Theology for Changing Times is a diverse collection of essays by different authors, all responding to a greater or lesser extent to the work of John Atherton, who died in 2016. Atherton was one of the leading practitioners of his generation when it came to Anglican ‘public theology’, part of a tradition that included William Temple and Ronald Preston, and is now represented by Malcolm Brown and others.
It is rather a piece-meal book and, for me, it did not really in the end describe a coherent or systematic Anglican method for doing public theology, or for engaging theologically with themes such as the economy and enterprise – perhaps this is impossible or even undesirable. However, it conveys in a hopeful and optimistic way the challenge of the task, and illustrates convincingly the kinds of ways in which the Church (perhaps especially the Church of England) might continue to engage in this ministry. Taken as a whole, it captures well the importance of the Anglican “public theology” tradition, as well as the sense that the Church of England increasingly has other preoccupations, perhaps more focused on the perceived need to attend to internal, rather than ‘public square’, matters. It also contains a good number of valuable nuggets.
There are twelve chapters, the first and last being provided by the editors, Christopher Baker and Elaine Graham, in traditional festschrift style. These set out a clear description of Atherton’s programme, using summary statements such as this 1992 description of Christian social thought: ‘A dynamic interaction between the understanding of God’s purposes mediated through Christian tradition, but equally through the secular realities of life’ (page 7). Such an approach allows for collaboration with people of all faiths and none, and sketches out a ‘big picture’ way of doing public theology which takes seriously inter-disciplinary studies. Atherton was deeply familiar with the study of economics, history and politics, as well as theology.
For those interested in the work of the Centre for Enterprise, Markets and Ethics, the section in Chapter One on the Morality of the Market (pages 10-14) will be of particular interest. This covers themes such as human flourishing, the problem of scarcity, the role for the market, questions of interconnection and integration, as well as Atherton’s attempt to use the language of transfiguration when it comes to describing Christianity’s potential effect on the market. Although Atherton strained some of his personal friendships with his increasingly broadly sympathetic stance towards the market economy, I found myself wondering at one or two points whether he was really willing to work with the raw competitive power within it. In more general terms, the well-made point in the Chapter Twelve ‘Afterword’, that the Holy Spirit is bigger than the Church, even while the Church is a necessary part of the picture, serves as a kind of framework or backdrop for the entire Athertonian approach.
Chapter Two is a revised version of an Atherton article published in Sweden in 2017, being one of the last things he wrote. It contains some fascinating economic history, and espouses a desire to develop a theological methodology that can be fit for purpose in the face of ever-increasing economic change. I was struck by how ‘secular’ this chapter was; the themes of change and progress were presented through the lens of economic history, which raised questions for me about other ways of describing growth and ‘pilgrim’s progress’, which seemed to be missing.
Chapter Three, by Hilary Russell, offers a warm appreciation of Atherton’s method and how it evolved over time. Complementing this is Peter Sedgwick’s piece (Chapter Four) on the ‘Manchester School’ of public theology, which involves the University, the Cathedral, and the William Temple Foundation. John Atherton embodied all of these aspects, and without him this ‘School’, or ‘story and a place’ (page 57) as Sedgwick prefers, might not have gained such prominence. Of interest here are the attacks on the ‘Manchester School’ approach by theologians such as the late John Hughes, springing out of the Hauerwas tradition which places more emphasis on ecclesial ethics.
Chapter Five, by Carl-Henric Grenholm (Atherton had strong links to academia in Sweden), addresses the question of globalization. It was pleasing to find Brian Griffiths, the Chairman of the CEME, mentioned as part of the discussion. Then Chapter Six, by Malcolm Brown, turns to the subject of Industrial Mission. Brown always writes clearly and engagingly, and his survey of the history of Industrial Mission in England is informative and set well within the bigger context of theological shifts.
Chapter Seven, from Ian Steedman, comes from a rather different perspective. Steedman is an economist, and as such is happy to argue for a place for efficiency – and to suggest that Atherton could accept this. However, the heart of Steedman’s discussion focuses on the role of advertising, and the way in which ‘wants’ are generated in the economy. I feel sure Steedman’s themes could be productively engaged with in a more theological way, exploring the place for persuasion and education within human interactions and the forming of societal norms.
In Chapter Eight, John Reader makes an attempt at wrestling with the consequences of the digital revolution, which he describes as ‘blurring the boundaries between the physical, digital and biological spheres.’ (page 110) I was pleased to find a section of this kind in the book, as otherwise it might have felt slightly behind the curve in terms of the impact of social media and other recent developments. Reader’s best elucidated comments connect to the significance of speed in economic life, and the loss of space for critical reflection and even silence.
William Storrar, in Chapter Nine, addresses the current ‘angry’ nature of public discourse. I learnt a great deal about Kant and his theories of ‘publicity’ and ‘transition’, by which a steady but slow formation of opinion and of the public view can come about. The need for a richer and more nuanced political discourse is argued for eloquently by Storrar, and his connection to the Manchester School’s ‘middle axioms’ is intriguing.
Chapter Ten, by Anna Ruddick, is focused on urban mission, and she draws approvingly on the Sam Wells ‘being with’ theme. Her definition of human flourishing stood out for me: ‘…a stronger love of self, a more positive approach to life choices, an increased ability to act, increasing awareness of a good God, and mutuality.’ (page143) Finally, Chapter Eleven, by Maria Power, concerns the need for a Roman Catholic public theology for Northern Ireland, and looks to resources within Atherton’s incarnational and practical methodologies.
My sense is that the ever-increasing pace of change within the economy and within politics will be a challenge for the kind of Public Theology done by the William Temple Foundation. The recent emergence of the HeartEdge network, led by St Martin-in-the-Fields, and which my own church is a member of, perhaps points to another model which is both theologically rich but also potentially more nimble and responsive. It would have been fascinating to ask John Atherton for his view on this initiative, which has only emerged since his death.
“Theology for Changing Times – John Atherton and the Future of Public Theology”, edited by Christopher R Baker & Elaine Graham was published in 2018 by SCM Press (ISBN-13: 978-0334056959). 192 pp.
Edward Carter is Vicar of St Peter Mancroft Church in Norwich, having previously been the Canon Theologian at Chelmsford Cathedral, a parish priest in Oxfordshire, a Minor Canon at St George’s Windsor and a curate in Norwich. Prior to ordination he worked for small companies and ran his own business.
He chairs the Church Investors Group, an ecumenical body that represents over £10bn of church money, and which engages with a wide range of publicly listed companies on ethical issues. His research interests include the theology of enterprise and of competition, and his hobbies include board-games, volleyball and film-making. He is married to Sarah and they have two adult sons.
