The Moralistic Atheist
… Hitchens is unlike other atheist writers in his ability to write. But in one sad fact, he is just like them. He is morally indignant. Instead of taking refuge in the (comparatively) strong fortress of nihilistic relativism, and laughing at all the poor blinkered dopes who still think that truth and beauty are still ambulatory in this sorry world, Hitchens (like all these other recently published guys) calls us and raises us ten. “You have puritanical indignation at our unbelief? Well, watch this.” And the atheist, a complex chemical reaction according to the best contemporary science, uncorks with scathing observations on the hypocrisies of other complex chemical reactions. Hitchens does this in the first five lines of his book, and shows no sign of letting up. Given his premises, it is like being indignant with a tornado, or vegetable soup, or sand on the beach — but Hitchens does it. They all do it.
This is a point that I have made before in my interactions with Harris, and with Dawkins, and with various others before them. I am happy to make the point again, and it should not distress any of us that I am doing so. An argument is like a tool; you put it down when the job is done, and not when you are tired of holding it. When atheists stop suspending their moral indignation from their invisible sky hook, then I will no longer amuse myself by pointing out their levitation trick. I can answer Hitchens on this point with an argument condensed into one word. Not only so, but I will condense it into a word with only two letters in it, three if you count the question mark. So?
Religion poisons everything. So?
The fact that the argument can admit of such elegant economy does not mean that it cannot be expanded. Here watch this. Religion poisons everything. “So? Does this offend anyone whose opinion should matter to me? Is there some kind of rule against poisoning everything? Who made that rule? And who died and left that particular busybody king? Get your moralism outa my face, Hitchens.” Now this response should not be confounded with anything so juvenile as a Bronx cheer. It is an argument, not a raspberry.
From a later post:
Suppose his thesis was not that religion poisons everything, but rather that trousers poison everything. Since trousers are common enough, just like religion, it would not be much work at all for a person of Hitchens’ abilities to assemble one horrendous story after another of one atrocity after another, and all committed by men in trousers. See, trousers poison everything.
The problem here is immediately seen in the availability of counterexamples. We betake ourselves to look at this society, and then that one, and all the men in those societies wear togas. And, sure enough, we find that all the same atrocities are being committed in these differently-appareled cultures. Maybe trousers don’t poison everything. Maybe men are a disgrace to trousers. For if trousers poisoned everything, one would think (naturally enough) that to get into a trouser-free zone would pretty much take care of the problem. But toga-men do all the same awful stuff. And then, so do loin-cloth men. Maybe togas don’t poison everything either. Maybe men are a disgrace to togas.