ALOM SHAHA The Young Atheist’s Handbook: Lessons for living the good life without God. Reviewed by Folly Gleeson
Rather than a handbook, this is a generous and thoughtful memoir of a life in pursuit of intellectual freedom.
Belief and non-belief do not sit well with something like a 12-step plan and this book is in fact not a handbook but a memoir; a warm, generous telling of how the author dealt with his growing questioning of religion and how he found the freedom to escape its toils. And it is the nature of intellectual freedom that is the really potent theme throughout, transcending the careful exposition and arguments for and against religious belief, and the personal story of the author’s development.
Shaha uses a well-paced structure to show how his changing ideas grew. He first looks at the impact of the death of a loved one, his mother. He then explores the nature of goodness and the way in which religion falsely claims to be the only arbiter of moral behaviour. His chapter on the role of books and story in his life is enchanting, particularly considering that, oddly enough for a young Muslim, the Narnia books with their distinct Christian subtext were a profound influence. The rational power of science had a liberating effect on his developing thought, and aspects of the monotheistic religions as well as racist and religious prejudice are also part of his discussion. This is a celebration of a life well lived with heart and mind at work.
Shaha’s family moved to London from Bangladesh when he was a toddler and he grew up in public housing in the evocatively named Elephant and Castle. His loving mother was so important to him that her illness and death when he was 13 was a powerful blow. Particularly as his father, talented and clever as he was, was a selfish man who did not support the children emotionally or financially. Alom became a de facto carer for his family and, because he had the support of teachers, whom he now praises, he was also able to gain a scholarship to a public school (that does mean a private school in England). This forced maturity combined with the death of his mother had a profound effect:
I’ve really got to hand it to the Christians, in particular – they’ve come up with a story in which the hero literally rises from the dead and floats up into the sky …
Sadly even though I knew of this story as a child, and even though I was aware that Muslims also had a heaven, I never bought into the idea. I suspect this is not only because it all seemed too good to be true, but also because the evidence that my mother was gone was too hard to ignore.
In his examination of the nature of good he looks at the cognitive dissonance that religious belief can engender. He discusses the way in which religious people can be contradictory in their behaviour, as exemplified by the behaviour of certain priests, Mother Teresa and those mullahs who espouse aspects of Sharia law. He gives a wonderful example of such dissonance when he discusses homophobia, telling the story of a gay man who was viciously attacked by some other men, one of whom had a tattoo on his arm:
‘Thou shall not lie with another male as one does with a woman. It is an abomination. Leviticus 18:22’ [it read]. Somewhat ironically, Leviticus 19:28 states: ’You shall not make any cuts on your body for the dead or tattoo yourselves: I am the LORD.’
Although he is cogently and thoroughly critical of many aspects of religion, he is not as ferocious as those warriors of atheism, Christopher Hitchens and Richard Dawkins. His rather more nuanced and gentle approach, based on his own experiences, allows us ordinary readers to identify with his problems of belief and to see how the slow growth of reasonableness and common sense constantly informed his thought.
The chapter dealing with his love of reading and books in general – he always buys his books (rather than borrowing) in order to encourage writers – is wonderful. He understands the power of story and sees it as fundamental for human life. He focuses on the Bible and the Qur’an and explores the reasons for their power:
So I like to think that I understand why holy books are important: they contain the stories that define the religions to which they belong. They are so powerful because they are stories, not just instruction manuals or reference books as they are often thought to be.
I’m not suggesting that holy books are bereft of wisdom or enlightenment or just plain common sense, either.
… However these books can cause trouble when the boundaries between myths and reality become blurred, and when people start to take them literally.
Something that I had not realised is that, unlike many Christians who can accept that the Bible is not the literal word of God, allowing for a certain amount of discussion of the meaning of the texts and a chance to treat much of the Bible as metaphor, Muslims are expected to have a different relationship with the Qur’an:
… Islam demands unambiguously that Muslims accept the Qur’an as the word of God. One is not a true Muslim unless she or he accepts that the words in the Qur’an are of divine origin, revealed to Muhammad through the angel Gabriel. This puts the Qur’an into an entirely different league as a sacred text.
As Shaha says, this means that a reformation is very unlikely to occur in Islam.
He is totally committed to the idea of non-belief and assumes that anyone who looks clearly at religion, and the way it can be used by those in power to establish control, must be compelled to reject it forcefully. But I think that many agnostics and atheists are more likely to slide away from religion out of inertia. They don’t necessarily feel that they must make a stand. They don’t believe, but they don’t feel compelled to be argumentative about it or necessarily push their non-belief: it just doesn’t make sense to believe in walking on water or multiplying loaves and fishes. For people who have that low-key lack of belief this book will give some very clear signposts to why their attitude is so sensible. For those who are committed to making a stand, the arguments are presented in a lucid and friendly tone and could, here, almost be used as a guide.
The fact that Shaha was brought up in Islam is especially interesting, as he gives rarely published insights into the way Muslims experience and perceive their religion.
Those who want clear arguments about the impossibility of belief, as well as those who enjoy a well told and illuminating memoir, will all be pleased with this book.
Alom Shaha The Young Atheist’s Handbook: Lessons for living the good life without God Scribe 2012 PB 220pp $27.95
Folly Gleeson was a lecturer in Communication Studies. At present she enjoys her book club and reading.
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