Battling the Gods: Atheism in the Ancient World Page 20

  Sextus was an aggressive opponent of the dogmatists, those philosophers who believe they can say things confidently about the world (i.e., all philosophers apart from the Skeptics). Dogmatic views of the gods drew his particular attention, since it is assertions about the supernatural that tend to be proclaimed with the most confidence and the least rigor. He devotes 180 dense chapters to arguments against the existence of gods. Many of these arguments, in all likelihood, reflect the pioneering work done by Carneades and Clitomachus in establishing atheism as a philosophically reputable position. Sextus’s point is not, of course, to prove that gods do not exist, just to prove that you cannot decide the matter one way or the other. “The Skeptics,” he opines, “have declared that, because the arguments on either side are equally strong, the gods exist no more than they do not.” The Skeptic, he asserts, follows the ancestral practice of public ritual but finds that he cannot commit philosophically to believing in any form of deity. To this end, he also lists the claims of the believers, equal weight being given to both. There is no presumption in favor of the religious. In this respect, Sextus really does stand at the dawn of modernity. His catalogue of arguments on either side is arguably the most important evidence for a sustained, coherent attack on the existence of the gods in antiquity.16

  Sextus pitches theist and atheist arguments against each other and lets them slug it out inconclusively. To get a flavor for these claims, and a sense of how influential they have been on the ways in which atheist critique still operates, we should pick our way through them in some detail.

  He begins with theories about the origins of beliefs in the gods. First of all he considers the fifth-century BC notion that religion derived from primitive humanity, in its wild and bestial phase. Seeing the need to check wrongdoing, early lawmakers invented the idea of gods as a moral police force (this derives from Critias’s Sisyphus). This argument Sextus dismisses, for it does not explain how all peoples across the Earth came to a similar conception of deity. He then considers the theory, which derives from the sophist Prodicus, that humans began to ascribe divine qualities to things that benefited them, like the sun and the moon, bread (Demeter) and wine (Dionysus). Here too Sextus is unconvinced, since this view attributes too much naïveté to primitive humans, particularly when it comes to things like water and food: Who would think of perishable items as divine? Finally, there is Democritus’s idea that humans are susceptible to eidōla, impressive images that contain intimations of future events; early humans confused these eidōla with gods. Others attribute thoughts of the divine to dream apparitions, or more generally to the awe that follows from observation of celestial marvels: thunder, lightning, meteors, eclipses. Here Sextus’s primary objection is that this doesn’t explain why people associate these visions with gods in the first place: they will need to have had a sense of the divine in the first place in order to do this. So it doesn’t get to the root cause. The older, sophistic arguments about the invention of religion, then, are in his view not credible.17

  Sextus now proceeds to list the atheists throughout history, probably following the catalogue of Clitomachus: Protagoras, Diagoras of Melos, Prodicus, Theodorus, Euhemerus, Critias, Epicurus. He does not delve into their views into any great detail, except to cite the Sisyphus fragment in the most complete form in which we have it. (This is the snippet of Athenian drama that proposes that the police-force view of the gods was the work of a cynical lawgiver.) He pits the atheists against the views of philosophers who assert the existence of gods. These come in four different types.18

  First of all in this section is the question of whether the fact that most cultures have a concept of belief in gods is evidence for their existence. (The modern descendant is the claim that humans are neurologically “wired” for religion.) The atheists, however, reply that there are all sorts of misconceptions about the world that are widespread, such as the idea of eternal punishment in the afterlife (how can a body be damaged—presumably progressively—for eternity?). The fact that many people believe in something does not make it true. Some dogmatists (he means the Stoics) come up with the counterargument that popular belief, even if it correctly pinpoints divinity as a higher entity, is simply wrong in this kind of mythological detail. Sextus postpones any direct rebuttal of this claim. The important point for now is just that the Stoics actually agree that popular views of divinity are misguided, and so, he implies, they actually undermine any argument that the near universality of belief offers evidence for the existence of gods.19

  Second comes the theist argument from the orderly design of the universe, which Sextus confects from a variety of different sources, mostly Stoic. This is an early version of William Paley’s watchmaker analogy: when we see apparent perfection in the orbiting of the heavenly bodies, for example, we cannot but posit a supremely gifted and benevolent creator behind it. In antiquity this idea was most associated with the “craftsman” of Plato’s Timaeus. Sextus’s example is (naturally) not a watch; he chooses as his analogy the orrery invented by Archimedes (of eureka fame), a mechanism that enacted the orbits of the planets and stars around (of course) the Earth. When we see this, we praise Archimedes; by the same token, when we observe the heavenly bodies in perfect motion we should praise the creator of the universe. Sextus also adds some Aristotle into the mix: what explains the orderly movement of the celestial bodies must be a force that is itself not moved by any other thing, in other words the Aristotelian “prime mover.” He then stirs in a generous helping of Stoic cosmology. The explanation for regular movement and for the rhythms of nature is that there is a “power” pervading all things and unifying them into a harmonious entity directed toward a good purpose; this power should be identified with the god of the universe. The recipe is topped off with the argument that the regular order of the universe is similar in kind to the reason that we possess as humans; therefore a rational order pervades the universe, and the reasoning capacity of each one of us is a tiny fragment of that divine totality. In Stoic language, reason is the ruling or “hegemonic” part of us, and what rules the universe must be the cosmic god.20

