Christianity

Christianity may be dead in the sense that few of the educated class go regularly to church, believe in the literal truth of the Gospels or think that unbelievers will spend an eternity in hell. Indeed, even the beliefs of the clergy are often far from clear nowadays. Ask a Church of England clergyman what he actually believes and you are quite likely to receive a reply that makes the predictions of the average economist about the future of the economy seem categorical by comparison.

At first sight, the wholly secular understanding of the world and human existence which most intellectuals and educated people now share has little in common with, and is actually opposed to, the formerly religious understanding of the world and human existence that most people once adhered to. It is a worldview that is my own: I have no belief whatever in an externally-decreed purpose to life in general and to my life in particular, and I see no reason to believe that my fate is anything other than extinction once and for all. I might wish it were otherwise, but wishes are not a good guide to reality.

Read more in New English Review:
• From Tory Scum to UKIP Fascist
• Using the Memory Hole to Create an ADHD Consensus
Despite a widespread denial of, or even hostility towards, any Christian belief, however, secular ethics in the west remain deeply imbued with Christian principles, even if they are misapplied. If Christ told us to render unto Caesar those things which are Caesar’s, we return the compliment by refusing to render unto God those things which are God’s, transposing to earth His promises of the afterlife to life here below.

Forgiveness of sins, loving one’s enemy and turning the other cheek if he strikes you, the moral superiority of the poor over the rich, atonement and redemption, are still very much present in the moral psychology of the west, even among the explicitly atheist They obviously derive from Christianity, even if their ultimate justification (if any) is entirely different from that offered by Christianity.

The sacred and the secular have long been approaching one another. Liberation theology in Latin America was almost indistinguishable in its eschatology from Marxism, while to listening to a Church of England bishop these days is like listening to a radical sociologist circa 1970. Meanwhile, and policemen and politicians utter sentiments that one might have expected of minor clerics a hundred years ago.

In Britain, whenever a spokesman for the police is called upon to make a statement about a horrible murder, he or she always intones some such words as ‘Our thoughts and prayers are first with the victim’s family’, as if the job of the police were to express empathy for the bereaved or act as grief counsellors. Not only do we sense immediately that this is bogus—policemen by the nature of their work are disinclined to the kind of thoughts and prayers here alleged, and the lying pretence undermines belief in their probity—but the best thing they can do for the bereaved is to catch the culprit and bring him to justice. The best therapy for victims of crime, in my medical experience, is the apprehension and suitable punishment of the perpetrator, which restores their faith in a just world. They do not want to be talked to by the police as if they were suffering from some kind of psychiatric disorder and therefore in need of amateur psychotherapy.

In 2013, the European Court of Human Rights reached a verdict in which three convicted murderers in Britain claimed that their fundamental human rights were breached by having been sentenced to life imprisonment without possibility of release.

The three murderers were hardly fine upstanding men. The first of them murdered for a second time—his wife—shortly after his release from a prison sentence for his first murder. The second killed his entire family of five while trying to place the blame on one of the victims. (He also claimed to be innocent, but that was not basis of his appeal to the ECHR. If he really were innocent, of course, his rights were infringed even by a single day of imprisonment after his false conviction.) The third of the appellants had killed four young men for his sexual pleasure. But all three claimed that, in not being given the prospect of release or reduction of their penalty in time, their human rights were infringed.

In essence, the court upheld their claim. It did not go so far as to say that they should be released at some time or other in the future, but it said that, by depriving them of the possibility of remorse, repentance, atonement and rehabilitation (the secular version or equivalent of redemption), they were deprived of their human rights.

This is precisely what Chesterton meant when he said that Christian virtues would go mad once they had become unmoored from the theological and metaphysical beliefs from which they took their meaning: for remorse, repentance, atonement and redemption have a very different significance in the penological context from that in a theological one.

Let us take remorse, repentance and atonement first. It ought to be obvious that these require inner states that lose their meaning when their public expression is a precondition of a tangible benefit such as early release from prison. They then become something more akin to a Maoist session of self-criticism than remorse and atonement in the Christian sense. To be real, they must be separated from reward—except one in the next world, whose receipt is uncertain and not in the gift of any human being.