Religious Literalism is Irrational
Introduction and Definition
"The greatest evil is not done in hatred, but in stupidity." — Arthur Schopenhauer
Irrationality is more dangerous than evil. While evil requires intent, irrationality is blind—acting without reason, awareness, or the ability to self-correct. In a world where existential threats like autonomous weapons and artificial superintelligence are no longer mere hypotheticals but near-term realities, the ultimate danger is not the technology itself but the irrationality of those who wield it.
Irrationality is the systematic failure to update one's beliefs in the presence of overwhelming contradictory evidence or to form beliefs without sufficient justification. Evidence doesn't necessarily always have to be empirical; it can be through logic and reason.
Selective Reasoning of Faith
The same mathematical, engineering, and physical principles that enable the internet also form the foundation of the scientific understanding that contradicts many literal religious beliefs. Quantum mechanics governs semiconductors, lasers, and fibre optics, while classical mechanics underpins network infrastructure, signal processing, and large-scale data transmission—together making the internet possible. You don't deny the internet exists because it is an objective fact, supported by empirical evidence and functional consistency. Yet, denying the same foundational principles when they challenge religious beliefs is logically inconsistent. Of course, one could entertain the theoretical possibility that the internet doesn't exist and that we are all hallucinating in an illusory reality. Luckily, we don't navigate reality based on theoretical possibilities; we navigate reality with objective evidence that allows us to assert whether something is true or not with practical certainty. Another example— the Bible and Quran exist as physical objects due to well-established mathematical, engineering, and physical principles. Printing relies on mechanical engineering, chemistry, and material science, while paper production and ink formulation are governed by physics and chemistry. The digital versions of these books depend on quantum mechanics for semiconductor technology and classical computing for data storage and retrieval. People do not deny the existence of these books because they can physically hold, read, and interact with them—they are objectively observable. Yet, when the same scientific principles that make these books possible contradict their literal claims, those principles are often dismissed or reinterpreted as subjective.
Belief in a God Does Not Necessarily Imply Irrationality
Belief in some form of a God is not necessarily irrational. If there are aspects of knowledge that are uncertain, believing in something to fill that uncertainty is not irrational if someone has not read about physics. For example, thinking the Earth isn't moving without basic education in geography and physics isn't irrational because, without that knowledge, you have no way of knowing since your perception of reality intuitively feels like Earth is stationary. But belief must still be within reason and logical foundations. Belief in the traditional omniscient, omnipotent, and omnibenevolent Abrahamic God is not rational because it falls apart under logical scrutiny. You don't need a PhD in philosophy to understand that—it collapses through basic reasoning and logical deduction alone. However, this can be further dismantled empirically through other means, such as scientific evidence. Refusing to read about physics in a physics-based topic (the nature of reality) to not only justify contradictory speculation, but think that others are misguided, is irrational and egotistical. The nature of reality is a physics-based subject—refusing to have even basic competency in it to update beliefs is irrational. That said, personal belief that some form of being or higher power exists is not automatically irrational because it remains a possibility.
Survival Rationality vs Abstract Rationality
Irrational thinking often arises when there is no immediate, direct survival threat. For example, denying evolution does not have the same immediate consequences as denying gravity (if you jump off a cliff, you'll probably die), even though both have a degree of miniscule theoretical uncertainty. However, the long-term consequences of such thinking can be equally harmful, as it fosters a culture that rejects critical thinking and evidence-based reasoning, which leads to misinformation; which has been foundational to many of humanity's darkest times. Most humans are rational in a survival context because evolution optimised for survival-based decision-making, not higher-order abstract rationality. People do not jump off cliffs because their senses and empirical experience confirm gravity. Similarly, choosing not to walk in a dangerous area at night does not necessarily make someone rational—it is simply an extension of survival-based reasoning with a low degree of uncertainty. However, evolution did not optimise for reasoning about abstract concepts like evolution, epistemology, or systemic thinking, as these do not pose immediate threats. Higher-order abstract concepts (HOAC) are almost infinitely uncertain at times—the more abstract something is, the more uncertain it tends to be. There isn't an evolutionary pressure to reduce this uncertainty because an abstract belief system will not directly kill you. Because HOACs are highly uncertain, emotions function as heuristics to reduce cognitive complexity and provide decision-making to quickly reduce that uncertainty. The issue is that highly uncertain HOAC tend to be complex, nuanced, and often not immediately intuitive— emotions are designed for simplified, often intuitive, and quick decisions— so they naturally conflict. I speak of HOAC in terms of uncertainty because I do align with the idea that HOAC can be mathematically explained and predicted, however, we'll leave that for another discussion.
