IF YOU'RE HUMBLE AND YOU KNOW IT... RELIGION and ARROGANCE
Do you remember where you were and what you were doing on
April 7, 2004, from 11:42 to 11:53 a.m.? Most readers probably don’t. I do. I
remember it very clearly. I was chatting with my younger brother, Josh, via an
instant messaging client. (It helps that I keep my chat logs.)
I left the Mormon religion in the summer of 2002. The
fallout of that decision continued for several years as I had to negotiate a
new relationship with my still- Mormon family. Part of that negotiation was
dealing with my family’s version of why I left the religion. The motives they
attributed to me and my decision were and, frankly, still are, hurtful. In
retrospect, I should have expected something like this (for reasons I’ll
explain later), especially since I was being trained as a sociologist at the
time. But actually going through it is far different from simply studying it.
Josh was serving as a missionary for the Mormon Church when
I left the religion. I’m sure it was hard for him and my other younger siblings
as we were all close and, I believe (in part because they have told me so),
they had looked up to me as a faithful member of the religion. My brother had
the courage to discuss my decision to leave the religion on several occasions
despite warnings from church leaders not to associate with “apostates.” We had
discussed my leaving several times before the conversation reported below, but
this conversation was the culmination of those discussions.
Here is basically how it went (edited for spelling, grammar,
and flow, but still in chat format):
Josh:
So you tell me, once and for all, completely honestly, was there sin involved
or not? . . . And I’ll believe you (not that I didn’t before. . .).
Ryan:
I left because I do not believe what Mormonism teaches, not because of
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IF YOU'RE HUMBLE AND YOU KNOW IT. . . • 103
sin. Of course, it helps that I no
longer believe in sin, but based on your definition of sin, I left not because
of sin.
Josh:
But what I’m getting at is: did you come to that conclusion because of sin?
Ryan:
If doubting the existence of god is a sin, then I obviously sinned. If not
reading your scriptures every day is a sin, then I obviously sinned. If
believing prayer is ineffectual, then I sinned. If being critical of the church
and its leaders is a sin, then I sinned. But in the sense you mean, no I was
not a sinner.
Josh:
Well that answers that. The rumors are circulating, and, much as you said, they
tend to lean toward saying you sinned and were too proud to repent.
Ryan:
Um, who said this? Because that is a bunch of shit.
Josh:
Someone came to the conclusion that you slept with someone while you were out
here away from Debi [my wife] and that’s when you went AWOL, which I thought
was laughable, but I didn’t really know the truth. So, I didn’t refute
anything.
Ryan:
Sick, wrong, delusional, and typical Mormon bullshit.
Josh:
LOL. Yeah, I thought you would like that.
Ryan:
Um, who came up with this? I have never had sex with anyone other than Debi—end
of story!
Josh:
I don’t know. Shortly after I came home [from his LDS mission in Spain], that
was the rumor circulating among the family—not necessarily that you slept with
someone, but that a mixture of sin and pride led you away.
Let me summarize just to be clear. After I informed my
family that I was no longer going to be attending or participating in the
Mormon religion, someone in my family suggested that the reason why I had
decided to leave was because I had an affair and was too proud to repent. And,
yes, it was an immediate family member who suggested this, either a sibling,
one of my siblings’ spouses, or one of my parents (I still don’t know who).
The accusation of adultery is, in fact, a brilliant
accusation. If they had accused me of, say, piercing my scrotum or getting a
tattoo on my ass, I could have easily dispelled that rumor. But accusing me of
adultery is smart because, while I can deny it, there is no way I can prove
that I did not commit adultery.
But the point I want to emphasize here is not that my family
accused me of committing adultery, which is a really terrible thing to do. The point
is they accused me of being too proud to repent of my sin. While I no longer
think my family believes I committed adultery, I’m fairly certain they remain
convinced that my
104 • WHAT YOU DON’T KNOW ABOUT RELIGION (but should)
pride is keeping me out of the religion. I recently had a
Mormon friend confirm to me that he thinks that is the major impediment keeping
me from returning to the religion—I am too learned and arrogant in my “worldly”
knowledge (i.e., science and scholarship), preventing me from seeing the
truthfulness of religion. Accusations of pride are a common weapon in the
arsenal of the religious. This chapter will remove that weapon from their
arsenal (and give it to the nonreligious).
—§—
Pride is a tricky concept to tackle. Pride, in one sense, is
actually an important element of positive mental health. Everyone should be
proud of who they are in the sense that they have a reasonable sense of
self-respect. Not being proud of who you are and lacking self-respect is
actually an indication of poor self-esteem and poor mental health. Used in this
sense, pride isn’t bad at all and really is something to be sought after.
