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This is a collection of two short articles written by human rights activist and fellow Ex-Muslim, Ahmed Sheikh. These writings provide valuable insights into the human condition, with a special focus on religion, blind conformity and fear of the unknown. Each piece was originally published on Questioning Creeds, a new philosophical blog examining fundamental questions of existence, meaning and purpose. We hope that the reader derives some inspiration from them and shares them with others. In a world torn asunder by the murderous certainty of faith, the liberating uncertainty of free-thought emerges as a potent remedy.

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‘Dogma’s Edge’

Published on February 29th 2024

In the still hours where night grapples with the dawn, the city sprawls beneath me, steeped in the fervour of its convictions. A cacophony of bells, chants, and calls to prayer fractures the silence, each a battle cry in the ceaseless war of doctrines. These are not mere echoes of faith but the thundering roars of dogma, as humans, ever so fiercely, clutch their creeds like weapons against the siege of doubt.

From my vantage point atop the weathered spire, I gaze down with narrowed eyes upon the stone-clad halls where they preach peace in one breath and sow division with the next. They speak of heresy and orthodoxy, but the language I hear is fear – a primal, snarling terror of the other, the unknown, the different. Their doctrines are iron-clad chains, binding them to the wheel of an eternal conflict, a carousel of supremacy and condemnation. As the city stirs, the fervour does not wane but swells into a tide of righteous indignation. Temples, churches, mosques – each stands as a fortress in this battleground, their spires like spears thrust defiantly at the heavens, challenging any deity that would dare defy their sacred decree.

Within these walls, they indoctrinate the young and innocent with tales of chosen people, fake Prophets (Muhammad) and divine wrath, sharpening the next generation into blades for their holy wars. The streets become arteries of agitation, thrumming with the pulse of proselytisation. Flyers, sermons, digital proclamations – each a serrated edge cutting into the fabric of society, each soul caught in the crossfire a casualty of this spiritual conquest.

The air is thick with the zealot’s cry, the fanatic’s gaze, the preacher’s pointed finger – all heralding a gospel that brooks no dissent, tolerates no deviation. I prowl through the dim alleys, each step a silent repudiation of the tumult above. My path crosses with the discarded – the heretic, the apostate, the sceptic – each one exiled by the relentless march of indoctrination. They are the refuse of the righteous, the collateral damage of certainty. They bear the scars of dogma, wounds inflicted by those who wield sacred texts as bludgeons, carving their truth into the flesh of unbelievers. And what of the divine in all this clamour? If such a being exists, does it gaze upon this spectacle with sorrow or with indifference? The wars waged in its many names – the blood spilled upon the altars of dogma – seem less an offering and more a defamation of any sacred essence.

I retreat from the clamour, my silhouette melting into the obscurity of dawn. I am but a spectre in the face of this zealous onslaught, a whisper of reason drowned out by the din of dogmatic fury. But still I watch, and still I wonder – at what point does the fervour for divine favour become the very malevolence it purports to vanquish? The city is a maelstrom of conviction, and I, a mere cat, stand solitary against the tide. Yet, in the quiet defiance of my solitude, I find my own creed – one unmarked by sanctimony, unscarred by zeal, untouched by the blight of blind belief.

For in the end, it is not the loudness of one’s faith but the depth of one’s humanity that shapes the world. And it is here, in the soft light of dawn, that I pen my silent testament, an ode to the might of compassion over the edge of dogma.

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‘Human Weakness’

Published on March 1st 2024

In the muted stillness of a world draped in unquestioned beliefs, I, Sage, a cat with fur as soft as whispers and eyes deep with silent knowing, watch the curious spectacle of human devotion to their religions. From my perch, high above the ground, nestled in the crook of an ancient tree, I observe the rituals and prayers, the fervent worship and blind faith, and I ponder the curious nature of human weakness.

These humans, so intelligent and capable, bind themselves to systems of belief that demand obedience without question. They gather in great houses of worship, bowing before altars and icons, reciting ancient texts whose words have been passed down through generations. To me, a creature unburdened by such doctrines, this seems a peculiar surrender of their rational faculties, a voluntary chaining of their minds to ideas that offer comfort but often evade the scrutiny of reason.

As I watch them, I see not the strength of faith, but the fragility of the human spirit, so eager to find meaning in a universe that offers no clear answers. Their religions, with their myriad rules and promises of salvation, appear to me as elaborate constructs to shield them from the uncertainties of existence. In their worship, I sense a deep-seated fear – a fear of the unknown, of the unknowable, a desperate grasp for assurance in the face of life’s inherent unpredictability. Their rituals and prayers, though varied in form and substance, all speak of a longing for something greater, a desire to connect with something beyond the material world. Yet, in this longing, there is a weakness – a relinquishment of personal power to external deities and doctrines, a willing submission to the dictates of an unseen authority.

The irony of this human weakness is not lost on me. In their quest for spiritual fulfilment, they often lose sight of the wonders of the world around them, the simple joys of existence that require no belief or worship to appreciate. They search for miracles in the realms of the divine, oblivious to the miraculous nature of life itself – the miracle of a blooming flower, the dance of the stars in the night sky, the simple act of breathing. As I sit in quiet contemplation, my feline existence untethered by such spiritual needs, I find a certain peace in my autonomy. I am free to experience the world as it is, unfiltered by dogma, unswayed by promises of otherworldly rewards. In my independence, I see a strength that the humans, in their adherence to religion, often forfeit.

The world unfolds before me, a tapestry of beauty and mystery, and I navigate it guided by my instincts and senses, unencumbered by the weight of religious doctrine. I, Sage, exist in a state of simple being, finding in each moment a purity that the humans, with their complex rituals and beliefs, seem to have lost. In the quiet hours of dawn and dusk, as I watch the humans in their ceaseless worship, I am reminded of the vastness of the universe, a vastness that seems to render such human concerns trivial, a mere flicker in the grand scheme of existence. And in this realisation, I find a profound sense of freedom, a freedom that comes from living unshackled by the chains of religious dogma, free to simply be, in a world that is both wondrous and unfathomable.