Some of the most important conversations in Christianity today involve questions of justice and how Christians should not only respond as individuals and as members of the “holy catholic church” to injustice, but also be positive catalyst of just societies and social institutions. It is heartbreaking for those of us within the camp of Christianity to look into the past and see ways in which those who have come before in our tradition have sometimes actively contributed to injustice due to cultural blinders, a lack of familiarity with social or technological developments, or any number of other factors. Economic issues are no exception to this and in an age of unparalleled prosperity among some, there is no doubt that questions of justice as they relate to economics is a necessary part of this conversation. Barram is to be applauded for engaging in such a worthy dialogue.
In this work Barram begins by describing an emerging field in biblical studies that takes the name “missional hermeneutics.” Given that I am not a scholar in the field, I can attest that his discussion is helpful for the non-specialist and there are some aspects of this approach for which I have great enthusiasm. This approach recognizes that the church has a “calling as a community sent into the world to bear witness to God’s holistic purposes.” (page 25). Such a corrective is needed in all traditions as Christians often become narrowly focused on particular aspects of our mission to the detriment of others. It is also laudable that he turns to Scripture as a primary source of Christian formation. (page 12).
But not all that the author lays out is helpful in the analysis. Primarily I am referring to his advocacy for “the contemporary Christian community as the locus of biblical interpretation.” (page 33). I am always cautious to read such claims because, as Barram concedes, such claims often accompany a “loss of objectivity.” (page 34). It is not possible, as the author argues, to approach hermeneutics without bias influenced by time and space, but the solution is not to understand questions posed to Scripture as novel and therefore demanding a “new” interpretation. This approach seems to understand the Christian tradition as a strand of discreet epochs defined by the culture in which the church is immersed rather than an organic and interconnected flow of generations of the faithful in different times and places, which is inherent in the concept of catholicity. Making this assumption leaves open the grave possibility of introducing contemporary biases without any external referent to provide a corrective.
Serious moral reflection guided by biblical considerations is vitally important for Christians if the church is to be a vehicle for accomplishing God’s mission in the world. But the proper definition of the problems about which we reflect is the starting point for this reflection, and it appears in places that Barram makes assumptions that reveal a bias. In fact, his conclusion to the book states it clearly. He asserts that our “contemporary economic environment…encourage[s]” us to “choose death,” followed by a litany of caricatures of the positions held by proponents of free market capitalism. (page 241). At one point he even suggests that the biblical ideal is a communal Christian socialism, an idea that has been addressed and rebutted by a number of authors (page 165). The author also often uses terms critical to his arguments that are never clearly defined such as “justice” and “injustice” (page 120).
There is no doubt that there are excesses in our society that require moral and ethical correction, and for the Christian that correction should be rooted in Scripture. Barram makes these points well, but this project reads very much like a thinly veiled critique of market economics that never directly engages the field in an honest and fair way. As stated above, Barram does makes some accurate and important observations, but does not do quite as well in attempting to diagnose the root causes. But there are other sources from those within theological studies and the social sciences alike that more honestly and fairly examine the application of the biblical text to real and pressing social and economic problems.
Missional Economics: Biblical Justice and Christian Formation by Michael Barram was published in 2018 by Wm. B. Eerdmans (ISBN-13: 978-0802875075). 232pp.
Trey currently works for the First Liberty Institute, one of the the largest public interest law firms in the United States. He holds degrees in law, theology, and ethics and has worked as an attorney, educator, non-profit administrator, and pastor. He is the co-editor of Work in Christian Perspective (SCM, 2018), and the author of several articles, essays, and editorials on a wide range of topics. He has spoken around the world on issues as diverse as housing policy, philosophy of law, and religious freedom.
Many books about business management or corporate responsibility use historical situations to illustrate or, at least to the satisfaction of their authors, prove their theories. Quakers, Business and Corporate Responsibility adopts the opposite approach: it examines a particular historical model of business management and corporate responsibility (that of the Quakers) and seeks to draw conclusions and raise questions that are of wider relevance.
It comprises a collection of essays relating to Quaker business practices and their economic and social views, which cover “topics that encompass both a historical and contemporary perspective” (page 1). In particular, as its sub-title (“Lessons and Cases for Responsible Management”) implies, it seeks to address the question, “What are the insights for responsible business practice that may interest contemporary scholars and practitioners?” (page 1).
This may suggest that the book will not interest less specialist readers. However, any such impression would be misleading. There is plenty in the book to engage any intelligent reader who is interested in business and social issues. Several of the essays deal with narrow subject areas (e.g. Karen Tibbals’s essay on the Quaker Employer Conference of 1918, Sue Kozel’s essay on Thomas Jefferson and Paul Anderson’s essay on John Bellers) but all of the essays, even those of limited scope, raise important issues of continuing relevance and most reward careful reading and thought. For example, Anderson provides fascinating insights into the origins of Karl Marx’s views (which may be of greater relevance today than most people would have expected or desired a few years ago).
Many of the authors are Quakers and, in a few places, one may question whether they have been sufficiently critical of the group to which they belong. However, overall the book succeeds in its aim of presenting “a sympathetic, but not uncritical view” (page 2) and, by admitting the difficulties experienced by Quaker businessmen and politicians, assisting in consideration of the problems that face business and society as a whole today.
Books comprising collections of essays by different authors are almost always of uneven quality and this one is no exception. It has obvious weaknesses. There are some simple inaccuracies, such as the statement by Donncha Kavanagh and Martin Brigham that the business innovations pioneered by Quakers include bills of exchange (page 113): medieval Italian bankers would disagree! There are also some overstatements, such as the assertion that the Quakers held “the pre-eminent position” in the commercial world for much of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries (again in Kavanagh and Brigham’s essay, page 125) and the assertion that “Friends were far-sighted…. in anticipating centuries ago the importance of spirituality to every human being in all aspects of life including corporate life” (in Georgeanne Lamont’s essay, page 18): the pre-eminence of Quakers, whilst highly impressive, was in fact limited to certain business areas, such as banking and confectionary, and the application of spirituality to all areas of life was by no means a discovery of the last few centuries or one to which the Quakers can lay exclusive claim.
More seriously, whilst most of the essays proceed in a cautious and scholarly manner, carefully extracting tentative conclusions from their analysis, some appear to be squeezing the facts into a theory (e.g. Andrew Fincham’s competing values model, page 44) or drawing conclusions that relate only loosely to their analysis (e.g. Tibbals’s “Lessons for the Future”, page 75).
