Why I am a Freethinker, by Janet L. Factor

My American Heritage Dictionary defines freethinker as "One who has rejected authority and dogma, especially in his religious thinking, in favor of rational inquiry and speculation." My ancient Webster’s says "A person who forms his opinions about religion independently of tradition, authority, or established belief. —SYN. see atheist."

Wondering exactly how it came to be assumed that thinking independently about religion inevitably led to atheism, I turned to that entry. The list of synonyms led from atheist, to agnostic, to deist, to the note that "freethinker, the current parallel term, similarly implies rejection of the tenets and traditions of formal religion as incompatible with reason". Ahah! There we have it, the unspoken logic, acknowledged: religion is incompatible with reason. Begin applying your brain systematically to belief, and belief dissolves under the assault.

Is this really so? I think so (though not all freethinkers agree). I received a traditional Christian upbringing. Buried somewhere with other keepsakes of my childhood I have an enameled gold pin, awarded for perfect attendance at Sunday school. From the circle dangles a chain of numbered bars, one awarded for each successive year. I believe, though I would (naturally!) have to check the evidence to be certain, that there are seven. There were many other years my attendance was not quite perfect; I went to Sunday school and to church, where I served as an acolyte, all the way through high school. No one could accuse my parents of neglecting my religious education.

Yet, here I stand, a freethinker—an atheist. What happened?

Putting it in the simplest possible terms, I learned to think. I went to college and received scientific training that taught me to examine every hypothesis for flaws, to look at the evidence, to test and test again and accept only those things that passed the tests as true. I learned the habit of making all beliefs provisional, no matter how attached I was to them.

Even in the laboratory, this is a painful process. Thomas Huxley called the feeling "the great tragedy of science—the slaying of a beautiful hypothesis by an ugly fact." It is also, of course, the great triumph of science: that we are willing to accept, nay, to facilitate (for who else summoned that brutal fact to the scene?) the death of our dreams if that death buys us a greater measure of reality. To the scientist, truth is beyond price. He rises grim-faced from beside the pretty corpse that proved false, and sets to work to find a stronger love who will withstand the next assault.

Why choose such a path? Passion fuels the pursuit. For when you are right, when the hypothesis you have crafted and polished to perfection proves true, there is no feeling like it. When a theory is true, it comes to life, like Galatea embracing Pygmalion. Warm and living, it steps down from the pedestal and leads you into a new world, and all the cold shattered statues of the past have no meaning anymore; they are no loss compared to this gain.

Applying science’s discipline to religious matters made me a freethinker. When we look at religions we see God offered to us as an explanation of last resort. How did life come into being? God created it. Why is the world this way? God made it so. Why do people suffer? It is part of God’s plan. Ultimately, God’s role is explanatory.

The idea of God is just another hypothesis, and all hypotheses are subject to equal scrutiny. We must ask, if we have any intellectual integrity at all, "What is the evidence for this conjecture?" Alas, there is none that passes scientific muster. Anecdotal evidence is not enough. The single great realization that has made all science, all progress, possible is this: Human beings habitually deceive themselves. This means YOU! If self-deception cannot be eliminated, the evidence must be ruled out of court. There is nothing material that points to God, only witnesses with personal agendas to push.

Giving up the dream of God hurts, but Oh! it is worth the price. Nature is a true love, and one of surpassing beauty. I find the intricate mechanisms of evolution far more miraculous to contemplate than the image of a glorified old man waving his hand and shouting "Shazzam!" The Hubble photo of the star nursery in the Eagle Nebula, commonly called the Pillars of Creation, is an image fantastical in its beauty, far more wondrous to behold than anything ever dreamed up by religious thinkers limited in their experience to the surface of a single planet. Stop fantasizing about spiritual wonders, and you will find ample opportunity for ecstasy in this life.

The real is of infinitely greater value than the imagined. I would not trade the love of my husband for the love of a thousand whispering gods. No god ever knelt at night to tug fleece socks onto my freezing feet as I moaned and shook in a cold sweat of horrible illness. Not spirit hands, but human ones comforted me then. And so it has always been, for all of us. Love is not a divine gift, but a human one. We have only to open our eyes to see it, and be glad.