The Fundamental Problem: Ego and Stupidity
It's interesting how literalists won't argue with a biologist about how genetics works because it does not directly threaten their belief system, but they'll argue with the same biologist as to why they believe evolution is false. You could literally train them in a laboratory, and show evolution happening in front of their eyes, and they'll find a way to rationalise why evolution 'isn't real'— I do find that fascinating. Putting all of the practically certain evidence for evolution, including the fact that evolution is foundational to modern medicine, aside— our very existence contradicts the notion that complexity can't come from simple systems; we exist as a developed complex human being that developed from a fertilised egg; we didn't just spontaneously appear. A fundamentalist is proof of their own contradiction. Using the same reasoning, we can conclude that other species also developed from simpler self-organising systems, which is not only observable but logically deducible. Beyond biology, non-biological systems also develop without design, but through iteration and stochastic processes. Stars form from collapsing gas clouds, planetary systems emerge from cosmic dust, and molecules self-assemble based on atomic interactions. These processes follow fundamental physical laws. Since all matter—both living and non-living—is fundamentally composed of the same building blocks (atoms, quarks, and other subatomic particles), it follows that simpler matter can naturally develop into more complex structures over time.
Physics studies how systems and matter interact at the fundamental level; they won't argue with a physicist about electromagnetism, but they'll argue with the same physicist about quantum mechanics because it doesn't sound 'intuitive'. Reality does not owe you intuition— of course, it sounds counter-intuitive because many people initially look at it through an anthropocentric and/or religiously biased lens, nor are such people educated on the subject to make sense of it— reality exists independently of folk intuition.
Despite this scrutiny, it's worth noting that irrationality isn't limited to religion, but religious literalism is worth addressing because of its massive impact. When a belief system dictates the lives of others, it is no longer "just a personal belief— so it's especially worth discussing since religious beliefs often hold the view that those who don't share their specific belief system are somehow immoral, and deserve eternal suffering. Most people are religious, and religion shapes culture, laws, and decision-making. When subconscious irrational beliefs are treated as absolute truths, despite being illogical and their foundation, they influence policies, voting, and spread misinformation, contributing to existential threat. This is not to say that religion itself is inherently irrational, or atheists have a level of rationality that religious people don't. In fact, it's a common fallacy to think that atheists suddenly transcend irrationality— atheism just often rejects one specific form of irrationality. Irrationality can persist in many forms, for example, believing a leader is competent despite overwhelming evidence of failure, or not understanding the difference between sex and gender and imposing your misunderstanding onto your worldview and others— this does not require one to be religious, an atheist can just as easily have irrational beliefs in the same way that a religious fundamentalist does. Rather, viewing a personal, subjective faith-based system as absolute truth, is where the problem lies.
There are three main reasons why people think this way: 1) Ego— humans have an intrinsic desire to seek certainty, even when wrong. Admitting failure distorts that existing certainty. Being wrong is psychologically painful. Many people would rather be wrong than accept that they don't know or they're wrong. I say 'rather' not in an intentional, conscious sense; but more to describe people's unwillingness to change their mind, even when that would be the rational decision. To an extent, everyone has at least a little bit of ego—it's a fundamental part of human psychology. It helps with confidence, decision-making, and even survival. However, the problem arises when ego goes unchecked, preventing intellectual humility, critical thinking, and the ability to change one's mind when faced with better evidence. It's a bit paradoxical because to recognise and minimise your ego, you need the humility to admit you have one, but humility itself is the opposite of ego, hence why most people won't be self-aware enough to fully realise that. So perhaps, there is a level of self-awareness that most people don't have that overrides ego in the pursuit of truth-seeking and intellectual curiosity. In some cases, such self-awareness can be a double-edged sword and drive people into insanity— if you're hyper-aware of your own cognitive biases and limitations, you might start questioning everything, even the very act of questioning itself. I don't necessarily say that everyone should have such self-awareness, but at least enough to recognise your ego. 2) Stupidity— Some people simply lack cognitive tools for empirical reasoning. 3) Stupidity and Ego— The most dangerous combination is stupidity mixed with ego, people who are both ignorant and convinced they are right. These individuals reject expertise, dismiss evidence, and hold unwavering confidence in their flawed reasoning. They don't know enough to recognise their ignorance, yet they believe they know more than actual experts. They thrive in anti-intellectual echo chambers, reinforcing their delusions while attacking those who try to correct them. They misinterpret complexity as deception and believe nuance is 'overcomplicating' a subject, simply because they don't understand the subject. Instead of questioning their competence, they double down, embracing conspiracy theories, pseudoscience, and belief systems that require no evidence—just emotional certainty.
