Let Brotherly Love and Tithes Continue. (1933)

From the September 1933 issue of the Socialist Standard

Up and down the English countryside a tithe-war is in progress. Farmers, and other holders of land subject to tithe, say they cannot and will not pay. They have organised a national association to defend their interests. Against them stands the Church, with its back to the wall, demanding its money. The Church invokes the law-courts and the police, and at its behest bailiffs seize the land, stock and crops, of the debtors. The answer of the farmers to forced sales of goods is an aggressive boycott of the auction. Massed picketing and veiled threats of violence are usually sufficient to dissuade intending buyers from making bids.

The history of tithes is long and complicated. They go back for many hundreds of years, and it is disputed whether in England they began as the voluntary gifts of pious churchmen or as a compulsory levy. In any event there is no dispute as to their form. The landholder subject to tithe had to donate each year one-tenth of the produce of his land, one-tenth of his calves, lambs, wool, milk, eggs, grain, and so on. At first this stream of wealth was divided into four parts; one part each for the bishop and the parish priest, one part for the upkeep of the church building, and one part for the poor. Subsequently the bishops were otherwise provided for. The tithes were then divided into three parts; one-third for the parson and two-thirds for the monks, to be used by them for their own upkeep, for the entertainment of strangers, and for the relief of the poor. There is no doubt that by this time at least the relief of the poor was not a voluntary act on the part of the monastic houses but was a duty imposed on them by the Crown. In receiving tithe and using part of it to relieve the poor, the monks were acting as agents for the King, as is shown by a statute passed in the early years of the fourteenth century, during the reign of Edward I.

When the monasteries were suppressed at the time of the Reformation about one-third of their tithes were seized by the Crown and handed over to laymen.

The whole of the remaining two-thirds came to be payable to the clergy.

Until 1836 tithes were, for the most part, paid not in money but “in kind." In that year the Tithe Commutation Act substituted a money rent-charge, varying with the price of corn, for the payment in kind. In 1891, owing to the difficulty experienced in the collection of tithe, the obligation was transferred from the tenant to the land-owner.

Both in 1836 and under various later Acts the clergy were given the benefit of relief from part of their liability for rates payable on the tithes received by them.

Under the Tithe Act, 1925, the tithe payment, instead of varying with the price of corn, was for the first time stabilised on the basis of £105 for each £100 of tithe-rent charge; with an additional payment of 4½ per cent. a year to provide a fund for the extinction of tithes over a period of 85 years.

The annual cost is now £3,300,000, of which about two-thirds is payable to the clergy and the remaining third to other receivers of tithe whose rights were acquired from the monasteries at the Reformation. It is this £3,300,000 which is the grievance behind the present dispute.

The Church—A Declining Industry

The Tithe-payers' Association makes the claim that the burden of tithes is ruining the farmers. While it is true that some farmers cannot pay their tithe, it is obvious that we must look further than this for an explanation of the dispute between the tithe-payers and the Church, for the total amount of tithe represents only a very small percentage of the annual income of the farmers. On the other hand, a sum of over £2 million a year is of the utmost importance to the Church. It represents the livelihood of thousands of the clergy.

The fact is, that during recent years changes have been taking place affecting both the farmers and the Church. Many of the former have been badly hit by the post-war slump in the prices of agricultural products. They receive a declining income from the sale of their products but have to pay a fixed charge to the clergy and other recipients of tithe. Their position is doubly difficult in the many cases of farms having been bought on borrowed money at the high prices of the War years. On the other hand, the farmer’s inclination to withhold tithes has been strengthened by the loss of prestige and popularity on the part of the Church and its ministers. The Church is a great commercial concern which, so to speak, has its capital sunk in a declining industry. As Dean Inge puts it, the Church used to be a monopoly undertaking and is now trying to exist under conditions which have deprived it of its monopoly.

It sells an article which has not kept up with the changing demand of the twentieth century. “Spiritual consolations” and the kind of social activities provided by the Church are as definitely out-of-date as horse-’buses, lantern lectures and tallow candles. The hold of the parson is relaxing. The torments of hell and the delights of heaven alike pass over the heads of a generation brought up on war and war-novels, on the cinemas and wireless. Cinemas and wireless have captured the field, hence the interesting results of most of the votes on Sunday opening. In one town after another we see the Councils—composed of elderly persons, often active Church workers—voting against Sunday cinemas, only to have their decision heavily reversed when it goes to a poll. The clergy try to hold back the tide, but what can they do against new needs and 'the cinema combines? They are like the little shopkeepers trying to fight Woolworths, Boots, Selfridges, and the other giant concerns which are fast devouring them.

In a variety of ways the influence and the income of the clergy have been diminished. Now comes the final blow of the campaign against tithes. In reply, the Church militant shows what it is made of, and fights for cash, as it never fought for anything else. As Marx so cruelly said, ”the Anglican Church will more readily pardon attacks upon 38 of its 39 articles than upon one thirty-ninth of its income.”

It is Written in the Bond

The tithe-war is rich in incident. There is the Rector who assented to a farmer sacking one of his unfortunate labourers in order to be able to afford to pay tithe. The Rector said that he could not afford to let the farmer off what he owed, “and that it was a just debt.” The Church authorities, as a whole, have taken up the same legalistic attitude, standing strictly on the letter of the law. Shall not Shylock have his pound of flesh ?  Is it not written in the bond?

Where they do allow some remission it is only on the ordinary commercial principle of taking 75 per cent., because there is no possibility of getting the whole. Yet prominent Churchmen, including Lord Parmoor, state that the burden of tithes is unduly heavy in view of the unforeseen fall in prices.

One case has, however, come to light of a tithe claim being abandoned entirely by the parson to whom it was owed. An old shoe-maker was a tithe-payer to the extent of 3s. 6d. a year. It was the custom to hold an annual ”Tithe Feast," presided over by the Vicar and held at the village “pub," which all tithe-payers were entitled to attend. The old shoe-maker was relieved of his obligation to pay tithe because, as he explained, “they lost money over him" at the annual spread.

Attempts to seize farmers' property have been resisted, with the consequence of numerous cases of assault, some of which reach the courts. In one case of distraint it was disclosed that an original debt of £20 for tithe was increased to £700 through legal costs charged against the debtor in a series of actions to enforce payment.

The attitude of the Daily Herald, official organ of the Labour Party, has been amusing. Its desire to sympathise with the farmers, whose votes it wants, is equalled by its anxiety not to antagonise the supporters of the Church. So it presents the delicate problem of how to give the farmers more without giving the Church less; and as that problem is truly baffling, it demands that the Government shall instantly do its duty—and appoint a Commission! Happy memories of the late Labour Government, with its dozens and dozens of Commissions and Committees of Inquiry, probing into this question and the other.

Why do the Christians so Furiously Rage Together?

It is an entertainment to see how the followers of Jesus fight for filthy lucre as bitterly as any poor benighted heathen. Where is that otherworldliness, that spirit of self-denial that the clergy never fail to recommend to workers who come out on strike?

Christians, were you not commanded to love one another? And do you now send your message of love by the bailiff’s men ? O, ye of little faith! Do you not know that strife can be avoided by the exercise of Christian charity and forbearance? Why, yes, of course you know, for did you not, with the Archbishop of Canterbury at your head, found the Industrial Christian Fellowship for no other purpose than to show the cantankerous workers how to avoid industrial strife, and how to live at peace with the employers?

Lastly, there is the case of Mr. George Middleton. As First Church Estates Commissioner and Chairman of the Tithe Committee of Queen Anne’s Bounty, it falls to Mr. Middleton to defend the Church. This he does in letters to the Press urging the farmers to respect the sanctity of contracts and the rights of private property. What makes his case interesting is that he was a Labour M.P. and an official of a postal workers’ union until he had the good luck to slip into his present position at £1,200 to £1,400 a year, plus cost of living bonus; a job which literally lasts for life. There is no modern nonsense about needing young blood or being too old at 70 or 80 for the First Church Estates Commissioner’s job.

Mr. Middleton is a supporter of the Industrial Christian Fellowship referred to above, and an advocate of peace between employers and employed, but as Chairman of the Tithe Committee of Queen Anne’s Bounty he wages fierce war on tithe defaulters.

Idle talk among ex-soldiers often strays over the question which of the Monarchs, Ministers and Generalissimos won the real prizes of the War in which their loyal followers perished. By common consent it was the defeated ex-Kaiser, with his fortune of millions serenely ending his days in retreat at Doorn. If a similar question were to be put about the fruits of the great Labour Party victory which put them into office in 1929, it can hardly be doubted that Mr. Middleton, wafted into this placid backwater at the Ecclesiastical Commission, was one of fortune’s special favourites.

