Seven – London Atheist Activist Group

It took me a couple of minutes to get my bearings after leaving Southwark tube station.  My destination was the student’s union at London South Bank University: I was going to a series of lectures that was hosted by the university’s Atheist Society. I was secretly relieved; it had been a close call between going to the atheist group and the London French Speaker’s group, which was second in the calendar.  I had mixed feelings: what does atheist activism entail?  Does is mean knocking on people’s doors and telling them that they shouldn’t believe in Jesus?  What kind of discussions take place at these meetings?  I put these niggling worries to one side and enjoyed the short walk to the university; it was a gloriously sunny day, and an opportunity to visit a new part of the city that I had never been to before.

‘Are you here for the meeting?’ asked a friendly voice.  I confirmed I was.

‘That’ll be a pound.’

‘Would you like a stamp?’

'Erm... Yes'.

An inky blotch was stamped onto my right hand.  It was the kind of stamp that you get in nightclubs to signify proof of payment.

‘Is there a bar?’ I asked.  Everyone smiled.  Of course there was a bar.  This was the student’s union.

After buying a beer I inspected my inky blotch.  It was a depiction of something called the Flying Spaghetti Monster (FSM), a fictitious character that I had heard about in a book by leading atheist Professor Richard Dawkins.  Those who believe in the Flying Spaghetti Monster are known as Pastafarians.

I got chatting to a young Polish chap called Oskar who was clearly on his own.  Oskar had been studying Computer Science at Imperial College London and was at a loose end; he had learnt about the group through Facebook.  After chatting to another group of people conversations merged; a common theme was that religious people had taken over London’s speaker’s corner.

The first speaker of the day was a well-known academic, A. C. Grayling, author of ‘The good book: a secular bible’.  The subject of his talk was about ‘causing offence’.  He made the point that if people become offended (for whatever reason) this has the potential to close down the potential for discussion and debate.  I interpreted his arguments to mean: we shouldn’t be worried about causing offence because free speech is of fundamental importance.  A corollary was also presented: criticise ideas rather than those who hold them.

There was one part of his talk that made my ears prick up.  Grayling talked about the ebbing and flowing of beliefs: people are likely to acquire a particular belief system because their parents hold a certain belief system.  Children, he argued, generally accept what parents tell them because it makes evolutionary sense to do so.  When we become teenagers, we forge our own identity, which could well mean not believing anything that our parents tell us.  Later in life, we may return to religious belief if we have some form of mid-life crisis.  Generally, people don’t stick with their new found belief system; after a couple of years they recover from their crisis and revert to being sensible again.  These were points that I needed to be mindful of.

Grayling also had something to say about love.  Love, he said, is something that is profoundly irrational, and it is also irrational to believe in astrology, crystals and the power of prayer (I’m taking liberties with my paraphrasing at this point!)  To fall in love, he argued, is also to enter into a contract with unhappiness; a thought that made me feel sad. Putting his views on love to one side, it was a cracking talk; engaging, well-polished and thought provoking.  Interestingly, he also mentioned some intriguing difficulties that the founders of the university Atheist Society had encountered with both the student union and university.  Apparently there had been complaints.

The second talk of the evening was by a chap called Charlie who was a secretary of the Lawyer’s Humanist Association. Like Grayling, Charlie talked about issues that the student society had to grapple with.  He connected his talk to the importance of free speech and the rights of people who choose to express their views.  I learnt of another dimension to the event; it was apparently the society’s first birthday.  The stage was decorated by a ‘happy birthday’ banner and a couple of helium balloons.  In the bar area there was a table that featured a ‘flying spaghetti monster’ cake (which, sadly, wasn’t made out of spaghetti) that the society secretary had made. Like all good parties, there was also jelly.

During the break I got chatting to a committee member called Ella.  I asked her what the controversy was all about.  She took me to see a poster.  It featured a digitally edited version of the ‘The Creation of Adam’ fresco by Michelangelo which depicts God being carried by cherubs, index finger outstretched, reaching towards Adam, who is naked.  The poster replaced God (a white man who has a grey beard) with the Flying Spaghetti Monster.  Instead of a finger, he, it, or she, whatever this monster is, uncurls a starchy tendril towards Adam.  It was a great poster.  It was simple, arresting and thought provoking.  It also has the headline, ‘Looking for logic? Pastafarianism is a real religion’. 

‘Someone complained.  We don’t know who made the complaint, but they did – they wouldn’t tell us who it was.’

They had put up posters in prominent locations during fresher’s week, just like all the other university societies.  The following day, they had been taken down and there were reports that the society’s stall had also been removed, leading to a complaint that the group was being censored.  They were told that it was due to someone having an issue about ‘Adam’s genitals being on show’.  When they offered to blur them out, it was then stated that the problem was one of religious offence.  A media firestorm ensued, but the issue was amicably resolved when it was argued that the university had an overriding duty to support its students but not their beliefs.

The second part of the event comprised of three short speeches.  The first was from Andy who was from a body that represented humanist organisations.  The two other speakers were the heads of two different atheist Meetup groups.

It was a great event.  It felt warm, inclusive and friendly.  If I wasn't on this ridiculous quest, I would have joined and become a regular member.  There was talk of other events in pubs, and a weekly trip to speaker’s corner to do rhetorical battle with those who wish to persuade us to believe in the supernatural. 

Just before I went home (after my second beer), I had an opportunity to have a chat with the new president.  He was in his second year of an English literature and writing degree.  We talked about books, journalism, writing, and jobs.  He was great; he was very easy to talk to and gave the impression of someone who could do a good, solid job.  For a president of an atheist society, he also had a brilliant name: he was called Christian.