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Bruce Anderson: Even non-believers must recognise the moral necessity of Christianity

Fear of death is at the heart of religion, our unwillingness to accept that life's end is the end

Monday, 9 April 2007

In 1990, a friend of mine, Frank Steele, was given six months to live. One of the finest men I have ever met, Frank was aptly named. Beneath the wit, he was frank and made of steel. His main career had been in MI6, in the days when it was a very secret service. So despite doing the Lord's work on his country's behalf for many years, he received little public recognition.

As might have been expected, he confronted his fate with realism and defiance. This was something which he could discuss openly. Six months passed, but not Frank. Some time later, I remember saying: "Steele, three years ago you told me you'd be dead in six months. I felt like blubbing, but instead I bought you a glass of port. Now here you are, larger than life, having more port. You're not dying; you're the President of The Royal College of Hypochondriacs."

The cancer got him in the end, although it did take seven years. During that time, when he was suffering more than he ever admitted, he remained utterly resolute on one topic: atheism. The nearer he approached death, the more implacably atheistic he became. He seemed to find it personally offensive that anyone could give intellectual house-room to all this nonsense about God. Occasionally, Christians are credited with heroic faith. Frank Steele had heroic unfaith.

I do not know whether the same applies to Professor Richard Dawkins and his noisy acolytes. In one respect, atheists have an easier task than theists. In order to deny the existence of God, it is only necessary to accept one proposition. Believers have to try to understand what they believe. After two Christian millennia and many libraries of theology, that task seems harder than ever. St Paul told his fellow Christians that in this world, they would only see through a glass, darkly. That is becoming increasingly true.

Apart from Southern Baptists in the US plus Ian Paisley - and one is no longer so sure about him - it is hard to tell what Christians actually believe. Atheists can revel in unholy simplicity, but most contemporary Christians seem full of self-doubt. Mr Dawkins gives the impression that the possibility of self-doubt has never crossed his mind.

Despite the Professor's example, thoughtful atheism ought not to be an oxymoron, and one point should have occurred to the adherents of that doctrine, at least in a Christian country. Even if they reject faith, it might be better if not too many others followed their example. In the West, we have a vast cultural and intellectual heritage. But our ethical heritage is sadly depleted. Its two wells were the Classics and Christianity. The Classical well has already ceased to function. The Christian one may run dry even before the oil wells. Prime Minister Salisbury said that anyone who expected the Christian ethic to survive Christian theology by more than two or three generations was deluded. He has yet to be refuted.

There are those who would try to brush his point aside by denying that the Christian ethic has any value, and the past 2,000 years provides them with plenty of prima facie evidence. So did Christianity make man better, worse, or just the same? It is an irresolvable dispute, but the Christians can adduce some arguments in their favour. Theirs is a religion of love in which charity is a duty. If that cannot persuade man to behave well, original sin is the best short account of the human condition.

It should also be easy for Christians to argue that the Enlightenment had failed. Even in the countries where the social, economic and intellectual changes associated with it were accompanied by benign political developments, there is a well-grounded worry that the human race has only a 50:50 chance of surviving the next 50 years. In the benighted countries where an anti-religious system of belief was imposed with such totalitarian rigour that it became a pseudo-religion, horrors ensued.

There are two further practical arguments in favour of Christianity. First, its decline has not meant the end of religion. It has merely diverted the search for religion to new and sometimes dangerous outlets. This is inevitable, for the fear of death is at the heart of religion: our unwillingness to accept that for us, like the animals whom we dominate, life's end is the end.

Although a few brave souls like Frank Steele may pass undaunted into the shadow of extinction, most of us are like William Dunbar: "Timor mortis conturbat me". At a funeral service, when I hear "Death, where is thy sting?", I feel like pointing at the coffin and saying, "There it is; can't you see?". At "Grave, where is thy victory?", I am saying inwardly, "An unconditional surrender". The terror of death will always drive our species to search for an alternative.

As a result, religion is one of the most powerful impulses in the human psyche, and shares a characteristic with two of the others, sex and money. They can all be profoundly creative or profoundly destructive. Religion has inspired painting, architecture and music. It has also inspired persecution, atrocities and massacres. It is surely preferable that this elemental force should be embanked, as great rivers are so that they can flow to the sea without inundating the land. For all their faults, the modern established churches are the safest means of ensuring this.

The second practical argument for Christianity relates to Islam, a religion which is not in decline. Westerners have a problem in dealing with Muslims; too many of us are infested with vulgar Marxism. So when believers who are angry with us talk about their faith, we assume that this is a mere metaphor for political and economic grievances. We are too ready to discount the possibility that our opponents are saying what they believe and that their grievances are largely religious in origin.

This is not to deny that religion and politics may combine to cause an explosion, especially in Islamic countries which do not recognise the distinction between the two. In Scotland, the SNP has convinced many voters that William Wallace was a poll-tax rebel, cruelly murdered by Margaret Thatcher. The SNP has used a "Braveheart" version of early 14th-century Scottish history to inflame unjustified grievances. It is hardly surprising that in countries where the grievances are genuine, a truthful version of 7th-century Islamic history can inflame the passions.

It was one of the most remarkable occurrences in history. Primitive tribesmen surged forth from the Arabian peninsula. Within 100 years, they had defeated the Byzantine and Persian empires. Only Charles Martel prevented them from overrunning Western Europe.

This is not to suggest that we return to Charles Martel's methods. The era of the Crusades is over. But in our dealings with Islam, it would help us if we had more confidence in our own values and traditions. In order for that to occur, as many people as possible ought to believe in the Resurrection of Jesus Christ.

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