"God's Philosophers", James Hannam

For years, the teaching of history has been criticised in some quarters for being insufficiently broad. It focuses on the cause and effect of specific events - often those of significance to the political inclination of those writing the curriculum, or those where the student can be expected to empathise with the subjects studied. Thus in England, for example, children can expect to learn about the slave trade, the Industrial Revolution and the Cold War, but will often learn little about how the United Kingdom or Europe arrived at their current political shape. But even given a general knowledge of history, some areas are more opaque than others. History, it seems, barely existed in pre-Roman times in the British Isles. For a similar reason perhaps - a relative dearth of written sources - our knowledge of the time from the fall of Rome to the Renaissance tends to be pretty sketchy.

It is easy to conclude that our ignorance of what happened means that nothing of any significance actually did happen. So the "Dark Ages" have come to signify an era of intellectual and cultural stagnation between the Classical era and the Renaissance. This has been fed by writers from later eras - both the Renaissance and the Enlightenment - seeking to portray their own time as the new golden age, in contrast to what went before.

Modern scholarship has detected this bias and ignorance, and has started to evaluate the Middle Ages in a more objective light. James Hannam's book, "God's Philosophers", gathers together stories of the people, ideas and innovations from the time. He shows that, far from being an era in which the culture stood still, key developments took place without which the development of modern science and technology couldn't have been possible. In fact, even the humanistic ideas which shaped the Renaissance have their roots in philosophical/religious work from the Middle Ages.

Hannam highlights developments in many areas - mathematics, timekeeping, optics - as well as more obvious ones, such as the printing press. He shows that earlier progress was acknowledged - or at least apparent - in the work of early modern scientists - Galileo, Kepler, Copernicus, Brahe, and subsequently Newton.

Indeed, Hannam points out, one of the effects of the Renaissance obsession with Classical culture was to come close to discarding all the progress that had been made in the Mediaeval era, in areas such as maths, science and philosophy. Much writing was virtually lost, only to be rediscovered in some cases centuries later.

The traditional demarcation between the premodern and modern eras - a fairly moveable line, though one which probably hovers around the time of Galileo - is actually too arbitrary. Substantially after the start of the Renaissance, Newton continued to believe in Alchemy; astronomy continued to be driven by astrology; medicine arguably continued to operate using a pretty premodern methodology well into the 18th Century.

Also, the supposed clash of cultures between the church and the forces of rationalism was not nearly as apparent as it is suggested now. Galileo's conflict with the Inquisition, as portrayed by Brecht and regularly replayed, has already been shown elsewhere to not have taken place as a struggle between faith and science. Hannam argues further, highlighting the role of the church in establishing universities as centres of independent thought, granting them a substantial degree of intellectual autonomy. The Inquisition itself, he suggests, was not the ruthless and intolerant secret police organisation we have come to know and love. Instead, it was patient and careful, loath to impose heavy sanctions, and operating using a higher standard of judicial procedure than could be expected in contemporary civil courts.

Hannam's theses aren't new; these ideas of the Middle Ages are increasingly acknowledged by scholars, and Hannam helpfully offers a list of books for further reading, along with a very comprehensive list of source material. His book highlights the difference between careful scholarship and the lazy rehash of received wisdom all too common amongst writers who simply present ideas that fit their presuppositions, with little attention to how substantive they are.

The book is fast paced and well-written. It is very hard to dispute his assertion that the cultural and scientific achievements of the era were significant and far-reaching. Perhaps it would be possible to argue that with the withdrawal of intellectual life to the monasteries and subsequently the universities, life was culturally narrower for the general population than it had been under the Romans. However, with the spread of architecture and the growth of cities, even this seems unlikely. This is a very helpful introduction to the Middle Ages in Europe.

"God's Philosophers" (Icon Books), James Hannam

"The Night Following", by Morag Joss

This book can be found on Amazon, and the proper context for this review is there. To anybody who has come here from facebook (or similar) and wants to know more about the book (i.e. the characters, plot outline and so on), that site will probably fill you in.

Although I haven't read other of Joss's books, she is established as an author, and on the basis of this book, it is evident that she is very much in command of her craft.

The book is written in an assured manner, with excellent control over voice, tone, character and plot. It is not the sort of book I would have expected to appeal to me, and yet I found it compelling and read it within a couple of days.