However, let it not be supposed that we are filled with bitterness towards the clergy or towards the Mr. Middletons. They are only trying to make the most of the opportunities capitalism offers them in the particular circumstances in which they happen to be placed. They are responding to the pressure of material conditions. It does not matter in the least, either to us as Socialists or to the condition of the workers, whether this individual or that secures what plums of office there happen to be. The Church, like any other concern run on business lines, has its highly paid bishoprics and its minority of pleasant livings for the influential few. It also has its rank and file, who live under conditions very much akin to those of the rest of the black-coated workers; with a large minority whose pay is so small that they have great difficulty in making ends meet and “keeping up appearances.” Capitalism being what it is, what can the parson do but try to hold on to his livelihood and demand payment of tithe? And what can the farmer do but try to help himself by whittling it down?

Our quarrel is not with the men, but with the system. Our message is directed to the working class, who alone can alter things. To them we say that it is useless, and worse than useless, to denounce the man who takes the opportunity which capitalism offers while at the same time at the elections upholding the system itself. Capitalism compels us all to struggle for survival and teaches us to kick each other down in the fight for greater security and a better livelihood. The only way to end the wolfish struggle is to end capitalism.

If we dwell on the weak and illogical position of the Church, it is in order to show that the solution does not lie there, but only in Socialism.

Edgar Hardcastle

Society and Morals. Part VI. Feudalism in Europe. (1918)

From the January 1918 issue of the Socialist Standard

Link to Part V.

After having treated in a general way of the social process which consisted of the breaking down of communistic and patriarchal organisation, and resulting in the subjection and exploitation of the one-time free and equal tribesmen, it behoves us now to investigate more closely that concrete example of this process which was passed through by all European peoples with a resultant organisation which persisted up to a more or less recent period, for it was out of the elements of this “feudalism” that modern or “capitalist” society evolved.

These “feudal States” were for the most part formed among the peoples who over-ran, and finally assisted in the break-up of, the great empire of Rome ; but even in countries where the grip of Rome had not been felt the form of society evolved by the “relatives” of these peoples was inevitably the same.

The drying up of the great plains of Central Asia impelled the barbarian nomads, to whom, hitherto, they had afforded sustenance, to migrate towards the more moist and favourable lands of the West, and they swept in recurring waves over the face of Europe for many centuries. Their military institutions were given a decided impetus, first, by the conflicts necessitated by their own invasions of already inhabited regions, and secondly, by the inroads upon them of fresh barbarians, after they had settled in Europe.

Gradually military States were formed all over Europe. Once independent tribes were consolidated by conquest into larger and larger aggregations, the first rude outlines of the modern nations were formed, whilst simultane­ously the Christian faith became “accepted” by the subdued peoples throughout Europe largely through wholesale conversions made practically compulsory by zealous plunderers like Charlemagne.

Thus, for example, the several small kingdoms in Saxon England were, after hard fighting, at last united in a somewhat precarious unity under Egbert. To quote Green in his “Short History of the English People,” the union “had removed the king, as his dominions extended, further and further from his people, and clothed him with a mysterious dignity,” he was “the ‘Lord’s anointed,’ treason against him being “punished with death.” His leading warriors or thegns “advanced with the advance of the king . . . whilst the common ground of the mark (the Teutonic village) now became folk-land in the hands of the king and was carved out into estates for his dependents. With the advance of the thegn fell the freedom of the peasant. The principle of personal allegiance embodied in the new nobility widened into a theory of general dependence. By Alfred’s day it was assumed that no man could exist without a lord. . . . Gradually the ‘lordless man’ became a sort of outlaw in the realm.” The Norman conquest only intensified this development.

All over Europe a similar process was going on. The one-time free villages were modified so that the inhabitants stood in various degrees of subjection to a lord who himself was subject to a king. Most of the people of the village, or manor as it came to be called in England, were serfs who were compelled to render service to the lord of the manor by cultivating for him the land he was allotted by the king, and also by yielding to him a portion of the products they raised upon their own allotments. In addition, every excuse was made by the baron for the extraction from the serfs of further tolls upon their produce ; normally the serf was prohibited from leaving the village of his birth, but he could obtain permission to live away by paying an annual fine or tax ; again, before his daughter was allowed to marry he had to obtain the lord’s sanction and pay to him a fine.

Among the serfs themselves existed many traces of the old communal spirit and institutions. Their land, for instance, was still divided very much according to the old principies, the portions being approximately equal both in area and quality. Furthermore, the serfs still retained their right to the common pasture lands, and to the forests for fuel. The times of and methods adopted in the labours of the field were largely regulated by the ancient customs, and even the village council or folk-moot maintained a certain amount of influence. “There were no strangers in the manor. It was an offence punishable with fine to harbour one,” says Thorold Rogers, thus showing the persistence of the old exclusive spirit.

But the whole history of feudalism shows the growing hatred of the nobility for the commu­nal rights of the peasants, and records successive attempts on their part to abolish them, and to seize upon the common lands. The Jacqueries in France (14th century), the Peasants’ War in Germany (16th century) were risings of the peasants against these encroachments of the baronage.

The Feudal Church.

As feudalism passed through its early formative period, the political utility of Christianity manifested itself with increasing clearness. “Throughout all Christendom,” says Jenks in his “History of Politics,” “bishops and priests were the most intimate counsellors and most enthusiastic supporters of the Crown, and the rich gifts of the kings were amply repaid by the halo of sanctity which the grateful Church thus threw around the person and office of the king.” (P. 84.) Every social relation of feudalism became sanctified by religion. The serf in his hut, the lord in his castle, were ordained for such stations by God—a view of class distinctions which is by no means extinct to-day. Thus the proper conduct for a serf, taught the priests, was that of humility before his superiors and contentment with his lot. He was enjoined to dutifully render to those placed over him, the services and respect they were entitled to. And, although the nobility were requested to respect the feudal rights of the peasantry, considerable latitude was allowed in their case. It was, however, the profound and religious duty of the nobility to uphold the Church of God and to preserve the integrity and prestige of their own class.

The Catholic Church became itself a great feudal power—the Pope corresponded to a monarch, his bishops and abbots to earls and barons. The Church itself owned one third of the land of Christendom and possessed serfs whom it exploited just as did its secular counterpart ; and its local dignitaries claimed a portion or “tithe” of the agricultural produce of the manors. As its wealth grew its greed demanded more and ever more, its devices to this end being numerous and ingenious. The clergy traded on the credulity and gross superstition of the “true-believers” by the sale of spurious “sacred relics”—the bones of saints, chips off the “original cross,” even the sale of “bottles of the virgin’s milk from the holy land” can be read of. The sale of “indulgences,” which were practically permits to commit crime, was practiced widely, and the clergy solemnly promised eternal bliss in paradise to those who left their wealth to the Church, later threatening hell-fire to those who did not, and making such legacies practically compulsory.

With the growing riches of the Church the clergy, especially the higher officials, had in it a vital interest to defend. Organised internationally, and with its millions of superstitious and mentally servile adherents, the Church wielded an enormous social power. Its leaders, recognising that its strength lay in the ignorant beliefs of the masses, set the entire power of the organisation against any swerving from its accepted articles of faith. Whilst it damned all actions contrary to the social virtues of feudalism, it declared heresy the greatest sin of all. Whosoever was suspected of the slightest trace of unorthodoxy in religious opinion was the legitimate prey of this “vulture of the ages.” Every cunning means, every agent, the spy, the informer, were used for its bloody ends. Imprisonment, fiendish torture, and the slow fire at the stake, were its means of enforcing Christian belief and “charity.” Jews and Moors, because of their wholesale heresies and, of course incidentally (!) their not inconsiderable “wealth (which was always confiscated) were among the most acceptable victims.

Every avenue of culture of the age was open to the clergy, and, in the early mediaeval period, to them alone. Therefore, however crude their intellectual achievements judged by modern standards, there existed a real chasm between the mental condition of the more important ecclesiastics and that of the great masses whose minds they dominated. But this very domination, and consequently their prosperity, rested, as we have seen, upon the maintenance of the ignorant superstitions of the multitude, and the upholding of crude and barbarously irrational dogmas. Intellectual hypocrisy was, as a consequence,a widespread feature among the clergy, and along with this sapping of their theoretical basis naturally went a disregard in practice, of the ethical “virtues” they professed and so “(hypocritically preached. In theory lovers of poverty and self-denial, the higher ecclesiastics revelled in luxury and pompous display. Nominally celibates, renouncers of the lusts of the flesh, many of them were rotten with voluptuous debauchery. Towards the end of the Middle Ages “it was openly asserted that there were one hundred thousand women in England made dissolute by the clergy. It was well known that brothels were kept in London for their use.” (Professor Draper, “Intellectual Development of Europe,” vol. 2, p. 234.) The history of the popes is a long record of trickery, robbery, and murder.