However, the religious typically don’t think about pride
this way. When they level their accusations of pride at those who disagree with
them (because you can’t disagree with them on logical or reasonable grounds),
what they really mean is more along the lines of either conceit, which is an
excessive appreciation of one’s own worth, or arrogance, which is an attitude
of superiority that is often manifested by making presumptuous claims or
assumptions. Alleging pride in nonbelievers is quite common among the religious
and appears in scripture regularly, like the following verses:
Proverbs 16:5—The LORD detests all the proud of heart. Be sure of this: They will not
go unpunished.
Proverbs 16:18—Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.
While the religious mean arrogance and conceit when they
accuse people of being proud, what they are really doing is accusing people of
dissenting. Religious people don’t actually hate that some people are arrogant
or conceited (else they would hate themselves). What they hate is when someone
challenges them or dis- agrees with them. To curtail dissent, they call it
“pride” or “arrogance” and they use this to demean those who question. In a
remarkable manipulation of language, the religious have completely inverted the
meaning of pride. When the religious say you should be humble, they actually
mean “claim to know stuff you don’t.” And when the religious say it is bad to
be proud, they are actually criticizing those who question and doubt.
IF YOU'RE HUMBLE AND YOU KNOW IT. . . • 105
To question something isn’t arrogant; it’s exactly the
opposite. Those who question are unsure of what they know or believe. What they
are exhibiting is humility, not conceit. Yet it is those who question who are accused
of being proud. Confusing, isn’t it?
Among the most common recipients of accusations of arrogance
by the religious are people with advanced education who question or don’t
believe. Believers assert that those with “worldly” education believe they know
more than the leaders of religions (which, not surprisingly, is often true).
I have had several friends and family members accuse me of
being arrogant because of my education. There is a great deal of irony in this.
When I was a Mormon, I was an arrogant asshole. I condemned people to hell,
regularly. I refused to associate with people who I believed were sinners. In
fact, one of my closest friends in high school did not disclose to me that he
was having sex with his girlfriend because he thought I would stop hanging
out with him. It pains me to admit it now, but he was probably right—I would
have pitied him for having no self-control and for sinning, and would have cut
him off so I would not be tainted by his sinfulness. And, more relevant to the
point at hand, I thought I knew everything there was to know about Mormonism and
I was certain that what I believed and did was right without question. As I
noted in the story that began this chapter, I left Mormon- ism because I
learned more about it, not because I was too proud to repent (for a sin I
didn’t commit, no less). When I was religious, I was proud and arrogant, yet
called myself humble. Now that I’ve left religion, I’m accused of being proud
by the religious, yet I’m much more humble. I now admit that there is a hell of
a lot I don’t know about most things. My wife has even pointed out that the
nickname she gave me when we met, “Arro” (short for “arrogant”), no longer
fits.
Before I left Mormonism, I had a lot of people come to me
when they had doubts or questions. I frequently answered them, thinking I had
all the answers. Yet, now that I actually have more knowledge and information
about Mormonism, most Mormons refuse to talk to me. They don’t consider me
trustworthy anymore. Religious believers will turn to someone with virtually no
formal education for answers so long as the answers validate their existing
beliefs, but will shun someone with formal education who has evidence that
doesn’t validate their beliefs. Which of these two informants is proud: the
uneducated person claiming to know things he doesn’t, or the educated person
who provides the limited information available to him bounded by the limits of
probability?
What the above suggests is that, based on objective
definitions of arrogance, pride, and conceit, it is highly likely that
nonreligious individuals will be less arrogant than religious individuals.
Arrogance includes making presumptuous claims. Claiming to know things when you
don’t know them is arrogant. While many lib-
106 • WHAT YOU DON’T KNOW ABOUT RELIGION (but should)
eral religious people phrase their beliefs in tentative
terms, more fundamentalist people do not. They insist that the things they
believe are real. In fact, they typically will not say things like, “I believe
in a god” or “I hope there is a heaven.” What they will say is, “I know there
is a god” and “Heaven is real.” They assert that these beliefs are facts with
no evidence. Is that humble?
Contrast religious assertions with scientific assertions.
Science is, at heart, a tentative endeavor. Scientists may assert that they
“know” certain things, but they only do so once the evidence for those things
is overwhelming! For example, a scientist could assert that earthquakes are due
to shifting tectonic plates and say, “Earthquakes result when the plates that
make up the earth’s crust move.” The evidence behind this claim is compelling
enough at this point that no scientists question it. It is a defensible
assertion given the mountains of evidence that exist to support this claim (pun
intended). What you will rarely, if ever, hear a scientist say is that she
knows something is true when she has no evidence to support the assertion.
