In 2007, Pete Stark (D-Calif.) came out as America’s first-ever congressional nonbeliever—accidentally. When the Secular Coalition of America (SCA) sent out a form asking members of Congress about their views on various issues related to the separation of church and state, Stark checked the wrong box in haste and labeled himself an atheist. Instead of totally walking back, however, Stark announced that he was a “Unitarian who does not believe in a Supreme Being,” pointedly rejecting the “atheist” label and instead branding himself as merely secular.
Just a few years later, fellow Democrat Eric Swalwell—a novice politician recently transplanted from Maryland, previously most famous for impersonating an MTV crew and hosting a fake bikini contest in Cancun—challenged Stark, a powerful 40-year representative who regularly garnered over 70 percent of the vote. Both of California’s senators, House Minority Leader Nancy Pelosi (D-Calif.), President Obama, the district’s labor unions, and all of Greater San Francisco’s major newspapers endorsed Stark. Nevertheless, after months of giddily reminding the district’s progressive constituency that Stark opposed the national motto of “In God We Trust,” Swalwell won the election. Rep. Kyrsten Sinema was sworn in on a U.S. Constitution.
Perhaps, then, SCA isn’t lying when it says that some 28 members of Congress privately tell the group that they don’t believe in God. Former Rep. Barney Frank (D-Mass.), for example, claims to have rejected belief in God for years, but he didn’t publicly reveal his atheism until after he left Congress. Simply put, nonbelief is political suicide. Roughly 15-20 percent of Americans don’t believe in God; if any other religious or ethnic group that large had no representation in Congress, outrage would ensue.
This prominent closet-atheism and lack of representation reveals a sad truth: nonbelievers may be the last group against which Americans can discriminate without offending norms of political correctness. This doesn’t mean that the average voter thinks atheists cannot effectively legislate or that they lack the intellectual chops. Instead, Americans view atheists as “different” from them, struggling to connect with their values and lacking the morality needed to manage government affairs. Empirical evidence largely proves this false, but for atheists, the foreseeable future is bleak. Even as American culture becomes increasingly accepting of the irreligious, there’s little hope of a breakthrough moment. Indeed, even atheists seem to have little impetus to work their way into the political mainstream.
History of Atheism in Politics
Since America’s first competitive presidential election, “atheist” has been a politically dangerous label; Thomas Jefferson’s 1796 loss to John Adams was, in part, due to claims that he was a godless man. Going forward, suspicion of nonbelief continued to hurt candidates, though never entirely destroying careers. Many atheists, later identified as such through private letters, successfully continued their careers by simply avoiding the issue and lying when necessary. With no more than a few percent of Americans rejecting belief in God, no open atheist ever served in Congress or as governor, much less in the White House. Still, public attitudes were relatively tolerant of irreligion through the early 20th century: antireligious scholar Bertrand Russell was a bestselling writer, and rumored atheist William Howard Taft won the 1908 election with two-thirds of the Electoral College.
During the Cold War, however, views toward irreligion shifted. As in any war, anything associated with the enemy became socially treasonous. As August Brunsman of Secular Students for America told the HPR, “[Anti-atheist sentiment] goes back to the McCarthy days when our leaders set up ‘godless communism’ as the direct opposite of what it meant to be a good American.” Cold War propaganda reinforced negative public perceptions of atheism, positioning religion as a prerequisite to patriotism. Moreover, as Brunsman explained, “the huge push by conservative Christian churches didn’t help.” These churches grew in numbers by capitalizing on public sentiment—holding open disdain for atheists and fueling religious tensions that still exist today. Society came to view atheists as unable to make worthy moral judgments without the guidance of God.
To this day, the trend continues: atheists, according to polls, are the least “trusted” and “liked” demographic in the country. Why? The leading theory suggests that Americans regard atheists as unwatched, with no godlike figure judging their every action and enforcing morality. Thus, atheists’ behavior might re
flect a selfish human instinct, whereas theists’ behavior is guided by the desire to attain salvation and avoid eternal damnation. As atheist historian Jennifer Michael Hecht stated simply to the HPR, “There are lots of folks who think that without God, there would be no morality.”
Most of these value judgments are empirically false. Among the different levels of religiosity, neurological studies prove atheists are the least racist, sexist, and homophobic, and they commit the fewest crimes. Ironically, the self-described “very religious” score worst on all these categories. Moreover, atheists are the most intelligent and educated religious group. Atheists, fully ethical and able, could represent society in Congress. Yet continuing bias prevents this; only 45 percent of Americans would even consider voting for an atheist candidate. The Future
When Pete Stark’s reelection chances appeared small and shrinking, atheists thought they had another hope: Kyrsten Sinema, the Democratic candidate for Arizona’s 9th Congressional District. During her campaign, Sinema had openly rejected theism and advocated secular principles. Though her opponent labeled her a pagan—a charge she did not deny—she won a close race.
However, Sinema quickly dashed any hope for an atheist breakthrough. She’s no wimp—she’s both the first member of Congress to complete an Ironman Triathlon and the first to openly identify as bisexual. But with her office constantly facing inquiries regarding her religious beliefs, Sinema ran away from the “atheist” label; her campaign declared it “not befitting of her life’s work or personal character.” Sinema did not just deny atheism; she degraded atheists’ morality, proudly elevating her own character over theirs.
Sinema’s case reveals the ultimate problem for atheist acceptance: one’s religion is easy to keep private. Other formerly persecuted groups—including the black, gay, and Jewish communities—struggled to hide their identity and avoid discrimination, but ultimately this helped them integrate into society. For example, gays, the most recent group to make social strides, hid publicly for a long time. Yet as people came to realize they had gay friends, colleagues, and family, they began to accept homosexuality. Thus, even though America has five times more nonbelievers than homosexuals, most Americans claim to know more homosexuals than nonbelievers. As a result, atheists remain different and unknown to many Americans; they may walk among us, but without the identification necessary to reform preconceived notions.
The problem becomes self-perpetuating: atheists don’t wish to come out because it’s difficult, and it’s difficult to come out because few atheists have before. Even courageous politicians in safe districts, like Barney Frank and Kyrsten Sinema, choose not to reveal their lack of religious belief; the at least 28 closeted atheist members of Congress no doubt witnessed the demise of Pete Stark. For any atheist, the smart political decision might be to remain silent. The Last Hope
Despite low public approval and little cause for optimism, pro-atheist organizations may be able to ride the more accepting attitudes of younger generations. As Herb Silverman, founder and president emeritus of SCA told the HPR, “Just as gays were unable to serve [in Congress] openly several years ago, atheists today are afraid to do so. Things changed for gays, and I’m optimistic they will also change for atheists as more come out of the closet. Fortunately, younger people are more likely to look at the character of individuals than their professed religious beliefs.” However, convincing the first wave of atheists to come out of that closet poses a challenge, especially in politics. If well-funded atheist organizations can promote secular candidates—just as EMILY’s List and the Gay & Lesbian Victory Fund promote female and gay candidates, respectively—then the irreligious might have a future in American politics. First, though, that funding needs to come, and candidates need to consider the gamble worth it.
The bigger question might be whether atheists care. A number of atheists have formed organizations to promote secular values, both culturally and politically. Yet, as a matter of identity, atheists don’t consider their lack of religion as essential to their identity as theists consider their religion. This apathy, combined with the virulent energy of the anti-atheist Christian right, seems to guarantee long-term stagnation for atheists in politics. People simply don’t like atheists, atheists don’t care, and politicians get elected by bashing them. It’s a situation with few losers that no one cares to change.
