What is Atheism?: A Socratic Dialogue

Alright friends. Here is another Socratic dialogue that is meant to follow the last two (first, second). But you don’t have to read the last two to understand this one. I decided to make Leo less charming this time.

Let me know what you think.

Photo by Blake Wisz on Unsplash

The Gadfly was quieter than usual for mid-morning. The faint hum of the espresso machine and the occasional clatter of a mug punctuated the stillness. Outside, rain from the night before had left the streets shimmering, and the light filtering through the windows carried a muted, post-storm glow.

Leo sat in his usual spot, a stack of books by his side, one of them open in his hands. He was debating with himself whether to finish the page or finally get up to order his first cappuccino of the day. Just as he shifted in his chair, the bell above the door jingled.

Richard stepped inside, scanning the room until his eyes landed on Leo. He recognized him immediately—same outfit, same stack of books, same table, just as the bookshop owner next door had described. Without hesitation, he walked over to Leo’s table.

“Leo, right?” Richard asked.

Leo looked up, “That’s me.” He said.

“They told me next door you’re the guy who likes to argue about God,” Richard said, pulling out the chair across from him. “Thought I’d see what all the fuss is about.”

Leo pulled a napkin from the container, folded it, and slid it into his book as a bookmark before closing it. “Well, that’s one way to introduce yourself. And you are?”

“Richard,” he said with a friendly smile, leaning back in the chair. “You’re the guy who comes here each morning and debates with people, right?”

“Not exactly,” he said “I come here for coffee and to study—but I’m always up for a chat.”

Richard: I’ll get right to the point. I’m an atheist. I’m not against theists or anything like that; I just think they’re wrong.

Leo: Okay. I’m happy to discuss that with you, but can I ask a clarifying question first? I think it’s very important that if we’re going to disagree, we should have our terms crystal clear. What do you mean by atheism?

Richard: I lack a belief in the God you say exists.

Leo: Interesting ….

Richard: No, not really. It’s pretty uninteresting, actually. It’s very straightforward. Theists like yourself claim that God exists; atheists like me aren’t convinced by your arguments.

Leo: I have two problems with your definition. First, it’s not how atheism has traditionally been understood. Philosophers like Bertrand Russell and J.L. Mackie defined atheism as the positive belief that God doesn’t exist. They saw it as a claim to knowledge, not just a lack of belief. The second problem I have with it is that it’s too broad. By your definition, rocks, pots of coffee, and babies would all be atheists since they lack a belief in God.

Richard: Okay, first of all, I don’t much care how people have defined atheism in the past. Words change over time. Secondly, that’s an obvious strawman. Rocks and babies aren’t conscious or capable of belief. I’m talking about rational adults who’ve examined the evidence and remain unconvinced.

Leo: How many basic answers do you think there are to the question, “Does God exist?”

Richard: I mean, there are probably a bunch of answers.

Leo: I don’t think so. It seems to me there are three basic answers to the question: yes, no, and I don’t know. Or am I missing something?

Richard: Fair enough. I could quibble a little, but sure, for the sake of argument.

Leo: Okay, then doesn’t it seem appropriate that there be three basic terms to identify the possessors of each view?

Richard: I mean, okay.

Leo: And this has traditionally been the case. If someone says yes, they’re a theist. If someone says no, they’re an atheist. If someone says, “I don’t know” or “I’m not sure,” they’re agnostic. Notice that both the theist and the atheist are making claims to knowledge. The agnostic isn’t making a claim, so the agnostic doesn’t have anything to defend.

Richard: I think the reason you’re getting hung up on terms is because you know you have a burden of proof that you can’t support, so you’re trying to shift it onto me. This is typical among theists.

Leo: Well, hang on now. I agree that I have a burden of proof if I want to convince you of my position, and I’m happy to try to do that. But so do you, at least if you are an atheist. See, I think the reason—and you’ll forgive me if this offends you—that atheists have in recent years redefined atheism—

Richard: It’s not a redefinition! It’s—

Leo: Can I finish? I’ll be quick. I think the reason for this redefining of atheism is something of an admission. I think it’s an admission that the old arguments against God, the ones real atheists used to make—arguments from the problem of evil, the incoherence of the concept of God, the problem of divine hiddenness, etc.—don’t work. If they did succeed in disproving the existence of God, I think atheists would simply make their case. But because they can’t, they say that atheism now means what agnosticism has traditionally meant, so they can sound more bold or confident or something.

Richard: Okay. You done?

Leo: I am.

Richard: Good, because you talk a lot. You should know that. And it’s kind of irritating when someone tells you what you believe. I’m not telling you what you believe, and I’d appreciate you extending the same courtesy. I’m an atheist, and by that term, I mean I lack a belief in God. That isn’t a redefinition; it’s what we’ve always meant by it.

Leo: Yeah, see, I know enough to know that isn’t true. Let me just make one last point, and then I’m happy to move on. It’s not just my opinion that atheism is a positive claim—that’s the definition found in respected philosophical sources. For example, William L. Rowe, himself an atheist, writes in the Concise Routledge Encyclopedia of Philosophy: “Atheism is the position that affirms the nonexistence of God. It proposes positive disbelief rather than mere suspension of belief.” Similarly, the Cambridge Dictionary of Philosophy acknowledges multiple uses of the term but states clearly: “A stricter sense denotes a belief that there is no god; this use has become standard.” Even the Encyclopedia of Philosophy, which slightly broadens the definition, still defines an atheist as someone who rejects belief in God, not merely someone who lacks it. This isn’t just semantics—it’s about preserving the integrity of philosophical discourse. Wouldn’t you agree that these distinctions matter?

Richard: You’re infuriating.

Leo: Okay. Is it possible to be infuriating and right? Put it this way: What differentiates you from an agnostic?

Richard: An agnostic says he doesn’t know one way or the other if God exists. I’m saying that I’m not convinced by the arguments. There is a distinction there.

Leo: I agree there’s a distinction. But suppose I said to you that there are two people, we’ll call them Bob and Bill. Bob says he’s agnostic about the existence of aliens. Bill says he’s not convinced by the arguments for aliens. Can either of them conclude that therefore aliens do not exist?

Richard: No! And if you actually listened to what I was saying instead of pontificating, you’d know that’s not what I’m saying either! I’m not claiming that God does not exist. I’m saying I lack a belief in God because I see no reason to believe in Him.

Leo: Do you lack a belief in aliens?

Richard: Yes! I’m not claiming there are no such beings, but I haven’t seen any good evidence to make me think they do exist. Same thing with God!

Leo: Okay. Fair enough. So it could be the case that God exists.

Richard: Yes!

Leo: An atheist who thinks God could exist. Interesting.

Richard: Look, dude, I came here in good faith, and yet you seem intent on not understanding me. I said it before, and I’ll say it again: You’re hung up on terms because you have no good arguments for God’s existence, and you know it. I feel like I’m arguing with my wife here!

Leo: Well, maybe your wife is right more than you think she is.

Richard: Are you always this much of an asshole to people?

Leo: Can I be honest? I haven’t even had a coffee today, let alone multiple coffees that, I will concede, are necessary to make me moderately bearable. Do you mind if I order, and we can continue the chat?

Richard: Sure.

Leo: Let me get you something.

Richard: Just a coffee with oat milk.

Leo: Oat milk?

Richard: Yeah, they should have it.

Leo: Oh when I get back the real debate about what constitutes milk will begin, my friend.