Some of the individual essays suffer from particular defects. In places, Lamont’s essay reads like an advertisement for her consultancy business, whilst Mike King, in his essay about the role of the state (“Honey I Shrunk the State”), self consciously presents his views as a middle course between extremes but defines those extremes (the views of Karl Marx and Milton Friedman, respectively) in such a way as to pre-determine a soft-left landing. He also fails to examine his unspoken assumption that the state can in fact deliver the benefits demanded of it (which history suggests it often cannot) and is prone to ex cathedra statements of a contentious nature (e.g. the statement that “The far-right libertarian assumes that the means of production can be conjured into existence by anyone if given sufficient freedom”, page 83; and his similarly unsupported statement that “the passage of time [has] endorsed the logic of Cadbury [i.e. an interventionist model] rather than Bright [i.e. a more free market approach]”, page 91).
Several of the essays also, rather irritatingly, assume that everyone agrees that “paternalism” (never defined) is a very bad thing without ever considering fairly the possibility that it was the right response to the conditions of the time. Fortunately, in his essay, Richard Turnbull spots this point and, in the context of his comments on voluntary societies, suggests that scholarly criticism of the power relationships, the paternalism and the guilt complexes of the middle class is unfair “not only because of a reading back of contemporary social values but also because it fails to recognise the real impact that such societies had” (page 106). As he then recognises, the spirit of this comment applies more generally to some of the criticism of Quaker businessmen.
Inevitably, the defects take some of the gloss off the book. However, it contains a considerable amount of fascinating and thought-provoking material. John Kimberley pithily and successfully rebuts the suggestion of Hobsbawm and Ranger that Quakerism is an ‘invented tradition’ and this paves the way for the essays that follow. Kavanagh and Brigham’s essay on “The Quakers and the Joint Stock Company”, despite the defects mentioned above, is particularly interesting. It provides a brief but fascinating overview of both Quaker contribution to business from the late seventeenth to the early twentieth centuries and of the history of the modern limited liability company. It should be of interest to anyone who would like to know a little more about these matters and to apply an historical perspective to challenge modern presuppositions about business organisation.
As might be expected of an essay from the Director of the Centre for Enterprise, Markets and Ethics, Turnbull’s essay, “Quakers, Free Trade and Social Responsibility”, performs a similar role. It begins by pointing out that there is “a conundrum” to be solved: Quaker businessmen “were compassionate employers with a genuine concern for their workforce” (page 106) yet Quakers opposed social legislation. For example, Joseph Pease and John Bright were among the leaders of the opposition to Ashley’s 1844 Factories Bill and (as King points out, page 82) Bright opposed legislation to combat food adulteration. Turnbull examines the beliefs and experiences of the Quakers, showing how these things may have led to the combination of paternalist concern and extreme libertarianism that was characteristic of Quaker thinking prior to the late nineteenth century. This leads to a conclusion that would have been suitable as a conclusion for the whole book: the Quaker businessman had many strengths; they “may not have been unique in [regard to their social concern], but that does not make them any less genuine” (page 106); some Quaker employers were more pioneering than others but, as a whole, they were among the pioneers of good employment practices; yet there were failures and blind spots of which “the most important one is the use of child labour in at least some Quaker factories against the increasingly prevailing national opinion” (page 107); more work needs to be done on specific companies but, overall, “We should neither condemn or whitewash” (page 107). We should learn!
“Quakers Business and Corporate Responsibility” edited by Nicholas Burton and Richard Turnbull was published in 2019 by Springer Nature Switzerland AG (ISBN – 13:978-3030-04033-8). 181pp.
Richard Godden is a Lawyer and has been a Partner with Linklaters for over 25 years during which time he has advised on a wide range of transactions and issues in various parts of the world.
Richard’s experience includes his time as Secretary at the UK Takeover Panel and a secondment to Linklaters’ Hong Kong office. He also served as Global Head of Client Sectors, responsible for Linklaters’ industry sector groups, and was a member of the Global Executive Committee.
James P. Bailey is Associate Professor of Theology at Duquesne University. In his book entitled, “Rethinking Poverty: Income, Assets, and the Catholic Social Justice Tradition”, James Bailey explores the political, social, and economic reforms that are needed to promote the alleviation of poverty. As the title may suggest, the book also incorporates Catholic social teaching on this issue.
Although the book shares the same title as Barry Knight’s Rethinking Poverty, Bailey’s argument takes a markedly different approach. He starts from the premise that the role of assets and asset-building has been vastly undervalued in the development of public policy on poverty and addressing the needs of the most vulnerable in society. His central argument therefore is that poverty “must be conceived more broadly in terms of both insufficient income and deficient assets. A robust, effective, and morally adequate response to poverty must go beyond traditional income-enhancement strategies to include complementary efforts aimed at enabling asset development in the poor” (pages 1-2). The book is structured in five chapters and it would be useful to touch upon some of the main points in each.
The first chapter lays out the broader contextual framework for the lack and necessity of asset-building for the poor. Bailey presents two main paradigms: the asset and the income paradigm. He rightly argues that for too long the welfare state and poverty alleviation initiatives have been defined in terms of income – i.e. what ‘goes in’ to a household, and too little emphasis has been placed on what remains in the household – i.e. assets and savings. Bailey argues that the goal therefore, is “developing a more permanent and enduring remedy to poverty, […] distinguishing asset-building approaches from other policy initiatives over the last thirty or forty years” (page 13).
The second chapter looks at asset-building for the poor in light of Catholic Social Thought. Catholic teaching benefits from a rich tradition of thought and discussions on public issues and this shows throughout the chapter. For instance, Catholic teaching stresses the importance and virtues of ownership. From Pope Leo XIII to John Paul II there has always been an explicit defence of the right to private property and the expansion of private ownership across the social classes (page 27). Bailey also touches upon several key concepts in Catholic thought such as, human dignity (page 44), the social nature of the person (page 46), the common good (page 49), and human freedom (page 50).
The third chapter provides an interesting discussion on the relationship between assets and human capabilities. It starts from the Church’s premise that the dignity of the human being starts from a universal threshold of minimum material well-being – one that includes not only income, but also savings and assets (page 61). Here Bailey rightly points out that public policy that is asset driven is less about addressing short-term needs and more about developing an ability to withstand economic shocks in the long-term. This in turn enables households to “…secure adequate housing, to provide a stable household environment for one’s children, to benefit from educational attainment, to be able to devote one’s time and energy to a chosen vocation or speciality, to have the security take risks for those things which one values” (page 83), and the list goes on.