The Barons, their Estates and Morality.

We have seen that the feudal barons, while from the king’s point of view merely local agents distributed throughout his kingdom and responsible to him for their position and power, were in the beginning enabled to occupy these positions with the minimum of friction owing to the fact that they were regarded by the people over whom they held sway as the successors of the patriarchal chieftains they had supplanted and whose attributes they skilfully succeeded in taking over. But patriarchalism, with its reverence for blood connections and ancestral lineage, had succeeded in making every occupation every station—even the chiefship—a hereditary one. This idea was appropriated by the early kings and lords, who thus easily made their posts hereditary, and usually in the male line, as patriarchal custom and military exigences also, demanded. It was, of course, this fact which made kingship and lordship social institutions instead of merely the temporary result of conquest.

Furthermore, though the lord from the first acquired rights over the inhabitants of his district, i.e., power over men, yet the right he was most concerned about—the tribute—was so obviously extracted from the soil (agriculture being almost the only method of production) that, after a few generations, the lords came, quite naturally, to look upon the land of their district as the security for their exactions and as the real subject of their rights. The land persisted unchanged for generations, the inhabitants were a fluctuating and unreliable quantity.

Thus it came about that under feudalism “lordship of the land” was the recognised basis of social power. When an estate was transferred from one lord to another, everything living and erected thereon went with it. ; and when a lord lost his estate he lost his title and his privileges. The land did not belong to the lord, he merely had definite rights over it during his lifetime. He could not sell his estate, for upon his death these rights passed to his heir. Lordship of the land was the inalienable attribute of his family line, the foundation of its prestige and power.

To these several circumstances was due two of the best known features of feudal society—knightly “chivalry” and the “law of primogeniture”—and also to a certain extent a third—the condemnation of usury.

The first, when divested of the romantic trappings with which it has been endowed, is seen to have been an attitude adopted by the nobility with the fundamental object of ensuring the chastity of the women of the aristocracy, so that they should give birth only to legitimate heirs. These, by inheriting the feudal estates and privileges, carried on and preserved the continuity of the baronage, of the ruling class, of the feudal system. With this end in view the marriage union was made strictly monogamous and practically indissolable. It became with the males of the nobility a point of honour not to violate but to protect the chastity of the women who were the means of perpetuating the power of their class.

As for the women, it was their supreme function and virtuous duty to bear a legitimate son and heir to their lord. Moreover, that the estates should not be periodically dissipated and split up by being divided among a numerous progeny, thus weakening the family power, it was provided that only one, the eldest male child, should inherit. Pride of family, and in the blood “purity” of its line of descent, were thus typical features in the mentality of the feudal baronage, together with the physical courage, might, and prowess necessary to a military class forming the ideal of character among the nobility of the period.

But the lord, ever courteous and respectful toward the “ladies” of his own class, had no such feelings, as a rule, toward the women of the workers, whom he frequently made the miserable and powerless victims of his sensual lust. In many instances he was allowed the right to lie for the “first night” with any girl bride of the peasantry upon his estate.

Besides “land rights” the feudal nobles recognised only two other legitimate sources of social power—”divine” ordinance and the sword. But with the development of industry there arose another source of social power, which the lords did not and could not possess in any quantity so long as feudal relations persisted in their purity. This new power was money. Money is, of course, primarily a convenience for the rapid and fluid exchange of commodities. Those who possess it in quantity have access to every form of wealth, and it is therefore eagerly sought. But its possessors lend it only at interest and with sufficient security.

History records abundantly that usury and the mortgage are virulent agents in the destruction of personal relations and in the ruin of debtor land-owners large and small—of everything, in fact, which feudalism on its economic side stood for. Therefore the barons hated and envied the monied merchants and craftsmen of the rising towns and declared money-lending an abomination—though, of course, they were keen enough over obtaining money by seizure or otherwise whenever opportunity offered. The Church, as the faithful reflection of secular feudalism, took up the same position, and branded usury as an invention of the devils, nevertheless, with characteristic hypocrisy practising usury itself, either in secret or disguised, as it, with the lapse of time, accumulated in its own coffers money in abundance.

The City and The Guild.

The towns of mediaeval Europe were, for the most part, a development from such villages as offered special facilities for trade and outside intercouse, such as a site at the junction of highways or navigable rivers, or, perhaps, adjacent to a good harbour. To such a favourable spot there tended to gravitate the artisans who were not, or who had ceased to be, attached to a particular village as its official craftsmen, and who now produced goods for sale in the market about which the new town was rising. The market was, from the first, a neutral place where buyers and sellers could freely meet and which later came under the special protection of the king or the Church.

But as feudalism developed, the lords began to eye with rapacious greed the growing wealth of the townsmen under their lordship, and, fearful of the lords’ continual encroachments, the inhabitants made their towns fortified centres of resistance against the baronial power. The fortified towns now became a refuge for fugitive serfs, for they offered them protection from their erstwhile lords ; and usually after residence in the town for a certain period they were regarded as freemen. Thus the town population grew. Then the desire of the barons or of the king for ready money enabled them to purchase various trade-rights and privileges, and eventually to shake off all feudal dues and obtain a charter of independence from the lord or the king direct.

The “free city” was governed by a municipal council, the descendant of the “folk-moot” of the village. It consisted of the descendants of the original holders of the village lands, who, as the immigrant population had increased, had become a sort of exclusive aristocracy, and either became merchants themselves or manipulated the trade facilities of the town in their own interests. To them, therefore, fell most of the material benefits derived from the city’s acquired privileges. Obviously this monopoly of political power by the merchant or semi-merchant oligarchy ran counter to the interests of the actual producers—the artisans and craftsmen. To protect their own interests the artificers had to organise.

Already the followers of each craft possessed as a rule associations for social and religious intercourse, which probably dated from the patriarchal period. But we find these, with the growing antagonism toward the city aristocracy, gradually becoming adapted for, and taking part in, political activities on the one hand, and, on the other, taking on the character of economic organisations for the regulation of industry. After struggles more or less prolonged, these craft “guilds,” as they were called, became strong enough to seize control of the city councils, while on the economic side each craft in time obtained control over the supply and purchase of raw material and the sale of its products, both of which had been largely interfered with and manipulated by the city oligarchs.

To accomplish this economic victory the craftsman had to sink his purely individual interests for the interests of his craft as a whole and its guild organisation, but this offered no difficulties to men in whom patriarchal and communal ideas were even yet far from extinct. The artisan produced, as it were, for his guild. The association frequently purchased the raw materials in the bulk, distributing them equally amongst its members ; and it undertook the sale of the collective products. In individual sales by the craftsmen it regulated the prices at which goods were to be sold, prohibited competition among its members, forestalling in the market, and other means of obtaining exceptional prices. The guild also held itself responsible for the quality of the goods produced by its members, any case of inferiority being considered as reflecting disgrace upon the entire craft. Therefore the shop of the artificer had always to be open to inspection by the guild officials. In production each craft had its own strictly limited domain such as boot making or wood-carving, outside of which its members were not permitted to go, for to do so would be trespassing within the sphere of another craft. When a craftsman had so thrived as to require assistant workers in his extending business, the guild determined the number he might employ. Being the son of a full guildsman was the best title to the right of entry into the guild (a patriarchal characteristic), but usually a long term of apprenticeship had to precede such an entry, for each guildsman had to be “master of his craft.” The guild held itself responsible for the debts of any of its members, and, finally, it possessed its own courts of justice and, what was of considerable political significance, had its own armed militia.

These organisations of the mediaeval workers, to protect their common interests were, in their vigorous prime (and we cannot go here into their decadency, during which they developed aristocratic tendencies, excluding the poorer artisans, who could no longer become master craftsmen and were therefore employed permanently by the guild masters as wage-workers), impressed their principles strongly upon the moral views of their membership. Any infringement of the guild regulations was considered highly criminal and traitorous, rendering the offender liable to expulsion and therefore preventing him from working at his craft, making him, in fact, an industrial outlaw.

* * *

Summing up the morality of feudal society we again see that the class interests of the ruling lords—lay and clerical—and also of the semi-independent craftsmen of the townships, determined their conception of “right and wrong,” just and unjust, exactly as we saw to be the case with the Greek and Roman slaveholders. But, under a system of chattel-slavery, sheer physical force was almost the sole means of holding the slaves in subjection. It was not necessary for a community of interests between master and slave to be hypocritically assumed and inculcated. What the slaves thought was of little or no consequence to their owners : morality was considered no concern of slaves ; it was held to be an attribute of and an obligation upon “free-men” alone.

