though, that bothers me. Chris, responding to Greta in the Huffington Post, writes:

I do not think the termination of religion is an achievable goal, and I have no reason to believe it would eliminate dogmatism and totalitarianism, which I believe are the central causes of religious (and nonreligious) conflict.

And I think this is more or less spot on. Greta was off in her post a bit, I think, because I’m not so sure the fundamental disagreement is over our goals. It seems to me like the issue here is how we view religion: is it the problem, or just another institution that can, but doesn’t necessarily, reflect dogmatism and totalitarianism—the real problem? I think if you mapped those who answered the former against the latter, you’d see exactly the two conflicting sides in the atheist community (though there do seem to be some anomalies, like my co-blogger, Chelsea Link, who wrote a great and nuanced post just recently about evangelical atheists being involved in interfaith work).

So I’m imagining no religion. I’m imagining snapping my fingers and having religion disappear, and I’m not sure what I’m seeing is a better place. Maybe this is the conversation we should be having: is a world without religion, all else equal, a better world to live in? And if not, is eliminating it really a proper focus for us to have?

I’m not so sure it is.

I think it’s tempting to look at the success and well being of secular nations like Japan or Sweden, and conclude that the way to such prosperity is to get rid of religion ourselves. In fact, many recent polls show a strong negative correlation between a nation’s well being and how religious the country is. But the causal picture is almost certainly the other way around: reducing religion doesn’t increase well being, but increasing well being leads to a reduction in religion.

If a picture like this holds, then it makes just as much sense to desire an end to religion as it does to desire an end to aspirin, just because the world would be better place if we didn’t have headaches. More so, the method for this change wouldn’t be eliminating religion or telling people not to take aspirin; it’d be to relieve inequality and somehow otherwise prevent head pain.

So I think it’s important to not only seriously think about what our goals are and why we should pursue them, but of what methods are best appropriate, as well. If the goal of eliminating religion is grounded in making the world a better place, how best to go about it should give us pause. Too frequently I read vague references to other civil rights struggles paired with platitudes like “it takes both kinds” of activism, as if that somehow justify whatever tactics “firebrands” want to use to eliminate religion (which isn’t to say there’s no place for being a firebrand, though I’m generally unmoved by the firebrand/diplomat dichotomy).

If firebrands really think eliminating religion is an appropriate and plausible goal to pursue, they still need to consider what methods will work best.  And we already have a good idea of what does: working towards women’s rights, alleviating poverty, increasing education, and raising general well being. Frankly, we have no idea whether writ large criticisms of religion as a monolithic entity are effective, and I have serious doubts that  they are.

If nothing else, I think it’s important to take a step back and seriously think about our goals, why we have them, and whether what we’re doing is really working towards those goals. It’s not hard at all to look at history and find reasons to be frustrated by religion, but we shouldn’t try to rationalize behavior that makes us feel better while achieving little else.

Vlad Chituc is a senior at Yale University, studying Psychology and Philosophy with an interest in how we form beliefs (particularly moral and religious), and an interest in metaphysics and moral philosophy on the side. He has served as the Community Service Coordinator and President of the Secular Student Alliance at Yale (formerly the Yale Humanist Society), during which he participated in the Inter-Religious Leaders Council and worked closely with the Yale Chaplain’s Office to foster relationships with liberal member s of the Yale religious community. In his spare time, Vlad enjoys listening to hipster bullshit and writing sarcastic articles and music reviews for the Yale Herald. If you want to read more of his writing, check out plaindamnfool.wordpress.com

Missed Part One? Read it here.

As an “evangelical atheist” who’s heavily involved in interfaith work, I’m hugely inspired by my friend Greg Damhorst (co-founder of Faith Line Protestants), who faces very similar challenges as an evangelical Christian who’s strongly committed to both interfaith work and sharing the message of his faith. So I asked him for his thoughts on evangelism, interfaith, and Christina’s piece.