Chapter four looks at historical narratives of ‘asset discrimination’. From the onset Bailey affirms that “…the Church’s social teachings have rejected the idea that optimal economic conditions will be obtained so long as the market is left to its own devices; economies are not governed by impersonal and unalterable laws but are, rather, human institutions which need to be subordinated for the good of all” (page 85). This will no doubt prove to be a highly contentious issue for many readers. The remainder of the chapter builds upon the historical narrative of asset discrimination driven by race and class segregation in the US.
The fifth and final chapter concludes with strengthening the case for asset-driven public policy in combating poverty. Asset building should be a shared goal throughout society and not just reserved for the middle and upper classes. Bailey’s final two chapters are rather US-centric. He addresses US initiatives such as the Individual Development Account (IDA) and explores steps toward passing asset-driven policy through Congress.
To conclude: James Bailey’s Rethinking Poverty is a welcome addition to the body of literature that promotes the alleviation of poverty. It is clear and for the most part, well-researched. But its true strength lies in the rarity of its thesis – there has not been much literature that so clearly and explicitly argues for asset building as a means to fighting poverty. No doubt readers may take issue with some of Bailey’s more ideologically inclined statements (mostly found in chapters four and five), but for its larger message alone, the book is certainly a worthwhile read.
“Rethinking Poverty: Income, Assets, and the Catholic Social Justice Tradition” by James P. Bailey was first published in 2010 by the University of Notre Dame Press (ISBN-13: 9780268022235), 192 pp.
Andrei Rogobete is a Research Fellow with the Centre for Enterprise, Markets & Ethics. For more information about Andrei please click here.
Aquinas and the Market: Toward A Humane Economy is a pleasant surprise because it takes both economics and theology very seriously. There are probably not many scholars who have doctorates in economics (Harvard) and theology (Notre Dame) and even fewer who can write an academic book that is almost entirely free of academic jargon. It is readable without oversimplifying the subject matter. Sensible and profound at the same time, Mary Hirschfeld’s work may be in a class of its own.
Even more surprising is that she began her career interested in feminist economics, admits to having learned “the wisdom of conservative and libertarian thought even though [she] never fully embraced it” and eventually converted to Roman Catholicism. Her dissertation director at Notre Dame, Jean Porter, steered her away from “pure theology” and towards theological, specifically Thomistic, economics.
Most theologians and philosophers tend to look down upon economics, but not Hirschfeld. She attempts to create a dialogue between theology and economics, something many religious leaders say is necessary but are themselves incapable of doing. How many of them would be able to see the economic downsides of rent control and the minimum wage as Hirschfeld does? The trick is in taking into account the objective reality of God and the subjective preferences of human beings expressed in the everyday operations of the marketplace.
Hirschfeld’s interest in feminist economics and especially theories of household consumption may have helped her bridge this divide. It is somewhat of an intellectual mystery how the ancient and medieval study of household management become the dominant, mathematical-laden social science of the modern age. While Christian concern for the human person and individual conscience had much to do with it, it is not a sufficient explanation.
If there is one shortcoming of this work, it is a neglect of the mediating ground between theology and economics, i.e. politics. Neither religion nor business is a completely private or individual affair; each takes place within a social context that at least implicitly aims towards some sort of common good. Hirschfeld is well aware of the need for a hierarchical ordering of goods in any kind of Thomistic economics. It seems unlikely that such an ordering can take place without some kind of authority behind it. Who this authority would be and how it would govern are matters of politics rather than economics.
While theologians such as Thomas emphasized the need for order, modern political philosophers such as Machiavelli, Hobbes and Locke blamed them for its opposite and failing to deliver earthly peace and prosperity. Adam Smith described feudalism harshly in order to promote what he called the commercial society based on some combination of self-interest and sympathy. The Reformation and Counter-Reformation led to religious-political conflicts that eventually created the conditions for modern pluralism and tolerance.
Absent political mediation, the theological order of Thomas cannot coexist with the spontaneous order of the marketplace. Liberal democracy offers such one such form of mediation but, as our contemporary populist movements reveal, functions in an increasingly unsatisfactory way. As an economist, Hirschfeld knows the problems of command-and-control economies; as a feminist, she is a proponent of liberty and equality. One may ask if she does not also harbour a certain longing for a more aristocratic society that would be in tension with her liberal democratic preferences.
Like all modern rationalists, the economist tends to aim for mathematical precision precisely because theology and philosophy are so disputatious and politically utopian; the economist favours the practical over the theoretical. Modern economics has done much to raise material living standards all over the world, failing only where it has not yet been implemented. Such progress is real and ought to be celebrated, as Hirschfeld does.
Economists, however, cannot avoid theorizing in order to be able to predict human behaviour and influence public policy. They start to create “rational choice” models that are as abstract as those developed by the Scholastics minus the metaphysics. These models neglect virtue ethics as unrealistic if not hypocritical, never asking if some good did not come from at least pretending to be good. We are materially well-off but spiritually destitute. The result is what Leo Strauss called retail sanity and wholesale madness.
Hirschfeld the economist is aware of the costs as well as the benefits of modernity. Her theological training has given her the language and concepts to address these concerns. A convert’s faith makes her realistic about what may be possible here on earth and what is not. It is very rare to see such common sense and deep learning in one place.
“Aquinas and the Market: Toward A Humane Economy” by Mary L. Hirschfeld was published in 2018 by Harvard University Press (ISBN-10: 0674986407). 288pp.
Kishore Jayabalan is Director of Istituto Acton, the Acton Institute’s Rome office. For more information about Kishore please click here.
Theology Reforming Society – Revisiting Anglican Social Theology arose out of a 24-hour conference held at Mirfield (a monastic community where Anglican ministers are also trained) in January 2017, on Anglican Social Theology. The various contributors were admirably swift in shaping and adapting their papers into a publishable form, and, for those who had not attended such as me, the resulting book brings the conference to life in a manner that is sometimes difficult to do. I found myself wishing that I’d been there.
Stephen Spencer’s introduction sketches out a loose definition of Anglican Social Theology (AST) as being something that attempts to ‘change the structures of society as a whole through changing relationships across social groups’ (page xii), and then outlines the historical shape of the tradition with reference to certain key people and church bodies. This sets the scene for eight different authors’ varied but complimentary chapters, followed by an Afterword from Peter Manley Scott. Each contribution stands alone, but there are good cross-references made.
