The Return of God: Ayaan Hirsi Ali, Richard Dawkins, and the future of humanism
- Sophy Robinson
- 2 days ago
- 8 min read
By Sophy Robinson
Why are some of the world’s most famous critics of religion now speaking about faith, tradition and Christianity? Drawing on the voices of Ayaan Hirsi Ali, Richard Dawkins and Tom Holland, Sophy explores what this moment means for humanism — and whether a non-religious worldview can offer both truthfulness and comfort in times of crisis.
Sophy is a former trustee of Humanists UK.
In recent years, several high-profile, outspoken former atheists have attracted media coverage for their comments on the importance of the Christian faith. These include Ayaan Hirsi Ali and Richard Dawkins, one of the so-called ‘Four Horsemen of New Atheism’. The historian Tom Holland joined the fray recently when he guest-edited the BBC Radio 4 Today programme on December 29th. While he has maintained a neutral stance on his own faith – describing himself as ‘a Protestant agnostic’ and ‘a cultural Christian’ – he spoke of how a recent cancer diagnosis led him to seek solace in a church, engage in fervent prayer, and then describe his recovery in terms of a ‘medieval miracle’.
In an LBC radio interview on Easter Sunday 2024, Richard Dawkins restated that he was a cultural Christian, causing something of a stir among UK religious leaders. Others have adopted this stance, including Elon Musk, Jordan Peterson, Nick Cave, Kemi Badenoch, and Philip Pullman, while Douglas Murray describes himself as a ‘Christian atheist’. So what is this emerging ‘cultural Christianity’, and what relationship does it have with humanism? Is humanism failing to meet the philosophical, spiritual and cultural needs of people in Western societies — found wanting when we face adversity, such as a cancer diagnosis or mental health challenges?
My focus now turns to Ayaan Hirsi Ali’s conversion to Christianity. I was attending a meeting at the West London UnHerd Club when she first made her public declaration. Having read many of her books and heard her criticise religion on many occasions, this came as a huge shock. She had been an articulate, inspiring and fearless proponent of atheism, and her robust criticism of Islam and support for people leaving that faith had led to many personal attacks and fears for her safety.
In an associated article on the UnHerd website, she explained that in recent years she has become convinced that the secular world is failing humanity, and that atheism has created a ‘nihilistic vacuum’. She highlighted three civilisational challenges:
‘Part of the answer is global. Western civilisation is under threat from three different but related forces: the resurgence of great-power authoritarianism and expansionism in the forms of the Chinese Communist Party and Vladimir Putin’s Russia; the rise of global Islamism, which threatens to mobilise a vast population against the West; and the viral spread of woke ideology, which is eating into the moral fibre of the next generation.
'We endeavour to fend off these threats with modern, secular tools: military, economic, diplomatic and technological efforts to defeat, bribe, persuade, appease or surveil. And yet, with every round of conflict, we find ourselves losing ground... We can’t fight off these formidable forces unless we can answer the question: what is it that unites us? The response that ‘God is dead!’ seems insufficient. So, too, does the attempt to find solace in ‘the rules-based liberal international order’. The only credible answer, I believe, lies in our desire to uphold the legacy of the Judeo-Christian tradition.
'Yet I would not be truthful if I attributed my embrace of Christianity solely to the realisation that atheism is too weak and divisive a doctrine to fortify us against our menacing foes. I have also turned to Christianity because I ultimately found life without any spiritual solace unendurable – indeed very nearly self-destructive. Atheism failed to answer a simple question: what is the meaning and purpose of life?’
Interestingly, while her intellectual analysis was indeed compelling and I share some of her concerns, it was her account of a personal crisis and near mental breakdown that seemed the most salient part of her journey — from vigorously espousing humanist values to becoming a regular churchgoer who fervently quotes parables and texts from the Bible. She described how she underwent counselling and engaged in a form of ‘self-therapy’ to deal with depression, anxiety and self-loathing. During a decade-long emotional struggle which included suicidal thoughts, a psychiatrist suggested she might be suffering from ‘spiritual bankruptcy’, a phrase that resonated with her and ultimately led her to explore a new form of faith.
So, given the public revival of Christianity from such unexpected sources, what implications does this have for the future of humanism? A cultural Christian points to the inspiring Christian edifices – the cathedrals, churches, and chapels – and to the last 500 years or so of glorious sacred music: chants, hymns, masses, oratorios, cantatas, and the great choral works of Byrd, Bach and Mozart, as well as those of brilliant contemporary composers such as James MacMillan. I imagine it would be difficult for even the most hardened non-believer to dismiss this extraordinarily rich heritage.
I see no contradiction in actively engaging with this aspect of Christianity. Understanding the historical context, learning about the extraordinary human endeavour involved, and appreciating the aesthetics and artistic quality of the buildings and the music continue to be uplifting and intellectually stimulating experiences. But none of this convinces me that God exists or that the supernatural aspects of Christianity, found in the Bible stories and in the lyrics I sing in the sacred repertoire of my chamber choir, are in any way based in reality or have relevance in my life. Hearing Ayaan Hirsi Ali quote texts from the Bible – and I don’t doubt her sincerity – makes me despair.
