Worshipping at the shrine of liberal individualism: how humanism became a dogmatic religion and what to do about it

By David Warden

In this article, David argues that there are two theories of what humanism actually is. The dominant theory is that humanism is the absence of religion, leaving individuals free to pursue their own life projects. The second theory argues that this humanist liberal individualism, when pushed to extremes, is a secular religion which has contributed to today's dystopian societies. Humanism needs to become a counter-cultural movement which seeks to build communities, not further dismantle them. David is Chairman of Dorset Humanists.

Humanists UK makes the astonishing claim on its website that around 5% of people in the UK self-identify as humanist (YouGov survey carried out for the BHA in 2017). On current population figures, this would mean that there are 3.4 million self-identifying humanists in the UK. A further 11 million could be classified as humanist based on their beliefs. The contrast between this and actual membership of humanist organisations is stark. Humanists UK claims to have around 130,000 members and supporters – which equates to around 4% of self-identifying humanists, or fewer than 1% of potential humanists. During the recent Annual General Meeting of Dorset Humanists, I asked our members whether this disparity matters. Some thought it does and others thought it doesn’t. This got me thinking about what humanists actually mean by the word  “humanism”.

What many humanists mean when they use the word humanism is the absence of religion plus living a good life based on some minimalist precept such as the Golden Rule. The anthropology which underpins this construct is a kind of humanist faith in liberal individualism. It's saying that, once we succeed in getting rid of religion from our private lives and from the public domain, then we will be free to go about our own business living good and fulfilling lives.

“Tech’s latest wheeze is to offer them astoundingly beautiful and empathetic AI boyfriends and girlfriends.”

I think this faith in liberal individualism has been overplayed to the extent that it now operates as a kind of dogma in organised humanism. Liberal individualism is a philosophy of life which may suit rugged, intelligent, and successful individuals – the winners we might say. But at the same time it seems to be contributing to the hollowing out of our societies, leaving us at the mercy of the market in jobs and in personal relationships. It’s associated with social effects such as the gig economy, hook-up culture, gym culture and cosmetic surgery, the phenomenon of “social media influencers”, and the consumerist approach to life symbolised by the “bucket list” and “100 things to do before you die”. I don’t condemn all of this. I’ve spent most of my adult life regularly going to the gym and I've done at least 100 things which might have appeared on a bucket list including visiting the Taj Mahal and the Golden Gate Bridge. But if liberal individualism is the principal operating system of our culture it leaves a lot out of the human picture. In such a culture, millions of people may experience a perpetual sense of inadequacy and failure – the fabled “incels” being a prime example. Tech’s latest wheeze is to offer them astoundingly beautiful and empathetic AI boyfriends and girlfriends. 

Liberal individualism often goes hand-in-hand with capitalistic neo-liberalism which offshores jobs to China and India in the ruthless pursuit of efficiency. No doubt AI will have a similar effect, with humans increasingly put out to grass as too expensive and unreliable. At the same time, liberal individualism tends to fetishize human rights and the “universal human”, claiming that the time for nations is over and that people can settle wherever they please in search of jobs and a better life. In such a world, democracy comes to mean voting the right way for liberal individualist policies and politicians. Democratic pushback to this liberal individualist hegemony comes to be stigmatised by humanists as a “threat to democracy” and “authoritarian”.

The humanist creed of liberal individualism has brought us some valuable freedoms. I myself am a beneficiary, having been able to enter into a legal same-sex marriage (legalised, ironically, by a Conservative government). But at the same time, it has contributed to the creation of increasingly dystopian societies with extreme levels of inequality and lack of social solidarity, extreme materialism and narcissism, and epidemic levels of depression and anxiety. In this Brave New World, intermediate institutions such as churches, trade unions, political clubs, youth clubs and extended families which helped to soften the harsh realities of human existence have tended to fall out of fashion.

Humanism has been one of the main engines of liberal individualism and as sections of society decay even further into despair and criminality, humanism seems to be doubling down on its dogmatic creed that what we need is less religion, fewer conservative values, and ever more freedoms and human rights. Its faith in liberal individualism, and in the ability of atomised individuals to live good and fulfilling lives, appears to be absolute and unquestionable.