On the contrary with serfdom, the greater cohesion manifested by the workers made it very necessary to use mental as well as physical means to secure their complete subjection. A pseudo moral code was required for the workers in order to guide their activities along lines consistent with the welfare of their exploiters. But a serf who was compelled to part with both labour and produce to a non-productive lord could never be taught to believe that he was not exploited, that he was a free man, as it has been possible to teach the wage-worker of today. This awkward problem was ingeniously solved by the Catholic clergy, the intellectual and moral guardians of feudalism. They zealously inculcated into the peasantry the idea that the categories king, lord, and serf were of divine ordinance and unalterable, and further, that the present life, with its poverty and riches, is only a preparation for the coming “kingdom of God,” where those who had been meek and humble while toiling and suffering “here below,” would dwell in happiness “amongst the blest.” Such beliefs could, of course, only have been of real social significance and force in an age of “simplicity” such as the medieval period undoubtedly was. Culturally it was, in fact, nothing but a developed barbarism modified by the achievements of Greek and Roman civilisation.

The above outline reveals, then, a function of morality which we have not hitherto touched upon—that of deluding a subject class, of serving as a bulwark of exploitation and oppression. The full development of this, however, yet remains to be considered.

R.W. Housley

(To be Continued.)

What is religion? - Part 8 (1954)

From the April 1954 issue of the Socialist Standard

Link to Part 7.

The Economics of Religion

Christianity was adopted as the official religion of the Roman Empire by Constantine the Great, because it was thought to be a suitable religion for slaves. It was a “hotch-potch religion," or a “cemetery of dead religions,” because when the slaves were brought into Rome from many different lands, they brought with them their many religious ideas. Professor Seeley says, “the age was religious because it was an age of servitude" and the Christian teachings of “blessed are the meek, the humble, and the merciful,” fitted very well into needs of society at that time. “ Christianity produced a complete change in the attitude to the Emperor. It made their loyalty more intense.” (Professor Seeley, lectures and essays page 75.) As the New Testament admirably puts it, “Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers. For there is no power but God; the powers that be are ordained by God. Whosoever therefore resisteth the power, resisteth the ordinance of God; and they that resist shall receive to themselves damnation." Romans Ch. 13 ver. 1 and 2. The Roman Empire was already in decay when Christianity was ushered in, and it was no coincidence that some spiritual opium was needed to quieten the slaves against revolt

In the middle ages the church controlled most of the land. This meant that they had a considerable amount of real economic control in their hands, for under feudalism he who controlled the land controlled most of what was on it. Of more recent times we have seen the power of the Catholic political parties in pre-Nazi Germany, Spain, France, Austria, etc. The controlling of education by the Church, and antagonism to divorce, contraception, etc.

When capitalism was beginning to expand, missionaries played a very important part in paving the way for the trade that was to come, and often in a very crude way. The African natives who were discovered in a state of nakedness, were told by the missionaries that God frowned on such things, and that to be a good Christian one should at least cover the genitals. But the natives had no clothes with which to gain the favours of God; they only had bars of Gold, diamonds and ivory tusks. As chance would have it Lancashire had plenty of cheap pants and pyjamas in all the colours of the rainbow which no self-respecting Englishman would wear, not even in bed. Then guess what happened—yes trade started—and no wonder they called it the “Gold Coast” Where the missionaries didn’t conduct the trade themselves, it didn’t need a lot of imagination for an enterprising trader to follow the missionaries up.

“Look up to Heaven,” said the missionary to the native, and the latter did so. When he looked down again he found that his land was appropriated! As the Zulus say “When white man first came to us he had the Bible, and we owned the land. Now he’s got the land, and we’ve got the Bible.”

Of recent years Bishops and other church dignitaries have become in some cases fabulously rich, so rich that many have been able to invest thousands of pounds in armament firms. (See Alan Handsacre “The Revenues of Religion.”) In Russia we had many examples of millionaire priests investing sums as large as half a million roubles in Soviet War Bonds. This is strange in a country which not long ago was turning churches into anti-religious museums, and persecuting followers of all religions.

It is often argued that Jesus was a Socialist, and Keir Hardie stated that he learnt his socialism from the New Testament. The idea of the disciples having all things in common gives rise to this misunderstanding. Jesus could only have been a socialist if he and his disciples fished with a steam trawler in an environment in which capitalism had already developed. Nothing that Jesus was alleged to have said, makes him a socialist in any way. The whole essence of his teaching was to tolerate the unpleasant things of life for treasure to come in heaven. His whole teaching and prophesies were based on survival after death. We socialists want to survive before death, and to have our good time in this world which we know that we have to live and work.

There are plenty of arguments against religion, and they come from many angles. Perhaps the chief one is that religion is false, and because of this it discourages people from thinking. Socialism, unlike religion, needs understanding and not just believing. Well did Marx say “the criticism of religion is the beginning of all criticism” for when we come to realise that there is no subject so holy that we must not or dare not criticise, then we begin to look at everything critically and to accept nothing at its face value. Again Marx wrote “For too long has religion explained history, let us with history explain religion”!

Horace Jarvis

 

(Concluded.)

What is religion? - Part 7 (1954)

From the March 1954 issue of the Socialist Standard

Link to Part 6.

The Bible

The Bible is the most important book in the world if judged by its influence upon mankind. It is the source of all our knowledge of God, Christ, and the background of Christianity. Thousands of men have wasted their lives in reading and re-reading it, learning to recite parts of it, repeating it dozens of times and holding discussions on its thousands of meaningless phrases. True there are some good things in it but they are so mixed up with and adulterated by nonsense, that its net value to the human race, if judged on the whole, can only be to its detriment. It is because of the interpretation of some of its phrases that many men have been put to death by the cruellest means of being burnt alive, or starved to death in jails. Much blood has been shed over the interpretation of the scriptures.

The main argument against the Bible is that it certainly is not the word of God, or men inspired by God, and that it contains a host of stupid mistakes, useless ideas, and accounts which can only spread ignorance and confusion. Those who accept the Bible as the word of God or as their guide to life would do well to consider some of these examples.

In Genesis Ch. 1 we are told that animals were made before man, while in Ch. 2 we are told that man was made first and the animals afterwards. Both these accounts cannot be right. As Socialists we know that both are wrong for creation itself is a false theory, no matter which way round it was supposed to have gone.

That God, after making animals and man and peopling the earth with everything that was pleasant and nice, decided to destroy it all, is a peculiar act for an almighty God. Especially if we bear in mind that he knew everything in advance and therefore must have known that Adam and Eve would sin and the devil would triumph and he would have to drown the whole world and start again with Noah and his family. Why did he not start with Noah and Co. in the first place? Millions of innocent animals were sent to an untimely grave through no fault of their own, but by their own creator.

Noah was first told to put two of each animal in the Ark (Genesis Ch. 6 verse 19) and afterwards to put seven of each into the ark (Genesis Ch. 7 verse 2). How all these thousands of animals could be packed into a small boat does not need to be carefully analyzed. All the food needed for these animals and the enormous quantity of excreta deposited in the ark must have made things a little unpleasant for Noah and his family. Where all the rain came from—for it covered the Earth including Mt. Everest, and where all the water disappeared to is problem enough to bamboozle all the clerks of the weather that have ever existed.

We are told that David was a man after God's own heart, and he was in direct descent between Adam and Christ, yet this David (King David it was) amused himself climbing upon the roof of Uriah's house to watch Uriah’s wife bathing. As Uriah was one of his soldiers the Bible tells us how David sent Uriah to fight in the hottest battle in order that he might get killed, while he, the great King David, carried on his interesting occupation undisturbed and committed adultery with her. II Sam. Ch. XI verses 2-1$. Not exactly the correct conduct for a man after God's own heart.

In the first book of Samuel Ch. 18 verse 27 is an account of David having killed 200 Philistines, cut off their foreskins and giving them to Saul in exchange for his daughter Michal for a wife.

The book of Ecclesiastes is said to have been written by an unbeliever because it “lets the cat out of the bag," in Ch. 9 verse S which states “ the dead are dead, they know no more, neither will they have any reward!”

If it is objected to that the Old Testament is a little the worse for its age, let us look at the New Testament, for it contains the words of Christ, so it is alleged, although Jesus never wrote a word of it, nor did his disciples, who passed on to others his ideas by word of mouth and who succeeded admirably in getting the master’s ideas all mixed up and confused, as he being the Son of God knew full well they would before he died. One would have thought that if the whole thing is of any importance to the world and to mankind for generations to come, at least Christ would have written Ins own ideas down crystal clear so that they did not cause any confusion. If God has spoken then why is it that the world is not convinced?