What Is a God?
Many modern religions define God in terms of the "Omni-God"— it refers to the concept of a God who possesses infinite power (omnipotence), infinite knowledge (omniscience), and infinite presence (omnipresence). This signifies that God has boundless power, complete knowledge, and is everywhere at all times. Additionally, God is often considered infinitely good or benevolent. In my Gödel, Epistemic Limits, and the Logical Constraints on God essay, I spoke about how having collective 'omni traits' is logically impossible, at least within our epistemic framework— one can't bound God to classical logic to justify why he must exist in the specific way their scripture defines, but reject the same when logic when there is a clear contradiction. For the sake of this essay, we'll no longer be aligning with this version of God; we'll be a bit more general and define God as a theoretical, fundamental, and powerful force with intentionality.
Some philosophers and interpretations of Christianity suggest that humans are already Gods, or at the very least on the path to Godhood. Humans predict the weather; travel outside of our planet; digitally communicate with other humans, tens of thousands of miles away, on this thing called the internet. We can also modify our biology through modern medicine, our hardware through prosthetics. We determine where food is distributed, what species flourish, and which ones are eradicated. We could end all complex life on the planet tomorrow with nuclear weapons. We are on the path to achieving what could be close to what we consider immortality, edging closer to what may soon be the ability to cheat death—potentially less than 200 years away. So perhaps, one could argue that this level of power and knowledge at least satisfies what religions would describe as a God—in this sense, we are gods relative to our sub-reality— however, it doesn't satisfy the criteria of being a fundamental force since we are still bound by gravity and space time; so, I humans are not Gods in a more fundamental sense.
I won't be defining God in terms of "goodness" either, because, no matter how fundamental a system is, the idea of a god being "all good" will never objectively be satisfied because goodness itself is always relative to the system in question. Morality can be objective within a framework—for example, morality can be objective for humans within the human framework—but the meta-framework is always relative to the system defining it. For example, Earth morality might mean preserving the planet, which would imply the mass genocide of humans, since humans are the ones destroying the environment. Morality for ants could mean the mass genocide of humans, as we routinely exterminate them to protect our food supply. Morality for humans could mean the killing of rats because they consume our crops, which we need to survive. People conflate governance with intentionality. Just because something governs reality doesn't mean it has desires, consciousness, or moral inclinations. The assumption that a fundamental force must be "good" or "just" is a reflection of human bias—our need to impose meaning onto a potentially meaningless universe. Historically, humans have assigned intentionality to natural phenomena (e.g., attributing thunderstorms to Zeus), but as our understanding of physics evolved, we stopped seeing these forces as conscious agents. A question to ask yourself while reading this is why would a theoretical force not only happen to have intentionality, but also have morality that coincidentally aligns with human morality as most religions suggest? This is something that I'll attempt to address in the remainder of this essay.