Chapter 1 is by Jeremy Morris, and looks at F.D. Maurice, often felt to be the founding father of AST in the nineteenth century. I found this to be scholarly but very readable. Alison Milbank, in chapter 2, then takes the Maurice heritage and interprets it for today. I found at least two gems in her contribution, not least her comments on the proper place for nationalism.
Chapter 3, not in fact part of the January 2017 conference, is a short interpolation by Diane Ryan on Octavia Hill, who was deeply influenced by Maurice and is famous for her work as a reformer of the Victorian era, notably in social housing. This chapter is a clear and straightforward description drawing skillfully on a number of sources, but for me the comments Ryan makes about Hill’s emphasis on natural beauty, and its link to the inner, moral ‘beauty’, were particularly interesting. I found myself engaged by Ryan’s suggestion that this is perhaps one of the distinctive features of an English, if not Anglican, theology.
Chapter 4 is a very informative contribution from Paul Avis, shedding light on the significance of Brooke Foss Westcott, Henry Scott Holland, and Charles Gore, all in some sense inheritors and developers of the F.D. Maurice tradition. While broadly descriptive, Avis opens up plenty of ground for thoughtful engagement. For example, his account of Westcott on ‘progress’ (pages 59-60) set off all sorts of ideas in my own mind. Gore comes across as a thoroughly modern Bishop, ‘an inspirer and organiser of initiatives and projects – a strategist…’ (page 71), with probably too strong a focus on the life of the church. I had the feeling he would have thrived in today’s Church of England.
In chapter 5 Stephen Spencer describes William Temple’s towering role within the AST tradition. However, I found this chapter to be especially skillful in tilting history forwards so that it meets the present. Spencer achieves this by putting Temple in dialogue with Rowan Williams so as to elucidate an attractive description of how an individual relates to the state, and in some sense is superior to the state. Christianity and Social Order, Temple’s well-known 1942 book, is brought into the discussion, and I enjoyed reading again the eight policy recommendations that Temple added in an appendix (page 100). They suddenly seemed extremely current and relevant, for example the suggestion that labour should be represented on the directorates through the Unions, which is once again the subject of a lively political debate. I found myself re-assessing Archbishop Justin Welby’s September 2018 speech to the TUC as flowing directly from Temple. Spencer, of course, is not engaged in hagiography. Rather, he ends by pointing out that the Temple approach has become very influential in almost every space except the church.
Chapter 6 sees Susan Lucas bringing the Temple legacy more deliberately into dialogue with today’s world, and as a tool in the hands of today’s rather different church. I felt Lucas was the most successful contributor in making the AST tradition live, as a central part of the task facing Christians today, post-Brexit and in the Trump (if not quite Corbyn) era, perhaps because she is a parish priest in East London. Her description of the church needing to ‘recover again a vocation to be gracious at the margins…’ (page 110) with true prophetic imagination made me nod in agreement, and her concise description of the problems with neoliberalism is brilliant.
In chapter 7 Malcolm Brown has space to reflect on the 2014 book, Anglican Social Theology, which he put together and edited in response to a request from a number of Bishops. This allows him to develop the suggestion that the need to locate the evangelical tradition securely within (or alongside) AST has become the most pressing task. The changing political landscape also allows Brown to propose the idea that Anglicanism, a ‘contested tradition’ (page 126) is uniquely placed to speak into the highly contested contexts of today’s world.
Matthew Bullimore brings the main series of contributions to a close with chapter 8, a discussion weaving together Augustine’s two cities, William Temple, and the contemporary ecclesial way of doing ethics. I found this slightly pedestrian and somewhat defensive of the Hauerwasian method. This is followed by Peter Scott’s afterword, in which the idea that AST is distinctive for its pastoral style is floated and discussed.
I enjoyed this book, which while being properly scholarly has a liveliness that hints at its genesis at what was clearly a fine conference. For someone who knows relatively little about AST, or indeed public theology, it would make a challenging but good introduction that feels contemporary and relevant. In places the book also hints at the rapidly changing landscape, and so leaves me hopeful that there will be increasingly more to come from these and other authors, and that AST will be something of a strengthening counter-weight to the church’s tendency to look inwards and become preoccupied with its own initiatives, however laudable they seem to be.
“Theology Reforming Society – Revisiting Anglican Social Theology” Edited by Stephen Spencer was published in 2017 by SCM Press (ASIN B079KXQYB). 188pp.
Edward Carter is Vicar of St Peter Mancroft Church in Norwich, having previously been the Canon Theologian at Chelmsford Cathedral, a parish priest in Oxfordshire, a Minor Canon at St George’s Windsor and a curate in Norwich. Prior to ordination he worked for small companies and ran his own business.
He chairs the Church Investors Group, an ecumenical body that represents over £10bn of church money, and which engages with a wide range of publicly listed companies on ethical issues. His research interests include the theology of enterprise and of competition, and his hobbies include board-games, volleyball and film-making. He is married to Sarah and they have two adult sons.
Anglican Social Theology – Renewing the vision today, published in 2014, consists of four heavy-weight essays, by Alan Suggate, John Hughes, Jonathan Chaplin and Anna Rowlands, each of which wrestles in a different way with the idea that there has been and remains such a thing as a distinctive ‘Anglican Social Theology’. These four contributions are sandwiched by a thoughtful and helpful introduction and conclusion from Malcolm Brown, the Director of Mission and Public Affairs for the Archbishops’ Council of the Church of England.
Suggate and Hughes take the influential work of Archbishop William Temple in the years before and during the Second World War as a kind of sounding board, on which to explore the ways in which Anglicans have thought about social and political questions. Chaplin specifically considers the part that the evangelical tradition has played in this story, while Rowlands places Anglican Social Theology in dialogue with Catholic Social Teaching. The overall effect yields a book that combines a broad historical review with an instructive theological and philosophical treatment of Christian responses to the Enlightenment and post-Enlightenment world.
As Brown states (page 188), the book aims to ‘…set out the claim that the continuities in the tradition of Anglican social theology are sufficiently robust to have a great deal to offer the Church in its relationship to society, culture and politics today.’ As such, all of the authors are essentially optimistic, even if some notes of caution are sounded.