The sermon on the mount is the star sermon, the Gettysburg address of the Bible, the greatest of all sermons preached by the greatest of men, in fact preached by God himself disguised as a man. In this sermon we find the philosophy of Christ, so let us pause and look at it Matt. Ch. 5 verse 29. "If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out and if thy right hand offend thee, cut it off." Such self-mutilation or self-surgery is a relic of the barbarous past and nobody today would attempt to follow it not even the divines. Verse 40 (same chapter) states, "If any man sue thee at the law and take away thy coat, give him thy cloke also." In other words, if any man sues you for £100, insist on paying £200. "Take no account for your life what yea shall eat or what yea shall drink, or for your body what yea shall put on." Matt Ch. 6 verse 25. Just try to carry this out in practice and tomorrow you will be in the workhouse, in prison, in hospital, or in debt.

Another real truth, direct from the mouth of Christ. "Think not that I am come to send peace on earth, I come not to bring peace, but a sword. For I am come to set a man at variance against his father, a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law." (Matt. Ch. 10 verse 34.) Then if it was Christ's purpose to bring a sword and disturb the peace of the world, how much better would it have been for mankind if he had stayed away. If it was his avowed purpose to cause family quarrels, then mankind would have benefited by his absence. In one place he poses as the apostle of peace and good will, and in another place we find him declaring that his intentions were to disturb the peace. Can we from this conclude that the Bible is the word of God divinely inspired and suitable for. man's guidance?

St. Matthew was one of Christ’s disciples, and yet he never had the idea that it was necessary to believe anything to go to heaven. “Blessed are the peacemakers, blessed are the humble, the meek and the merciful, for they will have treasure in heaven.” All this suited the capitalist very nicely when they took over from feudalism, be humble and submissive, and put up with this "vale of tears” for treasure in heaven (but I want my treasure in this world).

When we come to St. Mark’s gospel we find “He that believeth will be saved, and he that believeth not shall be damned.” (Ch. 16 verse 16.). According to St. Matthew unbelievers will go to heaven, if there is such a place, but according to St. Mark we will not, and yet these two disciples were with Christ When we get to St. John’s gospel we find that everlasting fire is the punishment for not believing. St. Mark goes on to tell us “And these signs will follow those who believe. In my name will they cast out devils, and if they drink any deadly thing it will not hurt them.” Bring on your believer; I’ll not trouble him to cast out any devils, but drink just a wine glass full of sulphuric acid and if it does hurt him, then I should like to know how the conjuring trick is done.

What conclusions can we form from all this contradiction and confusion of ideas? There is only one answer, the Bible cannot be inspired, and as such it should be relegated to the place to which it rightly belongs alongside of many similar manuscripts. This would at least help to free many from the bondage of religious ties which is causing diem to read the Bible under the threat of God and with the glare of hell.

Horace Jarvis

 

(To be continued.)

What is religion? - Part 6 (1954)

From the February 1954 issue of the Socialist Standard

Link to Part 5.

Prayer gives some people relief, just as does swearing to others. Some prefer chain smoking or drinking to the point of getting drunk as the best means of drowning their sorrows. Apart from self-relief, prayers give to those who say them, an assurance which they seek. From this aspect it would appear to be somewhat similar to wishful thinking. Prayer may act psychologically like auto-suggestion, especially if it is applied to some aid which one requires for oneself,  as distinct from prayers for others, or prayers for better weather, etc.

As would be expected the priests were not slow to capitalise prayers and make a profession of saying them for others. The Catholic priests have been active at the game for centuries and have persuaded many a poor man to give his savings, as well as the rich to give large sums of money to the church, i.e., the institution or business of the priests. The saying of mass for the soul after death continued the good work paid for in advance by the living, or by his or her relatives. The priests are supposed to be especially good at saying prayers, writing them and reading them, and often learn Latin (the chief language of God) for that purpose. How God knows all the different languages and can understand millions of prayers uttered at the same time from dozens of different lands is one of those mysteries about which we hear nothing.

One would have thought that in a modern civilised community, run on mass production lines and the latest ideas of capitalism, machines would have been invented to say prayers by the million, by the pressing of a button. Especially would this be valuable during wartime, when prayer machines could work day and night asking for divine assistance for victory, or don't the ruling class believe in the usefulness of evoking God’s assistance at such a critical time?

When nations go to war they all claim that God is on their side; in the last war the Russians did not hesitate to call out the priests who had been in cold storage for some years. In the first World War the Germans made a great point of “Gott mit uns” but apparently after being so badly let down were very hesitant in evoking God’s assistance in the second war. No doubt the Christian clergy of the allies would jubilantly declare "that is why they lost.” The old dictum is still true, that "God is on the side of the big battalions” (or with the strongest armies), or u trust in God and keep your powder dry.” Since capitalism came into existence these later precepts have come to be the ones which have been followed very carefully, while too much reliance on God to help is thought to be bad military strategy.

“God heard the embittered nations pray and shout 

God this, God that, and God the other thing,

‘ Good God,’ said God, 'I’ve got my work cut out’.”

If, as the Christians tell us, God knows everything, then prayer is merely telling God what God already knows. In which case it is a sheer waste of time on the part of those who offer them, as well as a distracting force to God. On the other hand if they are trying to persuade God to do something which he has no intentions of doing, then prayer is wicked, because it attempts to alter God’s infallible intentions. They can’t have it both ways.

Horace Jarvis

 

(To be continued.)

What is religion? - Part 5 (1953)

From the December 1953 issue of the Socialist Standard

Link to Part 4.

The Inspired Books

Most religions have their literature which is their source of all knowledge and wisdom, and their declaration of principles. The claim is always the same that this inspired book, work, or collection of' writings, is holy, immaculate, infallible, beyond reproach, and the only truth—in fact it is God’s word. Naturally the followers of one book will tell you that all the other books claiming to be inspired are quite false.

The book with which we are mostly concerned is the Bible, and although written between 1700 and 2700 years ago, this antiquated book of the dead has still a profound influence upon the living, as those who have had occasion to go to court know, and many who wanted a divorce have experienced, apart from the role it plays in general education of children, references in the press and on the radio, and its effects upon society. No Bible, then no Jesus, no miracles, no after life, no prayers, and all the rest of it. Our present ideas of Christianity spring from the Bible. If that is not the word of God, if it is not infallible, if it is not perfect and free from contradiction, then its value is limited as with other books, and this means that it could not have been inspired. We shall deal with the Bible in more detail in another article.

Other religions have similar books or writings. The Mohammedans have their Koran which according to Mohammed was given to him already completed and perfect, by an angel who swooped down from the clouds while Mohammed was strolling in his garden. There is the Zend Avesta of Zoroastrianism, the Vedas of the Hindus, the classical writings of Confucius may also be included, and many of the lesser religions have their Bibles.

None of these books can have any claim to have been written by a god or gods. All of them are clearly the writings of uninspired men, and all of them are full of contradictions, errors, absurdities, and the accepted ideas of the times in which they were written. Surely we are entitled to expect that inspired writings should contain ideas at least a little in advance of their time.

As many of the ruling class (as well as many of the working class) accept in the nominal Christian countries the Bible, we ought to examine it carefully, and if it is holy, wonderful, immaculate, and infallible we shall not fail to discover it. If on the other hand we find that it is full of mistakes, and contradictions, then the whole of the Christian fabric which7 is built upon the Bible as its premises, is like a house built on sand.

In the pamphlet “Socialism and Religion” published by the Party in 1911, and reprinted in 1925 and for many years now out of print, on page nine we find, “The fundamental idea of religion is a belief in the persistence of life after death.” It is true that belief in life after death does constitute one of the fundamentals of religion, but not the only one.

Man does not want to die, not even members of the working class with all the privations to which they are subjected. As far as we know primitive man did not want to die, save in exceptional circumstances. When primitive man dreamt that his lost companions were still living, as far as he could ascertain, for he saw them again, spoke to them again, hunted and fished with them once more (in his dreams that was—but he did not know he was dreaming). What more natural thing was it for him to assume than that he had another life, another self, somewhere else “on the astral plane, or in the third dimension,” as some crack-pots would say. It was always a question of mystery of death and of dreams, and naturally he linked them together. Ghosts were everywhere, nightmares were a regular occurrence and most disturbing. The anger of gods was being constantly aroused, religion was in the making in an environment full of superstition and ignorance.