The plot is outlined on the Amazon website. Other people have commented on the redemptive nature of the narrative. There is certainly a theme of redemption there, as the doctor's wife seeks to restore to Arthur some of what she has taken from him. But redemption doesn't normally look much like this - it generally comes with a bit more hope. Both the two main characters are in very dark places - literally, being unable to face daylight. Arthur is disintegrating for the loss of his wife Ruth, the doctor's wife (unnamed) losing her identity effectively due to a lack of love or even interest in her. And there is another big theme - the systematic and undeserved betrayal and incomprehension of women by men. The women are largely committed and engaged (if naive about the men): the men are uncomprehending, abusive, misguided and largely incompetent. Even within the relationship between Arthur and Ruth, his late wife, which is portrayed more positively than any other in the book, it is shown that Ruth is the one with emotional intelligence and depth, whilst Arthur is devoted to her but largely uncomprehending of the depths of her life, being more captivated as so many men are by such things as constellations and bird-watching.

This is the evil in everything that happens under the sun: The same destiny overtakes all. The hearts of men, moreover, are full of evil and there is madness in their hearts while they live, and afterward they join the dead.

An interesting article I read recently reflected on the fact that most literature takes place "under the sun", as Ecclesiastes would put it - as though there is nothing more than purely material causes and effects - there is nothing higher - no God; increasingly no fate; no real significance. Stuff just happens. That's a reflection of where we are generally as a culture. This book shows where that perspective takes us. Random events happen - the woman discovers her husband's affair; Ruth is killed in a road accident - with no real significance - it's just how life is. It is a very bitter perspective, and few people are prepared to accept this - even whilst denying the possibility of a higher power, many people would rather close their minds to the full implications of this, or embrace a vague and un-thought-out pantheism, believing vaguely in some sort of faint guidance of fate, and some perception of their own significance. Joss's book is more honest in that regard - there is only me, nobody else, and I have to make my own sense of my life, give myself some significance.

And yet, for all that the wife of the doctor pursues a redemptive aim, she is still lost at the end. The characters who seem best able to cope with this random life under the sun are those who seem to have least comprehension - the doctor, the blind grandmother. Those who face the world as it is seem to consistently end up wrecked. Only Ruth, perhaps, carves out for herself a purposeful, meaningful place - and then she is killed by an arrow of outrageous fortune.

This is a very good book - it is definitely literature, not simply a story. I would recommend it for reading groups, and anybody keen to read and reflect on what they read.

You have no excuse ...

... for believing that “The God Delusion” (TGD) is the knockout blow in the supposed “faith versus reason” debate. Three books have now been published in response – one scholarly (“The Dawkins Delusion?” Alister McGrath and Joanna Collicutt McGrath), one playful (“Darwin's Angel”, John Cornwell) and this one. Each treats Dawkins with respect – all three authors are positive about much of his earlier writing; each draws on a much wider range of sources than Dawkins does; each dismantles Dawkins' analysis of the Bible, history and social phenomena; each rebuts Dawkins' argument that God is improbable, which undermines the premise upon which the rest of the book is based. Incidentally, the fact that this premise was invalid was the reason why in my review of TGD on Amazon, I said that there wasn't much point in reading the rest of the book. I stand by this criticism.

None of the books is long – Robertson's is just 140 pages. The fundamental reason for this is that Dawkins' arguments are insubstantial – they simply don't take much refuting. This is startling, given that many of the million-odd copies of TGD that have been sold were presumably bought by people who swallowed it whole (though a near-atheist friend of mine commented, “Pile of s***e, wasn't it? And I love RD”).

The story of how David Robertson's book came about is fairly well known. Robertson is a pastor, and having read Dawkins' book, wrote a letter in response and posted it on his church website. This found its way onto Dawkins' own website, and generated a huge response – which led to Robertson writing further letters. These form the basis of his book.

Of these three books published in response to TGD, “The Dawkins Letters” is probably the one I preferred. I think this is because Robertson is most similar to me philosophically; I find that he articulates most clearly the thoughts that I struggled to get into order whilst I read Dawkins' book. Also, unlike Dawkins, Cornwell and McGrath, Robertson is not writing from the shelter of an academic ivory tower – his beliefs are being put to test in a real world of real people. It is clearly a Christian book – even an “apologetic” one. Dawkins refuses to engage with people who disagree with him. This is one of the most significant weaknesses of TGD, and indeed of Dawkins' more recent work in general, as the effect is that it is like reading a rant, rather than dialectic. Robertson points out that the traits that Dawkins describes as being present in fundamentalists are present and writ large in his own work – mocking stereotype versions of opponents' arguments, refusing to engage with the “unenlightened”, even the crusade meetings, where the triumphs of the movement are lauded by the faithful.

Robertson's book is full of quotable passages. One section that interested me in particular was what he wrote about Hitler. Atheists, including Dawkins, pick up quotations which suggest that Hitler claimed what he was doing was a Christian crusade, rather than the outworking of atheist philosophy. Conveniently, Robertson studied Hitler “extensively”, and is able to explain the context in which such quotations came, and also from Hitler's private conversations, to explain what Hitler really thought about Christianity - “The heaviest blow that ever struck humanity was the coming of Christianity.”