There were a number of specific points of interest for me. I enjoyed Brown’s description of Archbishop Justin Welby’s intervention over Wonga (page 20), with his acknowledgement that this was a new and fresh way of the Church speaking into a real and pressing situation. I was persuaded by Suggate’s argument and evidence that William Temple was rather less of a patrician than I’d previously thought (see especially page 66). I nodded as I read Hughes’ description of how both the world and the church have changed in very different ways since Temple’s day. I found myself reassured if not surprised by Chaplin’s suggestion that one of the main gifts to Anglican social theology from evangelicalism has been and remains an ‘associationist’ model of social transformation, based on self-governing voluntary societies. I was struck by the parallels Rowlands drew between the 1930s and today, within her discussion of what a proper vision of a national community might look like, especially in the face of fascistic tendencies (page 147).
The above are mere snap-shots, to illustrate the richness and quality of the discussion throughout all the contributions. However, I was left with two main concerns as I finished the book. First, I remained unsure who would read it. On one level it feels as though its purpose is to defend the need for such a tradition within today’s Church of England, and even to defend the work of the Mission and Public Affairs Department. If so, it should be read by members of the House of Bishops and the General Synod of the Church of England. My feeling, however, is that this probably hasn’t been the case; it is more of a theologians’ book than that. Similarly, it would be somewhat too abstract and theologically dense to give to someone thinking about setting up a food bank, not withstanding Bishop John Packer’s words of praise for the book in this direction (page 190). Is it then a book for theologians? Perhaps, although many of the themes are set out in general terms and would be familiar to anyone working in this field. Might it be helpful for a certain kind of thinking politician to read it? Again, this would be a possibility, but my hunch is that the jargon and assumed knowledge is rather too strong. I was left not entirely sure who the audience is supposed to be, although I would certainly recommend it to anyone seriously studying political theology.
My second concern connects to the fact that this book is now four years old. It was written prior to the ‘Brexit’ event and debates, prior to the election of Trump in the USA, and prior to the rise of Corbyn as Labour leader in the UK, and the outcome of the 2017 UK general election. The genesis of the book as it stands has more to do with the financial crisis of 2008 rather than the political crises to do with national identity, refugees, and protectionism. A few hints are tucked away within the book, for example when Suggate flags up the identity question: ‘what it means to be an ‘I’…’ (page 37), and an oblique reference to space/place by Rowlands (page 145). My own reflection was that the optimistic conclusions about the state of Anglican social theology had been found somewhat wanting by the weak and cautious public voice of the Church of England in the face of the EU referendum, and the rather impoverished theological discussion about the nature of geographical places in a world where huge population movements are of growing concern. Brown, with admirable prescience, worries in his conclusion that the Church of England may be poorly placed: ‘…today’s culture demands much greater clarity about identity and boundaries…’ (page 185), but on balance he feels able, in 2014 anyway, to set these worries largely to one side.
As an Anglican myself, I am confident that the theological resources are there to be found, and in that sense this book is helpful, by way of an intelligent reminder that the Church of England should speak and act in the public square. It would be interesting to ponder how a 2019 version should be updated.
“Anglican Social Theology – Renewing the vision today” edited by Malcolm Brown was published in 2014 by Church House Publishing (ISBN-10 0715144403). 226pp.
Edward Carter is Vicar of St Peter Mancroft Church in Norwich, having previously been the Canon Theologian at Chelmsford Cathedral, a parish priest in Oxfordshire, a Minor Canon at St George’s Windsor and a curate in Norwich. Prior to ordination he worked for small companies and ran his own business.
He chairs the Church Investors Group, an ecumenical body that represents over £10bn of church money, and which engages with a wide range of publicly listed companies on ethical issues. His research interests include the theology of enterprise and of competition, and his hobbies include board-games, volleyball and film-making. He is married to Sarah and they have two adult sons.
Kenneth Barnes currently holds the Chair in Work Place Theology and Business Ethics at Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary. As might be expected, therefore, Redeeming Capitalism is about the theology and ethics of business. Its basic argument is simple: the capitalist economic system that now exists is not the same as that which has existed in the past and, specifically, is not that endorsed by Adam Smith; it suffers from serious flaws that derive from a “moral vacuum” (page 1), which is itself a product of post-modern thinking; yet no other economic system provides a better workable alternative, the thinking of writers such as Picketty and Poole is hopelessly Utopian (pages 81 and 86, respectively) and the solution does not lie in regulation (page 59); what is needed is, essentially, moral reformation and the replacement of “post-modern capitalism” (Chapter 6) with “virtuous capitalism”, being capitalism based on Aquinas’s cardinal virtues (Chapter 13).
There is little to criticise in this as an overall thesis. However, below this very high level, much of what Barnes says is superficial, questionable or simply wrong. Indeed, it is an example of the kind of thing that, a generation ago, Peter Bauer memorably described as “ecclesiastical economics”.
The book is littered with errors. Some of these are minor (e.g. the statement on page 23 that the lingua franca throughout most of the Roman empire was Greek). However, others are more serious. In particular, Barnes’ attack on the behaviour of investment banks in the run up to the Global Financial Crisis is undermined by mistakes such as his definition of derivatives as instruments predicated on the “anticipated performance, or cashflow” of the underlying assets (page 4, emphasis added) and his assertion that, whilst what people do with their own money is largely their business, the problem is that “investment banks deal with other people’s money, and the morality of gambling in the context, is at best, questionable” (page 7). The definition is only true of some derivatives; the assertion fails to recognise that it was proprietary business (i.e. banks dealing for their own account) that lay at the heart of the Global Financial Crisis, not agency business.
Overall, Barnes’ attack on modern capitalism is long on eye-catching statements and short on justification. His stark statement that “the cause of the Global Financial Crisis and the recession that followed was corporate greed and mismanagement” (page 71) is a case in point, as is his assertion that there is a “consensus that the financial services sector is rigged and that corruption and collusion between banks, central banks, regulators, and politicians is rampant” (page 75).
Furthermore, scattered through the book are remarks about particular issues that fail to engage with the underlying arguments. For example, his statement that “on average, women are paid about 20% less than men across the entire spectrum of the economy” (source unstated) followed by the assertion that “the numbers are simply too extreme not to be attributable, at least in part, to gender discrimination” (page 127) is inadequate. His statement (this time sourced) that “nearly eight per cent (7.8%) of Morgan Stanley’s employees went to Ivy League schools even though they represent less than one half of one per cent. (0.4%) of university students” (page 127) is not in itself problematic. However, he implies that the success of Ivy League students is the result of nepotism and is an “economic injustice” (page 128) but he never presents evidence to support these claims.
Barnes’ comments on the living wage are likewise superficial. He says that “Those who oppose this concept argue that it interferes with the free market and is therefore a fundamentally bad idea” (page 138) and later asserts that “It seems obvious to some … that the only real objection to the establishment of the living wage is the short-term effect it would have on company profits” (page 138). He has clearly not absorbed the writings of those like Thomas Sowell who presents cogent reasons for thinking that the living wage harms those it is supposed to protect.