  The next argument for gods is more pragmatic, and once again familiar to modern eyes. Without a sense of divinity, it is argued, we cannot have various forms of moral behavior: piety, holiness, and justice, all of which are types of action directed toward the gods. If there is no belief in the gods, there is no belief in a universal criterion of moral goodness; ethical behavior will be impossible. What is more, if gods are held not to exist, then nor can prophecy—in which very many people believe. Atheism, then, threatens the moral fabric of society.21

  The final set of theistic claims is based on a logical syllogism, which is to say a three-step argument from premises to conclusion. Typically the syllogism takes a form such as: “All mammals breathe air [premise]. Kangaroos are mammals [premise]. Therefore kangaroos breathe air [conclusion].” Zeno, the Stoic founder, had argued, “It would be reasonable for someone to honour the gods [premise]. It is not reasonable to honour beings that do not exist [premise]. Therefore gods exist [conclusion].” Sextus, however, disputes the logic of this syllogism, offering a counterexample, which depends upon exploiting a peculiarity of Stoic belief. Stoics maintained that the ideal for a human is to become truly wise, but that this state has never been attained by anyone. Here, then, is the contrary syllogism: “It would be reasonable for someone to honor a truly wise person; it would not be reasonable to honor someone who did not exist; therefore truly wise people exist.” (To update the example in contemporary terms, we could substitute a morally perfect person.) The point of this alternative syllogism is to show the weakness of the original, by parodying an opponent’s argument so as to produce an unpalatable result. Zeno’s successor, Diogenes of Babylon, responded to such criticisms by amending the second premise of Zeno’s syllogism to “it is not reasonable to honor those who could not, in their nature, exist.” The revised version rules out the existence of the truly wise (who could not exist) and rule
s in the existence of the gods (who could). Eagle-eyed Sextus, however, notes that the assumption that it is possible for gods to exist is simply asserted here; it remains entirely unproven. So the syllogism demonstrates nothing if we are not already inclined to believe in gods. Sextus adds an additional objection: honoring gods, in the sense of performing ritual activities, is not the same as believing that they exist. We may remember that he has already argued that the Skeptic should take part in religious activities without actually committing philosophically to believing in gods. It might in fact be perfectly rational to honor the gods publicly without believing that they exist (which is in fact exactly what the early Stoic Persaeus did).22

  Sextus now switches to arguments on the other side, against the existence of gods, beginning with a series of attacks on the notion of a divinity as an absolute ideal. The first we have already met: it is Carneades’s proposal that if the gods are capable of sensation then they are capable of sensing negative stimuli, so they are subject to change for the worse, and hence decay. Next: Is a divinity finite or finite? If it is infinite, then it cannot move, since it encompasses all the space into which it could possibly move. If it is infinite, moreover, it must lack intelligence (or “soul”), since intelligence is a form of motion from the mind to the rest of the organism. But the idea of a deity that cannot move or think is counterintuitive. Conversely, however, we cannot imagine a god that is less than infinite, since that god will then be lesser than the cosmos around it.

  Sextus’s following atheistic argument depends upon commonsense Greek assumptions about the nature of the body. Does the god have a body or not? Sextus asks. If not, then it cannot have a soul (and hence the ability to reason), for only bodies can have souls. But if it does, then it is subject to decay, for that is the nature of bodies. Next comes an extended version of Carneades’s argument about morality. If the gods are perfect, then they must be moral. But morality depends by definition on the suppression of nonmoral impulses: you cannot, for example, display bravery in a situation where you are not threatened; you cannot display sexual continence unless you are experiencing sexual temptation. So if the gods are moral they must also be morally fallible. Similarly, if the gods are capable of reaching good decisions, they must have the capacity to make bad ones (since decision making necessarily involves selecting the best option from a range of possibilities). In fact, gods cannot even possess any kind of virtue. Virtue is not born in us. We do not call the ability to breathe or eat virtuous. It is only when we carefully and laboriously develop certain features in our character—say, the ability to resist temptation, or self-sacrifice for others, or a rigorous training regime or work ethic—that we can be said to be virtuous. But gods, in their very nature, can see or do anything. They cannot be virtuous, because they do not need to work on anything. If, however, a deity can be said to lack virtue, it is morally deficient and therefore not a god.23

  Sextus is not finished yet. If gods possess moral virtue, would we not say that virtue is separate from them? After all, you cannot be said to “possess” something if that thing is actually identical to you. But virtue must exist on a higher level than its possessor: we would not say that any individual is as courageous as courage itself. The abstract virtue of courage is always more courageous than anyone who possesses it. So gods are deficient in that they are less virtuous than the virtues themselves. This argument is a rather specialized one and depends on an idea that ultimately goes back to Plato’s metaphysical theory according to which qualities like courage, beauty, and so forth exist as abstract “forms,” whereas individual courageous and beautiful beings and things have only a share in the forms themselves.24

