What We Owe Each Other in a Community
We’re often asked what exactly we mean when we say we’re a part of the “atheist community.” After all, there is no centralized governing authority here. We don’t have the authority to excommunicate local atheist groups that step out of line with our dogma and doctrine.
Instead, we have a loose collection of more than 250 local groups who voluntarily choose to affiliate with American Atheists. We partner with allies at other national atheist, humanist, and freethought groups on issues where we find common ground. We coordinate our strategies, work together on advocacy issues, and share resources.
But that lack of formal structures doesn’t diminish the fact that we are a community.
And while it’s often said, and indeed true, that atheism itself is simply the answer to one question, being a member of a community is about more than that. Communities like ours share many things: identity (even though we sometimes disagree which words to use) beliefs (about, say, the role of religion in government), and values (how we treat each other). There isn’t unanimity on all the details, but there’s plenty of agreement.
We rely on the other members of our local groups for help and support in tough times. We consume media aimed at atheist audiences. We attend events with other atheists. We publicly identify as atheists.
For people leaving highly controlling religious groups, community like ours is quite literally a lifeline, particularly for those of us who live in very religious parts of the country or whose families are not supportive of our atheism. Our U.S. Secular Survey found that being a member of a local atheist or secular group reduced the likelihood of depression by almost 25%. Membership in a national group like American Atheists reduced it by almost 35%. Both reduced the likelihood that participants felt lonely and isolated.
As one person told us, “Prior to having a social group, I felt alone without a way to overcome judgment from religious family members. I learned that being ‘out’ is freeing for me, but also helps other people know it’s okay.”
Belonging to a group with shared values builds and reinforces a sense of belonging, particularly for those of us who have experienced the loss of community in our journey out of organized religion. Knowing that we’re all rowing in the same direction, as the saying goes, builds trust and mutual understanding. And, critically, shared values means that we’re more able to resolve the conflicts we do have and hold each other accountable for the mistakes we inevitably make.
But when do those conflicts or disagreements rise to the level of incompatible values? And how does a community like ours, with its lack of formal structures and hierarchies, hold people accountable when they violate our trust, when their actions don’t meet our expectations, and are contrary to the values we thought we shared with them?
It’s not an easy question to answer, but there are certain things that I think can help.
First, I would argue, it requires us to grapple with the fact that there are certain things we have the power to do and certain things that we don’t. The atheist community isn’t the Anglican Church. But while we can’t expel people from the non-existent Church of Atheism, we can certainly decide who we spend our time with. Local groups can make the decision that someone’s conduct is inconsistent with their internal values and decide that they are no longer welcome within that group. National organizations and conference organizers should have and enforce codes of conduct.
Second, all of this requires open communication. Clearly articulating our values and expectations is an important way for people to decide whether they want to be part of our community in the first place. And, if someone runs afoul of our community standards, we have to communicate our disappointment—both to the person who has disappointed us and to the people they’ve disappointed—and address the issues openly. That process includes identifying steps we’re taking to work toward reconciliation, rebuilding trust, and ensuring that similar issues don’t happen in the future.
Lastly, having a measure of humility is vital. Acknowledging that all of us are likely to fall short of our own stated values from time to time can be difficult, but it’s a simple fact of human nature. When the people we trust and rely on tell us that our actions have caused them harm, we should listen to them, sincerely try to understand their concerns, and work to do better in the future.
Failure at any stage of this process undermines our credibility as community leaders and organizers and makes it impossible to sustain any group for long. Without clear values and expectations, there can be no unity or common purpose. Failing to communicate those values and expectations effectively means decisions can seem arbitrary and capricious, and leave people confused about exactly what’s going on.
We won’t always get it right the first time. But by authentically living our values and demonstrating that we’re responsible and accountable to each other, we can continue to make our community the sort of place we want to be a part of. And in this one life we’re living, it’s what we owe ourselves.