The Hypocrisy of the Existential Comfort Argument
The existential comfort argument—that belief in God is justified because it provides personal meaning—would only hold weight if religion were truly a private, subjective matter. However, religion is not purely personal; it typically comes with objective claims about reality, including eternal consequences for non-believers. If existential comfort were a valid justification for belief, then one would also have to accept the rational legitimacy of someone claiming that aliens from Jupiter will resurrect them upon death. Most people—religious and non-religious alike—would call such a person insane and delusional. Yet, through an epistemic framework, the belief in Jupiterian resurrection is arguably more rational than traditional religious eschatology. We have no definitive knowledge about extraterrestrial life, nor do we fully understand the nature of consciousness, memory, or even the limits of possible medical and technological advancements. Absolute brain death, as defined by current human science, is irreversible, but that is only within the constraints of our existing knowledge, tools, and resources. A sufficiently advanced species may possess the capability to reconstruct consciousness, store cognitive states, or even revive the dead through mechanisms we cannot currently conceive. Unlike religious miracles—such as virgin births, or Muhammad flying to heaven on a winged-horse—alien resurrection does not directly contradict the known laws of biology or physics; in fact, reversing brain death is an active area of research, although it remains highly controversial and speculative. If believers in mainstream religions reject the alien resurrection hypothesis as absurd while asserting that their doctrine is rational, they are not operating on consistent epistemic grounds—they are privileging their existential comfort while dismissing equally (if not more) plausible alternatives.
Cultural Significance vs. Rationality
Perhaps, one could argue that cultural significance transcends strict rationality—after all, culture is the foundation of societal identity, shaping laws, values, and collective meaning. Religion has influenced everything from the beauty of art and literature to governance and moral systems. Traditions provide continuity, a sense of belonging, and emotional security, reinforcing social cohesion even in the absence of empirical justification. For many, faith is not just about truth claims but about the deeper human need for structure and purpose.
However, cultural longevity does not validate objective truth. If it did, then Zeus, Odin, and Ra would still be considered legitimate gods simply because they were once central to thriving civilisations. Slavery was deeply embedded in many cultures and justified through religious doctrine, yet today, it is widely condemned. Geocentrism— the idea that the sun orbits the earth— was upheld by religious authorities for centuries, only to be disproven by Galileo; only for him to be threatened with the death penalty, before eventually being sentenced to indefinite house arrest for an idea that was seen as heretic. Public executions were once a core part of societal order and entertainment— at a time where violence was seen as a form of 'art'— but they are now viewed as barbaric. Cultural significance alone does not justify a belief or practice—otherwise, outdated and disproven ideas would remain untouchable.
Culture adapts to knowledge—knowledge does not adapt to culture. The fact that societies evolve beyond certain beliefs demonstrates that truth is independent of tradition. If cultural impact were a valid reason to preserve religious literalism, then we would also have to justify every disproven belief that once held significance. If one were to argue for cultural significance transcending rationality, then they'd need to concede that historical beliefs and ideas— whether it be belief in Zeus, Slavery, or public executions— was a valid belief system (and perhaps still is)— since they were culturally significant. But, I am almost certain that most people would not concede to that; clearly, rationality—not cultural inertia—must guide our understanding of reality.
Thought Experiment: 99 Years
I'd like to present a thought experiment to further illustrate the points I made: For 99 years, a car has passed down a one-way road every single day without fail— for context, that is over 36,000 days in a row. Each day's occurrence is independent; the presence of a car today does not directly cause one to appear tomorrow. However, rational inference suggests that a car is overwhelmingly likely to pass again the next day. Despite the lack of absolute certainty, believing that no car will pass tomorrow with certainty, without any counterevidence, is irrational.
Saying "The car might not come tomorrow" is rational because uncertainty always exists, but asserting "The car definitely will not come tomorrow" is irrational because it contradicts the overwhelming probability distribution.
Now, consider that our reality is analogous to this car scenario—but even stronger. If there were an enhanced version of this car analogy, it wouldn't just involve cars passing down a road every single day for 99 years; it would also include empirical evidence confirming that there will be no road closures, no unexpected hazards, and no interruptions. It would also include live CCTV footage showing cars already approaching the road. In this case, it would be even more irrational to assert, with certainty, that a car will not come tomorrow. Our reality approximates this logic; the literalist argument collapses precisely because it contradicts this probability. The theist who claims with certainty that a personal, intentional god governs reality is making a statement equivalent to asserting that tomorrow will be the first day in 99 years that the car does not come—despite no counterevidence and despite every observable pattern contradicting this claim. If someone were to insist, beyond all reason, that the car would not arrive, the burden of proof would fall entirely on them to justify why they are rejecting the overwhelming probability distribution.