A substantial part of the book is taken up by what Barnes concedes is “a very concise history” of economics (Chapter 2) and analyses of the views of Adam Smith, Karl Marx, Max Weber and some modern writers (Chapters 3 to 7). These chapters contain interesting material. Barnes highlights some points raised by Adam Smith that many today forget and rightly pinpoints some serious deficiencies in the views of others. However, the result of this is that Barnes doesn’t turn to his proposals until page 91 of his 207 pages. Rather less history would have left room for rather more precision in Barnes’ analysis of the current situation and his proposed remedies.
Unfortunately, the proposed remedies rarely go below a high level of generality and such specificity as he provides is unconvincing. For example, he mentions credit unions and micro finance initiatives but clearly they cannot constitute the solution to the macro problems of the world economic system. More seriously, his suggestion that we need to move from a system based on contract to a system based on covenant is bizarre. He suggests that “covenants are sacred oaths of mutual inter-dependents and fealty between two parties dedicated to a common cause” and that “Unlike contracts, which are based upon suspicion and anticipate violation, covenants are built upon mutual respect and trust and presume co-operation” (pp 164/5). Barnes never explains what he believes should happen in the commercial world in consequence of this but, in any event, what he says is not true. One can define words to mean anything but, in the commercial world, contracts are by no means always based on suspicion and by no means always anticipate violation. Indeed, normally, they simply define with precision the subject matter of the transaction, allocate risk and generally record the mutual understandings of the parties. Disputes are the exception not the rule.
The reader is provided with no ideas as to how in practice “virtuous capitalism” might be brought into being and, having finished the book, is likely to be left wondering whether he has simply been asked to favour moral good against immorality. Indeed, the reader might wonder whether, despite Barnes’ attacks on Utopianism, he has merely had his own dream of Utopia.
Barnes may have anticipated this criticism since, right at the end of the book he asserts that “This book is not the manifesto of a movement, but is the credo of a community that refuses to underestimate the power of God to do the impossible against great odds” and continues “Redeeming capitalism is not a project; it is a mission” (page 206). Giving people the desire to effect change and the hope that it can be achieved is worthwhile yet, after 200 pages, one might have hoped for more than simply “I believe in virtuous capitalism”!
“Redeeming Capitalism” by Kenneth J. Barnes, was published in 2018 by Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co. (ISBN 978-0-8028-7557-0). 207pp.
Richard Godden is a Lawyer and has been a Partner with Linklaters for over 25 years during which time he has advised on a wide range of transactions and issues in various parts of the world.
Richard’s experience includes his time as Secretary at the UK Takeover Panel and a secondment to Linklaters’ Hong Kong office. He also served as Global Head of Client Sectors, responsible for Linklaters’ industry sector groups, and was a member of the Global Executive Committee.
God and the Evil of Scarcity: Moral Foundations of Economic Scarcity was written in 2005, its central question is timeless. Why would an omnipotent and benevolent God permit evil? Theologians and philosophers have long struggled to explain why God would permit the suffering of innocents or natural disasters. Most conclude that God permits evil so some greater good may come forth. Ultimately, however, it is the belief that such a God exists and that He knows what is best for us which settles the argument. “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation?” is the beginning of God’s answer to Job (38:4).
Stronger faith and trust in God’s goodness is a pious response to the problem of evil, one that is perhaps most applicable to overwhelming evils such as those that afflicted Job. But what about those “lesser” evils, where the good God seeks involves human action of the mundane economic sort? Could it be that we are too fatalistic in the face of evil, cursing the stars when the fault is in ourselves? On the other hand, those who think they can “solve” the problem of evil may come to see themselves as gods, the self-creating masters of their own existence rather than humble servants of God.
Albino Barrera is a theologian as well as an economist. He grapples with the problem of material scarcity as a “participative theodicy” as opposed to a Malthusian one. Malthus (wrongly) predicted that population growth would outstrip the supply of the earth’s resources, leading to widespread penury and death. Barrera sees scarcity as an opportunity for human beings to partake in God’s goodness by learning through economics how to allocate scarce resources with alternative uses and sharing the resulting wealth for the common good of all, especially the less fortunate.
Actually, for Barrera, fortune has little to do with it. Material poverty is a moral evil that God wants us to eradicate through the redistribution and transfers of wealth to the poor. God commands that we care for the poor. Since we now have the means to lift people out of poverty, any shortcomings must be someone’s fault. (Presumably, the greedy rich are to blame, rather than certain policies that may keep their poor destitute.) Barrera’s economics is moralistic, in contrast with the technical studies of mainstream economics today. It is therefore part of an older tradition than modern social sciences which refuse to make “value judgments” about how human beings should live.
God gave us the material world to thrive and flourish together. Contra Malthus, Paul Ehrlich and other population control advocates, human beings are more than mouths to feed; they also have minds that can think and hands that can build, as well as hearts that feel pity for the poor. God does not simply give us what we need without our own effort and striving; faith and works complement each other. Barrera makes a strong case of the Catholic work ethic and the spirit of capitalism.
The bulk of this book, however, deals with metaphysics, not economics. The appendices contain extensive discussions of the three types of causation (formal, efficient and final) to explain how God can exercise providence, govern and still leave human beings free to act in accordance with His will. Human activity takes place within a twofold order (the whole and its parts) of the universe. These are philosophically dense but necessary treatments if one desires to bring the worlds of theology and economics together.
Yet between theology and economics, there is a yawning gap. Politics, the question of who should rule, determines the types of communities we have, how we promote the common good and much more. Law and history shape how we divide our public responsibilities. Who, for instance, will protect property rights and enforce contracts that make the creation of wealth possible? Who will ensure that wealth is not only produced but also adequately distributed? In addition, who will decide when goods such as national defense or social cohesion, to say nothing of religious observances, take precedence over material prosperity?
Barrera’s treatment of politics, law and history focuses on the Bible, especially the Old Testament. The covenantal politics of Israel offers many insights into its persistent disobedience and ingratitude towards God as well as His unbounded mercy and love for His chosen people. The political drama of the New Testament is less evident but vexing issues of Church and State are still with us. Jesus repeatedly denies to rule as an earthly king, despite the subsequent attempts of Christians to rule in His name. There have been many different forms of Christian rule, i.e. monarchic, aristocratic and democratic, through the ages. It is hard to believe that they shared the same metaphysical principles of economics, irrespective of their political arrangements.
