During my university years, roughly fifteen years ago, atheism reached its peak. The "New Atheism" movement dominated the literary scene, with influential works like Sam Harris' The End of Faith, Richard Dawkins' The God Delusion, and Christopher Hitchens' God Is Not Great. These texts represented a form of atheism that not only rejected the notion of God as a rational idea but also harbored disdain for the very concept itself.

As time has progressed, this movement has matured. While their incisive critiques of certain religious practices still resonate—such as Dawkins' denunciations of creationism as pseudo-science, or Sam Harris' commentary on the extremism often associated with various faiths—many of their broader arguments have proven to be contradictory and superficial. They advocated a complex stance that simultaneously rejected religion while critiquing it through frameworks rooted in Christian moral values. They asserted that their ethics stemmed from rational enlightenment yet often aligned with the inherited moral standards of their cultural backgrounds. Although they presented valid criticisms, their epistemological foundations turned out to be haphazard and riddled with confusion.

This period of atheism can be characterized as adolescent; it lacked the depth of a fully developed worldview. The movement's popularity stemmed from a sense of liberation from established belief systems and the exaltation of rational thought. Under this lens, various truths could be construed as "objective," as exemplified by Sam Harris' The Moral Landscape, which attempted to argue that morality could be derived from scientific reasoning—an effort that was both laborious and unpersuasive. Dawkins decried those who based their morals on the Bible yet dismissed evolution as a sound source for ethical standards, arriving instead at a vague conclusion that morals simply exist, without much clarification on what that means.

Contemporary public intellectuals increasingly reflect a shift away from this rationalist perspective that sought liberation from religious thought. Authors like Tom Holland in Dominion and Nick Spencer in The Evolution of the West highlight how many of our shared values owe their existence more to religion—especially Christianity—than to enlightenment rationalism or humanism. Prominent figures like Douglas Murray lament the contradictions of living in a secular age while still hoping to retain values grounded in Christianity, famously asking if we can "have the shoot without the root." Meanwhile, Jordan Peterson emphasizes the psychological significance of religious narratives, engaging in discussions about biblical texts while debating Sam Harris on the legitimacy of these stories.

These thinkers exemplify a broader "collective consciousness," reflecting the evolving public sentiment, though this may not accurately represent individual beliefs. Many atheists today would likely distance themselves from the vitriol of the New Atheists, just as many Christians might reject the polarizing rhetoric of Peterson. Notably, while a few decades ago, intellectual discourse was dominated by voices advocating the dismissal of outdated religious beliefs, we now see a growing number of figures recognizing the value lost in such a dismissal.

However, this recognition does not imply a wholesale return to religious belief. Many of these intellectuals, such as Douglas Murray, who acknowledges the moral framework provided by religion, do not personally subscribe to any faith, often struggling with questions like “but is it true?” Tom Holland has posited that our values are fundamentally Christian and referred to the cross as a "true myth," yet he hesitates to delve deeper, grappling with reconciling religious history with scientific facts. Peterson's responses about his belief in God are often vague and contradictory, recently likening the Bible to a work of fiction akin to Dostoevsky. His lectures on biblical texts illustrate this reluctance to affirm religious truths, often leaving listeners feeling unsatisfied, akin to watching someone attempt to eat soup with a fork.

It is no surprise that the New Atheists, instead of establishing a cohesive worldview, have left a void. Much of their advocacy was negative, focused on dismantling what they opposed rather than proposing constructive alternatives. As later thinkers have pointed out, much of what they critiqued was rooted in the very categories they inherited from the religious frameworks they sought to discard. The future implications of this shift remain uncertain, as we navigate a societal experiment on the repercussions of secularizing culture. The 2021 UK census revealed that, for the first time, less than half the population identifies as Christian, a label that does not necessarily correlate with actual practice or attendance. Churches continue to decline, and rather than widespread atheism, the prevailing sentiment appears to be a general apathy towards religion itself.

This apathy partly reflects a broader skepticism towards collective establishments. Membership in political parties has seen a significant decline, as the age of individualism has fragmented society into isolated entities, each valuing independence from institutional affiliations. Many followers of Jordan Peterson might claim he has rekindled their interest in religion or Christianity, but this does not imply a return to organized church attendance; rather, it often manifests in personal or intellectual exploration.

In contrast, various forms of "spirituality" have surged, as non-religious practices adapt well to the individualistic and multicultural fabric of the West. However, instead of fostering meaningful engagement, these practices often devolve into self-improvement or "optimization." For example, YouTube yoga instructor Adriene Mishler, who gained immense popularity during the pandemic, uses vague spiritual language—such as incorporating Sanskrit terms—yet her video titles like "Yoga for Hangovers" or "Yoga for Your Butt and Thighs" blur the line between spirituality and fitness. While these practices may superficially engage religious instincts, they often fall into self-centeredness. Traditional religion inherently emphasizes morality, prompting adherents to ask, "How do I live a moral life?" In contrast, contemporary practices seem to prioritize self-gratification, as illustrated by Adriene's catchphrase, "find what feels good." This shift replaces the question of "How can I give?" with one of "How can I receive?"