This is basically how social scientists frame everything we
write. We know there is discrimination against racial minorities in the United
States. But we don’t know how extensive it is or to what extent the
discrimination accounts for the higher rates of poverty among many racial
minorities. We can assert that discrimination against racial minorities
contributes to higher rates of poverty among those groups, but you will not
find a reputable social scientist who would say, “I am 100% certain that racial
discrimination accounts for 53.748534% of the difference in poverty rates
between blacks and whites.” We just aren’t that certain. We make estimates, but
those estimates are always couched in various levels of uncertainty. We don’t
speak in definitives. We speak in probabilities, despite having evidence to
support our assertions.
Contrast these two positions. The religious person, without
any evidence, asserts that certain things are true. This is done purely on
faith. Scientists, who have evidence to back up their claims, typically couch
their claims as tentative and probabilistic (i.e., more or less likely). If
arrogance is making presumptuous claims or assertions, which of the two groups
is more arrogant: those who definitively claim to know things without evidence
or those who suggest they may know something based on evidence? I’ll help you:
it’s the religious who are arrogant, not scientists.
I don’t mean to suggest that all nonreligious people are
scientists or think scientifically (though many do and a large percentage of
scientists are nonreligious). But nonreligious people are much less likely to
assert that they know things than are religious people. The empirical evidence
bears this out. Figure 15.1 displays the results of several questions from the
World Values Survey that illustrate various aspects of arrogance.
IF YOU'RE HUMBLE AND YOU KNOW IT. . . • 107
Figure 15.1. Characteristics of Pride by importance of
religion
Source: WVs
The questions depicted in figure 15.1 ask whether the
respondent considers him or herself to have specific characteristics. The first
question asked respondents if the following statement described them, “I enjoy
convincing others of my opinion.” The most religious individuals around the
world are the most likely to agree with that statement. They are also the most
likely to agree with all the others shown in the figure, including, “I serve as
a model for others,” “I own many things others envy me for,” “I like to assume
responsibility,” and, the coup de grâce when it comes to arrogance, “I often
give others advice.” The most religious score almost 20 percent higher than the
next most religious and 30 percent higher than the nonreligious. In other
words, if anyone has an inflated sense of self-importance, indicative of
conceit, it is the highly religious. The nonreligious are, on most measures,
the least conceited. Other researchers have arrived at the same conclusion
using other data—highly religious people are the least humble and the most
arrogant as they claim to know things when they don’t, while the least
religious do just the opposite.
There may be some readers who are surprised by
this finding. I don’t find it surprising at all. Many people turn to religion
precisely because it gives them a sense of importance and significance. Think
about it this way: the modern world is a big, scary place. It is virtually
impossible today to not be aware of your insignificance. Very few people have
the influence and fame to be considered actors on the world stage. Most of us
are bit players in local productions with no chance of ever making a name for
ourselves outside of our family, let alone our neighborhood or our city.
Modernization breeds a sense of insignificance.
Religion, particularly exclusive, strident, fundamentalist,
monotheistic religion, offers an antidote to insignificance: a personal
relationship with a supreme, supernatural being. The world may pass you by; your
family may even reject you.
108 • WHAT YOU DON’T KNOW ABOUT RELIGION (but should)
But your god knows you, cares about you, and will alleviate
all of your problems in the afterlife. What’s more, this “personal” god will
actually listen to you when no one else will. He (sometimes she) is always
listening—literally, always. How better to make someone feel significant than
to give them an omnipotent, omnibenevolent, always approachable, and always
supportive buddy?
Additionally, for monotheists, the god they worship
epitomizes arrogance. He is (allegedly) self-described as jealous, supreme, superior,
all-knowing, all-powerful, and perfect. If you met someone who described
himself/herself as having just one of these characteristics, let alone all of
them, wouldn’t you consider that person to be arrogant? Worshipers of an
arrogant god who hypocritically demands humility happen to be arrogant. Is
anyone surprised by this?
Of course, it’s not just the god of monotheists who is arrogant
or proud. Any religious leader who claims to be able to interpret god’s will
better than any other person can only be considered to be arrogant as he/she is
claiming to have superior knowledge to others—ironically by claiming superior
knowledge about the unknowable.
Gods are proud. Religious leaders are proud. And highly
religious people are proud. This is not pride in the
“pride-is-good-for-your-self-esteem” sense but in the
“we’re-better-than-you-and-claim-to-know-shit-we-don’t” sense. It seems, then,
that the cornerstone of religion is not humility, but pride.
—§—
Religions’ use of pride is a brilliant bit of marketing and
doublespeak. Religions and religious people decry pride as being a terrible
thing. They assert that pride will lead people out of religion or keep people
from becoming religious. And yet, the more religious you are, the prouder, more
arrogant, and more conceited you are. Religious people consider themselves to
be more righteous than nonreligious people; religious people consider
themselves to be better than nonreligious people; and religious people claim to
know more than nonreligious people. Religious people exhibit all the
characteristics of pride, but they call it humility. They’re humble and they
know it.
The references to the scientific research for this chapter are at the back of the book and not included here. Go here to purchase a copy.
