By Daniel Sorrell

The recent publication of Richard Dawkins’ book The God Delusion has provided fodder for reviewers to discuss and debate a number of interrelated issues: atheism, evolution, the role of religion in public life, and scientific rationality, to name only a few. A common refrain in even the most sympathetic appraisals of the book was voiced in the New York Times review. “There is lots of good, hard-hitting stuff about the imbecilities of religious fanatics and frauds of all stripes, but the tone is smug and the logic occasionally sloppy.” Dawkins’ strident, aggressive brand of atheism and his haughty poise undercut an argument that would be more persuasive if made in a cooler, more judicious tone.

Given a public figure on a high horse with a pompous, in-your-face manner, sooner or later South Park will point its satirical barbs in their direction. In a recent two-part episode, Dawkins came under heavy fire for his belligerent atheism and hyper-rational tirades against religion (A dead giveaway that Dawkins was in for it came early in the first episode: a graphic sex scene between him and Mrs. — formerly Mr. — Garrison, the town’s proverbial pervert).

In a convoluted plotline (Episode one and Episode two) involving teaching evolution in the classroom, Nintendo’s soon-to-be-released game system Wii, and the botched cryogenic freezing of Eric Cartman that leads him to be revived 500 years too late, it is revealed that the society of the future is based on godlike worship of Dawkins — along with his eventual wife Mrs. Garrison — as the founder of worldwide atheism. In a situation that recalls the Judean People’s Front and People’s Front of Judea in Monty Python’s Life of Brian, the atheists of the future are split into three warring sects: the United Atheist Alliance (UAA), United Atheist League (UAL), and the Allied Atheist Allegiance (AAA), who also happen to be sea otters. Their core grievance with one another is the answer to the “great question,” namely what to call their respective groups.

The key criticism South Park seems to be pursuing is that extremist enthusiasm for any belief system — in this case Dawkins’ vaunted atheism and scientific rationality — can lead to sectarian group-think, absolutism, and even schismatic violence. Replacing religious dogma with atheistic dogma still leaves us with the problems of dogmatism. In the future, people — and otters — say “Science damn it” and “Oh my science” and adhere as rigidly and inflexibly to their own brand of Dawkinsism as they did before to whatever religion that subscribed to.

This is an important insight to be sure, yet it probably has as much to do with Dawkins’ public persona as it does with the actual ideas of the belief system being scrutinized. Being an offensive jerk with an unswerving belief in one’s own ideas while condescendingly dismissing opposing views — or in the words of Mrs. Garrison, “being a dick to those who don’t agree with you” — is never going to be popular. That’s a caricature of Dawkins, but it certainly squares with a popular perception of some other vocal atheists (Daniel Dennett and Sam Harris come to mind).

The sectarian conflict between the UAA, UAL, and AAA is a consequence of irrationally held passions — even, in this case, for rationality — that do not allow for debate, co-existence, or reasoned consensus. The dangers of tribalistic group identification, not atheism as such, are the target of criticism. This is borne out when, near the end of the second episode, the future timeline is altered and the citizens of the future are found to be at war with the French-Chinese.

It is telling that South Park did not take on the core ideas of its target. Other than the scene of Dawkins and Garrison’s first date, where he introduces the infamous Flying Spaghetti Monster argument (really a hyperbolic and colorful demonstration of the idea that you can’t prove a negative), only to have it misinterpreted by Garrison, the episodes are short on a conceptual critique of atheism or scientific rationality. It is the shrill tone and obnoxious zeal — and the extremism they engender — not the intellectual consistency or evidentiary basis of Dawkins’ arguments, that the episode condemns.

This oversight is a little puzzling given South Park’s long history in satirizing matters of doctrine. Its send-up of Scientology’s cosmology and the founding myth of Xenu in “Trapped in the Closet,” which precipitated the departure of Isaac Hayes from the show, is a notable example. The Islamic prohibition against depicting the Prophet Muhammad is satirized in “Cartoon Wars” and the Catholic belief in miracles is rather vulgarly ridiculed in “Bloody Mary.”

All of which is to say, South Park’s ecumenical contempt for religion doesn’t necessarily translate well into a critique of the substance of atheism or scientism. Rather, it is the slavish thinking and rigid dogmatism that go into any –ism or orthodoxy that South Park is best at lampooning. Dawkins’ abrasive public demeanor and penchant for rhetorical excess is interpreted in South Park’s blunt satire as just as inflexible and uncompromising as any of the religions it targets. This should be a lesson to Dawkins and fellow-travelers to tone down the noise and antagonism of their message if they are going to be persuasive. Yet it also indicates that, unlike Scientology, Islam, or Catholicism, atheism’s ideas, as opposed to its style, proved off limits for even South Park’s religious critique.

Daniel Sorrell is a graduate student in NYU’s Department of Journalism.