“The Dawkins Letters” is a readable and considered response to TGD. It will encourage and help any Christians who don't know what to say, and for non-Christians who are at least prepared to wonder if things aren't quite as Dawkins has made out, it makes a good case for at least one alternative worldview. Again, the charge of “opportunistic publishing” will be levelled – but if no response was forthcoming, then the assumption would be that Dawkins was irrefutable.

Review of "The Dawkins Letters: Challenging Atheist Myths" by David Robertson, posted on Amazon.

Excellent writing about unpromising characters

A review of "Broken", by Daniel Clay, from Amazon.

The characters in the book are unpromisingly similar to the inhabitants of a Jeremy Kyle show. The “first person” is Skunk, an eleven-year old girl in a coma; her mother has left; her au pair is torn between a relationship with the Skunk's father and her form teacher; there is a violent dad in the house opposite, living on benefits and dope, with a gaggle of stealing, foul-mouthed, lying, promiscuous daughters; this dad has beaten up a local lad, who is consequently drifting into madness.

And yet “Broken” is a surprisingly humorous, compassionate and empathic story. Its strongest suit is in relation to the issue of aspirations. This is a matter of keen interest to Skunk – balanced as she is not only between childhood and adulthood but between life and death. Surrounded by people who she sees making mistakes and misjudgments, she has to try and work out how to make the best of her own life. Were it not for the sex, violence, language, drugs and nudity (!), this would be the sort of thought-provoking book that would help a teenager to grapple with issues of growing up. As it is, I think I'd rather my children instead watched “Dead Poet's Society” when the time comes ....

The book is also strong on empathy. The author does an excellent job of getting into the mind of his characters – quite a feat, given that they range from emotionally deprived teenage girls who find in promiscuity a substitute for the love that they don't know, through their violent, protective father, to “Broken”, the nickname Skunk and her brother give the nineteen-year old lad who drifts into a terrifying madness. And whereas we are given the ability to empathise with these people, we are shown how society around them simply doesn't have the capacity to care.

With such a grim tale to tell, it would have been easy for the author to have written bleak and depressing social commentary. But – reminiscent of “Angela's Ashes” set in the present day – there is humour and warmth, and a surprisingly upbeat, satisfying ending. I think this is probably the best new fiction I have read in the last year or so. If you are prepared to listen to a story of parts of our society that generally have a discreet veil drawn across them, then here would be a good place to start.

His Dark Materials - first reaction

I'm only a little way into Pullman's "The Subtle Knife" (book 2), so the real force of the anti-God message hasn't yet struck. However, I wanted to write a few things on what I think so far.

To conceive of a whole alternative universe - in fact, more than one - demonstrates the imagination of a real master of storytelling. Also, to explore these universes not only on the level of language but the level of their science is brave, and he has done it very well. It is this creativity which makes the stories so captivating. There are limits to my appreciation. Although I like Lyra as a character, I'm not convinced that she would have had the intuition and empathy required of her in the books, and from a narrative point of view, I think that they are weakened by the fact that they follow the perspective of different characters - I think I am becoming a bit of a narrative snob in that regard!

In terms of the critique of theism, I've already commented (see below) about Pullman's perception of the nature of God and the church. If God were a being who simply expected creatures to wait on him, and was indifferent to their concerns, I would stand alongside Pullman throwing stones at him. But the Christian message is that this isn't what God is like. God is so concerned that he has intervened in history as a real person - and in fact, he allowed himself to be killed for the sake of his creatures. The church ought to be demonstrating the servant nature shown us in the life of Jesus - and again, I am happy to stand alongside Pullman in his criticism of a church that is authoritarian and denies what God has said.

I obviously don't know where the account is going, yet, but there is a more interesting philosophical point I'd like to make about what I have read so far.

In the book of Job, a godly man called Job finds himself suffering in circumstances that he doesn't understand. He bears this for a long time, but eventually pours out his frustration in a series of discourses. In one of these, he says:

Oh, that I had someone to hear me!
I sign now my defense—let the Almighty answer me;
let my accuser put his indictment in writing.

Surely I would wear it on my shoulder,
I would put it on like a crown.

I would give him an account of my every step;
like a prince I would approach him.

Job 31:35-37 (NIV)

What he is asking for is a higher court. He says: God is accusing me, I can defend myself, and what I need is somebody higher than God who could judge between us.

Later on, God speaks directly to Job, and at the end of that, Job's attitude has completely changed:

I know that you can do all things;
no plan of yours can be thwarted.

You asked, 'Who is this that obscures my counsel without knowledge?'
Surely I spoke of things I did not understand,
things too wonderful for me to know.

You said, 'Listen now, and I will speak;
I will question you,
and you shall answer me.'

My ears had heard of you
but now my eyes have seen you.