It is unfortunate that Barrera does not engage with thinkers other than Malthus, who explicitly denied divine providence and turned out to be mistaken about economics as well. John Locke would have been a much worthier adversary, since he formulated a theological-political economy in the Two Treatises of Government, yet he only receives two brief mentions in the book. Adam Smith similarly receives short shrift, with just one citation. Both were much more influential in prescribing the transformation from feudal to commercial societies, likely contributing to the decline of metaphysics among the moderns.
It is unfair to criticize Barrera for the book he chose not to write, so let me conclude by recommending this important work to anyone seeking a deeper foundation to economics than self-interest or the profit motive. As an academic work, it is primarily intended for those who have had some exposure to, and some taste for, metaphysics and therefore not for the average entrepreneur and businessperson. It will serve its purpose if it helps high-minded theologians and philosophers understand the importance of economics in doing God’s will.
“God and the Evil of Scarcity: Moral Foundations of Economic Scarcity” by Albino Barrera was published in 2005 by University of Notre Dame Press (ISBN-10: 0268021937). 304pp.
Kishore Jayabalan is Director of Istituto Acton, the Acton Institute’s Rome office. For more information about Kishore please click here.
Frank Prochaska describes Christianity & Social Service in Modern Britain as “an interpretative study, which seeks to contribute to the history of social service, religious decline, and democratic traditions” (page (vii)). There is no doubt that, between the late Victorian years and the twenty-First century, the voluntary provision of social services in the UK was substantially replaced by State provision and, over the same period, Christianity in the UK declined. Frank Prochaska seeks to examine the connection between these two processes.
He does this by first examining the beliefs that underlay nineteenth century Christian social action and providing a general overview of the nineteenth century philanthropic landscape before moving on to consider four specific areas: schooling, visiting, mothering and nursing. In each case, he examines the motivation, nature and growth of voluntary Christian action during the nineteenth century and the changes (principally, the decline) that occurred between the last quarter of that century and the years following the Second World War and, to some extent, beyond. In the final chapter, he turns to examining post-war attitudes and endeavouring to draw broader conclusions.
These conclusions are damming of UK Christian leaders, especially those in the Church of England. Prochaska suggests that, by the post-war years “The ministerial, civil service state had dislodged civil pluralism, whose foundations lay in Christian notions of individual responsibility” (page 150) and that “Christian leaders failed to appreciate the consequences of endorsing a collectivist secular world without redemptive purpose” (page 151). Referring to the Church of England, he comments that “rarely has a British institution so willingly participated in its undoing. The Bishops blew out the candles to see better in the dark” (page 152).
Bishops and other Christian leaders would do well to reflect on this but they are not the only ones who should pause for thought. The book raises important questions about the impact of the Welfare State on moral responsibility, freedom and democracy. Prochaska’s conclusions should be considered by all those who have enthusiastically supported its creation and enlargement. He asserts that “in what may be seen as the welfare equivalent of urban renewal, comprehensive reconstruction ravaged much of the historical fabric of the voluntary social services” (page 150) and that, in the post-war years, “Individuals could take satisfaction from paying their taxes, but they were in many ways more impotent in an age of universal suffrage and Parliamentary democracy than their disenfranchised ancestors had been under an oligarchic system” (page 149).
Prochaska concedes that, to some extent, the landscape has altered in the past 40 years but he does not believe that the change is fundamental and he discusses with concern the increasing channelling of Government money through charities, suggesting that it undermines the essence of voluntarism. He suggests that “whether a voluntary sector increasingly funded and regulated by government will promote freedom remains an issue” (page 174).
Those of a left leaning disposition may well recoil from this kind of analysis but it would be wrong to conclude that Prochaska is on a crusade against the Welfare State. He does not in fact analyse the merits and de-merits of it. That is not his subject. Furthermore, whilst he clearly has respect for nineteenth century voluntarism and for what he calls “the religious temper and its role in society and politics” (page (vii), he is not starry eyed about it and his comments on the impact of Christianity and its decline come from outside the Church since he says that he has no personal religious faith (page (vii)).
The book has a number of failings. As the quotes above suggest, Prochaska has a penchant for big statements and many of these are less closely tied to the evidence that he has presented than might be expected of a senior Harvard-based academic. Furthermore, some of his assertions relating to Christianity are misguided. For example, on the basis of his understanding of John Wesley’s theology, he appears to believe that Arminianism had replaced Calvinism within British Evangelicalism by the end of the eighteenth century (page 7), which is certainly not the case.
More seriously, whilst many of the connections he draws between the rise of the Welfare State and the decline of Christianity are thought provoking, most readers are likely to be left questioning whether he has truly demonstrated a relationship of cause and effect between the two. The verdict on his fundamental thesis must be “unproven”.
That said, his examination of nineteenth century voluntarism is fascinating. It will be an eye opening to many readers who will have no idea of the enormous scale of Christian (largely Evangelical) voluntary endeavor in the nineteenth century. The description of the beliefs and societal structures that underpinned this (including the role of women) is of great importance. Any discussion of the Welfare State in the twenty-first century needs to take account of these things if it is to avoid proceeding on the basis of false premises as to what is and what is not possible.
More generally, few people today (whether or not Christian) have a clear appreciation of the extent to which the values and culture of the UK have changed over the past 125 years. In common with most generations, we have a tendency to dismiss our predecessors as ignorant or at least unenlightened and uncritically to equate change and progress. As Prochaska says, “As we reject the pieties and social hierarchies of our ancestors, we tend to forget that benevolence and neighborliness, self-help and helping others, were among the most urgent Christian values. We also tend to forget that much of Britain’s idealism and democratic culture grew out of these values” (page 2). Prochaska helps us to remember and understand.
What is more, the book is a good read and contains an informative and engaging mix of statistical and anecdotal evidence, the latter bringing the subject to life in a way that mere statistics can never do. Even those who fundamentally disagree with what Prochaska is saying should enjoy reading the book and benefit from doing so.
“Christianity & Social Service in Modern Britain” by Frank Prochaska, was published in 2006 by Oxford University Press (ISBN-10: 0199539790). 228PP.
Richard Godden is a Lawyer and has been a Partner with Linklaters for over 25 years during which time he has advised on a wide range of transactions and issues in various parts of the world.
Richard’s experience includes his time as Secretary at the UK Takeover Panel and a secondment to Linklaters’ Hong Kong office. He also served as Global Head of Client Sectors, responsible for Linklaters’ industry sector groups, and was a member of the Global Executive Committee.