A study of books on the subjects of Christianity and republicanism reveals the horrific reality that can stem from ideals, says David Adams
I'VE READ some excellent books of late. These were Confessions of an Irish Rebelby Brendan Behan and, from two good friends of mine, Good Friday: the Death of Irish Republicanismby Anthony McIntyre and Empty Pulpits: Ireland's Retreat from Religionby Malachi O'Doherty, as well as Young Stalinby Simon Sebag Montefiore.
However, it was upon reading Black Mass: Apocalyptic Religion and the Death of Utopiaby John Gray that I realised how central utopianism is to them all. In the first three, there is disillusionment with the pursuit of a utopian ideal (to be realised either in this world or in the next), while the fourth chronicles the early life of someone whose notion of utopia became a horrific reality.
Although he didn't say as much, it is clear in Confessions of an Irish Rebelthat Behan had outgrown the inherent contradiction in militant republicanism's attempt to create harmony between Protestant, Catholic and dissenter in Ireland by force of arms. He still wanted a 32-county unitary state, but in a placid-nationalist kind of way: crucially, he no longer thought it worth killing or dying for (or even arguing about?).
McIntyre, a former IRA volunteer who served 18 years in prison, long ago decided that an all-Ireland republic should not be pursued through violent means.
In Good Friday: The Death of Irish Republicanism, he concerns himself with the reasons the republican leadership gave for abandoning the struggle, and how readily these were swallowed by many activists, and by the media and the wider public. People like McIntyre, who had inflicted pain and suffered for a well-defined utopia, were suddenly meant to believe that, all along, the primary objective had been something altogether more mundane.
When did the securing of equal rights for Catholics within a Northern Ireland context - which, incidentally, had been achieved more than three decades ago - replace the dream of a 32-county socialist republic? he asks. And why was nobody told at the time?
Encapsulated, his argument is that IRA volunteers were entitled to honesty from their leaders at an early stage - not least because it might have saved countless lives. It could also be argued that this failure to acknowledge the sheer hopelessness of the original project might cost more lives in the future.
In Empty Pulpits, O'Doherty reflects on what appears to be a retreat from Catholicism in Ireland - as evidenced by ever-declining church attendance and a dearth of vocations to the priesthood. He asks what this might mean for the future. It would take a brave person to write off any religion, and O'Doherty certainly doesn't do that, but his is an important subject nonetheless.
If Christianity does eventually wither on the vine in Ireland, we should be very concerned. Not for Christianity, but about what might take its place. Something certainly would, and it's a sure bet it would not be nearly as well house-trained as our religious utopians (though that state of affairs is not something we can ever afford to be complacent about).
Until recently, it seemed that hedonism might become predominant, but now we should worry that a worsening economic climate in an increasingly multicultural society could pave the way for a nasty strain of narrow nationalism.
There is little that needs to be said about Stalin in relation to the pursuit of an impossibly perfect society, and where this led with him and others, such as Mao, Ho Chi Minh and Pol Pot, who devotedly followed the Marxist trail to utopia. Montefiore's Young Stalinfills many of the gaps in Stalin's early years, and is a wonderfully informative prequel to his earlier, outstanding work, Stalin: the Court of the Red Tsar.
In very simple terms, the only difference between secular utopianism and the religious variety is that the first seeks to create perfect harmony in this world, while the second requires adherence to a behavioural code that will allow admittance to a utopia in the next. Regardless of the strain, utopianism demands conformity, and the road to paradise invariably becomes paved with the bodies of those "obstacles to the greater good" who cannot be convinced. To paraphrase Orwell, ultimately it matters little whether the boot on your neck is secular or religious.
Frighteningly, as Gray outlines at length in Black Mass, as one utopian dream expires another is born or re-energised.
Upon the collapse of the USSR, dictatorial communism gave way to the scourges of extreme nationalism and religious fundamentalism - and in many former soviet satellite states to competing mixtures and/or brands of both.
As the only remaining superpower (at least for the time being), America has led the charge to impose western values of liberal democracy and a free market upon various parts of the world, with disastrous results.
Utopianism, when it comes down to it, always involves killing and brutalising people in order to free them from something or other.
There is nothing inherently wrong with having impossible dreams, crackpot theories, and one-size-fits-all solutions to the world's ills. The problem is we can never resist trying to force them on everyone else.