Therefore I despise myself
and repent in dust and ashes.

Job 42:2-6 (NIV)

It's not the case that God has in some way "beaten" Job, for Job to end up like that. In actual fact, God doesn't even say that Job has done anything wrong - although he insists that Job's friends (who insisted that Job must have been getting what he deserved) have said what is wrong, and need forgiveness. What has happened is that, having truly understood God, Job was able to see that he was far from being "like a prince" - God's equal, who could demand a response from God.

The interesting thing is that Job thinks there ought to be a higher court, at which God's actions can be weighed. But God makes clear to him that he is the highest court. He made everything for his own reasons; a person's whole idea of justice is in fact derived from God's nature.

What does this have to do with Philip Pullman? Well, he obviously thinks it is reasonable for him to call God to account in some way. But what is interesting to me, on the basis of what I read so far, is that there are certain things that he places "above" God. One of these is truth. I may, of course, be going wrong here, since I haven't read all of the books, but the alethiometer (the golden compass) seems to transcend all the universes and provide answers to questions almost beyond the capability of any god. Another seems to be destiny - Lyra is the child of prophecies, and the prophecies seem to transcend the Magisterium of her universe.

But from within the perspective of orthodox Christian theology, truth and destiny are only meaningful concepts given the existence of God. The first of these is the epistemological necessity, which I've already discussed many times on my blog. There does seem to be such a thing as absolute truth (the postmodern epistemology is wrong) but we have no reason to believe starting from our own perspective as subjective observers that we are able to apprehend such truth (the modernist epistemology is wrong). I have found no better explanation for the idea of truth - the truth that we all recognise, and upon which we all base myriad decisions every day - than that there is an external, personal absolute in whom and to whom truth is necessity, and from whom we derive our own nature.

So if Pullman suggests (as he seems to) that the idea of truth is something that "is bigger" than the Christian idea of God, and something that one can therefore use to judge God with, where does his idea of truth derive from? An epistemology is required.

The same applies to destiny. Again, the orthodox Christian idea of destiny relates to the fact that God has a purpose for the whole universe, which was why it was brought into being. No destiny can be superimposed on this that can overthrow God's purpose - in fact, the most determined act of rebellion against this purpose (killing God, no less! - that idea of Pullman's is not original) was the act which achieved the destiny that God had planned.

If Pullman wishes to use these ideas to critique God, he needs to first of all demonstrate that a satisfactory foundation of these ideas can be found outside God.

Whatever happened to the heroes?

(A review of "Crusaders", by Richard T. Kelly, posted on Amazon)

You can tell it's British literature, because there aren't any. It's the mid nineties. The traditional church (as embodied in John Gore) means well, but is naïve and ineffective. The evangelical church (as embodied in Simon Barlow) is arrogant and judgmental, and unable to make a difference to those people who really need it. Politicians are cynical, or on the gravy train, or more concerned with ideas than people. People have seen it all before - they are wise to politicians and do-gooders, and simply doing what they can to survive in a world that couldn't care less about them.

The language is tough (which I suppose is realistic), the violence is pervasive (which I suppose given the context is realistic) and sex for most people is simply part of the scenery - not dwelt on in voyeuristic detail, but hardly portrayed as making love. This is what the "Common People" of the Pulp song did next - at least, those who live on Tyneside.

The book contains a lot of truth about how people are, how politics is and how our society works. I can't see that it offers any realistic ways to make things better for the most needy of society - perhaps that is part of what Kelly is trying to get across. He presents religion as discredited, local politics and law and order as tainted by vested interest, and national government and the judiciary as unconcerned about people. I have to say that, on the basis of my experience, that's largely a reasonable assessment, but it is an incredibly bleak picture, and it is one which challenges and deconstructs just about every form of utopianism. Does that mean that there is no hope? Well, that's a question for a late night discussion afterwards ....

People can either cope with accents written down, or they can't. It's all-pervasive in "Crusaders", but bearable, at least in my opinion. I could have done with a glossary, though - I only learnt that clarts (as in "soft as clarts") are pieces of mud, especially those stuck to shoes, after I had finished the book.

I picked this book because the idea behind the story - about a church plant in an inner city - was one that engaged me. This book has left me lots to think about - but an Amazon review is not the place to work through Kelly's portrayal of the modern Church of England, the nature of Christian missionary work or what could possibly be done to change the nature of our society. It's a significant book - but at least in my opinion, overly pessimistic.

New books

People of the Book, by Geraldine Brooks, is a novel about the Sarajevo Haggadah. Occasionally disturbing but highly recommended.


Meltdown, by Martin Baker, is a thriller set in the world of international finance. Good if you like that sort of thing.

Both are published next month, and have reviews by me (amongst others) on the Amazon website.