In our discussion, Greg made the excellent point that “there’s a difference between fighting to preserve a non-Christian religious tradition and respecting it. As a Christian,” he continued, “I’m interested in the latter (respecting others) and not the former (preserving other traditions) because I believe (a) that all people deserve respect and (b) in the exclusivity of the Bible.”

I think this is perfectly parallel to the way an evangelical atheist like myself ought to approach religion, the religious, and interfaith work. Like Greg, I believe that all people deserve respect; but, like Greg, I also think I’m right about the god question. I think I can easily respect somebody while explaining what I believe and why. If I couldn’t do that, I could never engage in academic discussions in my seminars at school, or converse about politics, or talk to anybody, ever, basically. The way I see it, we must respect people, but we need not respect theories.

So I hope I’ve shown that both of the goals Christina outlines for various constituents of the atheist movement are perfectly compatible with interfaith work. But the issue of respect, brought up by Greg, brings us to the question of tactics.

Christina implies that “confrontationalism” – which she defines as “arguing with believers about religion, or making fun of it, or insulting it” – might hurt the cause of reducing discrimination against atheists, but won’t necessarily hurt the cause of persuading people out of religion. Again, I’m not going to discuss effectiveness in this post; although I’m skeptical that yelling insults at people is likely to change their minds, let’s assume for the moment that it might. What interests me now, for the purposes of this discussion, is what tactics are appropriate for an evangelical atheist in interfaith work.

As a lifelong lover of both Oscar Wilde and The Onion, I desperately want to believe that there is a place for humor and satire in the marketplace of ideas – even when those ideas concern the supernatural. When you’re trying to use those tools without violating the respect principle, the distinction between people and theories becomes key. I think “arguing with believers about religion” is totally fair game, and “making fun of” religion can be fair game too – as long as you don’t cross the line into “making fun of” the religious. Attack theories; respect people. That’s the mantra I try to live by.

Greg suggests other reasons why even the most passionate evangelical might want to avoid “confrontationalism” of the sort Christina advocates. He treats people of different worldviews with respect, “not because I think others’ theological opinions are just as valid as mine,” but because it’s “the Christ-like thing to do.” And, I would add, it’s the kind thing to do. And one way I practice my Humanism is by trying to just be a kind person (while still unashamedly defending my other values and beliefs).

On a related note, Greg remarks that “interfaith dialogue gives me a platform for telling the WHOLE story of my faith, which is not the story that the criticism-yelling, self-righteous folks are telling.” Hear, hear! To me, being an atheist and a Humanist – even an evangelical one – doesn’t just mean telling everyone why I don’t believe in the supernatural and they shouldn’t either; it also means demonstrating Humanist values by putting them into practice in my own life.

Greg is frustrated with Christians who are so concerned with criticizing non-Christians that they forget to act like Christians. I feel the same way about my fellow atheists and Humanists sometimes. If we all spent less time bickering about where to put our next “Good without God” billboard, we might have more time to actually be good people.

So whatever your beliefs, don’t be afraid to share them with the world – but don’t get so caught up in the sharing that you forget to practice them in your own life. Be loud if you want, but try to be good, too.

Chelsea Link is a senior at Harvard University, studying History and Science with a focus in the history of medicine. She recently founded and currently writes for two other blogs, The Unelectables (following religious minority candidates in the 2012 election) and Blogging Biblically (documenting her attempt to read the Bible in a year). She is the Vice President of Outreach of the Harvard Secular Society, the former President of the Harvard College Interfaith Council, and a Volunteer Ambassador for the Be the Match bone marrow donor registry. She likes to cook while pretending she’s on Top Chef (hasty breakfast? more like Quickfire Challenge!), adores word games of all kinds (and was once the President of the illustrious Harvard College Crossword Society), and tends to kill the mood at parties by unnecessarily reciting Shakespeare. Last summer, she interned at the Humanist Chaplaincy at Harvard. You can ask her what she’s doing after graduation, but she’ll give you a different answer every time.