It is important to acknowledge that while moral inquiry is a fundamental aspect of religion, it does not encompass the entirety of religious experience, which can also involve power dynamics, judgmentalism, and doctrinal control. Yet, does this critique merely serve as a distraction from deeper questions? The term "puritanical" remains in our lexicon as a metaphor for rigid religiousness, yet few realize the extent to which this aspect of Puritanism was rooted in sincere devotion. At their best, Puritan writers produced works of profound moral reflection and mystical yearning for God. For them, sin was not merely a moral failing but a condition to be transcended in the pursuit of a God characterized by absolute love. One collection of Puritan prayers titled The Valley of Vision opens with a plea that encapsulates this paradox: “Let me learn by paradox / that the way down is the way up / that to be low is to be high / that the broken heart is the healed heart / that the contrite spirit is the rejoicing spirit / that the repenting soul is the victorious soul / that to have nothing is to possess all / that to bear the cross is to wear the crown / that to give is to receive / that the valley is the place of vision.” Another prayer implores, “In all my affairs may I distinguish between duty and anxiety, and may my character and not my circumstances chiefly engage me.”

Perhaps the challenge lies in the fact that religion, at its core, presents a genuine moral challenge. It may be inconvenient to remember this aspect of Puritanism when it is easier to focus on its more dogmatic and repressive facets. Living a Christian life, at its essence, has always meant embracing sacrifice for the sake of goodness, humility, and diligence—values that emphasize "my character and not my circumstances" and resonate with the teachings of Jesus, who identified with “the least of these.” This perspective stands in stark contrast to our contemporary emphasis on individualism, where personal character seems secondary to social media perceptions, identities, and the pursuit of happiness and fulfillment. The mantra "find what feels good" encapsulates this shift in priorities. We have come to believe that to be moral, we must first fulfill our own desires for happiness and "self-love," expecting this to translate into broader moral behavior. Individualism centers the ego, whereas religion calls for its relinquishment. It raises an important question about how much of our gradual move away from religion stems from genuine intellectual realizations versus being a byproduct of prosperity. Jesus warned, “You cannot serve God and mammon,” and although we have faced economic hardships, the latter still holds considerable sway.

The intellectual critiques of the New Atheists endure. Any return to religion involves not only the humbling of the self but also addressing Douglas Murray's pressing question: “but is it true?” The New Atheists reflected the rise of scientism in personal belief, subjecting everything to the scrutiny of objective truth. Notably, Daniel Dennett, a prominent New Atheist, has even claimed that the hard problem of consciousness is a non-issue, suggesting that consciousness does not demand explanations beyond materialistic interpretations of existence. Given that religion encompasses subjective moral dimensions and relies on non-literal language structures, it is unsurprising that this creates significant category dilemmas in our self-understanding. Are we merely biological entities seeking "optimization" for happiness, or are we beings in search of meaning within a moral framework? In a world dominated by objective truth, the latter inquiry is often deemed meaningless. This situation leads to the relegation of religion to a component of a multicultural society, where belief is perceived as “your truth,” while expecting to uphold shared values without a collective commitment to the beliefs and institutions that have shaped them. This confusion is further exemplified in the ongoing debates surrounding gender, where objective physical realities clash with subjective identities. The issue is not simply about right or wrong; it is that we lack a framework for reconciling the two. The category challenges stemming from the New Atheists' triumphant rejection of a religious worldview are far more complex than they anticipated when they hastily discarded both the baby and the bathwater.

The path forward is unclear. We are witnessing a global rise in populism, identity politics, conspiracy theories, and various ideologies that echo religious sentiments without anchoring in a moral framework. If religious behavior is indeed a facet of our psychology, it will inevitably find expression, even if it manifests in superficial imitations of traditional faith. Arguing for a return to a religious paradigm seems both shallow and impractical; collectively, we may have crossed a threshold that cannot be reversed, though individuals may still explore personal connections to faith.

Interestingly, the intersection of moral subjectivity and objective reality is being explored in more esoteric realms. Research into psychedelics has revealed intriguing correlations between brain function and the human need for encounters with an ultimate ethical reality. In a TED Talk, Roland Griffiths, part of a team investigating psilocybin's effects at Johns Hopkins, noted that participants reported heightened feelings of unity and interconnectedness, often accompanied by sensations of sacredness and profound emotional experiences, which they deemed more real than everyday consciousness. He concluded that these experiences are biologically normative and not pathological, prompting the question: “Why are we wired to have these salient, sacred experiences that reveal the interconnectedness of all people and things, potentially forming the basis for our moral codes common across religions?”

However, the challenge remains that this research often frames psychedelics within the context of “treatment” for mental health issues. This perspective maintains a focus on "optimizing" oneself, seeking experiences to solve problems rather than approaching them as reflections of a meaningful moral reality. These concepts have a long way to travel before they can transcend the disbelief that pervades our era. The next generation of public intellectuals will need to address these complexities, but for now, the legacy of New Atheism appears to be fading into the background alongside the religious traditions it sought to dismantle.

Thanks for reading. If you appreciated this essay you can buy me a coffee here, join Medium with my referral link to read more or write your own articles here.