  The next stage in the demolition, however, is more familiar from modern atheistic arguments: it involves subjecting the claims of the religious about their gods to the laws of the known, physical world. Sextus concentrates, initially, upon language. We all think of the gods as speaking, both to one another and to us (through prophecy, dreams, and so forth). Do they, then, have lungs, windpipes, tongues, mouths? How, otherwise, would they speak? Exactly what kind of anatomical endowments do we imagine that gods have? (We could extend Sextus’s line of reasoning further: Do they have saliva? Do they then spit? And do they have teeth? Do these teeth accumulate plaque? And so forth.) And then again: What languages do they speak? And which dialect of that language? Do they need interpreters when they communicate with different language groups? Indeed, what is a god’s body made of? Is it formed from one single substance, or is it a compound of many different ones? If it is a compound, surely it is capable of dissolution? After all, any process of compounding is capable of being undone. But if the god’s body is made of a single substance, then that substance must be one of the elements, which Sextus takes to be earth, fire, air, or water. If that is the case, then the god cannot have a soul or a rational faculty. A god without the ability to reason is unthinkable.

  Sextus completes his anti-theist barrage with Carneades’s “heaping” argument, which he clearly considers the jewel in the crown of the atheist claims. Sextus’s stated intention, naturally, is to prove that the Skeptics should suspend judgment on the question of the gods. In doing so, however, he provides the earliest surviving compendium of arguments against the existence of gods and the earliest surviving treatment of atheism as a unified philosophical tradition. Yet these arguments almost certainly did not all originate with him: many of them, if not all, must go back to Clitomachus in the second century BC, that prodigious figure in the history of atheism.

  12

  Epicurus Theomakhos

  For most of antiquity, if you had asked anyone “Who are the atheoi?” the answer would have been immediate: the Epicureans. The modern Hebrew word for “atheist,” apikoros, testifies to the enduring nature of this association.

  In around 306 BC Epicurus (whose name means “helper”) moved from the island of Samos to Athens and bought a plot of land just outside the city walls, not far from Plato’s Academy. This plot was to be known as the kēpos, “garden,” and it symbolized Epicurus’s philosophy. The aim of Epicureanism was to remove psychic disturbance and find ataraxia, “tranquility.” Epicureans were not seekers after bodily indulgence, as the English word “epicurean” suggests, although plenty of their ancient enemies accused them of that. Rather, they sought to avoid activities that led to stress and conflict—“Live unnoticed” was a famous motto—and adjust their attitudes so as to remove from their souls all turbulence and fear. Anxieties, Epicurus taught, spring from kenodoxiai, “empty opinions.”1

  Chief among the false opinions are misconceptions of the supernatural. Epicureans were strict naturalists. Developing the doctrines of the fifth-century BC atomists Leucippus and Democritus, they insisted that everything in the universe is composed of an infinite number of indestructible, unbreakable particles of matter, the atoms, which are continually in motion, albeit not always predictably (thanks to the famous “swerve”), and of an infinite stretch of void. There is nothing beyond the universe (for it has no outer boundary). The human soul, too, is made of atoms, fine atoms that resemble wind and heat. When we die, our souls immediately dissolve, as the body will in time. There is, therefore, no afterlife. This theory of matter is also allied to the larger aim of generating tranquility, since misunderstandings about the nature of death are the biggest cause of anxiety. “Death is nothing to us,” Epicurus wrote, “for that which is dissolved has no feelings, and that which has no feelings is nothing to us.” Death is not painful, for the dead cannot feel anything; it is simply the dissolution of one particular cluster of atoms.2

  What of the gods? At first sight, the Epicurean view of the universe has no need for divinity, since everything can be explained in purely material terms. Yet for all that, Epicurus was insistent that gods do exist and was fiercely critical of atheists. “First, reckon that the god is an indestructible and blessed being…do not impute to him anything that is incompatible with indestructibility or blessedness.” (“The god,
” to be clear, does not imply monotheism; it is a common philosophical shorthand for divinity in general.) But, he continues, the gods are not as the many believe them to be; in fact, it is more impious to believe in the gods of popular tradition than to deny them. The most destructive misapprehension is the belief that they intervene in the world of humans. Gods did not create the universe, nor do they order it. We can understand nature only if we grasp the physical laws of the world. And when it comes to the way that human beings live their lives, we must take responsibility for all of our choices and not hide behind excuses of external compulsion. The gods live remote from our lives and take no interest in them.3

  Epicurus believed that perceptions that we have of the world around us are accurate; they are caused by atomic flow into our sensory organs, and atoms (along with void) are the constituents of reality. Given that the majority of people, in all cultures, have a conception of a divinity of humanoid form, and indeed perceive gods in their dreams (and occasionally in waking visitations), that conception must—so he reasoned—be true. We must have a built-in, natural ability to grasp the divine. In other words, it is Epicurus’s theory of perception that leads him to believe in gods. If people see gods in dreams and epiphanies, they must be real.4