This chapter presents Grotius’ ars politica that deals with what is useful in practice, different from the ars iuris that deals with issues of justice.Philosophically eclectic, descriptive and non-perfectionist, Grotius’ ars politica is directed at understanding and guiding the organisation of power (potestas) and interest (utile) in human live, on two levels: a. the metalevel of theoretical discussion comparing and integrating different approaches to the topic, and b. the practical level of providing answers to political challenges. As agency is central, so is autonomy, and sovereignty.

In the late modern period, western powers began to study eastern cultures, religions, languages, and territories other than their own under the label of orientalism. In his groundbreaking book, Edward Said (1978) came to eventually redefine what orientalism really was. In his understanding it was the rationalization of a Eurocentric worldview within which the ‘others’ (eastern civilizations) were depicted as inferior, intellectually inadequate, and regressive as a means of justifying the political, cultural, and intellectual superiority of the west. While much can be critiqued of Said’s project, it is nonetheless not absolutely untrue.

When I first started thinking about atheism in Tunisia, I carried with me the certainty that atheism does not exist as a possibility in Tunisian society. With the passing years, the term Mulhid (atheist) has become common not merely in intellectual circles, but in rap songs, social media, and even classrooms. However, the existence of atheism as a possibility does not necessarily entail its acceptance. In fact, the identity of the Tunisian citizen, of the one who truly belongs to the nation, rests on a discursive process in which non-Muslims are defined as ‘foreigners’, ‘alienated’, and others. In this national imaginary of belonging, the non-Muslim Tunisian occupies a position that is thought to be improper and dangerous, even a threat to the sense of identity and the social order of the Tunisian nation. This form of abjection is one in which the non-Muslim existence is cast as the antithesis of the Arab-Muslim identity of a Tunisian and its core values.

One of us, Stephen Bullivant, wrote the Introduction to this collection, so it seemed like a good idea to have the other, Michael Ruse, write a short, de facto Epilogue. Ruse is a philosopher and so what he has to say rather reflects his field of scholarship. In particular, in looking at such a project as this, a large collection of essays on the history of atheism – probably the most exhausting project that either of us will engage in during our whole academic careers, but also one of the most exhilarating and important – Ruse’s inclination is to turn to Immanuel Kant for guidance.

Atheism in the early twenty-first century is a much-discussed topic. From New Atheism’s explosion onto bestseller lists and bus sides in the mid-years of the “noughties,” to ongoing human-rights abuses both of non-believers in some highly religious countries and of religious believers by officially atheistic ones, to a steady stream of surveys showing the rapid rise of non-religiosity in parts of the world, to – well – a great deal else besides, the topic is often in the media, and thus the public eye. This is not, in itself, a new phenomenon. Particular issues, campaigns, movements, philosophies, and people, relating to atheism in various ways, might come and go. But they have been coming and going for an awfully long time, and in a very wide spread of cultures and contexts. Atheism was “a much-discussed topic” in fourth-century BC Athens, second-century AD Asia Minor, eleventh-century France, thirteenth-century India, seventeenth-century England, and nineteenth-century South Africa.

To speak of the relationship between atheism, on one hand, and film and television, on the other, is a thorny endeavor. There are, after all, a plethora of variables to consider. A given filmmaker might hold atheistic beliefs but make movies with obvious religious import – for example, the great Italian director Pier Paolo Pasolini, whose 1964 film The Gospel According to Matthew [Il vangelo secondo Matteo] was dedicated to Pope John XXIII. Conversely, another filmmaker might be a well-known theist but release movies that highlight atheistic characters and themes – to wit, Martin Scorsese, who has explored godlessness in films such as Mean Streets (1973), The Departed (2006), and even in ostensibly religious works such as Silence (2016).

Karl Marx’s atheism is well known, even if his criticism of religion has more often than not been misconstrued. The distortions to his critical theory of religion stem from common misperceptions of the philosophical, political, and cultural context in which key statements on religion were formulated – and exacerbated by interpretations of his work that trade in anachronisms. The subsequent history of Marxism’s attitude to religion (and Marxism’s reading of Marx’s texts on religion), has itself been shaped by the different contexts in which Marxism has been either a revolutionary social movement, or a state ideology in which atheism has become part of the Marxist confession of faith. Marx’s atheism is multifaceted; some aspects are relatively banal, others appear either antiquated or naive; the criticism of religion formed at the nexus of his politics and dialectical thinking continue to provide a stimulating starting point and sounding board for thinking about religion today.

This entry examines what the charges of ‘pantheist’ and ‘atheist’ meant for both Germans and Britons between the latter half of the eighteenth century through the first half of the nineteenth century. It attempts to clarify the meaning of these labels within, first, German idealism and, second, the cultural milieu of the German and British Romantic era. To accomplish this, it surveys how the figure of Prometheus was employed by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Friedrich Heinrich Jacobi, Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, and Percy Bysshe Shelley to illustrate the relationship between nature, philosophy, God, and man. This narrative arc provides a framework in which to review a number of historical events and key works that will help identify the position of atheism during this period.

What is the legacy of Grotius’ doctrinal efforts, and how did they impact on current structures of international law? Was he providing a natural law foundation for the global order, or rather an instrument of power for sovereigns to assert their political and commercial dominion over the world?

‘Postmodernism’ was once very much in vogue, although it has recently experienced something of an eclipse. This is true in the field of philosophy, as in various other fields, including literature, art, music, architecture, and theology. Initially emerging as a recognized term in the late 1970s, postmodernism became especially prominent in the 1980s, 1990s, and into the new millennium. But although postmodernism in philosophy has given way to various other movements, including new materialism, speculative realism, ‘new Hegelianism’, and revivified forms of Platonism, to name but a few, these new philosophies would have been inconceivable without the postmodernism out of which they emerged. Furthermore, many of what were once the most controversial claims of postmodernism have now been largely accepted and taken as commonplace. In this sense, postmodernism continues to cast long shadows, even at a time when its own name is rarely invoked. The question of its relationship to atheism is a fascinating and ambivalent one, with some seeing postmodernism as inherently atheistic, and others regarding it as undermining and destabilizing all atheistic claims.

Grotius' two major treatises on the law of nations - De jure praedae and De jure belli ac pacis - both had the discussion of the just war doctrine as the backbone to their structure and argument. Whereas the older treatise was construed to argue the justice and legality of the taking of a Portuguese ship in East Indian waters, the more mature work aimed at a systematic exposition of the laws regulating the starting, waging and ending of war. Grotius offered a novel reading of the just war doctrine by rewriting it into the key of his general legal theory and his doctrine of natural rights as subjective rights under commutative justice. This chapter analyses Grotius' reframing o the just war doctrine and his re-systematisation of late-medieval and Renaissance legacies of theologians, canonists and civilians into a new doctrine of jus ad bellum, also giving some attention to its effect for the legal process of peace-making.

The history of atheism and its relationship with women has been a rocky one; the continuing schism between feminism and atheism has been a staple from the early days of atheism as a social movement. This has puzzled many, since the two movements have often seemed to share common interests, but despite this outward compatibility, women have struggled to find their place and have their voices heard within the movement (Miller 2013). When the history of unbelief has been written, the perspective has continued to be that of a white male. This chapter is driven by the question: what can we learn when we look at the history of atheism from the perspective of women?