All in the Mind: A Farewell to God, by Ludovic Kennedy (Hodder and Stoughton) £18.99. Reviewed by Alison Webster.
Sometimes people write books as therapy. Sometimes this produces brilliance; sometimes it produces work which mixes poignancy with cringing over-simplicity. To be charitable, Ludovic Kennedy’s All in the Mind falls into the latter category.
Written “for doubters everywhere”, All in the Mind says all it needs to say in the introduction. Telling the story of his father’s death in the war, Kennedy says “...I was too overcome by the trauma of it (for I loved him dearly) to consider it objectively. But when, soon afterwards, I attended a church service in my own ship and heard again the navy’s prayer with its plea to preserve us from the violence of the enemy, it sounded depressingly hollow. It was, I had to admit, absurd of me to think that prayers to the Almighty could have any influence on the outcome of events which could not be predetermined”.
Kennedy’s is a moving story of a loss of faith at a time when “atheism” was anathema for those of a certain social class in British society. He clearly bears the scars of that. Yet his attempt to “work this through” via this act of writing results in a product which is episodically powerful, but mostly just embarrassing.
The most interesting chapter of the book, for me, is the one in which he explores the history of atheism in Britain. He recounts the tale of Margaret Knight’s BBC lectures, Morals without Religion, which as late as 1954 caused a furore. He quotes the Daily Express: “Don’t let this woman fool you...She looks - doesn’t she - just like a typical housewife; cool, comfortable, harmless? But Margaret Knight is a menace. A dangerous woman...The misguided BBC have allowed a fanatic to rampage along the air lanes, beating up Christianity with a razor and a bicycle chain.”
No, I don’t understand the bicycle chain bit either. This hysterical response is probably as much to do with the fact that Margaret Knight was a woman having the audacity to express an opinion as anything else. Yet the fact that the suggestion that one can be moral without being religious caused such consternation as late as 1954 is quite amazing. We need to be reminded of this story, and of the fact that it is so recent.
The rest of the book, though, is sadly predictable. If you are likely to be shocked or surprised by the fact that religious people have persecuted one another in the most barbaric ways; have resisted change and innovation in every sphere of life; have believed six - and many more than six - impossible things, not just before breakfast but before dinner and tea as well, and imposed them in the most oppressive ways on just about anyone over whom they have had a modicum of power - then you may find something new in this book. For most of us, though, this is old news.
We know all this. We know that Christians have defended the most ridiculous forms of biblical literalism and the most ridiculous historicities. We know that religion can be absurd and irrational. But above all else, we know that these aspects are most effectively critiqued by those who are most familiar with them: who know the mind-set inside out.
Though full of rhetoric, Kennedy’s critique lacks humour, lacks rigour and lacks bite. This is odd, for one would have thought that after years of making it his primary business to critique religion, he would have become pretty good at it. But no. Kennedy seems curiously unfamiliar with the subject of his critique. Given that he is a phenomenally intelligent and articulate man, this must be the result of a wilful refusal to familiarise himself with Christianity. He critiques Sunday School religion, not Christianity in its complex and nuanced forms. And that’s no help to us.
This book feels like a personal vendetta. Sadly, these are old scores being settled by an old man who feels he hasn’t long for this world. I admire Ludovic Kennedy, and I had hoped for more.