The word “atheist” is a negative one. It means a person who does not believe in any god. So are the rest of the common words used to describe people with similar views: nontheists, nonbelievers, nonreligious, even agnostics.
Being an atheist at Columbia means defining oneself based on something other than religious belief. Whenever people ask me why I started Columbia Atheists and Agnostics, I say that there are twenty-five religious groups on campus, but only one explicitly secular group. Based on self-reported religious views on Facebook profiles, about one Columbia undergraduate in three is nonreligious, and one in three is Jewish. CA&A is not even close to Hillel in either size or influence; I’ll be surprised if it is one-twentieth as large.
It’s not that Columbia’s atheists are apathetic. Most of those I meet are as interested in social and political issues as any religious person. They’re just not defined by their religious views. Too few atheists care to form any collective identity. The people who do join secular groups often have endured religious oppression themselves, leading to the formation of such an identity. For instance, I grew up in Israel, where the issue of religion is unavoidable on account of the power of ultra-Orthodox political parties. Of course I’d be interested in the issue of secular/religious politics, wherever I lived. Two other CA&A regulars grew up in fundamentalist families and endured abuse from parents for not being Christian. Most members have no such history, but those who do are noticeably overrepresented. Absent external pressure, it isn’t surprising that most nonreligious Columbia students define themselves based on other traits, manifested in hundreds of student groups which have nothing to do with either religion or secularism.
Richard Dawkins and many other high-profile atheists assert that atheists are an oppressed group. That may or may not be true in general, but I have never encountered it at Columbia. Secularist groups at other universities tell stories of harassment, hostile administrations, and picketing by religious groups. Here, the most negative reaction I or any other atheist I know has gotten occurred when I tried to invite Dawkins to speak on a day that turned out to be part of Spring Break: the administration politely informed me that it was difficult to do any event during breaks, and the event was moved to an off-campus location. The interactions between me and other CA&A representatives and representatives from religious groups have so far been neutral to friendly.
Not only are religious interactions on Columbia friendly, but also the entire issue is muted, except when it intersects with other concerns, like gay rights or Iran. Unless you count intra-Jewish jokes about money-grubbing, the only times I’ve seen religious beliefs or practice come up in a conversation were when it involved a personal issue: my involvement in CA&A, a Catholic student looking for Catholic churches in Morningside Heights to attend on Sundays, JTS students complaining about gaps in their Jewish history sequence.
I know that this experience does not hold everywhere. My interest in student secularism came about in the summer of 2007, when I went to a student leaders’ conference in Buffalo organized by the Center for Inquiry. Apart from people from SUNY Buffalo, I was virtually the only student from a Northeastern university. The people from the South commiserated with stories of oppression; one explained how when she mentioned she didn’t go to church, people would stop talking to her and turn away. Even accepting that these are typical experiences in conservative regions, they are not typical in New York.
This creates an ironic situation in which I lead Columbia’s atheist group, and yet I rarely experience Columbia as an atheist. I experience it far more often as a math grad student, as someone living in Harlem, and as someone with very strong liberal political views. When President Barack Obama said in his inauguration speech, “We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus—and non-believers,” I considered it a fairly minor issue compared to the politics of the budget stimulus, or the rescinding of the global gag rule, or the closure of Guantanamo Bay. I may have believed religious politics was of paramount importance five years ago when I was still reeling from having lived in Israel, and I may still think it is a worthy issue and devote time to it, but the relative emphasis I attach to it has declined. Call it the contribution of Columbia, or perhaps that of liberal America, to my view of the world.