When I was in Prague a couple of years ago, a tiled mural on the outside of a cathedral caught my eye, as it seemed to summarise what I find most loathsome about Christianity. It depicts the story of Judgement Day, with people being dispatched to heaven or to hell – sinners are judged and sent to damnation, with a vile blue devil presiding over them. While the resurrection of Christ is easy to dismiss as unscientific, a faith that seeks compliance by threatening eternal punishment and suffering is surely insupportable.
But in his 2019 book, Dominion, Tom Holland claims that this form of detached appreciation of buildings, and of the associated music and literature, is a diminished account. He suggests that people living in a modern Western democracy experience ‘a society still utterly saturated by Christian concepts and assumptions’, arguing that the spiritual and moral teachings of humanism are rooted in Christianity. Is there some invisible metaphysical hand at work that we humanists fail to fully acknowledge? And if so, how can fundamental tenets such as the Resurrection, the Virgin Birth, Judgement Day, and the concepts of Heaven and Hell be configured within the rational, scientific, and compassionate framework we seek?
At the heart of Hirsi Ali’s argument is the claim that the freedoms humanists often cherish most are themselves the product of a long Christian moral and intellectual inheritance:
‘To me, freedom of conscience and speech is perhaps the greatest benefit of Western civilisation. It does not come naturally to man. It is the product of centuries of debate within Jewish and Christian communities. It was these debates that advanced science and reason, diminished cruelty, suppressed superstitions, and built institutions to order and protect life, while guaranteeing freedom to as many people as possible. It became increasingly clear to me that Christ’s teaching implied not only a circumscribed role for religion as something separate from politics. It also implied compassion for the sinner and humility for the believer.’
She argues that a ‘God hole’ – the void left by the retreat of the church – has been filled by a jumble of irrational and quasi-religious dogma:
‘The result is a world where modern cults prey on the dislocated masses, offering them spurious reasons for being and action – mostly by engaging in virtue-signalling theatre on behalf of a victimised minority or our supposedly doomed planet. We can’t fight woke ideology if we can’t defend the civilisation that it is determined to destroy. And we can’t counter Islamism with purely secular tools.’
So does this mean that the future of humanism is under threat, because the absence – or significant decline – of religion is contributing to the erosion of the liberal democracies and freedoms we enjoy? Is humanism, unlike Islam, too diffuse, ill-defined and uncoordinated to keep the civilisational perils that concern Ayaan Hirsi Ali at bay? And when faced with a truly serious physical or mental health crisis, do even rational, sceptical and highly intelligent people find their way back to faith?
These questions are really hard to answer. It’s worth reading Richard Dawkins’s open letter to Ayaan, and watching the subsequent public debate on YouTube. He frames Christianity as a sub-optimal solution:
‘I might agree with you that Putinism, Islamism and postmodernish wokery-pokery are three great enemies of decent civilisation. I might agree with you that Christianity, if only as a lesser of evils, is a powerful weapon against them. I might add that Christianity has been the inspiration for some of the greatest art, architecture and music the world has ever known. But so what?’
And on the solace that she and Tom Holland claim that faith has given them in the face of personal adversity, his conclusion is damning:
‘Even if life were intolerably bleak and empty – it isn’t, but even if it were – how could you, how could anyone, twist a need for solace into a belief in scriptural truth claims about the universe, simply because they make you feel good? Intelligent people don’t believe something because it comforts them. They believe it because, and only because, they have seen evidence that supports it.’
Conclusion
Christianity offers a ready-made mythical narrative about who we are, what we are for, and how the world ultimately hangs together. Humanism, by contrast, is rooted in an empirical view of the world and asks us to build meaning and moral commitment from human resources. It is more difficult and more demanding, but ultimately more truthful.
Moments of crisis — illness, loss, depression — often draw people towards religious language and ritual. They offer not only comfort, but a sense that one’s suffering is held within a larger cosmic story. Humanism does not pretend to offer that kind of metaphysical shelter. But it can offer something else: a commitment to veracity, to shared humanity, and to the fragile, unfinished project of making a more just and compassionate world together.
If humanism is to meet the challenge that Hirsi Ali and others pose, it will lie in finding better ways to articulate its own moral and existential resources, and in building communities that can sustain people not only in good times, but also in times of vulnerability and despair.
Whether humanism is up to the job remains to be seen. But if it is to endure, it will do so not by filling a ‘God hole’ with new dogmas, but by insisting that the work of meaning, ethics and belonging is a shared human endeavour.
The thumbnail image is credited to UnHerd
Eric, what a great thoughtful reply. Both what you and Sophy have written has got me thinking very much. As Sam Harris has challenged as well - is there 'an existential spitiual hole' lying at the centre of secularism? It is an important chalenge for which we do not I think have the answer? Anthony
“At the heart of Hirsi Ali’s argument is the claim that the freedoms humanists often cherish most are themselves the product of a long Christian moral and intellectual inheritance”.
What does this mean?
Humanism has all its roots in Europe. Although Jesus was an Asian, thanks largely to St Paul, Christianity first spread into Europe. With the Roman emperor Constantine converting to Christianity, it became the major religion of the Roman Empire, and then spread throughout most of Europe.
With babies never being given the choice of being baptised/christened or not – and then being indoctrinated into Christianity through their childhood – it is inevitable that there have been millennia of so-called “Christian moral inheritance”; in…