Liberty and individualism are, of course, necessary aspects of humanism. When you switch to a human-centred worldview as opposed to a god-centred worldview, you should expect to have more freedom to use your own intelligence and find your own path in life. But the mistake lies in absolutizing these values. Humans are a social primate and we need to live in families, communities and countries in order to have a sense of security, identity, belonging and meaning. These social structures put constraints on our freedom but the answer is not to dismantle them altogether. In good Aristotelian fashion, we need to find the middle way between extremes. We are individuals-in-society not individuals-over-against-society. Many people moan about their families and relatives but few of us want to be in the world without the social bedrock of family relationships. In the last twenty years we have embraced technology as never before, but we lament the closure and decay of pubs, clubs, and shopping centres. After the Covid interregnum, we imagined we could all work from home in our pyjamas. But the vital social aspect of working in the office has now been recognised.

“Humanism has contributed to a human and social disaster.”

So my thesis is this: humanism conceptualised as the mere absence of religion and the triumph of liberal individualism has contributed to a human and social disaster. No wonder millions of people are voting for the reinstatement of religion and nationalism. In our embrace of liberal individualism, we threw out the baby with the bathwater and we failed to build a humanist alternative to religion. It was probably in the 1940s that humanism took a fateful turn by rejecting what it disparagingly called “congregational humanism” in favour of rationalism and a perpetual culture war against religion. This was understandable given that the Ethical Church in London – in which Harold Blackham had been a humanist minister – was a humanist parody of religion in the tradition of Auguste Comte's “Religion of Humanity”. But instead of reinventing and reforming humanist groups to become less overtly religious whilst retaining their vital social function, humanist groups were more or less left to wither on the vine in favour of campaigning. Humanist organisations looked forward to the day when they could put themselves out of business, having ejected religion from every last nook and cranny of the the public domain and celebrated the final triumph of the emancipated individual.

The mistake in all of this, as in so much of our political and intellectual lives, is to fall prey to binary thinking. I'm not saying that liberal individualism is bad but that absolutizing it is bad. Humanists should subscribe to a more complete theory of man which includes our social nature as much as our desire for liberty. Lurching back to conservative authoritarianism would, of course, be oppressive and not conducive to human flourishing. What we need to cultivate and promote, as good Aristotelian humanists, is a middle way between two extremes.

So here’s an alternative. Humanism needs to recover its classical roots as a human-centred worldview which helps humanity flourish. Humanism could repair its faulty anthropology by recognising that humans are not just freedom-seeking individuals. We are a social species with existential needs which do not disappear when religion fades away. Humans need to associate and co-operate, we need to feel rooted in a tradition and place, we need a framework of values and we need to learn how to be human, how to live optimal lives. We learn this in families, schools, and organisations but these social structures are sometimes dysfunctional and temporary. In the old world, the church provided an additional social structure with a mythos, an ethos, and a synodos (roughly translated as a story about human origins, a system of values, and an assembly of people). It’s not that difficult to envisage humanist groups or societies providing something similar. Humanism is not a religion, but humanist groups can address the same human and existential needs met by religion: for meaning, belonging, learning, pastoral support, charitable giving, mourning and celebration. A humanist group can imagine itself as a secular synodos or ecclesia with trained and paid professional leaders and pastors.

“I’m done with the kind of humanism which limits its own potential and ultimately digs its own grave.”

Humanist groups imagined in this way, such as the justly-famous Ethical Society of St Louis, could be planted in every town and city. People who actually identify as humanists – 3.4 million in the UK apparently – should at least consider supporting and attending such groups. Just imagine what impact the humanist movement could have if, instead of living separate lives, humanists actually gathered together in purpose-built structures in order to make humanism visible and viable. If we do actually believe in humanism, why would we not aim to do this? If we are paranoid about creating “just another religion” we should of course ensure that any such gathering remains true to the humanist ethos of freedom of thought and speech, eschewing dogma and creed. If anything, the humanism we have now has fallen prey to a kind of creedalism with its dogma of unfettered individualism.

