What It Means to Be Moral. Phil Zuckerman
the traditional, hegemonic ethical framework for thousands of years—theistic morality of religious faith—will be debunked and deconstructed. Although most people the world over continue to think that morality begins and ends with God, it doesn’t. In Part Two, the nonreligious sources of secular morality will be explored and explained, and the core virtues of atheist ethical living—what I call the “secular seven”—will be presented. Part Three will consider challenges to secular morality, along with respective solutions.
“One is often told,” British philosopher Bertrand Russell quipped nearly one hundred years ago, “that it is a very wrong thing to attack religion, because religion makes men virtuous. So I am told; I have not noticed it.”79
In a world where many of those in top positions of power are strongly religious or are supported by the strongly religious—from Donald Trump in Washington, D.C., to Mohammed bin Salman in Saudi Arabia, from Jair Bolsonaro in Brazil to Vladimir Putin in Russia, from Benjamin Netanyahu in Israel to Ali Khamenei in Iran, from Recep Erdoğan in Turkey to Aung San Suu Kyi in Myanmar, from Viktor Orbán in Hungary to Iván Duque Márquez in Colombia, from Mohamed Abdullahi Mohamed in Somalia to Narendra Modi in India, and well beyond—it is not wrong to attack religion, at least not its most destructive and oppressive manifestations. Skeptical criticism, given the power religion wields, is morally obligatory.
And as for Professor Russell’s noting that religion doesn’t actually seem to make people virtuous, he’s spot-on. When the world’s largest Christian organization, the Roman Catholic Church, claims to possess a monopoly on morality while at the same time commanding people not to use condoms—and also aiding and abetting thousands of child molesters—the link between religion and morality cries out for suspicion. When Evangelical Christians insist that the Bible is the sole source of moral guidance, while at the same time championing the proliferation of guns, the ripping apart of refugee families at our borders, and the active thwarting of efforts to halt global warming, the relationship between religious faith and ethical living begs for scrutiny. When orthodox Jews insist that God’s commandments form the foundation of moral society, while at the same time denying women in abusive relationships the right to divorce, engaging in ritualistic animal cruelty, and championing the violent oppression of the Palestinian people, the insistence that God is necessary for a moral existence necessitates deconstruction. And when Islamic fundamentalists in Saudi Arabia or Iran champion themselves as the divinely mandated arbiters of moral law, while at the same time beheading enemies of the state in public squares, imprisoning homosexuals, and denying democracy, the connection of theism to ethics demands debunking.
While there is much good within religious life—such as supportive community, strengthened family bonds, meaningful rituals, and charity—the stubborn fact remains that supernatural beings do not create morality and the worship of almighty gods is not the source of ethical living. Rather, the alpha and omega of moral life is us, warts and all.
WHY MORALITY CANNOT BE BASED ON FAITH IN GOD
Back in 2010, leading social scientist and professor of public policy at Harvard University Robert Putnam, along with his colleague David Campbell, published a massive empirical analysis of religious life in America. The tome was called American Grace, and it was chock-full of findings that shed light upon numerous facets of religious belief, behavior, and belonging.
Putnam and Campbell reported that, on average, religious people are more charitable than their secular peers. When it comes to things like generosity and volunteering, frequent churchgoers give and do more than non-churchgoers. For example, among the most religious segment of their national sample, the average amount of annual donations to charitable causes per household was $3,000, but among the most secular segment, the average amount was $1,000. And among the most religious swath of Americans, only 6 percent said that they had made no charitable contributions in the previous year, but among the most secular swath of their sample, 32 percent reported as much. The secular, it seems, are stingier. And not only are highly religious individuals more likely to donate to both religious and nonreligious causes, and not only are they more likely to do volunteer work, but they are also more likely to give blood and donate money to homeless people than their secular peers.1 In short, Putnam and Campbell’s research revealed that “religiously observant Americans are more generous with time and treasure than demographically similar secular Americans.”2
We’ve actually known this for quite a while; numerous studies over the years have attested to religious Americans’ higher than average charitable tendencies.3 So doesn’t this then mean that God-believers (theists) are more moral than those who lack such a belief (atheists)?
Before such a conclusion can be made, we need to look a bit more closely at what is going on here. A most valuable element of Putnam and Campbell’s research was that they were able to discover just why it is that religious people donate more in terms of charity and volunteering than secular people—and it actually has nothing to do with God. Rather, it has everything to do with people.
Simply put: charitable giving increases when people actively gather with others in communal, congregational environments. And when people don’t gather with others in such ways, their generosity dwindles, in terms of both time and money. Belief in God simply doesn’t matter. How do we know? Because Putnam and Campbell found that people who believe in God but are not members of a religious congregation do not donate time and money in higher than average amounts, and conversely, people who don’t believe in God but are members of a religious congregation—for whatever reason—do. Put another way: when people are more isolated from others, with fewer friends and fewer moments of social interaction, their proclivity to engage in charitable and voluntary activities decreases. But when they hang out with others on a regular basis at church or synagogue or mosque or temple, their pro-sociality increases, along with their interest and willingness to be more altruistic.
As Putnam and Campbell explain, while “it is tempting to think that religious people are better neighbors because of their fear of God or their hope of salvation . . . we find no evidence for those conjectures.”4 The “secret ingredient” of religious charity, their data reveal, is not faith in God but rather church attendance. It is the getting together with people on a regular basis, the routinized rituals, the singing and announcements, the sharing of cake and coffee after the service, the conversing and schmoozing, the taking field trips and joining groups—and other such social-bonding activities—that actually increase the likelihood of charitable donating and volunteering. Not a fervent faith in God. “When it comes to the religious edge in good neighborliness,” Putnam and Campbell conclude, “it is belonging that matters, not believing,”5 and “although many devoutly religious people might explain their own civic virtues as manifestations of God’s will . . . theology is not the core explanation . . . rather, communities of faith seem more important than faith itself.”6
It bears repeating: community is more important than faith. Belonging is more