This is where the issue of absolute versus practical certainty becomes relevant. Absolute certainty would mean proving something with 100% confidence, and zero theoretical gaps. But practical certainty means that something is so overwhelmingly probable that, for all practical purposes, it is treated as certain. I cannot prove with absolute certainty that a car will come tomorrow, just as I cannot prove with absolute certainty that a god does not exist. But in both cases, the weight of all available evidence makes it practically certain that the car will arrive and that a god does not exist. Theists often argue, "You can't prove God doesn't exist with absolute certainty!" But this is an incoherent position because absolute certainty is not required for rational belief. By that same logic, one could also claim, "You can't prove with absolute certainty that we aren't living in a computer simulation!" or "You can't prove with absolute certainty that unicorns don't exist in some hidden cave!" And yet, no rational person assumes that these things are real simply because they cannot be disproven with absolute certainty. The same applies to the God hypothesis—it is not the absence of proof that makes something unlikely; it is the overwhelming probability that contradicts its existence.
The Ego Test
Rationality does not solve itself; it requires a level of self-awareness as the first step, a willingness to recognise one's limitations, and to be humble enough to admit when you're wrong. So, as a final challenge, I'll challenge you to a test.
The Ego Test: If you cannot name ten fundamental beliefs you have changed in your lifetime, you likely fall into one of three categories—(a) you lack self-awareness, (b) you haven't engaged in deep thinking, or (c) your ego prevents you from admitting when you were wrong—all a form of ego. To be clear, I am not referring to trivial errors—like believing you got a test answer right in school only to later realise you were mistaken, or changing your mind on the opinion of pineapple on pizza. That is mere correction, not a fundamental change in your worldview. Many people claim to be open-minded, but true open-mindedness isn't just about tolerating new ideas—it's about updating your beliefs when reality demands it.
If someone can't think of ten fundamental beliefs they've updated, they likely don't engage in real self-reflection. They assume that almost everything they consume is true and that their judgement is infallible—this is the worst type of ego.
If someone claims that they "don't think about things deeply", that itself is an ego-driven statement; it suggests a lack of depth in reasoning; they assume that what they consume on the surface is true, and their judgement of it was correct, and does not require assessing whether belief in such a thing is rational or not.
The reality is that most people will fail this test. We can discuss irrationality endlessly, but the first step toward rationality is not simply engaging with logic and evidence—it is having the self-awareness to recognise one's own biases. If someone lacks the capability to do so, then this entire discussion becomes meaningless. Abstract rationality is not an inherent trait; it requires the ability to detach from the distortion of emotional certainty—a distortion that convinces people their deeply held beliefs must be true simply because they feel true. Most people will not develop this level of self-awareness, not because they are incapable, but because they have no incentive to challenge the certainty that brings them emotional and existential comfort.
The fallacy is assuming that constantly updating one's beliefs means someone is weak-minded or lacks conviction. In reality, the opposite is true. The amount of knowledge a person can gain is practically infinite— If someone never changes their mind, that means they're either not learning anything new or they're rejecting new knowledge to protect their ego. The more new knowledge you encounter, the more likely you'll find contradictions in your previous thinking—which means updating is a natural byproduct of learning.
Conclusion
To conclude, the issue isn't that people believe in a God, nor is it necessarily just with religion; it's an irrationality problem—it's that people hold beliefs with absolute certainty, without reason, and reject contradictory evidence, and then use that belief as a justification to influence others. Religion, when taken literally, just happens to serve as an effective vehicle for irrationality. It bleeds into every aspect of reality—whether it's politics, economics, funding for scientific research, or determining whether someone who doesn't share your specific belief system is moral and deserves suffering. So you almost have to speak about it—not because you care about the scripture itself, but because you care about the collective consequences of people assigning objective meaning to a belief system built on deeply flawed foundations.
Most people do not have abstract rationality, as it is not directly tied to immediate survival needs— there is a much higher degree of uncertainty. Whether it's through enforcing policies, shaping laws, or activists pushing a particular narrative, any meaningful change must account for this reality. Operating under the assumption that humans are inherently rational is a mistake—effective change requires engaging with how human nature actually functions, not how we wish it functioned.