Atheism, in its most basic formulation, is the lack of belief in any god or gods. This minimal definition encompasses both those who have never considered the question and those who have considered it at length and concluded that the evidence does not support theistic belief. A stronger, positive atheism asserts that gods do not exist — that, on the best understanding of what gods are supposed to be and what the universe is actually like, the existence of such beings is not merely unsupported but implausible or incoherent. The difference between these formulations matters, though in practice many atheists hold both positions at once: they lack theistic belief and they believe that confident theism is unwarranted.

The ancient Greek term “atheos” was almost always an accusation — it meant someone who denied the gods of the city and was therefore guilty of dangerous impiety. Socrates was accused of it, which gives some sense of how capaciously it could be applied. Epicurus, whose philosophy of naturalistic materialism and whose argument that the gods (if they existed) were entirely indifferent to human affairs, was the closest thing antiquity produced to a genuinely atheistic philosopher in the modern sense. The great age of explicit, positively argued atheism was the 18th century, particularly in France. Baron d’Holbach’s “The System of Nature” (1770), published under a pseudonym and immediately condemned, was the first major work of Western philosophy to argue directly and without apology for the nonexistence of God. Ludwig Feuerbach, in the 19th century, provided the psychological analysis of religion that would influence Marx: God was a projection of human ideals onto an imagined divine being, and theology was really anthropology misread. Friedrich Nietzsche’s famous declaration that “God is dead” was not a jubilant atheist slogan but a somber diagnosis: the death of God, in Nietzsche’s account, was a cultural catastrophe that would take centuries to fully absorb, because the entire moral and metaphysical framework of Western civilization had been built on theistic foundations. Bertrand Russell made the most elegant popular case for atheism in the 20th century; Christopher Hitchens the most polemical in the 21st.

The philosophical significance of atheism lies partly in what it is and partly in what it forces. As a position, it requires an account of why religious belief — which is nearly universal in human history and is clearly serving some powerful psychological, social, and perhaps cognitive function — should be rejected as false. As a challenge to others, it demands that theists articulate what, exactly, they believe and why. These demands have produced some of the most interesting philosophy ever written: the ontological and cosmological arguments for God’s existence, the problem of evil, arguments about divine simplicity and the nature of religious language, debates about faith and reason. Atheism is not just a conclusion; it is a standing invitation to argument.

The term is subject to a number of persistent misunderstandings. Atheism is not a worldview, not a political position, not a moral framework, and not a form of religion. It is a single belief — or rather, a single absence of belief — about a single question. Atheists can be secular humanists or nihilists, conservatives or progressives, people of great moral seriousness or of none. The conflation of atheism with any specific ethical or political outlook is an error. A second persistent confusion concerns the burden of proof: it is sometimes argued that atheism requires as much justification as theism, since both are claims about the nature of reality. This argument is not entirely without force, but it misrepresents how evidential reasoning works; the default position in the absence of evidence is not to believe and not-believe in equal measure, but to withhold belief until evidence is provided.

Atheism, at its most considered, is not primarily a rejection but an honesty — an insistence on applying the same standards of evidence to claims about supernatural beings that we apply to claims about everything else.