Why then is it that so many people believe in life after death in these days, when we have learnt so much about the origin of religion? We might as well answer that we have learnt a lot about capitalism, but millions are still deluded by it Those who accept the "afterlife belief” today, whether in the ancient Christian form, or the more modem spiritualists’ form of survival, do so because of their explicit belief in the Bible and the existence of God or gods which dominate nature and rule the universe. All our earlier knowledge of survival if it can so be called knowledge, came from the Bible direct, except that which was disseminated by priests who in their turn got it from the Bible. Therefore if we want to follow the matter to its logical conclusion we must consider this profoundly important book from which arises the ideas of life after death.

The Bible certainly promises life after death, in several places, in fact that is the purpose of believing and the reward for believing. The Bible also tells us that it is “all up” with the grave. Ecclesiastes Ch. 9 verse 5 for instance “For the living know that they shall die; but the dead know not anything, neither have they any more a reward; for the memory of them is forgotten." This reads strangely alongside the many better known verses such as "He that believeth and is baptised shall be saved; He that believeth not shall be damned.” The latter offers both a reward for believing and a punishment for not believing, so you can take your choice, but don’t say you have not been warned! We shall deal with the Bible in more detail later on, meanwhile most of us living under capitalism find it hard enough to survive before death, leave alone afterwards.

Horace Jarvis

 

(To be continued.)

What is religion? - Part 4 (1953)

From the November 1953 issue of the Socialist Standard

Link to Part 3.

Miracles

The poet Shelley wrote “Only impossible things are miracles, therefore we know that they did not happen because they are impossible." Nothing that is ordinary or possible is a miracle. People who escape street accidents, or have narrow escapes in war or industrial accidents and are not killed or injured, should not claim that they have had a “miraculous escape.” No miracle occurs or could have occurred in connection with such events. If water gets turned into wine or runs uphill voluntarily, if dead men rise from their graves, or virgins give birth to babies—then all these constitute miracles—but not in having a narrow escape from death or injury. The two kinds of phenomena are quite different In the case of miracles the laws of nature, hitherto so immutably harmonious, suddenly and without cause undergo a violation and contradict everything which has gone before. For example the turning of stones into bread, or the feeding of thousands of people on two loaves and five fishes. The modern usage of the word miracle is very misleading and has nothing to do with these biblical and religious absurdities that have been alleged to have happened in the days when religion had growing pains.

Every religion has its lists of attested miracles and its quota of blind believers who accept the whole lot, lock, stock and barrel, without evidence or without wanting evidence. In fact they are usually offended if you offer them any evidence to the contrary. If proof is asked for about these miracles, it is not forthcoming, for the very good and simple reason that there is not a shred of evidence for any miracle. Of course one cannot prove negatives, and therefore it cannot be proved that some phenomena did not at one time occur, but the onus of proof falls upon the shoulders of those who claim these absurdities.

If we look at things from a strictly logical angle we must ask, is it more possible that Balaam’s ass spoke, or that a man told a lie? Is it more possible that Joshua’s trumpets blew down the walls of the city of Jericho—or that somebody exaggerated? The religious believer accepts the former, while the non-believer, the materialist, the socialist, the latter.

When radio-active substances were first discovered, it was soon made known to the world that the spring which supplied the holy water at Lourdes, was radioactive. Strange how those in control and in communication with the Almighty did not know this before' this scientific discovery. When a party of scientists visited the spot and tested the water, they found that it was just the ordinary water of the district, and contained no special medicinal or radio-active quality. An unfriendly visitor to Lourdes once declared that it would constitute no more of a miracle for a one-legged man to grow another leg than for hundreds of those who were alleged to have thrown away their crutches and become healed. We do not say that among these cases, there have not been those who have made through faith a profound recovery from functional disorders, but many of them were victims of "organic” conditions in which nothing short of growing a new limb could have brought about a cure.

Apart from the Catholic countries, Italy, Spain, Austria, France, etc., the only place where miracles are supposed to occur is in the U.S.A. Every few weeks a new religion is founded or a revised version of an old one is resurrected. Usually a child sees the Virgin Mary in an isolated village where life is very drab and the people starved for excitement and where the local newspapers have little sensational to offer. So the local journalists get down to it and an exaggerated write-up is given of some ghost-seeing event. The result is that the newspaper sales go up, hotels benefit, shops get record sales, churches, chapels and other local businesses including the pubs get a good rake off it, and all because of the flood of visitors into the village.

Generally speaking, "the age of miracles" is past. God who used to reveal himself to mankind at frequent intervals in his busy life, seems to have got fed up with it. He may of course be genuinely too busy, or he has concluded that his presence only convinces the lesser-educated with stultified powers of perception.

Seriously, the basis for miracles has largely been destroyed as a result of the better understanding of mankind generally. It doesn’t take a lot of scientific knowledge to understand the absurdities behind the claims of any miracle.

Horace Jarvis

 

(To be continued.)

What is religion? - Part 3 (1953)

From the October 1953 issue of the Socialist Standard

Link to Part 2.

Causes of Belief in God

The causes of belief in God or gods are usually to be found in fear and ignorance or a combination of both. It is quite easy to imagine how primitive man feared all the things he could not understand; natural phenomena as exemplified in volcanoes, earthquakes, storms at sea, forest fires, pestilence, plagues and disease. None of these things could he understand or explain with his limited knowledge.

The phenomenon of death was always a puzzle to mankind, especially was this the case when one lost friends with whom one had hunted, fished, talked to, etc., and when, without apparent warning, all this happy association ceased. The once animated body, pulsating with life and energy, suddenly became lifeless, cold and still. It was just as impossible for them to explain this strange affair as it is for a young child to understand that people die. Added to this came dreams in which primitive man found himself again in the company with those who had died and whom he had buried. What was the explanation of this strange happening? Little did early man realise that he had been dreaming; the same with a young child who awakes after a nightmare. He knew or believed that he had been fighting wild animals, or enemies, and with those of his companions he had recently buried. When after such a dream he awoke—what could he possibly conclude ? The idea of another self which did things on some occasions was probably one of the earliest ideas of a soul, and in this case it wasn't schizophrenia. While he was alive, i.e., awake and conscious, he knew he was alive, and yet in some unexplainable way he came into contact with those he knew or thought were dead and buried.

It is well known that indigestion causes nightmares, especially that variety of indigestion that follows feasting that all primitive races indulged in between the periods of famine and semi-starvation. When a large animal was captured for food it had to be eaten while “the going was good," for it would not keep long, and the next meal might be a few days off.

The habit of burying the dead is thought to have taken origin not from hygiene, but for the purpose of preventing the spirit of the dead from haunting the living. Hence they drove thick sticks or stakes into these bodies to hold them down (so that they wouldn't roam at night), and piled heaps of heavy stones on them, again for the same purpose. The latter was the forerunner and origin of the tombstone and the coffin.

When priests arrived on the scene at a later stage, they were not slow to capitalise these fears and dreams of early man, although they in their turn could no more explain them than could the rest.

The first gods (corpse worship) were made as effigies of the dead, especially the dead chiefs and leaders of the tribe, and the best warriors. The gods of the black races were black, with short black curly hair like those who made them. Where the races had long hair and painted skins, so, too, were the gods made. The gods of the Chinese were yellow-skinned and with slit-like eyes of their makers. Truly did man create his gods in his own image.

With the making of the gods the god business grew up with the priests as leaders, skilled in tribal magic. It was only necessary for them to possess a little knowledge above the average, or to pretend to possess it. No doubt the only knowledge some of the first priests had was that they knew that there was by bluff prestige and power to be obtained from the god business. Savages and primitive man were very credulous, seldom doubting, hence credulity became a vice, not a virtue, for religion to take root in. Believing without evidence or against evidence is the negation of thinking and logic. No wonder Marx wrote that “ the criticism of religion is the beginning of all criticism."

Horace Jarvis

 

(To be continued.) 

The Thinkers' Handbook: Review (1950)

Book Review from the October 1950 issue of the Socialist Standard

"The Thinker's Handbook: A Guide to Religious Controversy” by Hector Hawton, is published by Watts & Co. at 2/6d. With 250 pages of well-printed matter, a stout paper cover, ample index, and adequate bibliography, it would on these points alone rank as one of the cheapest books now on the market. The publishers claim that “in clear, simple language the best contemporary solution to problems that have baffled man from the dawn of reason are set out side by side in order that the reader may reach his own conclusions in accordance with the evidence.” 

The author deserves the thanks of serious students for having made a conscientious endeavour to carry out this claim; very rarely indeed is a statement of fact or opinion made without clear indication of source; attempted rebuttal on the religious side receives adequate. even generous quotations.

The book under review is a rich quarry for undisputed facts regarding the practice of prominent Christians. “Saint” is the highest title bestowed by the Church to a chosen few. On page 87, one reads that St. Augustine, a very pillar of Christian faith, “preached the damnation of unbaptised infants.” It may be added here that Pope and Saint Gregory I wrote letters of congratulation and other marks of honour to Phocus “a monster of vice and cruelty.” This is regretfully admitted in “The Students’ Ecclesiastical History” Part 1, p. 493 (in many respects a Balaam’s Ass in reverse).