This is what we have been trying to do at Dorset Humanists. I'm done with the kind of humanism which limits its own potential and ultimately digs its own grave by being paranoid about being “like a religion”. A humanist group can robustly promote naturalism and rationality as part of its raison d’etre. We do not have to adopt any cringe-making rituals such as lighting candles unless we really want to and I am not intending to wear an ecclesiastical robe, despite occasional jokes to this effect. We may start to move away from the traditional theatre-style intellectual lectures towards a more structured and interactive programme aiming to address people’s actual existential needs. Of course, people can watch any number of a billion YouTube videos on everything from mindfulness to communication skills but the best way to interact with real people is to get off your sofa and actually attend in-person gatherings.

One of the most heart-warming things someone has ever said to me about Dorset Humanists is that “It’s like coming home”. That’s a wonderful endorsement of what we are trying to do. For others, the pastoral support we’ve been able to offer has been life-changing. Others say it’s like their family, or perhaps the family they don’t actually have. We’ve recently had ex-Muslims join – one from Saudi Arabia who has just discovered humanism. We are a community for ex-Christians, secular Jews, militant atheists, neurotypicals and neurodivergents, straights and LGBTs, PhDs and gardeners, old and young, Trotskyites, LibDems and Ukippers. You rarely get this kind of mix anywhere else. We are radically inclusive and we want to help humans flourish.

At the time of writing, our paid up membership stands at 191. It’s been my long-term aim to get beyond 200 and I'm confident we’ll break through this ceiling in 2025. It’s hard work but I'm as committed as ever to the long-term project of building something we can be proud of and which can have an impact in our local community and globally, such as through our contributions to this magazine. And it's not just a one-man band. I'm extremely fortunate to have the support of a loyal and hard-working committee and numerous volunteers.

Humanism is not merely the absence of religion – being “non-religious”. That’s just a negation. Humanism is an assertion, an affirmation, and a project to make our human lives tolerable and, at best, flourishing. Isn’t it time we started believing in humanism as an alternative to religion, not just as private individuals but as members of a collective endeavour? Humanism should think of itself as a countercultural movement and to be countercultural today is to go against the grain of unfettered individualism. Just think what millions of us could achieve together.

Postscript: why have past efforts faded?

A reviewer of this article wrote:

“Your article is insightful, challenging, and engaging. It forces humanists to reconsider their priorities – are they simply against religion, or are they actually building a meaningful worldview? I think the piece has real potential to spark debate within the humanist movement. Would you consider publishing this in a humanist magazine or blog? I think it could get a strong reaction (both supportive and critical), which is exactly what makes a piece like this valuable. You make a compelling case for humanist congregations, but could you address why past efforts have often struggled? Groups like Sunday Assembly started strong but faded – why? What can your model do differently?”

Founded in London in January 2013 by comedians Sanderson Jones and Pippa Evans, the Sunday Assembly movement quickly expanded, with nearly 70 congregations worldwide at its peak. Today, according to its interactive map, there are just 22 active assemblies (12 in US, 9 in the UK, and 1 in the Netherlands) with 3 potential new assemblies in the US. My own experience of Sunday Assembly in Bournemouth, which lasted for a few years, is that it is very difficult for volunteers to establish a successful group over the long term. The humanist group I chair, Dorset Humanists, has been going since 1996 and we are a well-established group. There is a concern that a lot depends on me as an individual. I have a mix of skills and knowledge which are well-suited to leading such a group: I’m a retired business trainer with degrees in theology and management and a diploma in humanistic counselling. I'm an ex-evangelical Christian and I understand how religion works and how it can be stripped of its ‘religious’ elements to create a viable secular version. I’m retired and I do not have any caring responsibilities. But this is all just happenstance. I’ve argued before that if the humanist movement is going to successfully plant humanist groups and communities it must start thinking about proper recruitment, training and payment for people to lead such groups. Humanists UK has been trying for some years to plant local humanist groups, in addition to its network of autonomous Partner groups, and some of these appear to be succeeding. So the current picture is by no means entirely bleak. If you are one of the 3.4 million humanists who never ventures out to attend a humanist group, one of the best things you could do is turn up and get stuck in – or start a new group in your local area.