THOU SHALT . . .

Commandments for atheists

THE writer, philosopher and pillar of the Fourth Estate, Alain de Botton, has just published a set of 10 commandments for virtuous atheists. Of course, the doctrinaire and the devout might argue that the term ‘‘virtuous atheist’’ is an oxymoron, but the less zealous among us are surely curious to know more about the (un) Holy Rule of de Botton.

How could he possibly upstage seven stern ‘‘Thou Shall Nots’’, two stirring decrees to Honour our parents and Keep the Sabbath and the thunderous edict to recognise the Lord our God and none others?

Surely the author of Religion for Atheists couldn’t better Charlton Heston as Moses in Cecil B DeMille’s 1956 classic The Ten Commandments?

Well, he hasn’t bettered him, and nor has he attempted to capture the Biblical cadences that make the original flow satisfyingly. But here’s the thing: de Botton has done a marvellous job of summing up what it is to be a nice human being.

Where the Old Testament diktats were a potent form of social control, this manifesto for atheists is a 21stcentury guide to pleasant coexistence with which no-one could argue – except perhaps Richard Dawkins, because this list is all about the Unselfish Gene.

De Botton’s commandments are an easily digestible roll call of solid, indeed old-fashioned, virtues: resilience, empathy, patience, sacrifice, politeness, humour, selfawareness, forgiveness, hope and confidence.

Most of them are selfexplanatory, but several provoke thought. Sacrifice, for example, is not a fashionable concept, being more evocative of the knights’ Code of Chivalry at Camelot than our brash Age of Entitlement.

We much prefer to insist on Having It All, even at the expense of our mental and physical health, rather than acknowledging that sometimes tough decisions – tough sacrifices – must be made. But sacrifice should be celebrated, not regretted.

De Botton amplifies his concept of sacrifice thus: ‘‘We won’t ever manage to raise a family, love someone else or save the planet if we don’t keep up the art of sacrifice.’’

Politeness he equates with tolerance for the ‘‘otherness’’ of people whose views do not chime with our own. As for self-awareness: ‘‘To know oneself is to try not to blame others for one’s troubles and moods; to have a sense of what’s going on inside oneself, and what actually belongs in the world,’’ he says.

This, it would seem, translates into Thou Shalt Not Be Grumpy, which is one of the most positive contributions to family life any of us can ever make.

But isn’t there a risk that by cultivating these quaint, if entirely admirable traits within the context of our highly competitive, dog-eatdog culture, we are liable to get trampled over, exploited and taken advantage of?

Not so, according to chartered psychologist Jacqui Marson, whose new and insightful self-help book The Curse of Lovely warns against the dangers of being too amenable, too obliging and too willing to put others first.

‘‘I welcome Alain de Botton’s ‘commandments’ with open arms,’’ Marson says. ‘‘Religion doesn’t have a monopoly on ethics, and this list is an excellent, thoughtful guide to behaviour. It places the onus back on the individual to listen to their humanity and trust in other people, rather than laying out rigid instructions for living.’’

In The Curse of Lovely, Marson examines how some people’s lives are blighted by a conscious or unconscious need to be liked and approved of, which can create a slavish and ultimately damaging desire to please.

‘‘Compassion with boundaries is important,’’ she says. ‘‘Saying ‘no’ isn’t intrinsically bad; if you can’t say ‘no’, your ‘yes’ is meaningless, because it is permeated with guilt and resentment, which seeps out in a slow, toxic way.’’

The antidote to relentless loveliness could, in fact, be de Botton’s 10th commandment: Confidence.

This, he explains, isn’t the same as arrogance, but is an understanding that life is short and a statement of intent to make the most of it.

Confidence breeds feelings of selfworth, which reduces cravings for external affirmation. It can also give rise to a generosity of spirit – which is surely a central core to happy coexistence for all religious affiliations and none.

For his part, de Botton says that the aim of his atheist manifesto is to ‘‘ignite a vital conversation around moral character to increase public interest in becoming more virtuous and connected as a society’’.

He points out that improving one’s body, by going to the gym, is approved of in society – ‘‘but announce that you’re going to work on being more virtuous, and people will be guaranteed to look at you as if you’re insane’’.

Not if you are part of a Christian or Jewish or Muslim community they don’t. Striving for goodness is one freedom that the oft-criticised ‘‘strictures’’ of religious belief and worship positively encourage.

Lent is coming up, when the emphasis will be on sacrifice, selfrestraint and contemplation. And de Botton’s insanity clause will doubtless give many Anglicans and Catholics pause as they decide whether to wear the thumbprint of ash on their foreheads beyond the church grounds. So if atheists observe just one of their new commandments on next week’s Ash Wednesday, please let it be Number Five: Polite

ness.