Students should do their best to get two books quoted by Horton placed in the public library. They will probably be surprised to find to what a scraggy anatomy Christian “belief” has been reduced. “Doctrine in the Church of England” is a frantic effort on the part of Archbishops Temple and Davidson and their fellow Vicars of Bray to reduce to some respectable shape, the irreconcilable “beliefs” of the official clerical crowd. The “preface” alone is revealing. “Christianity in the light of Modern Knowledge” (various authors) provides entertaining reading in every essay. “The Thinkers’ Handbook” quotes from Dr. Bevan’s essay “The death of Jesus was an unquestionable fact admitted by everybody.” Is “impudence” too strong a term to ascribe to this reverend guide of theological students?

All rationalists are aware that persecution has been one of the high notes of Christian theology, the bitterest antagonisms being among rival schools of thought. Crude persecution has practically ceased, but on p. 190, of “Whither Theology?” (is quoted) the author (W. W. Robinson) claims that “The Fall” is “truth couched in symbolic form, and can only be denied by those who deliberately close their eyes to facts.” Does it require much penetration to sense here the old roaring persecutor doing his best to nightingale the roar? The ghost of the Inquisitor is not completely laid. “ Deliberately ”!

Just one suggestion; Could a future edition of Horton’s book contain some reference to the part played in the religious tragicomedy by sheer greed on the part of Church and State, and, more important still, the base part played by churches in support of the State? The saintly grovellers under the foot of a Constantine, of a Clovis, a Bluff King Harry, deserve some mention, as does the patron, if uncanonised saint of Protestantism, the baleful Luther.

“Thinkers Handbook” marks a big advance in rationalised literature; Herbert Spencer’s silly “Unknowable” is quietly by-passed; apologetic “agnosticism” whether of the order of T.H. Huxley or of Aldous Huxley receives cool attention.

The emphatic recognition of Marx as a powerful opponent of religious thought is welcome; there is a valuable extract (p. 134) from Marx’s "Introduction to a Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of Law.” Above all, readers will be introduced to the flaming torch which Marx, pausing a moment from relatively dry (essentially necessary) exposition of Socialist economics, threw into the camp of all and sundry religionists. Here it is: “ The religious reflex of the real world can only finally vanish when the practical relations of everyday life offer to man none but perfectly intelligible and reasonable relations with regard to his fellow men and to nature.” (“Capital” Vol. 1, p. 51 Kerr’s edition).

The general reader interested in politics and religion will enjoy “The Thinkers’ Handbook’’—the Socialist should certainly add the book to his library, read it through at leisure once, and then compile his own Index, choosing first the chapters which have interested him most. Amen !

Augustus Snellgrove

Who spread Christianity (2026)

Book Review from the June 2026 issue of the Socialist Standard

Domination : the fall of the Roman empire and the rise of Christianity. By Alice Roberts. Simon and Schuster, 2025. ISBN 9781398510081

In the foreword of this book, the author explains that she became interested in ‘whether we can trace the spread of ideas and beliefs through changes in material culture’ and also how did ‘Christianity reach the West’ and become a dominant idea over such a wide region from its western Asian origins. Her account rebuts any idea that evangelist saints spread the religion solely through their faith or the inherent correctness of their ideas.

As she notes, she had to check herself from thinking about Christianity as an ‘it’ as if it had agency, but instead ‘who had spread this religion. Who, how and why?’ Throughout the book she repeatedly corrects herself, and although she never expressly describes her method as materialist, nevertheless, she does give a clearly materialist account of how real individuals in concrete situations found that what they perceived as their best interests was to produce, reproduce, spread and adhere to the ideas of what is now known as Christianity.

Possibly this book was intended as a treatment or idea for a television series, as it follows the format typical of modern history series, moving from one location to another, in this case from South Wales, to Brittany, to Rome and eventually to Constantinople (although her account does not stretch as far back as the foundation of Christianity itself in the Levant). The reader can picture her striding determinedly past ruins and archaeological digs, and in musty museums looking at the artefacts she discusses.

Accompanying that is a bit of showmanship as she purports to be ‘astonished’ by what she found, as if uncovering some ancient mystery Scooby Doo style. Her claim is that Christianity never was an anti-establishment religion, and that, indeed, its spread was very establishment indeed.

She begins with the evangelist saints who came to post-Roman Britain. She notes that Christianity had already been here as part of Roman culture, and many of these saints were members of elites who had what amounted to a traditional Roman education. The very prominence of these saints was connected with the relative power of churches, places of pilgrimage and the peoples associated with them.

As she notes, in the collapsing Roman Empire, wealthy and powerful families sought to protect their interests by sending sons off for education, and then ensuring their placement as bishops in the church, with the command of land, money and status that brought. This came about, in part, because of the charitable role that the church established for itself as it grew in Rome, supporting widows and orphans; and also providing some of the civil bureaucracy of running regional centres within the empire. As a part of this, the church obtained incentives through tax breaks.

The church had grown within a small and mobile professional class, as it spread through the Roman world. It was never a majority in that world, but plague and financial stresses on the empire may have helped it grow, with its institutionalised resilience alongside its doctrines of salvation and life eternal. It became, as she says, a business of charity.

It was Constantine, an emperor proclaimed in York, who further institutionalised Christianity by making it the official religion of the empire. Roberts doesn’t resolve whether Constantine was a Christian by conviction, but she does note how his rhetoric shifted as he defeated his rivals within the empire, adopting Sun cults and eventually Christian attributes in a traditional imperial display of divine favour for his rule. The suggestion seems to be that, as he consolidated his power, it became useful to tap into the institutionalised networks of Christianity.

To that end, he convened the Council of Nicea, which organised and collated the doctrines of the previously dispersed and differing (and thus bickering) Christian communities, to make a single doctrine and a state religion. As Roberts notes, the fine hair-splitting about whether Jesus existed before his birth, or was of one being with God, became a means of organising factional fights within the Church, which could spill into civil disorder, as it had in Alexandria. Obviously, the idea of one god over everyone appealed to the one emperor of such a diverse and far-flung empire.

In her final analysis, she contends that ‘in a very real way, the Empire became the Church’. The church then became the way that the empire survived its collapse. This is a very readable cross-discipline account of the way that the church grew and became the thing we know today. The metaphor of a business model that she uses throughout is very useful.

If there are any weaknesses, they may lie in sidelining the ideas. As other authors note, one tool the church used was a command of rhetoric and logic: creating effective and plausible arguments would have been an advantage: a business model needs a good sales pitch, and some of those doctrinal disputes may well have had a practical effect on the way the pitch landed.

Pik Smeet

Letter: Mitres and miracles (1948)

Letter to the Editors from the June 1948 issue of the Socialist Standard

We publish below a letter from Lord Amwell criticising the article published in the February issue. A reply by the writer of the article follows the letter.

“Mitres and Miracles” in the February number of The Socialist Standard presents itself to me as a contradictory hotch-potch of old and new in quasi-scientific jargon. I hold no brief on behalf of either mitres or miracles but I am interested in the desirability of keeping socialist education free of meta-physical entanglements. Your correspondent, F.F., seems to think that scientific “explanation” consists in giving commonplace happenings ponderous names. He reminds me of famous humourist’s account of why cooks love policemen and of Pavlov’s cutting a dog’s throat, for the insertion of an instrument to prove the canine equivalent of our dressing for dinner (if we do) when we hear the first gong.

Thus: kissing is not a spiritual impulse causing physical effects, but physical attraction evoking emotional response. The writer issues a form of words which entirely begs the question with an air (I beg pardon, a response!) of devastating finality. Spiritualists do the same kind of thing I know, but F.F. is not thereby excused. Attraction and response are, of course, the questions begged.

Call kissing an emotional response and licking one’s chops a conditioned reflex and there you are ! It follows then that material nature “makes” a man wear a hat to keep his head warm even if he isn’t a miller and the hat isn’t white. This, despite the fact that a few paragraphs ahead “material nature” becomes only a “supposed reality” which no philosopher or scientist has yet discovered. We are told in the language of the black-cat-in-a-dark-room merchants, and as if it were a new proletarian truth, that reality is “behind” phenomena, for all the world as if if were a bishop telling us that God is “behind ” material nature. How a “supposed” reality “makes” or “evokes” anything at all is a puzzle, but perhaps F.F. means that phenomena is sufficient to do the trick and reality isn’t really behind nature at all and wouldn’t be wanted if it were.

