The atheist romantic

Hitchens, by contrast, is not the least bit Dawkins-esque: He’s an instinctive contrarian and radical, a passionate humanist, and (as Christopher Caldwell notes) something of a cultural conservative on many of the matters closest to his heart. This tangle of ideas and impulses is by no means incompatible with atheism, but you wouldn’t necessarily expect it to produce a confident liberal rationalist of the Dawkins-Dennett-Sam Harris school. And sure enough, Hitchens’ anti-religious arguments feel the least heartfelt — the least, well, Hitchens-esque — when they’re couched in the language of scientism. (I’m thinking, in particular, of his grating and forced rhetorical habit of referring to human beings as “mammals” or “primates” in the course of these polemics …)

Whereas they feel entirely authentic when they’re couched as “aux armes, citoyens“ rallying cries in the struggle against tyranny. Hitchens is never more himself (for better or worse) than when he’s railing against the supposed cruelties of Benedict XVI, or comparing God to Kim Jong-Il. In this sense, he’s really less of an atheist than an anti-theist: Whereas Dawkins and co. are appalled by the belief in God, Hitchens is far more appalled by the idea that anyone would want to obey Him. Every true romantic needs a great foe, a worthy adversary, a villain to whose destruction he can consecrate himself. Never one for half measures, Hitchens just decided to go all the way to the top.