When bishops talk stuff of this feeble order they are supposed to be after four-figure salaries for their doping the proletariat and I should have thought that rotundity of words to hide a bellyful of ignorance would be no appropriate recourse of a class-conscious prophet even though so desperately anxious to show that man makes his own history by allowing material nature to make it for him, the said man not appearing to belong to material nature after all!

Matter and Force, says F.F., are one and the same thing. Hardness is no longer due to solidity. Electrons are points of force moving at incredible speeds. All of which, if said a hundred years ago, would have given Engels a perfectly Victorian fit, The “older materialistic theory,” just as dogmatically acclaimed, has been given the new look, but although according to F.F. we know nothing about reality we do know that mind is “merely” the function of a physical organ just as digestion is a function of the stomach, though the famous liver and its bile is given the go-by. Bishops are “driven back” on the mind because they cannot establish that spirit is anything but matter. Yet matter is nothing but force (meaning, I suppose, energy) and bishops are therefore supposed to believe, that force, qua spirit, is a separate entity waiting round the corner to give force, qua matter, one in the eye.

Doesn’t F.F. know that it is a cardinal principle of episcopal mythology that God is a spirit that exists in totality at every point in space including that occupied by the “force” which is “matter.” What it means I don’t know, but I also don’t know what F.F. means. I know only that F.F. is quite at sea about what educated Christians believe. They don’t believe, for instance, that mind is necessarily independent of matter, though they believe with Freud that mind is not necessarily dependent upon brain. F.F. has defined matter as force; it is he alone who segregates physical force in a completely unscientific way, having to invent “thinking” matter by making the assumption that molecules of carbon and phosphorous, take on a special nature for psychic purposes. It is the materialist who “separates” matter and mind into cause and product, not the opposite metaphysician. And if this is too abstract it isn’t my fault.

As an example of the lamest of limping logic take F.F.’s dictum that before the clergy talk of mind influencing matter they must establish it as a fact that mind is different from matter and independent of it. Turn this the other way round. Is a bishop entitled to argue that before a materialist talks about matter not merely influencing but creating mind he must first establish it as a fact that matter is different from mind and independent of it? If not, why not? The fact is that F.F. is quite unfamiliar with the ontological issues involved or he would not have fallen into such an inept pit.

In calling J. B. S. Haldane to his aid F.F. is on dangerous ground, for Haldane is a “new” materialist sans bustle or side-whiskers. He no more believes that mind is comparable to colly-wobbles or that thinking is a kind of cranial atomic jitterbugging than I do. Haldane even advances the theory that a future life, or “something hardly to be distinguished from it,” is a logical necessity of modern materialism.

The fact is, as F.F. hints, that the whole question has been, as they say, reorientated. It is useless to ignore this. It is deplorable to admit it, as F.F. does, and then drag in all the old clichés as it nothing had happened. Of course materialism stands—backside foremost—but who’s afraid? The one-time big black wolf frightens no bishop. Once identify matter with force, and the old-fashioned logic-chopping about “interaction” and what not is well and truly snookered. There cannot be varieties of “force.” F.F. should brush up his physics. If matter is force, so is mind, and no bishop could say more.

When F.F. tells me as a revolutionary and emancipating truth that I am something like my viscera, I can only remark that if this is true even the most scientific individual of us must think as his belly guides him. What exact reliance can be placed on the ratiocination of livers and lights or even cortex and thalomus I don’t know and hate to think of for the sake of my respect for scientists if not for the sake of my respect for bishops. And don’t give me the guff that brotherly love flowers exclusively on the secular fig tree. Brotherly love, my hat !

F.F. should also brush up his theology before venturing again in furrin parts. Tommy Aquinas and Karl Marx would make an interesting combination.

Reply:

Lord Amwell professes to be concerned about a question begged. Has he ever done anything else but beg that particular question? He wants to keep socialist education free of metaphysical entanglements, then sets a metaphysical conundrum that everybody bye-passes, including himself. It is set in many forms: what is attraction? What is life? To push it farther back, what, is universal existence? What are these things in reality?

Some of the greatest thinkers of the past have wasted many of the best years of their lives puzzling over that question, with no result except idle speculations on imaginary things, or happenings beyond experience. The socialist accepts the world as he finds it, including the knowledge that comes to him through the senses. Aquinas, in the thirteenth century, laid it down that all knowledge begins with the senses, an elementary principle for correct thinking.

It was in the eighteenth century that Emanuel Kant contended that we only know the appearances, or phenomena, of a thing; never the thing in itself. Lord Amwell pours ridicule on the notion in the mistaken belief that he is crushing an opponent of his friends, the bishops. Kant’s famous speculation has got no farther. It is ignored by serious thinkers because it suggests something beyond experience, and because in everyday life, if we know the qualities of a thing, we know the thing in itself.

“Man makes his own history by allowing material nature to make it for him.” This statement gives a wrong conception of the position. Man acquaints himself with natural laws and their operation and then uses those natural laws to suit his purposes. The atom bomb is an example of this. As a part of universal existence man is compelled to observe natural laws. This also applies to the social forms that develop and has a particular significance for the socialist. At certain epochs the social arrangements develop to a point where they cause internal disruption. Today the means of production and distribution are socially operated by the working class but they are capitalist owned, and there is a conflict of interest set up between owners and dispossessed. The working out of social laws based upon private property has brought about this disharmony. Class antagonism within society operates against the well-being of mankind. The longer it continues the worse become the penalties for ignoring the law.

It is the scientist, Lord Amwell, who tells us all those details about atoms and electrons, not F.F. The information was passed on to the readers with the comment that the alleged discovery had made no difference to our previous conception of matter. Scientists and chemists still carried on with the table of elements and their relative weights just as they did before the discovery.

Again, Lord Amwell attributes to me the ridiculous statement that matter is force, not once but several times; whereas the only passage that justifies it is in quotes and was by Dr. Blunt. The fact remains we can only separate matter and force in the understanding, never in the laboratory or anywhere else. No scientist has ever abstracted the force, or if he prefers it the energy, from any substance, solid, liquid or gaseous, and left a residue of matter only. Nor could the reverse be accomplished, that is draw off the energy and bottle it.

Lord Amwell admits his inability to understand what educated Christians believe, or the cardinal principle of episcopal mythology, that God is a spirit existing in totality at every point in space. It means that the history of religion, in its essence, is traversing its final chapter. It has not yet discarded its spiritual God, but in the esoteric circles of educated Christians God is identical with the physical universe.

All the bishops, together with Lord Amwell, use the words mind and spirit alternatively as meaning the same thing. The word spirit, with its implications of a future life, independent of matter, must be merged into mind clothed with so-called spiritual qualities.

If spirit is only another name for mind the bishops have nothing to prove, but if they insist on the generally accepted meaning, a spiritual power independent of flesh and blood, the onus for proof is on them ; because it is their assertion.

Up-to-date physics will not answer his lordship’s question. But the knowledge as to how men do their thinking may. For instance, in the understanding they visualise a purpose in nature, and deduce a power controlling its fulfilment; after the same manner as man designs and carries through a work of art. But what purpose can there be other than infinite change? The world is in constant process of becoming something else. Its only purpose is existence. To say that the purpose of existence is existence may seem tautology, but not so in conjunction with infinite change.

If we know all the qualities of a thing we know the thing in itself. If we know how the universe works, we know the universe.

Amwell says next that “educated Christians don’t believe that mind is necessarily independent of matter. Though they believe that mind is not necessarily dependent on brain.” It’s a bit of a mix-up. Let us try and straighten it out, using the socialist method of approach. How does the brain work? Impressions are received and classified in the memory according to their association with previous conceptions. Throughout life the number of these impressions multiply enormously, and constitute a collection of memories on which we can. draw at will, though concentration is sometimes rendered difficult because much of this association goes on without conscious effort. Now, all our ideas come to us through the senses, therefore our apparent freedom of choice can only be exercised within the realms of experience. So we draw the conclusion that mind is dependent on brain, plus all the other parts of nature of which we have experience, for the materials on which it functions. If that is what educated Christians mean when they say “mind is not necessarily dependent on brain,” we can only ask: what has happened to the spirit? Their only answer is that it, “exists in totality at every point in space.” In other words; it is just universal existence.

One other point for our critic. We are only secularists in the sense that the materialist, explanation of the history of religion is part of the materialist conception of history as a whole. The greater includes the less. If the secularist accepts evolution in the physical world, he has failed to apply it to social science. He has not always recognised the conflicting interests and class antagonism in society. He only sees the confusion that is wrought in men’s minds by superstition. We are not blind to its stultifying effects. That is why we accept its challenge whenever it attempts to use science to bolster up its lies.

F. Foan